Worlds of Honor

but it was unusually well occupied today, for news of Crown Princess Adrienne's visit had been released to the public four hours ago. Many of Twin Forks' citizens had opted to take a long lunch break, and people from outlying freeholds had begun arriving over an hour ago. City work crews were supervising a small fleet of remotes as the bustling mechanisms rapidly assembled bleachers from which the Star Kingdom's subjects could gain an even better view of their future monarch and hear the address her speech writers had undoubtedly prepared for her, but for now the park just outside the SFS's perimeter fence was attracting most of the waiting bodies.

Thoreau allowed himself a mental grimace, though no sign of it touched his face, and wondered whether he was more reassured or worried that their client had, indeed, managed to get them the Princess' accurate itinerary. On the one hand, the information had been invaluable. On the other, the fact that their employer had the reach to get his hands on data that closely held spoke ominous volumes about his capabilities in general. After all, if someone who could put this all together decided to get rid of any liabilities—

Stop that! he told himself sharply. Jean-Marc's made the arrangements, just like he always does. If anything happens to us, the shit will hit the fan big time when his insurance policy dumps into the public data net. 

Sure it would. Of course, Thoreau suspected he and Krogman would take little personal satisfaction from the repercussions of their joint demise, but that wasn't exactly the point. And in the meantime, he had a job to do.

On the surface of it, it was a simple and rather pointless task, particularly for one with his skills in the efficient application of violence. But well-honed as those skills were, he would not need them today, for he had a single, unique qualification for his present task: anonymity. Despite a checkered past in certain other jurisdictions and under other names, his record was squeaky clean in the Star Kingdom of Manticore. That—and the bright red handkerchief in his breast pocket—was all he had . . . and, thanks to the skills Krogman brought to their partnership, it was all he needed to assassinate the Heir.

'Welcome to SFS, Your Highness.' The tall, red-haired man in the green and brown uniform of the Sphinx Forestry Service bowed as Adrienne stepped from the air car. His beret bore the Star Kingdom's rampant Manticore, but the patch on the right shoulder of his tunic showed the silhouette of a treecat, and the single golden star of a lieutenant general on his collar marked him as General William MacClintock, the SFS's commanding officer and current head of the Forestry Service Board.

Adrienne held out her hand and smiled the smile she'd been trained to produce since childhood, but it was harder than usual as the six-limbed, prick-eared, cream-and-gray creature on MacClintock's shoulder gazed at her with bright, curious green eyes. She gripped the general's hand firmly, but even though she knew it was rude, her eyes were on the fascinating, graceful treecat, and she heard a soft chuckle from the SFS's CO.

She'd seen video of treecats, of course, but it wasn't the same at all, for the imagery simply couldn't have prepared her for the reality's alert gaze or the crackling sense of intelligence it seemed to project straight into her brain.

The 'cat measured perhaps a meter and a half from the tip of its sharp muzzle to the end of the silky tail that hung down MacClintock's back. Although the long, lean body looked bulkier than it actually was thanks to its luxurious coat of fur, she could see why some people described its species as a six-limbed first-cousin of an Old Terran weasel or ferret. But that description had never really seemed accurate to her before, and now that she'd actually seen a 'cat with her own eyes, it seemed even less so. Oh, there was more than a touch of the weasel in that sinuous body, but it actually reminded her more strongly of images she'd seen of an Old Earth creature called a lemur . . . aside, of course, from the undeniably 'feline' head and ears.

The impressions cascaded through her, and then the 'cat flipped its ears and bleeked politely at her, and General MacClintock chuckled even more loudly.

'I think Dunatis just welcomed you as well, Your Highness,' he said, and Adrienne pulled her attention from the 'cat to raise an eyebrow at him.

' `Dunatis'?' she repeated.

'The Celtic god of mountains, Your Highness.' MacClintock shrugged with a smile. 'Given that his clan makes its home up in the Copperwalls, it seemed appropriate. Although if I'd known him better when we met, I think I might have settled on a god with a lower sense of humor. Or maybe a taste for arranging minor catastrophes!'

'I see.' Adrienne smiled back. 'I've read quite a bit about treecats, and I rather got the impression most of them have senses of humor. I think that's one of the things that makes them most fascinating to me—the way we seem to agree on what's funny, I mean.'

MacClintock gave her a rather sharp look, then glanced at Lieutenant Colonel Tudev, but Tudev only smiled blandly. He'd warned the general that the Heir didn't share the King's resentment for all things treecat, but he hadn't indicated that the Princess had gone so far as to do genuine research about them.

'Actually, Your Highness, we're cautious about generalizing from our friends,' the general said after the briefest of pauses, 'because we can never be certain how typical they are of their species. It's tempting to assume they're a representative cross section of all treecats, but the low absolute number who adopt human friends argues against that.'

'Because if they were truly representative we'd see a higher number of adoptions,' Adrienne agreed with a nod. 'I know. I was struck by the logic of that when I read Jason Harrington's work on them.'

'You've read Jason's monograph?' Surprise betrayed MacClintock into the untactful question, and he colored brightly. 'I'm sorry, Your Highness. I only meant I was surprised it had come to your attention. It hasn't had a very broad circulation.'

'I know, and I've wondered why that was.'

'Well,' MacClintock grinned, 'I shouldn't say it, Your Highness, but I suspect it's because he isn't a very good writer. Not as good as his great-grandmother was, anyway.'

'From what I've heard, very few people were as good as Dame Stephanie at just about anything,' Adrienne said dryly, and MacClintock nodded.

'I believe you could call that an accurate statement, Your Highness. A most determined lady, Stephanie Harrington. Are you a student of her accomplishments?'

'Not as much as I might like to be,' Adrienne admitted. 'But for someone as influential as she was, she seems to've spent a great deal of effort avoiding publicity.'

'That's true, Your Highness. I rather wish someone would do a good scholarly biography of her. That Trailblazer of Dreams thing by Simmons was a piece of popularized garba– Ah, I mean it was poorly researched and largely fictionalized,' he corrected himself hastily, 'and it's downright bad history. Despite the SFS's best efforts, people are already beginning to forget what a monumental role she played in Sphinx's history—or that of the entire Star Kingdom, for that matter. Unfortunately, that was apparently the way she wanted it, and the Harrington family has steadfastly refused to release her private papers. Until they do, it's unlikely anyone will be able to do a job much better than Simmons'. Which is a pity.'

'It is, indeed,' Adrienne agreed, and looked up as Tudev checked his chrono and cleared his throat. She grinned at her chief bodyguard's studiously maintained non-expression, then smiled at MacClintock.

'I'm afraid that's Colonel Tudev's polite way of reminding me I have a schedule to keep, General,' she said with a charming air of apology. 'I'm not especially looking forward to the speech—which will be my third of the day—but I am looking forward to my tour of your new wing. Would you be kind enough to lead the way?'

'I would be honored,' MacClintock assured her, and swept another, deeper bow before he turned to do just that.

SIX