[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
her. She undressed quickly, hung her clothes up, and slipped naked between the sheets, taking
great lungfuls of the fragrant night air. She hoped Esmay felt this way about her Barin . . . if
her poor cousin couldn't be Landbride, she at least deserved a great love.
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R.S.S. SHRIKE
Esmay came onto the bridge to find Captain Solis scowling. Now what had she done or left undone?
"I was afraid I'd lose you," the captain said.
"Lose me?"
"New orders. They're sending me a new exec, and you over to line ships again. I knew they would
eventually. Even though we can always use someone with your talents in SAR, they consider it a
waste."
He handed over the message cube. "It's all in there; we'll be dropping you off at Topaz."
"Topaz " A civilian station.
"In transit between ships is a good time to use a few days' leave, Lieutenant. Assuming you have a
use for it."
Barin. Her heart hammered. Now if she could only figure out how . . .
"Navarino is in Sector Six. Gyrfalcon, I hear, is going to be detached from picket duty and sent
back to Castle Rock, and thence to Sector One " Solis did not crack a smile, but she did. She knew
the regulations: all she had to do was show up at the right time. The route she chose from Topaz
to Sector Six HQ was her own choice. There was at least a chance that she could meet Barin at some
intermediate station. If she could get word to him. If she could get leave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BENIGNITY OF THE COMPASSIONATE HAND
NUOVO VENITZA, SANTA LUZIA
Hostite Fieddi, Swordmaster and troupe leader, bowed to the Chairman's box, then to either end of
the Grande, where the notable guests of state and industry were seated, and finally, that cold
chill down the spine which this required movement always brought, turned his back on the most
dangerous man in his universe to salute the mortal representative of that Holy One who was even
more dangerous, having dominion over all universes.
Protocol, he thought sourly, was invented by the devil, for the ensnaring of innocent hearts. Not
that his was innocent; he had been debriefed by his superior in the Order, and had still to face
confession. In between . . .
Trumpets blared, the old curled rams' horn trumpets, and from the corner of his eye, Hostite saw
the doors open in each corner, dark mouths. In each, a gleaming figure poised in one of the
Attitudes. A low drumroll . . . the first figure in each doorway stalked forward, and behind it a
second.
Eight now, each demonstrating one of the Attitudes, a Full Square. The drums shifted to a subtle
beat, step and step; the figures moved forward, in toward the open space where Hostite waited.
Four were female, four were male. Four belonged to the Sun: pure gold, copper-red, rich bronze,
and brass. Four belonged to the Moon: silver, steel, lead, platinum. And he, the dance's Shadow,
gleamed obsidian in the light.
Sabre dancing had its roots in ancient days, long before the first men left Earth. More than one
sword-bearing culture had its sword and knife dances, and more than one had used them as training.
More than one had also the spectacle, where the rich and powerful watched as their servants danced
and bled for their amusement. There had always been, for some, the heady linkage of lust and
danger.
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But not until the Benignity had the old threads wound into such a line of life and death as this.
Hostite smiled behind his mask. Here was the imperial circus, and here were the holy warriors, and
here were the dancers . . . and here he ruled.
The gleaming figures had formed the circle, with him in the center . . . the Spanish circle, he
knew from his studies, with its elaborate figures. He turned slowly, enjoying as much as the
Chairman, he was sure, those fine-tuned bodies beneath the gleaming paint. Unlike his mask, theirs
were transparent invisible, to all but those who knew exactly where to look. Instead, their
faces biosculpted to be as beautiful as their bodies gazed back at him with impassivity.
Tonight's music, chosen by the Chairman, was Imetzina's "Quadrille for Evening by the Sea." The
Chairman beckoned; the opening phrase began. Hostite signalled Four and Seven, brass and lead. So
much was tradition, and the Dance began with what might seem dullness.
