by Bill Fawcett
He stopped a little aside of the mock battle involving the braggert and watched for a time, aware always of the sounds and motions at his sides and back. It would not do to have the Commander sent sprawling by an errant blow from a raw recruit. He waited, making an effort to keep the dust from the hard-packed field from clogging his nostrils. When he was certain the attention of all the others was on their own forays, he turned to the new man.
"Your name?"
"Leenoww, sir!"
"You have been having some success with the sword, I see. Would you care to try me?"
Leenoww looked startled for a moment, but then a gleam of impious glee came into his eye. What a chance to show the Commander what he could do! With luck he might even best him!
Ki knew that look and understood perfectly what it meant. He also understood its foolishness. This recruit had to learn that there was always someone better near at hand.
"Strike at me, hard, whenever you feel you are ready," Ki ordered.
"But . . . But, sir . . .," Leenoww stammered, disconcerted. The Commander had no boken, or practice sword.
"Strike!"
With a ragged smile, Leenoww raised the wooden weapon to strike and held onto the thought that he was the best in his group. Beating Commander Ki Lawwnum was not out of the question.
Almost before Leenoww knew he'd made the decision to strike, Ki saw the muscles of the man's shoulders begin to bunch under the form-fitting fatigues. The Colonel waited until he knew where the blow was aimed, then flashed his hands outward to where the sword would be in a microsecond. Clapping his hands together over the blade, he made a twisting motion with both wrists. The boken came out of Leenoww's hands as if it had the ability of motion in its own right. The recruit would have looked down at his empty hands, but Ki moved again, and before the man's eyes could follow his brain's direction, Ki had the boken at the recruit's throat.
"It would seem you have a thing or two to learn yet, cub," Ki said softly as he slid the boken along Leenoww's throat in what would have been a fatal stroke had the blade been steel. He held the blade there momentarily, then dropped the point.
"You have the makings of an excellent swordsman," Ki said heartily, not allowing any room for resentment to grow. "Just the kind I need under me." He returned the boken and brushed the dust from his hands. Dust in his artificial hand was most annoying, grating and rubbing and slowing its reaction time.
A look of incipient hero-worship washed across Leenoww's very young, brown face. "I must learn that move!"
Ki laughed. "That move is a dangerous one, cub." He held up his left hand. "And not always successful." He turned away.
Mikal regretted he was not close enough to hear what that conversation had been. He had seen the gesture of the raised hand and was eminently curious. He had never had the nerve to ask the Commander how he'd lost the hand. The question had always seemed extremely impertinent. And he wanted to know how the situation had been handled. Somehow, the Colonel always knew exactly the right words, a trick Mikal had never mastered.
"Is there something on your mind, Lieutenant?" Ki asked in response to the dissatisfied frown on Mikal's face. "You seem most thoughtful. Come, walk with me a way and we'll speak of it." Ki took Mikal by the arm and spun him toward the palace. "Are you displeased because I interrupted?"
"No, sir!" Mikal responded, shocked.
"I felt it was time I meet this group. I suppose the story will make the rounds." Ki said it almost with a sigh, thinking of the next wave of unlicked cubs that would want to try the Commander.
"Yes, sir." Mikal hesitated, stopped, pulled himself to perfect attention. "Sir," Mikal began, choking on his own nerve, "did you tell that recruit how you came to lose your hand?" He cringed slightly now that he'd said it, wondering if he'd made the mistake of all time.
The Commander smiled a very wicked, mischievious smile. "Let's say that the story told at dinner will be an interesting fairy tale."
Mikal was swept with a mixture of relief that the Colonel was not angered by his question, and regret bordering on sheer frustration that he still did not know the truth. But his wildly raging hero-worship colored his face and he could not question further. "Thank you, Commander," he said, lowering his eyes.
Ki smiled indulgently and patiently began to explain something he thought Mikal had missed. "I think I have done myself a favor. That man will be good with a sword in time. Perhaps very good. That is the kind of man I want and need under me. After all, Mikal, I may find him at my side one day. And Mikal," he said, turning slightly so that he was facing the Lieutenant squarely, "I saw your awareness of Leenoww's problem. Though I tried my own solution, I'm certain yours would have been as effective. I have much confidence in you."
