Guest Night on Union Station (14 page)

“He and Banger were playing in my garden when I left,” Dring said. The dog trotted off in the direction of Dring’s corner of the hold.

“See your hundred, and I’ll raise a thousand,” Jeeves declared, pushing a red and a blue into the center of the table with his pincer. The Cayl did the same, but Clive folded. Joe grimaced, but he paid the blue to see another card.

“Fours triple up,” Clive announced, as he went around the table dealing the remaining three players their final open card. “Straight flush still possible for Jeeves, outside shot at a straight flush for the Emperor. Fours bet.”

“Five thousand,” Joe declared without hesitation, pushing five blues into the growing pile.

“Is that a lot?” Brynt asked.

“Well, it’s a lot for this game,” Kelly replied.

“We play for millicreds,” Shaina explained. “A blue chip is one cred, enough to buy a cup of coffee in some places.”

“Call,” Jeeves said, moving five blues into the pot.

“Well, it’s your money,” the Emperor said to Kelly. “What do you think?”

“Let me see them again.” The Cayl held up his hole cards, cupped between his two large hands. Kelly looked at the cards, studied her husband’s face for a moment, and decided he looked far too relaxed for her liking. Besides, Jeeves had a better chance of making a flush, if he didn’t have one already. “Let’s fold,” she said.

Clive dealt a final face-down card to Joe and the Stryx.

“Did you get it?” Joe asked the Stryx.

“Are you passing or are you just making conversation?” Jeeves replied.

“I guess there’s no point trying to read you,” Joe said. “I’ll just play the odds.” He counted his remaining blue chips and pushed them in. “Bet’s twelve thousand.”

“Twelve thousand sounds so much cooler than twelve creds,” Shaina pointed out for the Cayl’s benefit.

“Every human has his day,” Jeeves muttered, conceding the hand.

Joe raked in the chips and began building stacks as Clive passed the remains of the deck to Blythe.

“Back to five-card draw,” she announced, accepting the scattered discards and straightening out the deck for shuffling. “I’ll bet this is the first time in history that a human beat out a Cayl, a Stryx and a Maker for a pot.”

“That’s right,” Kelly said. “You made history, Joe.”

“Doesn’t count,” Joe replied complacently. “It would be like Beowulf taking credit for being the first dog to eat a Cayl biscuit and a handful of pretzels with a Stryx and a Maker present at the same time. It’s got everything to do with the guest list and nothing to do with the accomplishment.”

Samuel reached the table at a run, Banger floating beside him and Beowulf nipping at his heels. “What is it?” he panted.

“Jonah doesn’t want to take dance lessons with his sister anymore,” Joe addressed his son. “Jeeves said you might be interested.”

“Okay,” the boy said. “When do I start?”

“Okay?” Kelly pulled her son over and looked him in the eye. “Since when are you interested in dancing?”

“I always liked dancing,” Samuel said evasively. “Don’t you remember when I used to practice with Aisha?”

“But you were always making fun of her,” Kelly reminded him.

“When do I start?” Samuel repeated, going around to where Blythe sat and attempting to look angelic. He came across more like a hungry dog, which made perfect sense since his acting coach was Beowulf.

“They’ve been practicing every afternoon for three hours after they get out of Libby’s school,” Blythe said. “I’ll talk to Marcus about reducing the time.”

“Three hours is good,” Samuel insisted. “I’ll learn faster that way. Can Banger come?”

“I don’t see why not,” Blythe replied. “Well, this will make Vivian a happy little girl, but let’s tell her that’s it’s just an experiment, Samuel. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her if you don’t like it.”

“I’ll like it,” Samuel said confidently.

As soon as the boy headed into the ice harvester with the little Stryx to get ready for bed, Jeeves gave a fair imitation of a throat-clearing sound.

“Joe?” Kelly asked. “Think you could slide Jeeves ten blues for me since you’re doing so well? I don’t want to put Emperor Brynt on a short stack.”

Fourteen

“Watch your step,” Pava told the hostages apologetically as she led them into the imperial dining room. “The deck is a little irregular because some of the airtight bulkheads below collapsed when the palace crash-landed.”

