He regarded her, then said, ‘Serrah, you need my help.’

‘I do?’

‘Wouldn’t you say so? To get this business cleared up and put behind us?’ His manner was kindly, avuncular.

‘Well… yes, of course. But what more can I do than tell the truth?’

‘Perhaps something more.’

His presence emphasised the seriousness of her situation, and she felt a little overawed. ‘What would you have me do?’

‘Explain what happened. About the Principal-Elect’s son.’

‘I’ve already told the story so many times, Commissioner. Why do I -’

‘Indulge me. You can summarise.’

Serrah took a breath. ‘My unit was on to a gang of ramp dealers. We watched their hideaway for nearly a month. Last night, we went in.’ It felt a lot longer ago than just last night, she reflected, but went on, ‘Phosian acted like a hothead. He stepped out of line and they killed him for it. I might add that it wasn’t the first time he’d disobeyed orders, sir. He made a habit of it.’

Laffon considered her words, then stated, ‘No, it didn’t happen like that.’

She was dumbfounded. ‘Sir?’

‘That isn’t an approved version.’

‘

Approved?

I thought there was only one version of the truth.’

‘Not for official purposes,’ the Commissioner informed her softly.

‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me how it

did

happen, sir.’ Her fury was creeping back.

‘Phosian died a hero.’

Ice fragments swirled in the pit of her stomach. All she could think to say was, ‘Is that so?’ It was meant bitingly, it sounded weak.

‘It is, Captain. Moreover, it will be said that he bravely gave his life as the result of bad leadership.’

‘With respect, sir, that isn’t how it was.’

‘The Council has appraised it otherwise.’ He maintained the sympathetic air.

‘My unit. They’ll confirm what I’ve said. Ask them.’

‘Ah, yes, a devoted band. Nothing but respect for you. I’m afraid they all said your behaviour fell below acceptable standards.’

She couldn’t believe they had, willingly. ‘This is wrong, Commissioner. Everything’s been twisted, just because of Phosian’s family connections.’

‘I know this is difficult for you. But you can make things so much easier. Simply confess to what happened and -’

‘To what

you

say happened, sir.’

‘Confess to it and I promise I’ll do my best to get you a lenient sentence.’

‘You’re asking me to

lie

. Not to mention condemning myself.’

‘I’m asking you not to give succour to the empire’s enemies.’

‘You’re

what

?’

‘Rintarah, and their fellow travellers here, the insurgents. It would only strengthen their cause if it got out that the scion of one of our ruling houses was… less than perfect.’

Serrah gave a hollow laugh. ‘That, sir, if you’ll pardon the expression, is horse shit. Phosian was a spoilt, reckless brat. Any Rintarahian spy worth their salt would already know that. It took his fancy to play at being a militiaman, and because of who he was, that meant an elite unit, despite my objections. Now I’m supposed to pay for his stupidity.’

‘You would do well to refrain from speaking that way about your betters, Captain.’

Did she detect a slip in his benevolent pose? A slight tension in that turkey neck?

‘I’ve always been loyal,’ she argued, playing what felt like her last card.

‘You will best demonstrate your loyalty by doing as I ask.’

‘Does it matter what I say? I can’t stop you putting out any version you want, so why this charade? Sir.’

He ignored the mild insubordination. ‘It’s a question of credibility. It has to come from you. If you confess to your failings publicly there will be no doubts, no void to be filled with rumours by the dissidents and troublemakers. And as far as Phosian’s family is concerned, honour will be satisfied.’

‘Then I demand an open trial. Let my peers judge me.’

‘That’s out of the question.’

‘As a citizen of Gath Tampoor I have rights.’

‘You have only as many rights as we allow you.’ Laffon’s tone was distinctly flintier. ‘When it comes to state security we don’t wash our soiled linen in public, you know that.’

‘If I agree to this… declaration, what happens to me afterwards?’

‘As I said, I’ll use my influence to ensure your punishment is light.’ He held her gaze. ‘That’s a pledge.’

Serrah couldn’t help thinking how convenient it would be for them if she simply disappeared after her confession. No possibility of her reneging. No loose ends. She looked at Laffon and for the first time in her life doubted the word of a superior. It was a frightening, heady notion. ‘And if I refuse?’

‘I can make no promises in that eventuality.’

Heads or tails I lose, she thought. ‘I don’t deserve to be treated this way, Commissioner.’

‘Nobody said the world was fair. We all have to make sacrifices for the greater good.’

Whose greater good? she wondered.

He pressed her. ‘Will you do it? Confess?’

‘I… I can’t.’

Laffon sighed. A moment passed in silence. Finally, he said, ‘Consider this. Perhaps my truth

is

the truth.’

Serrah raised her bowed head. ‘I don’t understand.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Your daughter. Eithne, wasn’t it?’

‘What about her? What’s she got to do with this?’

‘I believe she was fifteen when it happened, isn’t that so?’

‘Why are you bringing this up?’ His course rattled her. She didn’t want to go there.

‘Tragic,’ he tutted, slowly shaking his head. ‘Such a waste.’

‘That has

nothing

to do -’

‘Think about it, Serrah. Your daughter. The ramp. Isn’t it possible…’

‘No.’

‘…given the circumstances of Eithne’s death, seeing the drug there, faced with the traffickers…’

‘No.’

‘…that your judgement was clouded? That, understandably, you reacted emotionally and -’

‘No!

I’m a professional! I work on facts, not emotions!’

‘Really? The way you’re behaving now hardly bears that out.’

That struck home. With an effort of will she calmed herself. ‘My daughter has nothing to do with any of this. Last night wasn’t the first time I’ve been up against ramp dealers. I hate them, yes, but that’s never affected the way I do my job. But this isn’t about me, is it? It’s about you needing a sacrifice.’

‘You still don’t understand the extent of this thing, do you, Ardacris?’ There was no vestige of sympathy now. ‘What you allowed to happen has repercussions, and they go all the way up to the Empress herself.’

‘I’m flattered,’ Serrah replied cynically.

‘Enough,’ Laffon decided. ‘There’s no more to be said on the subject.’ He delved in his pocket and brought out a folded parchment. With an irritated flick, he shook it open. ‘You can make a start at rehabilitating yourself by signing this.’ He held out the confession to her.

Everything crystallised in Serrah’s mind. She abandoned hope of justice. All that kept her alive was that scrap of paper remaining unsigned. The only choice was to be defiant.

‘Well?’ Laffon demanded.

‘No,’ she said.

‘You’re refusing?’

‘I am.’

‘Be absolutely sure about this. Because what happens next won’t be to your liking.’

She shook her head.

Laffon could see her resolve. He stood. ‘You’ll regret taking the hard road. I’ll leave you this for when you change your mind.’ He dropped the document on the bed. Next to it he tossed a small, reddish, tubular object. A graphology glamour, useless for anything but. Probably strong enough for no more than her signature.

‘I won’t be needing it,’ she told him.

He paused on the point of leaving. ‘Remember, you’ve brought this on yourself.’

Three men entered as Laffon slipped out. It happened so quickly, Serrah was taken off-guard.

They were muscular, stern-faced individuals. Each held a short length of thick rope with one end knotted. She started to get up.