Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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just too much? A guard paced across where another hallway intersected. She worked her way closer
from column to column, fast and silent.Wait. I know him . Elite, she'd seen his face in the secure section
of camp. More to the point, he'd seen hers. She pulled off her black hood and gloves, sauntered out
briskly. "Hi, Ka… Kar…" She knew his name started with a "k."
"… Halya, I can't pronounce it, sorry. Which way to Emao-e's office?"
He stared at her for a moment.I guess near midnight is a bit late to have an appointment . But he
said, "Sure. Thataway. You got pretty close to him, I hope you can help."
Act like I know what's going on. "Dah, I hope so too, thanks." She saluted, and strolled down the
corridor.
Down yellow marble stairs, across a floor patterned with alternating gold and silver tiles—some
missing— hide inside an urn, pink alabaster, as two guards passed… a servant's corridor went the right
way toward the domed garden. The first and second doors opened on gardening tools and a closet, the
third door down was locked tight. She pulled the lock-pick out of her belt buckle, was through in a
moment.
The fountain, five jets of water bubbling into a glass basin with a gentle plashing, covered her noise. She
clawed her way up the wall-ivy. The floor of the balcony and the room beyond was another flame pattern
in rubies and yellow tourmaline. A row of glass doors, bordered in polished brass with flame patterns
edged in copper and gold, heavy cloth-of-gold curtains hung inside…
The centermost two doors were open. She heard Yeoli voices, sharp, arguing.
"Yen dyanai." Young fool. The words were fast, hard for her to follow, the voice one she didn't know,
only distinct when it was raised. "Kya krenanirae…" The best translation of that, really, waseverything
goes tits up. " …tetyuyae…" Kill, kill someone, which fish-gutted pronoun was that, starting with
"t" … ?You. Kill yourself .
The answering voice was Chevenga's. Though hoarser than usual, it was clearer to her than the others,
being familiar. "I've explained to you, I've explained to everyone ten times, and no one will listen to
reason—"
"Reason! You call itreason ?"
"I've talked enough—get out of here!"
A slithery, high clashing was followed by the sound of a slamming door, then by the echo of both. The
room sounded big as a banquet hall. He would know she was there, she realized, know it was her, by his
sense for weapons; but nothing happened. She shaded in.
The room was lit by two candelabra as tall as she was, with twenty candles in each, set inside a
shimmering curtain of gold chains that surrounded the bed, which was huge, three of her height long and
just as wide. The headboard was an obsidian column that reached up into the dark beyond the
candlelight to where the ceiling glittered indistinctly far above; against its black the Aan sunburst blazed
gold. Almost lost in the middle of it all, his skin pale white against the black of his hair and the
gold-embroidered black quilt, both arms in Haian plasters and tied down, lay Chevenga.
She walked over, checked her step; the gold chains had slivers of glass set into the links to cut anyone