Sava's journal, entry 2

Dawn, 3 Mart 4999 - In the house of Baron Mikhail Khrushchev Decados

In the Baron's training room there is a Tantsyen konykov, a Dance of Blades, inlaid into the lacquered wood of the floor with a thousand cunningly shaped pieces of wood. It is the most beautiful one I have ever seen. Its curves include kata I have not seen before. I assume they describe patterns from other houses but I don't have the knowledge yet to decode them except in very general terms. I can see how they might interact with the Decados kata I do know, but I also know that I would have to improvise a response. Potentially among them is a killing move, an exchange that is sovereign against the standard Decados praxis. I do not know. And this worries me....

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This is a metaphor for the last few days on Istakhr. There are forces at work that I can see only in general terms, that I cannot formulate an effective response to. I am afraid. I am a long way from home among strangers, most of whom seem to want to kill me - and also my companions. I want to go home, but of course I cannot while the Twins control Zuviev.
Perhaps it is because the Baron's house is so comfortingly a Decados residence that it provokes this great homesickness in me. He displays none of the icons or heraldry of the house but it is still comforting. The furnishings are Decados, or at least manufactured to Decados patterns. The food is good and homely. I would be comfortable here, but alas, my journey stretches onwards.

I never had an adolescent crush on Baron Mikhail Khrushchev Decados like I did some of the younger champions of the house, but I have always admired his technique. Among the duellists who fight for glory, who fight for self-knowledge, who fight merely for bloodlust and conquest, he is one of the enlightened ones that fights only for the art of the duello. The Li Halan call it 'no-self', or shen. When the Baron steps into the Dance it is not him that wields his blade - it is the universe. I hope some day to arrive at a place of simplicity like his, but as yet I still try too hard.

The Baron has been kind to us. I presumed upon his welcome to pay my (fan-girlish) respects to him, and I would have been satisfied to leave it at that. However although he does not participate in the interests of the house he still subscribes to its code of honour, and he offered us his hospitality. He is a gracious host. I regret my lack of judgement as an adolescent!
Istakhr has brought to a head the conflict between my needs to be true to myself and the relationship I have with my companions. After some months masquerading as a man I decided to change before we landed on Istakhr. It felt good to do so - an ache in my soul has been assuaged. But (of course) Teddy and probably Brother James are now appalled at this revelation of my true nature: one of the Changed, an Abomination before the Pancreator. Although the strength of Teddy's reaction has surprised (and disappointed) me, for I had taken him for a secular and worldly man, not a zealot in the least. I suspect part of Brother James's annoyance with me is because apart from the religious aspect it complicates his duty as my protector.

I am not a man. I am not a woman. There is nowhere in the Known Worlds where I can be what I am - a hermaphrodite - so I must alternate between the acceptable roles. I envy my companions' simplicity. But I cannot be like them. To go as long as I have done only as a man has been an agony, although I did not realise how deeply the pain went until I changed my breeches for my dress. Perhaps I should ask them: how long could you masquerade as a woman? How long could you pretend to be a man? How would you feel after a week of it?

An arrogant Decados would damn their common eyes and tell them to keep their disgust to themselves. I am not him. My companions have hurt my feelings. I hope that by getting this out of the way quickly we will be able to move on. Or failing that, if they choose to leave me, Istakhr is not the end of the universe. It would be easy for them to find new lives.
They are also disgusted that Yevgeny and Maya would do this to their child - they think I can not hear their mutterings. They do not understand the perfection for which my family strives - and Pancreator's Truth, I begin only to see it for myself, finding myself by necessity so close for so long to primitive-pattern humans like Shui-Lin, Teddy and James. Each can only ever be half of a person: they will only find hints of their other half in the embrace of love, or in abnegatory submission to the Pancreator. They will never know the sense of being complete that I know (but can never fully express to them). I see how they fall short of understanding each other all the time. They do not understand me for the same reason. I pity them.

Apotheosis would bring perfect understanding between people. I fail to do so; and so I know now I am a flawed instance of it, as my parents determined in my infancy. My descendants will be far closer to the angels than I am. But I am so far in advance of the primitives. Perhaps the Twins are the only ones who can understand me. But I suspect they are flawed too, differently to me, and possibly more badly. They are absorbed only in each other, where I, alone, must turn towards others.
I will earn back their esteem and bury the sadness I feel at their disgust. I do miss them.

But I will not compromise my identity for them.

Part of the problem is that Captain Swallow was a circumstantial witness to my transformation and has a loose tongue. He has allegedly been spreading rumours that I am Changed, rather than just a cross-dresser. My companions have been trying to quash the rumours before they are heard by the Inquisition.

Perhaps I could have waited until Swallow was gone before changing. I will be more forward-thinking in future, if I can find balance. Perhaps a change after each planet-fall might be endurable.

