Read Online House of Shards by Walter Jon Williams - Free Book Online Page A

nonexistent horizon and gave the Marchioness the benefit of his profile. “Men of action are so often dull in person, don’t you think?” he said. “It’s the ability to deal with things in a straightforward way. Admirable in its fashion, but hardly suitable for the Diadem.”
    “Here's Drake Maijstral.” Her tilted eyes betrayed a glimmer of interest.
    “My lord,” Maijstral said.
    “Maijstral. Have you met my wife?”
    “Honored, madam.” Maijstral offered a finger in the handclasp and got three in return. He covered his surprise and smiled at Kotani.
    “Mr. Maijstral,” the Marchioness said. “We were just discussing men of action.”
    “I hope I am not included in their number,” Maijstral said. “Being in essence a lazy man, I try to avoid action whenever possible.”
    “There,” Kotani said. “My point exactly. And Maijstral’s not dull.”
    “Surely not.” The Marchioness looked at him through tilted eyes. “I’m pleased to find you taller than I thought, from seeing you only in video. I don’t think Laurence's impersonation of you on vid does you justice, by the way.”
    “Is it an impersonation? Or is it just Laurence? I’ve never seen him, so I can’t tell.”
    “Maijstral looks shorter because he's so compact,” Kotani said. “He's very coordinated, moves well.” He smiled at Maijstral. “It’s a quality we share. People often think I appear shorter than my true height.”
    The Marchioness looked at Maijstral, then at her husband. “I don’t think Maijstral’s like you at all, Kotani.”
    “In that respect, dearest, he is.”
    “Not at all.”
    Kotani frowned minutely. “I think Asperson is heading this way. That woman is relentless.” He held out his arm. “Shall we stroll toward the dining room?”
    “If you like.”
    “Maijstral, we'll talk another time. When a certain person isn’t eavesdropping.”
    “Sir. Madam.”
    Maijstral’s heart sank. He was alone with Asperson, her next victim.
    *
    Zoot took three careful breaths and felt his tension begin to ebb. Asperson, apparently disappointed by his noncommittal answers, had gone in search of someone more obliging, or at any rate scandal-ridden or controversial.
    Zoot reached in a pocket, took out a cigaret, licked the filter with his long, red tongue, and stuck the cigaret in his muzzle. He didn’t smoke often in public—he fancied himself an example to others, and didn’t want to encourage bad habits—but Asperson had him rattled.
    Being himself, he had told Asperson, was all he ever intended to do. That was all the Diadem had ever asked of him. What he had never realized was that he would have to do it in public, in a grand, theatrical fashion, and to make it all seem natural and spontaneous and, worse, interesting.
    Back when Zoot was leading his team in the Pioneer Corps, he hadn’t had to worry about being interesting. The perils he faced were all the interest he, or anyone else, needed.
    Zoot patted his pockets, looking for a cigaret lighter. He'd left it in his other jacket, the famous one. He stepped toward the nearest robot, intending to ask it for a light, but saw a tall female Khosalikh standing beneath the giant diamond, smoking a cigaret. He approached.
    “Beg pardon, ma’am, but do you have a light?”
    “Certainly.” Her voice was clipped in a somewhat old-fashioned way. She produced a lighter. “You are Zoot, are you not?”
    “Yes, madam.”
    “I am Lady Dosvidern.”
    They sniffed one another. Lady Dosvidern smelled of soap and a strong perfume. There was no hand-clasping, either, ridiculous unsanitary habit that it was.
    “I am pleased,” Lady Dosvidern said, “to see how you look in proper clothes.”
    Zoot kept his mouth from dropping open only by a sheer act of will. He looked at her. “You are?” he asked.
    *
    “Were you surprised to find Geoff Fu George onstation?”
    Maijstral gazed down at Kyoko Asperson's malevolent silver loupe. “On reflection,” he said,