Geneva: Hey, brat, poor decrepit senile old Sleel needs somebody to help him cross the street so he don't get run over by some kid in his daddy's flitter. We'd better go and hold his hand, you think?
No, definitely not. Emile had taken on a planet's army by himself, and the matadors had knocked the entire Confed on its ass. Sleel could surely keep one old thief alive, couldn't he?
Damned right he could.
Hoja Cierto was most unhappy when Carlotta reported Pedro's failure. Four of his students had died trying to erase the final blot on the family name. True, they had done so with honor, but failure was failure, and now the old thief had but that much more to answer for.
Lying naked upon his bed, Cierto considered the ceiling of his room. He would spend all of his students if need be, but it seemed such a waste of his training to have them stopped. And according to Carlotta's report, the condemned man had gotten himself a bodyguard, one of the matadors of whom so much had been spoken. Cierto had never dealt with these matadors directly, but he knew that some of them had walked the Flex before they learned sumito, taught by the Siblings of the Shroud. Some of them had been ranked quite high, if the stories could be believed, and the fighting art of shrouded priests was second to none when it came to bare hands. Two of the projectiles Cierto had fired had been stopped by this matador, and so he was responsible for their deaths, even though it had been the brainchoke that had actually killed them.
Cierto grinned. In the Old Language, "matador" did not mean "bodyguard. " It meant "killer. " On Earth, these men had faced beasts in the ring and slain them with swords.
He sat up, the muscles of his belly tightening as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Well. We shall see how this matador fares against a beast who also carries a sword. One who is without peer using his weapon.
The thought of such a battle aroused him. He touched a button on the bedside com.
"Juanita?"
"Si, Patron?"
"Come to my room. I have something for you."
The young woman's voice trembled slightly. "At once, Patron. "
Cierto smiled, hearing the touch of fear in her. There were swords, then there were swords, and a man must be adept in using both kinds, no? Cierto usually preferred his sheath to be the tightest of the three a woman had to offer, but this time he felt potent enough want to use them all when Juanita arrived. And he certainly intended to do so.
Chapter FOUR
ABOARD THE STARLINER Pachelbel, Sleel and Jersey Reason enjoyed the comforts of a first-class suite. The ship, completed after the fall of the Confed, was state-of-the-art interstellar travel, a luxury boat for those with stads to burn; it was like being in a resort town that could fly.
"How much are you worth, anyway?" Sleel asked.
They were in one of the restaurants, where the price of a single meal could easily equal a month's rent for a middleclass family. They were both enjoying the special of the day, Green Moon beef. Reason sipped at an expensive blue wine, Mtuan Azure; Sleel, working, didn't usually do strong chem; instead, he drank splash, as mild as beer. The smell of the meat was rich, the taste exquisite, and Sleel savored the texture and flavor.
"I could scrape up perhaps a hundred million standards," Reason said. "Depending on property values around the galaxy at any given time."
Sleel nodded, chewing on a mouthful of the steak. Big money didn't impress him.
"So, where to?" Reason asked. "I assume you have something more specific in mind than the entire Bibi Arusi System?" Yep. ,
"And I must say I was somewhat surprised that you booked passage for us under our own names."
Sleel swallowed the steak and grinned. "No, you weren't."
Reason tilted his head slightly to one side. "Oh'?"
Sleel leaned back in his chair, automatically scanning the dining room again. He had done so a dozen times during the meal and now as then, there was no apparent threat. None of
No, definitely not. Emile had taken on a planet's army by himself, and the matadors had knocked the entire Confed on its ass. Sleel could surely keep one old thief alive, couldn't he?
Damned right he could.
Hoja Cierto was most unhappy when Carlotta reported Pedro's failure. Four of his students had died trying to erase the final blot on the family name. True, they had done so with honor, but failure was failure, and now the old thief had but that much more to answer for.
Lying naked upon his bed, Cierto considered the ceiling of his room. He would spend all of his students if need be, but it seemed such a waste of his training to have them stopped. And according to Carlotta's report, the condemned man had gotten himself a bodyguard, one of the matadors of whom so much had been spoken. Cierto had never dealt with these matadors directly, but he knew that some of them had walked the Flex before they learned sumito, taught by the Siblings of the Shroud. Some of them had been ranked quite high, if the stories could be believed, and the fighting art of shrouded priests was second to none when it came to bare hands. Two of the projectiles Cierto had fired had been stopped by this matador, and so he was responsible for their deaths, even though it had been the brainchoke that had actually killed them.
Cierto grinned. In the Old Language, "matador" did not mean "bodyguard. " It meant "killer. " On Earth, these men had faced beasts in the ring and slain them with swords.
He sat up, the muscles of his belly tightening as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Well. We shall see how this matador fares against a beast who also carries a sword. One who is without peer using his weapon.
The thought of such a battle aroused him. He touched a button on the bedside com.
"Juanita?"
"Si, Patron?"
"Come to my room. I have something for you."
The young woman's voice trembled slightly. "At once, Patron. "
Cierto smiled, hearing the touch of fear in her. There were swords, then there were swords, and a man must be adept in using both kinds, no? Cierto usually preferred his sheath to be the tightest of the three a woman had to offer, but this time he felt potent enough want to use them all when Juanita arrived. And he certainly intended to do so.
Chapter FOUR
ABOARD THE STARLINER Pachelbel, Sleel and Jersey Reason enjoyed the comforts of a first-class suite. The ship, completed after the fall of the Confed, was state-of-the-art interstellar travel, a luxury boat for those with stads to burn; it was like being in a resort town that could fly.
"How much are you worth, anyway?" Sleel asked.
They were in one of the restaurants, where the price of a single meal could easily equal a month's rent for a middleclass family. They were both enjoying the special of the day, Green Moon beef. Reason sipped at an expensive blue wine, Mtuan Azure; Sleel, working, didn't usually do strong chem; instead, he drank splash, as mild as beer. The smell of the meat was rich, the taste exquisite, and Sleel savored the texture and flavor.
"I could scrape up perhaps a hundred million standards," Reason said. "Depending on property values around the galaxy at any given time."
Sleel nodded, chewing on a mouthful of the steak. Big money didn't impress him.
"So, where to?" Reason asked. "I assume you have something more specific in mind than the entire Bibi Arusi System?" Yep. ,
"And I must say I was somewhat surprised that you booked passage for us under our own names."
Sleel swallowed the steak and grinned. "No, you weren't."
Reason tilted his head slightly to one side. "Oh'?"
Sleel leaned back in his chair, automatically scanning the dining room again. He had done so a dozen times during the meal and now as then, there was no apparent threat. None of
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