Gracefully, yet with a severity imposed by the weapons, Four and Seven stepped out of the
circumference, into the circle. In practice, they danced naked but for wrist, elbow, and knee
guards, but here in formal performance, with Someone certainly watching from behind the
curtain Four wore the small, metallic-scaled breast medallions, the pleated metallic-scaled skirt
that hung from her hips and swirled when she moved. Seven wore the loincloth that was hardly more
than a codpiece strapped in place.
The blades were all steel, but coated to match the dancers' colors. Hostite's blade alone was not
steel, but true obsidian, brittle but sharper than any other.
The traditional quadrille required each dancer to face each, first in the pairs, and then by
fours. Hostite worried a little about Four this was her first performance in the Grande, and
though she had seemed completely solid in rehearsal, he knew that the excitement of a first
performance could cause a fatal misstep. But Caris, who usually danced the Four, had hyperextended
her knee while instructing a junior class: some careless student not a student any longer had left
a lump of wax on the floor.
Pelinn should have had another half-year in the second company, Hostite thought, but she was very
talented and very dedicated, the best of the understudies. He hoped she would not be marked badly
tonight.
The music brought the dancers together, blade against blade, and whirled them apart. Four moved
perfectly in time to the beat, and as the figures followed one another, including the difficult
change of hand during pirouette, Hostite relaxed a little. Even though brass and lead danced the
false art, a much less dangerous design than the true, they could mark each other permanently if
they erred.
Eight and Two followed Four and Seven: platinum and copper, the maximum contrast of color, and the
minimum of gender both were women. Genetic twins, differentiated only by makeup and costume.
Hostite smiled indulgently to himself. They were at the height of their powers now, and after all [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
her. She undressed quickly, hung her clothes up, and slipped naked between the sheets, taking
great lungfuls of the fragrant night air. She hoped Esmay felt this way about her Barin . . . if
her poor cousin couldn't be Landbride, she at least deserved a great love.
file:///F|/rah/Elizabeth%20Moon/Moon,%20Eliz...0Legacy%2006%20-%20Change%20Of%20Command.txt (55 of 202) [5/20/03 11:39:48 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Elizabeth%20Moon/Moon,%20Elizabeth%20-%20The%20Serrano%20Legacy%2006%20-%20Change%20Of%20Command.txt
R.S.S. SHRIKE
Esmay came onto the bridge to find Captain Solis scowling. Now what had she done or left undone?
"I was afraid I'd lose you," the captain said.
"Lose me?"
"New orders. They're sending me a new exec, and you over to line ships again. I knew they would
eventually. Even though we can always use someone with your talents in SAR, they consider it a
waste."
He handed over the message cube. "It's all in there; we'll be dropping you off at Topaz."
"Topaz " A civilian station.
"In transit between ships is a good time to use a few days' leave, Lieutenant. Assuming you have a
use for it."
Barin. Her heart hammered. Now if she could only figure out how . . .
"Navarino is in Sector Six. Gyrfalcon, I hear, is going to be detached from picket duty and sent
back to Castle Rock, and thence to Sector One " Solis did not crack a smile, but she did. She knew
the regulations: all she had to do was show up at the right time. The route she chose from Topaz
to Sector Six HQ was her own choice. There was at least a chance that she could meet Barin at some
intermediate station. If she could get word to him. If she could get leave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BENIGNITY OF THE COMPASSIONATE HAND
NUOVO VENITZA, SANTA LUZIA
Hostite Fieddi, Swordmaster and troupe leader, bowed to the Chairman's box, then to either end of
the Grande, where the notable guests of state and industry were seated, and finally, that cold
chill down the spine which this required movement always brought, turned his back on the most
dangerous man in his universe to salute the mortal representative of that Holy One who was even
more dangerous, having dominion over all universes.
Protocol, he thought sourly, was invented by the devil, for the ensnaring of innocent hearts. Not
that his was innocent; he had been debriefed by his superior in the Order, and had still to face
confession. In between . . .
