A Princess of the Aerie Read Online Free PDF

Over
    A nd that’s the project he’s requiring, Uncle Sib,” Jak said, unhappily staring down at his pasta. It was superb, but he was
     full, and he rarely ate in so light a place now that he had his own apartment. “Vague directions, unclear goals, and a chance
     to use my nonexistent ethnographic skills. And I have to find it for myself. This is like having to find the rope to hang
     yourself with.” He managed to eat a couple more small, perfect mussels and a twirl of linguine, for manners’ sake; perhaps,
     if he sat and picked long enough, he might get up the will for dessert.
    He couldn’t help thinking, enviously, that Dujuv could probably have eaten all this, finished Sib’s, and then consumed three
     desserts.
    Sib nodded. “It doesn’t sound especially easy. I might have some thoughts on the subject.”
    “Actually, I have one very large thought on the subject. We should discuss it privately.” Now Sib would change the subject,
     but Jak and he would have a conversation, soon, away from listening devices. Practicing basic security was automatic to both
     Jinnakas; Jak had been brought up knowing that his uncle’s business must not be discussed in public.
    “I’m assuming that this idea will turn out to have involved some actual thought, knowledge, and attention?” Sib didn’t sound
     entirely hopeful. During his brief adventure two years ago, Jak had learned that Sib and his long-term demmy Gweshira were
     members of Circle Four, a notorious and powerful zybot (a social engineering collective trying to covertly reshape human society
     and history), and that Sib and Gweshira had always hoped (to their frequent disappointment) that Jak too would want to be
     involved in public affairs, political intrigue, and sedition— categories which overlapped heavily if you were in Circle Four.
     All zybots were supposed to be illegal, but Circle Four was often useful to the Hive and so it was tolerated, as long as it
     stayed quiet.
    “Well,” Jak said, “I admit I never used to pay attention to the news or politics. But I’ve changed, at least somewhat. I’d
     attribute it to my classes at the PSA, and Gweshira’s influence.” Jak looked down at his plate, mentally counted off ten seconds,
     and looked up to see his uncle, as he’d expected, about to explode with rage. It was a funny sight and Jak laughed aloud.
     “And most importantly,
your
influence, you silly, sensitive old gwont. I was just having fun with you.”
    “I was thinking of something else,” Sib said, staring into Jak’s eyes with utter sincerity.
    “You were so annoyed that you were ready to wet yourself. And rightly so. You put a lot of work into waking me up to the larger
     world around me, Uncle Sib, and you deserve full credit. I was just teasing. Sorry if I went too far.”
    Sibroillo tried to hold his expression of wounded dignity for another moment, but failed utterly and began to laugh. “Gweshira
     always says that when she teases me, I look like a furious toad.”
    “With the goatee,” Jak said, “more like an angry terrier.”
    “Ahem.” The word was more whistled than spoken, from directly behind Jak. He turned. At the table behind him, a very senior
     Rubahy warrior (to judge by the darkness of the patch on his right shoulder, and the shape and size of his enormous teeth),
     more than two meters tall, had turned all the way round at hearing the hated slur. His feathers were already fluffed and his
     rage spines were extending from his back.
    Jak got out of his chair and made the kneeling single-knee bow: deep apology. “I deeply regret the offense, but I assert by
     my honor that I am blameless. I was saying that my uncle resembles, somewhat, the type of dog called a terrier. I meant no
     slur upon your species and was not thinking of the Rubahy at all. Still, saying that word in a public place was obviously
     careless and foolish, for I have angered a noble warrior whose respect I would much rather have. I ask