Page 66 of The Mars House

January looked up at them and realized he could see the similarity to that portrait of Max at Songshu. As far as he understood, Great House Apollo twins were almost never actual twins,25 but maybe the two of them had been. “I know you’re not super into it here, but do you need a hug?”

“I think I do, actually.”

He leaned up and the Speaker squeezed him carefully, and then pulled their sleeve over their eyes. He was about to suggest they have a quiet drink until everything seemed less sharp, but he didn’t get a chance.

A commotion of reporters and cameras erupted by the doors. At first all January could see past everyone else’s shoulders was a swift phalanx of praetorians in black.

The Consul.

The Speaker nodded to January and slipped away, and January cast around for Gale. He didn’t have to look far. The Consul was already clearing the way. By the time he got there, they were gripping Gale’s hands and saying hello and what foul weather with a merry sort of charm that for all the world looked honestly meant.

“Aubrey, how are you? I can’t believe you’re up and about already, you’re like a persistent fungal infection. And January: much less so. You look wonderful.”

January bowed. Down his right side, he was even more aware of Gale than he usually was. He didn’t want to look at them, in case everything showed on his face. Even though they were the same Gale, in the same kingfisher blue as before, even holding the same wine glass as before, he felt like he was standing beside someone else. A faked halo; holy Christ.

Irrelevant, the Swan King voice told him severely. Get your head on straight. Focus on the performance. Especially if your life depends on it.

“Consul Song.”

“Guang, Guang,”26 the Consul insisted expansively. “How’s the giant publicity stunt working out for you both?” they glimmered. “You know we’ve got a sweepstake going at Jade Hill, Aubrey. I’ve got six to one you vanish him in a mysterious accident with some mammoths a month after the election.”

“That’s very specific,” Gale said mildly.

“Five to one is some kind of fake accident with a bus. There’s a fun one about polar bears too.”

“Is anyone betting that I won’t murder him?”

Usually he would have thought it was funny, but after what he’d just heard, he wished people would stop joking about his being murdered.

“Just Ping the intern. They were last to choose.”

“Good on Ping the intern,” Gale said. “But don’t you have an announcement to make about this storm whose artificial origins you definitely aren’t lying about?”

“I do, in fact, I do. Good luck, January. I’ll ask penetrating questions after your inevitable disappearance.”

“Very kind,” he managed, wishing that Gale wouldn’t look like they were so on the edge of enjoying themselves. They liked the Consul, he realized suddenly; they probably liked anyone who could give them a good fight.

It was one of those things that in principle was really likeable. If he’d read this exchange in a news report he’d have laughed. In practise, in person, standing here, it was frightening.

The Consul swept away towards the podium. Everyone surged that way, slowly and gracefully; from above they would have looked like iron filings following a magnet.

January glanced up at Gale, who looked back with a lot more trepidation than he’d expected.

“I haven’t murdered anyone. That intern is going to win a lot of money.”

“Lucky intern,” said January, because he couldn’t say, I believe you.

“Schrödinger’s cat,” Gale said mutedly. They looked unhappy about it.

He had to mine down in his imagination to get to what he would have said half an hour ago, before he’d talked to the Speaker.

“Yeah, but I like cats.” He was getting better at the acting. He even smiled a bit, and he didn’t think it looked like a scared rictus either.

Gale leaned forward very, very slightly, just enough to sway the ends of their hair away from their sash. “I feel like that’s what I’d say to a possibly radioactive cat I’d been legally shackled to.”

“No, it isn’t,” January said.

“What?”