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