Read Online Analog Science Fiction And Fact - June 2014 by Penny Publications - Free Book Online
Authors: Penny Publications
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miraculously unMedusafied. "Escoli was one of the kindest, most compassionate people I have ever known. She was incapable of tormenting anybody."
"She was?"
"Damn right she was."
With the condescension of someone explaining the obvious to an imbecile, Luhor said: "'She was.' As opposed to 'she is.' You're referring to her in the past tense."
"With good reason," Baldwin snapped. "She was killed. Murdered."
"Too bad." Luhor sounded as if he didn't think it really was. He was on diplomatic autopilot, muttering conventionalities without conviction, his voice as hollow as an echo. "Please accept my condolences.
And
my assurances. My yuriki had nothing to do with her death. I can assure you of that."
Baldwin blinked. Yuriki? He recognized it as a very old, obsolete term, but its exact meaning eluded him. He ransacked his memory. Master? Sovereign? No—more like "liege." A yuriki was a suzerain with henchmen—or a henchman—who swore fealty to him.
"Tajok was your yuriki?"
"We were in the mines together. That's where we met. The shiroz mines. Tajok befriended me. He took me under his wing, protected me, taught me how to..." A pause "... not how to stay alive so much as how to keep from dying. Without his patronage, I wouldn't have survived." Luhor's black eyes met Baldwin's. "So yes—I thought of him as my yuriki."
"Tumanzu thought of him as a sugami."
"A dishonorable opponent?" Contrary to Baldwin's expectations, Luhor seemed to be taking this suggestion seriously. "He might have felt that way, I suppose—especially if he was a soldier. Did he fight against the Ambulans?"
"Most adult Dokharans did, but Tumanzu would have been a child when war was declared. He wasn't old enough to bear arms in that conflict."
Luhor raised an admonitory finger. "Don't be deceived by appearances. Tumanzu was one of my yuriki's successes. He's considerably older than he looks."
"You're sure?"
"He wouldn't have been admitted to this house otherwise. Vindictive Dokharans aren't ordinarily welcome here."
"Then no Dokharans are welcome here." Baldwin huffed a laugh as devoid of amusement as a lemon of sweetness. "Dokharans who
aren't
vindictive toward Tajok would constitute a minority of one: Tajok himself and none other."
"Tumanzu claimed to be an exception. He contacted us, said that the life-extension treatments he'd received had been very beneficial and that he wanted to express his gratitude. My yuriki was intrigued. Of course he was. He expected no thanks and desired none, but he was eager to examine Tumanzu—to verify that the aging process had actually been retarded."
"And it had."
A brusque nod of affirmation. "No question about it."
"And Tumanzu was grateful?"
"No."
"But didn't he say...?"
"... that he wanted to express his gratitude. That's what he said. And that's what he did. He expressed his gratitude. To the Zifrans. For punishing my yuriki. For subjecting him to ten years of brutal servitude that ruined his health and shortened his life." Luhor made a cup of his hand and then deliberately upended it. "The exact opposite of what he'd hoped to achieve. What he
did
achieve—but for Tumanzu, not for himself."
"That was all Tumanzu really wanted? To gloat? To exult over Tajok's undoing? To rub salt in an open wound?"
"A genuine hatred. I'll grant Tumanzu that much. His hostility emanated from him like heat from a radiator. Or cold from a block of ice. It was uncontrived and undiluted. You almost had to admire its purity."
Deliberately echoing the insincerity with which Luhor's commiserations had been offered, Baldwin recited: "Please accept my condolences on the loss of your..." He started to say "friend" but changed it in mid-sentence to: "... yuriki. I apologize for intruding on your sorrow."
"That's quite all right. Making funeral arrangements is an unpleasant task. An interruption isn't unwelcome." As though struck by an afterthought, he muttered: "I don't know if reporters will be permitted to attend the
"She was?"
"Damn right she was."
With the condescension of someone explaining the obvious to an imbecile, Luhor said: "'She was.' As opposed to 'she is.' You're referring to her in the past tense."
"With good reason," Baldwin snapped. "She was killed. Murdered."
"Too bad." Luhor sounded as if he didn't think it really was. He was on diplomatic autopilot, muttering conventionalities without conviction, his voice as hollow as an echo. "Please accept my condolences.
And
my assurances. My yuriki had nothing to do with her death. I can assure you of that."
Baldwin blinked. Yuriki? He recognized it as a very old, obsolete term, but its exact meaning eluded him. He ransacked his memory. Master? Sovereign? No—more like "liege." A yuriki was a suzerain with henchmen—or a henchman—who swore fealty to him.
"Tajok was your yuriki?"
"We were in the mines together. That's where we met. The shiroz mines. Tajok befriended me. He took me under his wing, protected me, taught me how to..." A pause "... not how to stay alive so much as how to keep from dying. Without his patronage, I wouldn't have survived." Luhor's black eyes met Baldwin's. "So yes—I thought of him as my yuriki."
"Tumanzu thought of him as a sugami."
"A dishonorable opponent?" Contrary to Baldwin's expectations, Luhor seemed to be taking this suggestion seriously. "He might have felt that way, I suppose—especially if he was a soldier. Did he fight against the Ambulans?"
"Most adult Dokharans did, but Tumanzu would have been a child when war was declared. He wasn't old enough to bear arms in that conflict."
Luhor raised an admonitory finger. "Don't be deceived by appearances. Tumanzu was one of my yuriki's successes. He's considerably older than he looks."
"You're sure?"
"He wouldn't have been admitted to this house otherwise. Vindictive Dokharans aren't ordinarily welcome here."
"Then no Dokharans are welcome here." Baldwin huffed a laugh as devoid of amusement as a lemon of sweetness. "Dokharans who
aren't
vindictive toward Tajok would constitute a minority of one: Tajok himself and none other."
"Tumanzu claimed to be an exception. He contacted us, said that the life-extension treatments he'd received had been very beneficial and that he wanted to express his gratitude. My yuriki was intrigued. Of course he was. He expected no thanks and desired none, but he was eager to examine Tumanzu—to verify that the aging process had actually been retarded."
"And it had."
A brusque nod of affirmation. "No question about it."
"And Tumanzu was grateful?"
"No."
"But didn't he say...?"
"... that he wanted to express his gratitude. That's what he said. And that's what he did. He expressed his gratitude. To the Zifrans. For punishing my yuriki. For subjecting him to ten years of brutal servitude that ruined his health and shortened his life." Luhor made a cup of his hand and then deliberately upended it. "The exact opposite of what he'd hoped to achieve. What he
did
achieve—but for Tumanzu, not for himself."
"That was all Tumanzu really wanted? To gloat? To exult over Tajok's undoing? To rub salt in an open wound?"
"A genuine hatred. I'll grant Tumanzu that much. His hostility emanated from him like heat from a radiator. Or cold from a block of ice. It was uncontrived and undiluted. You almost had to admire its purity."
Deliberately echoing the insincerity with which Luhor's commiserations had been offered, Baldwin recited: "Please accept my condolences on the loss of your..." He started to say "friend" but changed it in mid-sentence to: "... yuriki. I apologize for intruding on your sorrow."
"That's quite all right. Making funeral arrangements is an unpleasant task. An interruption isn't unwelcome." As though struck by an afterthought, he muttered: "I don't know if reporters will be permitted to attend the
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