Read Online The Devil and Deep Space by Susan R. Matthews - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan R. Matthews
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Koscuisko didn’t need to know the details of Lek’s family background to understand that he led Lek into the presence of his enemies.
On the other hand, though Koscuisko was the living descendant of Chuvishka Kospodar, he was not Lek’s enemy. Koscuisko had earned Lek’s trust over the years they’d been together on the Ragnarok , and in so doing had made Lek more free, even under Bond, than Lek had ever hoped to be until the Day when it expired at last — if he lived that long.
“We go first to a place that is called the Matredonat. It is my place. My mother’s family made of it the present when my father cut my cheek, what would that be, when I was held up to the world as his inheriting son.”
The details of Aznir blood–rites were arcane and not widely published, but Koscuisko’s general meaning was clear enough. “Living at this place you will meet my friend Marana, and my son. I also will be meeting my son, for the first time, as you are. He is eight years old. His name is Anton Andreievitch, because I am Andrej his father.”
Lek knew by the eager tension in Smish’s body beside him how interested she was in this news. They were all interested. There had been guarded talk among them, but Robert St. Clare — who knew more about Koscuisko than anyone on board, including Stildyne — had either been unclear on the details or too reticent to gossip about them. Koscuisko’s friend Marana, Koscuisko had said. It seemed an odd way to describe the mother of his son, even given that Koscuisko was Aznir and Aznir were peculiar.
“This place of mine, the Matredonat, is in the farmland, but there are hills behind. There is riding. One may swim in the river if one does not mind the fish. They are very large fish. And that brings to mind a point.”
If Koscuisko’s estate was in the grain–lands Koscuisko would be talking about the old ones, the huge, old, wise, green–and–gold fish with their solemn expressions and their faces that were like the private member of a man. His fish. The old ones were as long and sometimes longer than a man was tall, and the roe that the females carried was worth its weight in hallucinogenic drugs. Lek wondered if the others knew that when a man like Koscuisko spoke of his place, he meant an estate the size of a respectable city, or larger.
“Lek and I have blood in common, in a way. He will be able to explain much when I am not with you.” Koscuisko’s reference startled Lek out of his meditation; Koscuisko was being very frank indeed, to admit to genetic ties between Aznir and Sarvaw. “Among these things about which it may be necessary to explain are requirements of hospitality. You are to be lodged each of you apart in guest quarters, because you are my Security. The household will wish to ensure that you lack for nothing that will increase your comfort under the roof of the Matredonat.”
This was going to be awkward. Stildyne did have women, from time to time, but women were not his preference. Maybe Koscuisko’s people would make allowances for the fact that Stildyne was an outlander, Lek decided. Maybe they’d call for a Malcontent. If they did that, Stildyne was in for an interesting experience . . .
“The difficulty here is this, Miss Smath.” Why Smish? She tensed beside Lek, when Koscuisko said her name. “There is no tradition in my house of a woman warrior. To Security is to be offered the hospitality of the house.”
Suddenly Lek realized how long he had been away from home. How thoroughly he’d learned to think in Standard. He had not even thought about it. Koscuisko was right.
“It will be a little unusual. But you need not feel the least bit reluctant to decline, should your interest not tend in that direction. I assure you that you will not give offense.”
Warriors were greeted with soft words and warm embraces, granted the privilege of taking comfort with the women of the household. The fact that Smish was a woman herself would be
On the other hand, though Koscuisko was the living descendant of Chuvishka Kospodar, he was not Lek’s enemy. Koscuisko had earned Lek’s trust over the years they’d been together on the Ragnarok , and in so doing had made Lek more free, even under Bond, than Lek had ever hoped to be until the Day when it expired at last — if he lived that long.
“We go first to a place that is called the Matredonat. It is my place. My mother’s family made of it the present when my father cut my cheek, what would that be, when I was held up to the world as his inheriting son.”
The details of Aznir blood–rites were arcane and not widely published, but Koscuisko’s general meaning was clear enough. “Living at this place you will meet my friend Marana, and my son. I also will be meeting my son, for the first time, as you are. He is eight years old. His name is Anton Andreievitch, because I am Andrej his father.”
Lek knew by the eager tension in Smish’s body beside him how interested she was in this news. They were all interested. There had been guarded talk among them, but Robert St. Clare — who knew more about Koscuisko than anyone on board, including Stildyne — had either been unclear on the details or too reticent to gossip about them. Koscuisko’s friend Marana, Koscuisko had said. It seemed an odd way to describe the mother of his son, even given that Koscuisko was Aznir and Aznir were peculiar.
“This place of mine, the Matredonat, is in the farmland, but there are hills behind. There is riding. One may swim in the river if one does not mind the fish. They are very large fish. And that brings to mind a point.”
If Koscuisko’s estate was in the grain–lands Koscuisko would be talking about the old ones, the huge, old, wise, green–and–gold fish with their solemn expressions and their faces that were like the private member of a man. His fish. The old ones were as long and sometimes longer than a man was tall, and the roe that the females carried was worth its weight in hallucinogenic drugs. Lek wondered if the others knew that when a man like Koscuisko spoke of his place, he meant an estate the size of a respectable city, or larger.
“Lek and I have blood in common, in a way. He will be able to explain much when I am not with you.” Koscuisko’s reference startled Lek out of his meditation; Koscuisko was being very frank indeed, to admit to genetic ties between Aznir and Sarvaw. “Among these things about which it may be necessary to explain are requirements of hospitality. You are to be lodged each of you apart in guest quarters, because you are my Security. The household will wish to ensure that you lack for nothing that will increase your comfort under the roof of the Matredonat.”
This was going to be awkward. Stildyne did have women, from time to time, but women were not his preference. Maybe Koscuisko’s people would make allowances for the fact that Stildyne was an outlander, Lek decided. Maybe they’d call for a Malcontent. If they did that, Stildyne was in for an interesting experience . . .
“The difficulty here is this, Miss Smath.” Why Smish? She tensed beside Lek, when Koscuisko said her name. “There is no tradition in my house of a woman warrior. To Security is to be offered the hospitality of the house.”
Suddenly Lek realized how long he had been away from home. How thoroughly he’d learned to think in Standard. He had not even thought about it. Koscuisko was right.
“It will be a little unusual. But you need not feel the least bit reluctant to decline, should your interest not tend in that direction. I assure you that you will not give offense.”
Warriors were greeted with soft words and warm embraces, granted the privilege of taking comfort with the women of the household. The fact that Smish was a woman herself would be
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