House of Reeds (ittotss-2) by Thomas Harlan

Author:Thomas Harlan [Harlan, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: sf_history

Prince Tezozуmoc stretched out his arms and beckoned with his head for Sergeant Dawd to produce the next garment. Trying not to roll his eyes, the Skawtsman draped a greenish-tan velvet shirt over the young man's arms and chest.

"Hmmm…no…makes me look too sallow." The prince plucked the silk out of the sergeant's hand and tossed the shirt into a heap of equally unsuitable garments. "Is there anything red in there? A nice crimson or scarlet one – they always make me look striking."

"You've already gone through the red ones, mi'lord." Dawd pursed his lips. "We're down to duller tones."

"Curst wardrobe! Where is that adjutant! He's lost all my good shirts…" Tezozуmoc kicked a wardrobe bag aside and began rooting through his boxes of shoes. "Did I give one of my shirts to Mrs. Petrel – that's it, I did! Hers was ruined…" The prince squinted over his shoulder at Dawd. "Oh, Lord of Light, I spilled wine on her blouse didn't I?"

"You were laughing, mi'lord," Dawd said, keeping a straight face. "And the glass tipped."

Tezozуmoc blushed. "I shouldn't be allowed to touch alcohol. I gave her the red shirt as a replacement? Did I apologize?"

Dawd nodded. "I believe you did, mi'lord."

The prince made a growling sound, hands on his hips. "Can't we beg off this festival? Say I've cut off my head by mistake, or lost a leg in a car accident?"

"No mi'lord, we cannot." Dawd said patiently. "Mrs. Petrel and her ladies have already gone off to breakfast. Corporal Clark will be coming back for us momentarily with the aerocar. So you do, in fact, have to get dressed, be presentable and prepared to hobnob with the kujen and his relatives."

Tezozуmoc pouted sourly. "What is a Nem anyway? One of their gods?"

"The Nem, mi'lord, is a flowering bush – sometimes growing into a tree – which grows in the bottomlands along local rivers. Their blossoms herald the end of the rainy season. I also understand they are considered sacred, due to a bitter, psychotropically-active sap -"

Tezozуmoc, perking up at the prospect of something novel, was taken aback by the fixed, focusless way the Skawtsman stared at the door to the prince's dressing chamber and he turned, wondering what had drawn Dawd's attention.

Gemmilsky had not stinted with furnishings or ornamentation in his house. The master bedroom possessed magnificent doors of dark red ruhel wood inlaid with pearl and jade. At the moment, both were closed, though the prince expected one of his servants to arrive at any moment with a fresh bottle of vodka. "Sergeant? Is something -"

Dawd moved, one forearm slamming the prince back, sweeping Tezozуmoc behind him. In the same motion, a flat Webley Bulldog sprang into his hand.

The doors burst open, crashing into the marble-covered walls on either side, porcelain doorknobs shattering, and three Jehanan in Gandarian livery rushed in. The lead native twisted from the waist, broad shoulders powering a lohaja-wood machete straight at the Skawtsman's head. Dawd ducked inside the blow, jammed the pistol into the charging creature's gaping mouth and pulled the trigger twice.

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