Infidel by Kameron Hurley

recovered. Inaya had a special place in her heart for the crumbling buildings and empty fountains here. Nanci—the city Nouveau Nanci had been named for—was the city of her birth in Ras Tieg.  
    The sidewalks were clotted with filth, so she stayed to the edge of the street and picked her way to the pawn shop on the other side of the rail platform. She did not always meet her contact here, of course. They rotated locations according to their schedules. Her contact specialized in selling antiquated books and recordings, and Inaya’s husband worked in archaeology and translation. Their meetings were not entirely clandestine, as their purported purpose was entirely within reason.  
    What they spoke of, however, was not at all reasonable.  
    Elodie, her contact, waited for her behind the counter. She was a short, pot-bellied Ras Tiegan woman with a pinched little face that reminded Inaya of a stag beetle. Elodie’s brother owned the specialized pawn shop, but Elodie ran it.  
    Elodie greeted her with a warm smile. “I have some things for you in the back,” Elodie said.
    They walked into the cluttered back room. Her tall, fine-boned brother took her place behind the counter.  
    Elodie closed the door and made room for her at a battered, stone-topped table stacked with empty take-out containers and bug carapaces.  
    “Do you have anything for me?” Elodie asked.  
    Inaya passed her a transparent casing. “Has business been well?”  
    “Tolerable. I’m hearing some interesting buzz. I wondered what you had.”
    “Everything I see is three months old.”  
    Elodie sat across from her. Above, a derelict room fan juddered irregularly, emitting a soft whomp-whomp-whir.  
    “Any odd visitors at the embassy?”
    “The ambassador scheduled a dinner party with the Mhorians, but it’s a public party. No one special.”
    “Could it be covering another meeting? Do you have the guest list?”
    Inaya nodded at the recording. “It’s on there. I will be at the party as well. I was worried more about what they’re doing funneling money to some magistrate in Beh Ayin.”  
    Elodie picked up the canister and slipped it into the front pocket of her vest. “Beh Ayin? I’ve heard of revolutionary activity there. A few isolated cases. I assumed it wasn’t approved by the government.”
    “They’d prefer it wasn’t. They’ll probably blame it on us. Whatever it is, Ras Tieg is paying a magistrate in Beh Ayin a lot of money to stay quiet about it.”
    “Or house and supply them. I’ll look into it. Have you heard anything of Nasheenians?”  
    “Nasheenians?” Inaya’s own surprise as she said it, out loud, startled even her. “At the embassy? No. No more than usual. Nasheenians are notoriously poor negotiators. I don’t see many in Tirhan.”  
    “There have been reports from… others that Nasheenians have been more friendly than usual with members of the Ras Tiegan government.”
    “Their Queen is half Ras Tiegan. They’ve always been friendly.”
    “These aren’t the Queen’s people.”
    Inaya drew a sharp breath. “They’ve been approached by bel dames, then.”  
    Elodie nodded.  
    “I haven’t heard or seen anything of bel dames in Tirhan. Much of what I’ve brought is business as usual at the embassy.”
    “Do you think you’re compromised?”
    Inaya was quiet a long moment. Was she under suspicion at the embassy? No one had followed her. Her duties and hours had not changed. All the same women still spoke to her. The men remained polite but distant. There had been no changes to her station in years.  
    “No,” she said. “Perhaps your other contact is mistaken?”
    “Perhaps,” Elodie said. “But it’s more than one reporting on bel dames in Tirhan. We’re trying to put together a full picture with only a few ragged pieces. We need more women like you at home, Inaya. I know it’s safer for your children here, but a woman like you… should never have been able to infiltrate