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

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weapon-callused, but the grip much gentler than she would have expected. They let go to take Shkai'ra's
next, then scratched Fishhook behind the ears.
At least stop doing your best imitation of a brook trout, Megan, she told herself, and cleared her
throat. "Um, my profoundest apologies, for impertinence, Woyvode— ah, I should say,Se-ma-na-k —"
Shit! I fucking blew it. After all that practice… No, dammit, try again. "Se-ma-na-kra-se-ye . We
meant no lack of respect." She offered him her best bow, from kneeling. If it wasn't enough, they'd find
out damn soon.Stop acting like a first on board , she told herself tartly.The man has to take his pants
down to shit like everyone else .
"No, no, not at all," the semanakraseye said, smiling. "I didn't think you did. No offense taken. I'm not
one for ceremony, more than the bare necessities of it." He answered Megan's bow with a finger-touch
to his temple, as if they were two sentries changing places.
Shkai'ra sat back on her heels. "Well, that's a relief. Places I've been, you had to wiggle forward like a
lizard to the throne, beating your head on the ground, or else die horribly."
"Like where I come from," Megan added.
"Ah. I understand." He was soft-spoken, so much so that sometimes she had to concentrate to catch all
his words; very strange, in a politician. "You're Zak. And… Kommanzr. You came by way of
Brahvniki."
"Chevenga…" A man stuck his head in the door, and rattled off a question in rapid-fire Yeoli, with
rapid-fire gestures.Does everyone call him by his name to his face, too ? Thesemanakraseye
answered in the same fast Yeoli, words and hands, and the man saluted and was gone, the first of a
stream of people.
"By way of Brahvniki, yes," said Megan, using the hand-sign to be polite; that earned a smile. "We
stopped there to get news out of the Benai, and horses for your army."
"Why do you want to join?" He didn't ask particularly sternly; at the same time his eyes, deep-set and
large and dark brown, looked at her in a way she wouldn't have wanted to lie to.
"Because as far as I could see, you have a good chance of reaching the City Itself. Good enough for the
Benaiat Ivahn to lend you money. I trust his judgment."
"Benaiat Ivahn? Lend memoney ?" Chevenga's eyes creased, confused. "He never did that. Where did
you hear it?"
What? Megan ran back over the memory; yes, Ivahn had told her, plain.Wait one fish-gutted minute.
Someone's trying to spread cow-manure here, and I don't think it's Ivahn .
It's for Ivahn's sake. She remembered how it had been in strictest confidence.He's figuring I might be
a loose-lipped type who's heard a rumor, and doesn't want to give anything away . She'd never
seen confusion faked so well.
She raised one eyebrow, lowered her voice to a whisper. "I have considerable financial dealings with the
Benaiat, and we are also dear friends. We spoke of other things too, for instance acertain
fifteen-year-old visitor to the city who had to be administered the remedy to acertain affliction
contracted the night before in acertain establishment whose name is suggestive of acertain small