Mikal positively glowed under the praise, and he looked with unabashed pride at the Commander. His affection for Ki was great, and he could never understand the irrational nerves that struck every time the Commander came near. He had known Ki almost as long as he could remember, though time spent together had been necessarily brief. Ki's duties kept him off Nide most of the time, and when he had returned, his business had been with the adults. But there had usually been a moment for the cub who wanted to be in the Imperial Guard. Mikal had the right to call Ki "uncle" as they were of the same Pride and the same marital line, though Ki was not, in fact, his father s brother, and that had given Mikal some trouble as he'd come up through the ranks. As a result, Mikal worked twice as hard as any other man. And praise from his boyhood hero was twice as sweet.
Ki nodded as he watched the emotions flying over Mikal's face. "Return to your men now, Mikal. I think this is a good group. Work with them."
"Yes, sir!" Mikal saluted and turned back to the practice field.
Ki watched him for a moment, then continued on his way into the palace. The Empress would understand a brief delay, but she would not tolerate one moment wasted.
The training session had been an unexpected one. Ki took the lengthy walk back to his apartments and, for once, regretted that his quarters were not in the barracks with the rest of the Guard. He wiped his face and neck with his sleeve, thinking fondly of a hot tub, all the while realizing that it would have to wait while he prepared for his meeting. He put his hand to his privacy lock and opened the door, then stopped.
Just inside the door on the floor was a small parcel, no bigger than one could hold comfortably in one hand. But there had been no package when he'd left. That meant someone had been in his apartments. He dropped the towel and stooped down to get a good look at the box. Wrapped like a gift, it looked totally harmless, but with the situation being what it was in the Empire with a rebellion aborning, he was cautious. Certainly the death of the Commander of the famous Lionman Guard would be a welcome coup, and if this were indeed a bomb, it certainly was not the first ever to make its way into the palace in spite of all security precautions. It would, however, be the first directed at Ki.
He heard nothing from the package, so he leaned slightly closer to see if the could get a hint of an identifying odor of whoever had handled the package. He sniffed. He knew exactly who had left the package. There could be no mistake.
Reaching out, he pulled a cushion from his sofa. Gingerly, he settled the parcel on the pillow and lifted it. Then he stood, slowly. Without tipping the box, he examined it from each side. It appeared quite ordinary. He held it closer to his face and breathed deeply, hoping to discover whatever was inside. Nothing came to him but the scent of the culprit. He paused, considering. Then he shrugged. He put another pillow over the top of the box, tore the paper and pulled off the lid. He half expected a very loud bang and discovered that he'd closed his eyes. When he peeked, he inhaled sharply.
For once, the Princess had not been playing games. Inside, resting on a small, brown velvet cushion, sat a nicely striated rock, alternating banks of black and white and greys that had been geologically folded at some point to form a fascinating swirl a little off-center. With some polish, it just might be
come a true thing of beauty. Also inside the box was a note in the Princess' own, not-quite-mature hand that said, "For your garden." He smiled, knowing exactly where he'd put it and padded softly out the double French doors that led onto the lawn, hoping the Empress would not miss him just yet.
In actuality, the garden was not his as several of the apartments in this wing opened onto it. In practice, however, it was his private place of refuge. One of the apartments was not occupied and the tenants of the others never entered, preferring the larger, more elaborate gardens that abounded, or to stay indoors entirely. And even though there was an entrance to the garden from a hallway, the place was so little known and in such a restricted section of the palace that strangers were an extreme rarity. Gradually, therefore, the garden had taken on the personality Ki chose for it. It was a mingling of the carefully tended and planned gardens of old Japan and the wild freedom of Nide. A small patch of lawn ran up to Ki's doors, across the way to another set of doors, then jumped the small stream that trickled through the garden to end in a riot of flowers that had once only grown on Ki's planet. The stream, though small, provided the sound of running water as it splashed down over a small waterfall of rocks and dropped away over the open wall at the end of the garden that overlooked the city of Osaka. As this palace stood on a promontory that once held a medieval castle, the view into the city was magnificent, and Ki frequently watched the sun rise over the small wall.
