Dante’s Equation

“Eya

She stood up and slipped off into the water to wash, leaving him alone with his conscience.

18.2. Forty-Sixty Calder Farris

Gyde was having a conversation with someone at the top of the stairs outside their office. It was the Bronze from Saradena, the one who’d been talking about the dead Silver case in the cafeteria.

Pol froze, his hand on the rail at the bottom of the stairs. There was a second when he might have spun around and walked the other way, fled the Department of Monitors and Centalia, and never returned. But Gyde saw him and smiled and Pol’s hand went round around the banister and pulled himself upward because it was the most logical thing to do.

“We have an appointment this morning,” Gyde said pleasantly.

“What appointment?”

“A ba

“A collector of ba

“He’s a Gold. He can do what he likes.”

“Where did you find him?”

“I have my ways, classmate.” Gyde winked.

They drove across town to one of the great old imperial buildings. The Gold had a luxury suite overlooking Gorenten Square, including a balcony with primo seats for state parades. In the elevator Gyde asked, “Have you ever been in the home of a Gold before? No? It’s quite a lifestyle. But they’re very private, so don’t ask a lot of questions.”

Don’t ask a lot of questions. Pol almost laughed.

It turned out the Gold was an expert in rare books, not ba

And his wife… The Gold female floated through the room as though her body were made of the same insubstantial stuff as her gown. Her light blue eyes were rimmed with a darker shade that matched her temples, and her white-blond hair was coiled and stiffened into an elaborate headdress. Silver females were trained for combat. This female was different—delicate and soft, rare as an orchid. She appeared briefly to welcome them, then disappeared again like a dream. The book expert himself was not attractive. He had the requisite signs of class—blond hair and rich blue temples—but on a short and fleshy frame. He had bulging eyes.

“How can I serve the state?” Chancellor Tyches asked as they settled down in his library.

Gyde’s face was grave with concern. “Have you heard about the state terrorist who’s been writing messages on public buildings?”

“I’ve heard it mentioned.” Tyches settled back into his chair. He withdrew a Balsala smoke from a box on his desk and offered them each one. The expensive smoke tasted wonderful.

“His last was a pamphlet.” Gyde handed Chancellor Tyches a copy. “There are some curious ideas in it. I was hoping you might recognize his source.”

“Ah!” Chancellor Tyches sank back with an expression of complacent arrogance. He sca

Pol leaned forward. “Do you really think so?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Why?”

“I think what we want to know,” Gyde interrupted smoothly, “is if you recognize any of the ideas in the pamphlet. I thought he might have gotten them from a ba

“What things in particular?”

“I apologize; I’m being unclear. What I find odd is this reference to there being ‘aliens’ from other planets.”

“Um. I see. Yes, that is an odd idea. You know, I really admire the Silver class. Truly, I do.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.”

“What a tremendous service you do for the state. I admire your… sense of glory. It’s very dashing. As a young man I even wished I could be a warrior.”

Tyches and Gyde chuckled gently over the naÏveté of this.

“Did you enjoy your upbringing?”

“…Of course, Chancellor Tyches.” Pol had never seen Gyde flustered before.

Tyches’s eyes moved to Pol.

“Certainly,” Pol agreed. There must have been something unexpected in his eyes, for Tyches forgot Pol was inconsequential. Their gaze locked. Pol wanted to look away but feared it would reveal too much. He held it, smiled.

“You must forgive my curiosity, but I so rarely meet Silvers.”

“It’s our pleasure to tell you anything you like, Chancellor.” Gyde had recovered himself. Now his tone indicated that they would be at the chancellor’s disposal for hours if that’s what he wanted, tell him every intimate detail he might want to know: how they groomed their teeth, what it felt like when they shat.

“Well, never mind.” Tyches lost interest. “Let me think.”

Gyde smoked his Balsala halfway down and put it out in a dish on the desk. Pol reluctantly put his out as well. He immediately wished he could light another.

“What I tell you does not leave this room,” Tyches said slowly. “And it will have to go on your records that you’ve heard this.”

“We are in your hands.”

“Very well. There are ba

Pol felt his heart quicken. The Gold was lying. He knew very well, he knew, there were other solar systems out there. Apparently the state had decided that Silvers had no need of that knowledge. But the Golds, they had been taught the truth about the universe—the truth that he, Pol, also knew.

“Could these books be obtained by a Bronze?” Gyde asked.

“Nooo,” Tyches said thoughtfully. “The two books I know of are more… technical writings, probably not comprehensible to most people. I have just thought of something else, though…”

He went to a glossy black cabinet and unlocked it with a small key. Inside were neat stacks of thick-papered files. He locked the cabinet again, bringing one of the files back to his desk. He turned over pages of scribbled writing.

“There is a ba

Gyde wrote the title in his notebook. “Do you have any idea where someone might have access to that book?”

“The city of Madamar. That’s where the book was found, anyway. Three copies were confiscated years ago.”

“Is there any chance we could see the book itself?” Pol asked.

Chancellor Tyches turned his bulging eyes to Pol. There was contempt in them. “That’s why the books are ba