Trumpets blared, the old curled rams' horn trumpets, and from the corner of his eye, Hostite saw
the doors open in each corner, dark mouths. In each, a gleaming figure poised in one of the
Attitudes. A low drumroll . . . the first figure in each doorway stalked forward, and behind it a
second.
Eight now, each demonstrating one of the Attitudes, a Full Square. The drums shifted to a subtle
beat, step and step; the figures moved forward, in toward the open space where Hostite waited.
Four were female, four were male. Four belonged to the Sun: pure gold, copper-red, rich bronze,
and brass. Four belonged to the Moon: silver, steel, lead, platinum. And he, the dance's Shadow,
gleamed obsidian in the light.
Sabre dancing had its roots in ancient days, long before the first men left Earth. More than one
sword-bearing culture had its sword and knife dances, and more than one had used them as training.
More than one had also the spectacle, where the rich and powerful watched as their servants danced
and bled for their amusement. There had always been, for some, the heady linkage of lust and
danger.
file:///F|/rah/Elizabeth%20Moon/Moon,%20Eliz...0Legacy%2006%20-%20Change%20Of%20Command.txt (56 of 202) [5/20/03 11:39:48 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Elizabeth%20Moon/Moon,%20Elizabeth%20-%20The%20Serrano%20Legacy%2006%20-%20Change%20Of%20Command.txt
But not until the Benignity had the old threads wound into such a line of life and death as this.
Hostite smiled behind his mask. Here was the imperial circus, and here were the holy warriors, and
here were the dancers . . . and here he ruled.
The gleaming figures had formed the circle, with him in the center . . . the Spanish circle, he
knew from his studies, with its elaborate figures. He turned slowly, enjoying as much as the
Chairman, he was sure, those fine-tuned bodies beneath the gleaming paint. Unlike his mask, theirs
were transparent invisible, to all but those who knew exactly where to look. Instead, their
faces biosculpted to be as beautiful as their bodies gazed back at him with impassivity.
Tonight's music, chosen by the Chairman, was Imetzina's "Quadrille for Evening by the Sea." The
Chairman beckoned; the opening phrase began. Hostite signalled Four and Seven, brass and lead. So
much was tradition, and the Dance began with what might seem dullness.
Gracefully, yet with a severity imposed by the weapons, Four and Seven stepped out of the
circumference, into the circle. In practice, they danced naked but for wrist, elbow, and knee
guards, but here in formal performance, with Someone certainly watching from behind the
curtain Four wore the small, metallic-scaled breast medallions, the pleated metallic-scaled skirt
that hung from her hips and swirled when she moved. Seven wore the loincloth that was hardly more
than a codpiece strapped in place.
The blades were all steel, but coated to match the dancers' colors. Hostite's blade alone was not
steel, but true obsidian, brittle but sharper than any other.
The traditional quadrille required each dancer to face each, first in the pairs, and then by
fours. Hostite worried a little about Four this was her first performance in the Grande, and
though she had seemed completely solid in rehearsal, he knew that the excitement of a first
performance could cause a fatal misstep. But Caris, who usually danced the Four, had hyperextended
her knee while instructing a junior class: some careless student not a student any longer had left
a lump of wax on the floor.
Pelinn should have had another half-year in the second company, Hostite thought, but she was very
talented and very dedicated, the best of the understudies. He hoped she would not be marked badly
tonight.
The music brought the dancers together, blade against blade, and whirled them apart. Four moved
perfectly in time to the beat, and as the figures followed one another, including the difficult
change of hand during pirouette, Hostite relaxed a little. Even though brass and lead danced the
false art, a much less dangerous design than the true, they could mark each other permanently if
they erred.
Eight and Two followed Four and Seven: platinum and copper, the maximum contrast of color, and the
minimum of gender both were women. Genetic twins, differentiated only by makeup and costume.
Hostite smiled indulgently to himself. They were at the height of their powers now, and after all [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]