The weapons range was a busy place just now. The junior Lionmen were attempting to move up their ratings. The quiet "pffuft" of the weapons was coming repeatedly, as were the blinding flashes of harsh white light. Mikal Lawwnum, Ki's marital line nephew, long ago found that he no longer heard the sound, but the light still disturbed him, partly because it was so intense and partly because it always reminded him of the brilliance of Nide's sun. He continued to walk the line, stopping at each man, watching, correcting, checking, making certain that they would be ready for Captain Res's inspection. Most had improved markedly. The rest would probably never improve. But even at their current stage, they were better than you'd find anywhere else in the Empire. Of course, Mikal realized, that would not be good enough for the Commander. He would keep them at it till most of them would be able to hit their marks dead center 99 times out of 100, and then push them for the extra 1. And if Ki didn't, he, Mikal, would.
"Aallaard Lawwnum."
Mikal had been watching a young Nidean ready his weapon. He responded automatically with, "Det," then looked up, surprised at being addressed in Nidean.
"Aallaard Lawwnum, why do we practice with these . . . things," asked Private Leenoww very formally while he held the small box that was the energy weapon extended on the palm of his hand. "There is no honor bound to this thing. Only a sword has honor."
Mikal considered his answer carefully, wanting very much to say the right thing for once. "Private," he answered in common, "the sword is the more elegant weapon, and certainly the sword is more useful than that," he gestured disdainfully at the energy weapon, "in a ship where one shot with one of those can rupture the hull and kill all aboard. But you must understand that these can kill, too, and at long range. There will be times when you will be asked to use them. Certainly you must understand them. But I will never ask you to give them the respect that you give your blade."
The young private considered what the Lieutenant had said, then nodded sagely. "As you say, Lieutenant. It is good to practice."
Mikal was elated. This time, it seemed, he'd said exactly the right thing.
The Empress, dressed most delicately in a blue floor- length dress that sparkled when she moved, stood watching her husband's Lionmen from a balcony, guarded and accompanied only by Commander Ki. She frequently reviewed the men from this perch which was located on the rear side of the palace and ran in an "L" around two walls, one facing the weapons range, the other an enclosed drill field. It gave her the opportunity to be alone (except for the company of Commander Ki, of course, but he could be as talkative or as still as she wished) if she so desired. Today she was tired of everyone with whom she had regular contact, and worried, very worried. Too many things preyed on her mind, too many things happened much too quickly. She wanted very much to hear Ki's voice so full of quiet confidence. But instead of asking him to talk, to tell her of the goings on in the palace to which an Empress is never privy, she spoke.
"Take care of the Princess." The Silk was the very one Ki had used to wipe his sword at Natanha's birth. The blood of the Princess and the Empress still stained it.
Standing fully and correctly erect, Ki answered, "You know I have sworn to do so." Then he leaned down to put his elbow on the railing so that his face would be more on a level with Elena's, and so that she would know they were now speaking as friend to friend. "Afraid of rebels?"
Elena sighed heavily and grabbed the ornate, cast iron rail with both hands. She stood looking out over the firing range for some time without speaking. Then she shook a fold of her skirt and smoothed it. Finally, she turned to Ki. "We live in interesting times, my friend."
"Indeed." Ki noticed the deepening mauve circles under her eyes. They vaguely resembled the markings of the Didentaar, a Pride which had special attachments to the Lawwnum. Where Ki had found the markings beautiful on Nideans, they were wrong, even ugly, on Elena. And there were tiny lines around her mouth that told she had been frowning a great deal. He hoped she would say more, but she merely continued to stare out at the bright white flashes beneath her. Sensing that, more than anything, she wanted to be truly alone, he said, "I will leave you, Highness. Your guard will be outside the door. You know I am yours to command," and he withdrew.
