96 Honor Blade by Diane Duane

Author:Diane Duane [Duane, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General, Fiction, Science Fiction, Space Opera, Kirk; James T. (Fictitious character)
ISBN: 9780671042103
Publisher: Pocket
Published: 2000-10-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

when the door chimed one more time, that evening, Arrhae looked up in resignation. Earlier this evening, after the meeting of the whole negotiating group, had come yet another visit from tr'AAnikh-in a much more subdued mood than the last time, and proffer-ing an apology. She noticed that he would not come too close to her: that, at least, made Arrhae smile. But all that while she had been nervous, for she still had not managed to identify where the bugging devices in her suite might be. She had sent tr'AAnikh away, her excuse being that she refused to accept his apology as yet-though this had left her in a foul mood, for she disliked having to act so disagreeable. Now she got up with a frown and went to the door. Intelligence, no doubt, in the form of the mis-erable t'Radaik, with another of her obscure errands. She paused by the door, breathed out. "Who comes?" she said.

"A friend," said a big, deep voice.

Her eyes widened. She knew that voice, but there was no reason in space or beyond it for its owner to be outside her door. Nonetheless, she waved the door open.

He stood there, a little shadowy in the hallway's late-evening-scheme lighting, but unmistakable: Gurrhim tr'Siedhri. He sketched her a brief bow, one which he did not have to give her at all, and said, "Perhaps the senator might have time to speak to me."

She stood aside, and he slipped in; the door shut behind him. Arrhae waved it locked. He stood by the couch, and she blinked to see that he was actually waiting for her to sit first.

She did so, and for confusion's sake retreated into hru'hfe mode, saying, "May I give you something to drink, Praetor? I have here some excellent ale-"

"I take that kindly, but there is no need, and little time." He reached under his tabard.

Arrhae froze. What he brought out, though, was no weapon. It was a small sphere of dark-green metal, with several recessed touch-patches set into it, matte finish against the sheen of the rest of it. He set it down on the low table in front of the couch, and it balanced on one of the recessed patches and began to make a very small, demure humming sound. One of the patches on the side glowed a soft blue.

"It is a personal cloak," he said. "It has been set to blank out my life-sign readings; it is now also jam—

ming whatever listening and scanning devices may have been operating in this area."

Arrhae looked at it with astonishment. Like everyone else, she had heard of such things, but had never thought to see one. Such devices were of fabulously advanced technology and expensive beyond belief, the sort of thing that only the government could af-ford for its own agents-it having been careful to make such technology illegal except when purchased by a government agency.

Tr'Siedhri caught Arrhae's look and gave her a dry one back. "If there is not the occasional advantage to being offensively rich," Gurrhim said, "it would be a sad thing.

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