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The Fate of the Empire. Romance, Excitement, Danger.
She repeated the phrases to herself as she pressed another patch to her head.
The point was, the danger wasn't supposed to come from your own side.
She'd reported Khotvinn's behavior to the Baron. Not that this had done any
good the Baron had just read her a lecture about how she had to explain things
to subordinates in order for them to know their jobs property, and how this
was all a part of being prepared and anticipating difficulty.
Tvi concluded that the Baron had never actually worked with Khotvinn. or tried
to explain anything to him. Offi-
cers, in her estimation, always had the perfect command of things they had
never experienced.
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The communicator in her room beeped. Echoes flooded her skull like a lunatic
carillon. She touched the ideograph for "answer" and snarled.
82 / WALTER JON WILLIAMS
The Baron's voice cut the air. "Time to relieve Khotvinn and bring Miss Jensen
her second breakfast."
"Yes, my lord." Tvi covered her head with a pillow and whimpered to herself
silently, a martyr of the Empire.
Then obeyed.
She picked up Jensen's tray from the kitchen the robot staff couldn't be
involved in this, since their memories could be impounded as evidence if
things went wrong
and men trudged up the stone stair to the attic room where
Jensen was being held. The tray smelted of roast amette.
Tvi's mouth began to water.
A very popular children's puppet, a little over seven feet tall, waited at the
top of the stair. It was human, with red hair and freckles and a perpetual
grin. Its name was Ron-
nie Romper.
"Relieving you," Tvi said.
"About time," snarled Ronnie Romper. It snapped off the holographic device and
became Khotvinn. Purple bmises showed through his dark fur, which was also
mottled with
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Wa...on%20Williams%20-%20The%20Crown
%20Jewels.txt (56 of 171) [10/16/2004 5:37:55 PM]
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Walter%20Jon%20Williams%20-%20The%20
Crown%20Jewels.txt semilife patches. He took off the holo projector and an-
other gadget from his belt and handed them to Tvi.
"Your disguise," he said. "The restraint control."
"Thank you," Tvi snaried back. "So much." She clipped the projector to her
belt, snapped it on, and put me mana-
cle control on her tray. Khotvinn stomped down the stairs.
The door was secured by a heavy bolt that had been installed the previous
night. Its alloy screws had chipped the dark wood of the door. Tvi shot the
bolt back and entered.
The guest bedroom had been hastily filled with miscella-
neous furniture brought from storage in me attic: a cano-
pied bed with plump pillows and blue ruffles, a pair of chairs covered in
peach brocade, a deep carpet of violet dewkin fur, a crystal lamp in the shape
of a Khosali ballet
THE CROWN JEWELS I 83
dancer with a stained-glass shade on his head. The clash of colors and
cultures made Tvi's headache worse.
Amalia Jensen produced another contrast with the frilly furniture. Her face
was covered by semilife patches that were feeding her painkillers and sapping
her bruises. She was lying on the ruffled bed in the black pajamas in which
she'd been taken, her ankles locked together by restraints, and she glared at
Tvi while sneering through a split lip.
"Another Ronnie Romper," she said. She was speaking
KhosaU. "Why do you bother trying to look human? I can identify you both."
"Go ahead," Tvi said, answering in the same language.
"What's my name, then?"
"Look. I suppose I can understand the need for dis-
guises. But why did you have to pick something that smiles all the time?"
Tvi put the tray on an antique inlaid Troxan table and moved the table to the
brocade-covered chair. She strolled to the comer of the room and sat on the
other chair. "I'm going to close your wrists and release your ankles," she
said, and picked up the control to Jensen's restraints.
"Then you can move to the chair, sit in it, then I'll close your ankles and
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release your hands. Right?"
Jensen's eyes flickered over the room, taking in the bed, the chairs, the
table. Measuring things. "Very well," she said.
Tvi knew someone preparing a desperate move when she saw one, and her
diaphragm spasmed in resignation.
She took her stunner out of its holster. "Right," she said.
"Here we go."
She pressed the restraint controls. The snug bracelets on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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