Ki left Elena feeling very uneasy. It was obvious to any who cared to look that she was worried. It was in every aspect of her, her sleepy-looking eyes, her mouth, her very stance. And that had never been like Elena. Even when she had first come here, hardly more than a child, as soon as she saw that Ozenscebo did not see to his duties, she stepped in and worked at making things right. Had she stopped working? Stopped fighting? It was a question that plagued him as he walked down the hall on the way to the Emperor's audience chamber. Though it was time to find out what Ozenscebo was up to, it was Elena who worried him. He wished he knew what was going on.
"Is something troubling you?" Aubin's light voice rang in Ki's ear.
"Mmmmmm," Ki rumbled, and then laughed as the hair on Aubin's arm stood at attention. "Yes, I'm troubled, but not so much as you are by my speech."
"Ki, you do that to me on purpose, and you know it. And if you didn't already look down in the mouth, as if you could look anything else with those barbaric marks on your face, I would chew you out for it."
Ki halted mid-stride, snarled, "Barbaric!" before he realized that Aubin had baited him. Then he let it pass, and continued with Aubin down the hall. "Yes, I'm worried. I'm concerned about the Empress."
"Ahhh. Now there's a lady who lives in interesting times."
Ki sighed. "Again?" he asked of the wind, thinking of what the Empress had said just a few moments earlier.
"I beg your pardon?" asked Aubin, not understanding the reference.
"It's not important," Ki answered as they drew near the audience chamber. "You have business here today?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Ozenscebo has called several of the Envoys together to discuss, in the most disguised of terms, of course—we dare not even admit that rebels exist—how to deal with the rebels. I had hoped I wouldn't be found down in the recesses of the law library, but I didn't hide well enough."
Ki opened the door quietly, and the two stepped through. Several men and women were near the front of the room, packed as closely as they dared to get to the Emperor, hanging on his every word. One figure, however, stood in the very back of the hall. She was tall, taller even than Ki, with the broad nose and leonine features of his race. Her white hair was close cropped, however, and stranger still, she wore no facial markings except for the lines of great age. She was swathed
in the deep-desert robes of her planet, wrapped as if to protect her from the cold, and she kept them pulled closely about her with her crossed arms. The only jewelry she wore was an amulet hanging from her belt that bore the Pride markings of the Didentaar. An unmarried woman, then, a person of no standing in her own Pride, and yet Nide's Ambassador to Homeworld.
Ki greeted her, "Learaa Maaeve, waarrsho nu Mmumna," in the traditional way, her name first, then "Mmumna hold you," the "in the circle of her claws" part being understood.
She nodded to Ki respectfully, totally ignored Aubin even though he was Luna's Envoy, and turned back to the proceedings at the front of the hall.
Aubin stared at her curiously. Though he had spent much time in the same room with her on numerous occasions, she was still a total stranger. She was odd, always at the back of things, never saying a word, always watching, listening, this woman who was the only Ambassador at the Emperor's court. Nide was an affiliate by choice, not a conquered world.
I'll bet she misses nothing, Aubin thought. I imagine that her reports to Nide are fascinating. Probably more complete than anyone else's. I'll bet she has a better overall picture of what goes on in this empire than I do. He tilted his head, considering her unmarked face. If he understood Ki correctly, that meant that she had never married. But it also meant that she was still a child, regarded as a non-person. She must be quite a woman to survive a total lack of status to become Ambassador.
But in spite of his open stare, Maaeve still did not acknowledge Aubin, so he made his way forward to listen, and Ki edged around the side of the group so that he might see the Emperor.
The usual gathering of servants scurried about like ants, carrying wine, or more likely roed, to the Emperor and his audience, passing between them with little sweetmeats, holding out fresh transcriber disks. But though it was usual, it was also unusual. Ki stiffened as he smelled it—fear, far and away more than the usual discomforture of servants that waited on an uneven master. Trouble. Somewhere in this room a very frightened human was contemplating trouble.