This bears on the problem of the Vendetta as well. I believe that the Twins are cheating. Unfortunately I cannot prove it.
I spent the first day at Istakhr shopping. It was glorious - better even than in the entertainments I have watched! If only I had more money. In one shop there was a choker of iridium allegedly reforged from a First Republic cache of precious metals, that was set with green fey-stones from Manitou, but I did not have five thousand Firebirds... There were outfits galore, and shoes, and lingerie. Brother James was very stoic about carrying my shopping bags!

On our way back to the landing field I was met by a functionary of the Decados Embassy who asked us to accompany there. We did so, and were shown in to the office of another more senior functionary who wore no obvious rank insignia. He introduced himself as Officer Jakob, of the Jakovian Agency, and asked me to answer some questions. I saw no reason not to.

At first our interview was familiar in form: Officer Jakob asked the standard questions about my reason for leaving Cadiz and I gave the standard answers. Or at least, I told him the truth about the Vendetta, which he seemed to already know about. Then he asked some stranger things: did I know of any connection between my parents and the Jakovian Agency? Did I know why two Jakovian cells would 'Go Dark' (I understood this to mean that they were killed off, but I later discovered this meant they had actually gone rogue) on the same day the Twins tried to kill me?

I professed knowing nothing about it. I know Yevgeny and Maya had travelled when they were young, and they had obviously brought back much knowledge to Zuviev. If they were Jakovians then they kept that from me.
I left Officer Jakob with an agreement to share any intelligence I might come across. I obviously was not caring about the matter enough, for I should have realised the sniper at Cadavus and the clumsy frame at Barter were not related to the Vendetta but to an intelligence operation.

Hindsight. Fah.

Soon after we returned to the Ill-Conceived Embrace, a count-down started. The airlock was jammed shut. When the count reached zero acrid gas - I'd guess a halide base or a mustard gas - began to fill the ship. While Shui-lin attempted to reopen the airlock by attacking the wiring with her technical skills and Teddy attempted to shut down the gas feed, Brother James and I attacked the cracked and much-maligned front viewport. My knife broke on the strong plexiglass but he was able to weaken it with pistol fire and then shatter it with a very impressive full-body charge. Teddy in his space-suit was fine but Shui-Lin had collapsed, so I got her out and administered Elixir to her.

I discovered soon after this, that when Brother James rolled to a stop on the concrete he had stopped at the feet of a Hawkwood knight accompanied by her cohorts: Sir Lexine Kimberleigh Hawkwood. A quick altercation ensued. Certainly when I was finally able to intercede Sir Lexine was nursing a bruised jaw and her Muster companion was nigh apoplectic. Fortunately they had enough sense not to react rashly to Brother James's highly strung combat reflexes and we were able to apologise.

Sir Lexine turned out to be a Phoenix Knight. When I had afternoon tea with her later, she told me that Emperor Alexius was looking to start a Star Crusade against the Vuldrok peoples. I agreed to be on Byzantium Secundus in six months' time to hopefully hear the announcement. I quite like Sir Lexine. She is terribly Hawkwood and strait-laced, which I must admit I find some puerile pleasure in teasing her about. I hope to spend some time with her at the Duke's ball in a few nights time. Perhaps she has hidden talents.

Teddy determined that the gas device and alterations to disable the airlock had been done competently, quickly, and using tools and devices favoured by the Jakovians. I was bewildered by this until I suspected that somehow, the Twins had managed to suborn the loyalties of the missing Jakovian cells and were using them to kill me outside the terms of the Vendetta. I am surprised I am not more upset at this. My mood is only one of annoyance, however. Here I am on the voyage of my life and I resent having to be wary of losing my life. Not only must I watch out for the Vendetta-assassin (and Officer Jakob left me a message to say that such a one had registered with the embassy, so I am officially hunted), but I must guard myself and my dear ones from the traitors. I can find only slim consolation that the rogues must be circumspect lest they pick up their own hunters among the Istakhr market police and the Al-Malik Mutasih. And if I can extract a confession from another capture I can prove that my siblings are breaking the terms of Vendetta, and the matter will be resolved.
Later Teddy went out to collect information and found himself stalked by the rogue Jakovians. With Brother James's help he captured one and this was brought to Baron Khrushchev's home for an interrogation. This was cut annoyingly short by the captive's death by poison tooth, but perhaps Officer Jakob will be able to glean something from the body.

There will be a few days before the Ill-Conceived Embrace is spaceworthy again. Baron Khrushchev has extended his invitation to the ball to us, and I am embarrassingly, quite giddy with girlish anticipation to go. I hope to see more of Sir Lexine there, but if not, there will be other quarry. I wonder how the erotic arts sound in the Graceful Tongue...