And he came anyway.
He brought Noam with him,anyway.
Because even with both their lives in the balance, finding that back door past Texan antiwitching shields was worth the risk.
Sickness crawled up the back of Noam’s throat. They all stood there on the front drive, wide open to snipers, as the Texan president and his wife greeted Lehrer in the foyer. All smiles, that baseline man’s hand gripping Lehrer’s gloved one:So very glad you could make it.
Noam stretched out his magic, searching. He couldn’t sense any sniper rifles, but that didn’t mean anything in the country that invented antiwitching shields.
Lehrer and the president had finished their pleasantries. As they walked deeper into the residence, Noam and the ambassador followed through the front door.
The Chancellarian Guard stayed on the front lawn. Apparently Lehrer’s ego was still too big to let them follow him in to dinner.
The ambassador was right about one thing, at least. The house really was one of the most impressive pieces of architecture Noam’d ever witnessed—second only, perhaps, to Duke Chapel. Nothing else in Carolinia was like this. The high ceiling almost seemed to float overhead, the herringbone parquet floor draped with plush imported rugs and all the furniture polished to a gleaming finish. It was an understated kind of beauty; in comparison, their hotel gave the impression of trying too hard for opulence.
It was annoying, because Noam actuallylikedit.
Discussions continued in the sitting room prior to dinner, tuxedoed servers supplying aperitifs from tiny pewter trays. Noam sipped his, a fizzy pomegranate-red drink garnished with a perfect round of orange.
“Harvey, this is Noam Álvaro, my student and the interim liaison for Atlantian affairs,” Lehrer said, placing a hand lightly on Noam’s back as he introduced him to the Texan president. The man had a slim bronze circlet resting atop his head—just like Sacha’s, designed to keep Lehrer from influencing them with his persuasion. Come to that, everyone else here was wearing a similar crown, including the staff. “Noam, this is President Harvey Méndez.”
“What a pleasure, Mr. Álvaro,” Méndez said, shaking Noam’s hand. He had a thick, drawling accent like sugar syrup. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. I was quite fond of your predecessor. We were all very sad to hear of his passing.”
It took Noam a second to realize he meant Brennan. Whether Méndez knew Noam had killed him was unclear.
“Thank you, Mr. President. Tom was a close friend of my family’s,” Noam said. “He is deeply missed.”
“I’m sure,” Méndez said.
Lehrer’s hand fell from Noam’s shoulder, the gesture uncharacteristically short lived and chaste. Noam was anxious down to the blood; he kept expecting someone—any of them, perhaps even Méndez himself—to lunge forward to stab him and Lehrer both with syringes of milky-white vaccine. Every second they didn’t was another fray on Noam’s nerves.
“I hope you have the opportunity to see some more of our beautiful country while you’re here,” Méndez went on. “There’s so much more to see of Texas than hotels and airports.”
Noam’s gut tightened. So Méndez knew, then, that it had been Noam who led the assault in Houston.
Noam smiled back, as mildly as he could. “I would love that. I’ve heard the backland prairies in particular are gorgeous.”
Notheardso much asseen photos in old books, but it was neutral enough—and it provided Lehrer an easy route to change the direction of the conversation.
“Perhaps we can tempt you to visit Carolinia, as well,” Lehrer said, resting a friendly hand on Méndez’s upper arm. “You haven’t lived until you see the Smoky Mountains during peak foliage. It’s breathtaking.”
And solidly within the quarantined zone—but none of them mentioned that, of course.
Somehow they all maintained inoffensive conversation topics for the next half hour; Lehrer introduced Noam to several other Texan officials in attendance, including their secretary of state and the secretary of homeland security. Noam wasn’t entirely sure what the difference between the two was, really, unless Texas felt they needed two equivalents to Carolinia’s minister of defense.
Finally a servant emerged to announce dinner, and they all filtered into the dining room—every bit as elaborate as the rest of the house Noam’d seen so far, set with gold charger plates and antique crystal water goblets. At least Noam had figured out dinner etiquette since that harrowing dinner party at General Ames’s house, so he didn’t look like such an idiot when the palate cleansers arrived between courses.
This was almost definitely the best time to see if he could figure out a way past the firewall. After dinner they’d all have to go have more drinks and launch into all the obligatory diplomatic conversation; it would be impossible for Noam to escape.
So after the main course was swept away, Noam made his excuses and slipped out of the dining room. Only then one of the aides caught him in the entryway, offering to escort him to the bathroom.
“Oh, no,” Noam said. “That’d be awkward, don’t you think?”
“It’s my job, Mr. Álvaro,” the aide said evenly.
“I can find it.”
“I’ll show you,” the aide insisted again, and Noam couldn’t keep arguing. He had to let the man show him through the carpeted halls of the residence, all the way back to a single-person bathroom with granite counters and an old-fashioned tile floor.
