“I don’t doubt it.” He kissed her forehead and started unbuttoning her gown. “And imagine the pictures the streetvendors sold.”
She surprised herself by chuckling as he let her back down on the bed. My, he was good at instilling courage, she thought; an excellent companion for battle. Perhaps there would be survivors of this sortie after all. And he was certainly very generous with wine. In the back of her mind she heard Prudence Taylor’s voice say, .. the most charming little butt-end.”
Adrian, who was kissing his way down her breasts, took her shaking laughter for newfound passion and was more than pleased with himself.
SECTION
FOUR
:
The Sawyer Crown
Chapter 36
Baret Two. Settled by discontented Empire subjects in 2390, the Baret System has been mainly selfsufficient ever since. A chain of physical disasters in 2410 led to a request for Imperial governorship, which was answered by the installment of the Arbrith family on both planets in 2413. Prior to this a series of local warlords had taken power on Baret Two, each one hanging his predecessor in chains from the top of the capital fort. The Arbrith family rode its understandable popularity with competence, instituting judicial reform and reapportioning land slowly and with caution.
Elysia Arbrith was converted to Redemptionism in 2449, changed her name to Edith, and insisted on the immediate conversion of the rest of the Arbrith family. All survivors had converted by 2453. Since then the Arbriths have traditionally been Redemptionist, as have some of their court. The great majority of Baret System are Cantists and agnostics. With the exception of two civil wars, the religious preferences of their leaders are regarded by the people of Baret System as a tolerable eccentricity.
Baret System has been a largely peaceful place for centuries. Aside from some rare gourmet foodstuffs, the chief export of Baret Two is handmade lace in the so-called “Everun Pattern. ”
Sum total of Baret Two information in the
Imperial Encyclopedia.
“As usual, much of what is here is out of date.”
Marginal note in the hand of ADRIAN MERCATI
“I’ve never been downhill before,” said Brandon Fischer to Tal. They seemed to be standing on a silver beach under a blue and white sky, while breakers rolled against the sand. In fact, they were standing in the audience chamber of Baret Two’s ruling family. The rest of the trade team, as well as a gaggle of Baret Two hangers-on and other people waiting for introduction to the Duke stood around them. If you squinted your eyes a certain way the dimensions of the actual audience chamber took precedence over the beach scene; otherwise it was a ghostly double image, apparent only enough to keep people from falling down steps and banging into the furniture.
Mechs offered drinks to those waiting, and Brandon Fischer winced as he took one. All this non-Redemptionist technology bothered him. “I understood the ruling family were of our faith,” he said.
Tal shrugged. “Maybe not all Redemptionists are as orthodox as those in the Three Cities.” Fischer was taking it relatively well, he thought; Hierophant Gomez, head of the Opal contingent, allowed open discomfort to show on his face.
The Arbriths employed a herald, as every worthwhile planetary authority did; an educated liaison knowledgeable in die customs of greeting of other societies and species, not likely to offend. The Arbriths’ herald was a plump middle-aged woman with a weather-lined face. A member of her staff stood beside her—the Three Cities specialist? Whatever that young man knew, it was out of date, more out of date than the Cities’ own information, which at least came from the Encyclopedia. The Three Cities hadn’t traded in this part of civilization for centuries.
Tal noted with distant amusement the change in shading in the face of Hierophant Gomez. The drinks-mech had been replaced by a human servant offering him a choice of finger foods. Like most of the humans on Baret Two, she had skin of rich, dark brown, and wore golden earrings; this particular servant was also young and one of her breasts was bared. What’s more, a golden hoop matching her earrings had been placed around the chocolate nipple, and the hierophant’s gaze kept returning to it in a shocked and involuntary way.
And now the herald was striding forward. Like all the civilians of the capital she wore a long pleated skirt that stopped just above her ankles; the Barets considered legs an object of modesty to be revealed only to lovers. “We give welcome to our brothers from the Hollow Hills,” she announced in a clear alto tone. “The Hollow Hills” was an old phrase from Redemptionist poetry that meant the Three Cities. “Will they come forward and meet their siblings, long separated and now well-met?”
Brandon Fischer motioned for the rest of the team to come together. In a low voice Tal said, “Do you think they’ll want to do the knife ceremony?”
Fischer glanced at the gold-hooped woman, who was walking past them with a tray. “I wouldn’t even attempt to predict what these people will do.”
The team gathered before the dais, Tal well to the back of the group. Because it had been clear weather in Everun that dawn, Brandon Fischer spoke for them; had it been a misty morning, the hierophant would have done so. That piece of advice had come by a hideously expensive Oracle of Pearl. Fischer bowed. “We were honored by your invitation,” he said.
Duke Peter sat on a cushioned chair on the dais, his prerogative as a nobly born member of a ruling Empire family. At least, it would be his prerogative till Baret One brought the revolution, and Duke Peter and all his kin came to an abrupt end. How long? Five years at most, was Tal’s best guess; Baret One had gone Republican some time ago, and mixed planetary systems never lasted. Of course, it could happen tomorrow.
As long as it didn’t happen while they were there.
The doomed Duke Peter was a thickset