Lynx stumbled as a cub bounced off her ankles, the fifth in line to be the next emperor, if she recalled. The Cayl females were much smaller than the males, and the cubs looked like little white balls of fur. Amazingly, the eyes of the young Cayl remained shut until well after they were weaned, but that didn’t stop them from racing around the palace at breakneck speed, relying on imperfectly developed echo sounding.

“It’s a beautiful room,” Brinda said. “I haven’t seen so much wonderful art in one place since the Kasilian auction.”

“Gifts, mainly,” the empress said, guiding them to seats at the well-appointed table. “Please pick something out to take home with you. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it all if we have to move.”

“Is the orange tape on the table for us?” Lynx asked.

“To protect you,” Pava replied. “I’m afraid that the biological scans I did of your cell structure and my analysis of your microbiota indicate that your bodies are unable to tolerate any of our natural foodstuffs. I’ve invited the ambassadors of the four leading species of the empire in your honor. They’re such wonderfully pushy people that I’m afraid they might talk you into trying some local delicacy unless I put a clear boundary in place.”

“You all eat the same food?” Woojin asked.

“I only serve dishes that everybody can enjoy together at official meals,” the empress explained. “Every species has adaptations to certain foodstuffs that are unlikely to be replicated in the others, but after millions of years of trade in the empire, there’s a great deal of common cuisine available.”

A raucous barking from the pack of hounds that ran freely through the palace penetrated to the dining room.

“Oh, I expect that’s my guests now,” Pava continued. “Remember, they’re very sensitive souls and easily cowed, so please don’t comment on their funny looks. The poor Lood even wears a mask so that the other aliens don’t stare at his third eye.”

“Do you meet with the aliens often?” Lynx asked. “Just my professional curiosity, as a cultural attaché.”

“Believe it or not, my husband doesn’t care for them,” Pava admitted. “He says that I only see them on their best behavior, and that away from our influence, they are shockingly rude. But I find them quite amusing, and I choose to judge others by their actions and not their reputations.”

Four aliens swept into the room, accompanied by Gurf and a half a dozen of the larger hounds. After the empress made introductions all the way around and the aliens took their seats, the dogs sat down behind them.

“Isn’t it cute?” Pava whispered to Lynx. “The hounds worry about me being alone with the ambassadors while Brynt is away, so they’ve appointed themselves as my guards.”

“I’m disappointed to hear that you’ll be unable to partake in our common dishes,” the Lood ambassador addressed the humans in a hearty tone. “I assure you that Empress Pava is a wonderful cook, and her interpretation of Cuy stew is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“You’ve stolen the words from my mouth, Z’tan,” the Nangor ambassador protested. “Here, let me fill everybody’s glass for a toast. No, don’t stand, Empress. I’ll go around the table.”

“Just halfway please,” the Tzvim ambassador said, as the Nangor neatly poured a glowing pink fluid into her glass. “Thank you, Rimad.”

“You’re most welcome, Keef,” the Nangor responded politely, before moving on to the Shuga. “Your usual measure, Arnbal?”

“Yes, thank you, Rimad,” the bird-like alien practically purred.

Woojin took up the decanter of synthesized human wine and filled the glasses of his companions without rising from his seat. Lynx took the opportunity to whisper in his ear, “If this is how the aliens of the Cayl Empire always conduct themselves, the tunnel network species are going to eat them alive.”

“Empress?” the Nangor asked, pausing before he approached her. “May I do the honors?”

“Of course, Rimad,” Pava said, pushing her guardian hound’s head out of the way.

The Nangor leaned forward cautiously, keeping one eye on Gurf, and was careful not to make any sudden moves with his trunk as he filled Pava’s glass. “Will the Dowager Empress be joining us?”

“Not this evening,” the empress said. “She’s trying to repair our old tachyon fountain so the younger cubs can get a chance to play with it. When I last saw her, she was up to her elbows in probability detectors that were almost as old as the palace.”

“As is she,” Z’tan said in a stage whisper, bringing a round of chuckles from the other ambassadors and an involuntary grin from the daughter-in-law of the Dowager Empress. “But seriously,” the Lood continued, adjusting his gold mask up a little so that the mouth opening was better aligned with his lips. “It’s always been a wonder to me how the two of you keep this place functioning without any staff.”

“Hear, hear,” the Nangor said, lifting his glass high. “A toast to the First Ladies of the Empire, may their experiments forever prove their theories.”

The three humans hoisted their glasses dutifully and drank along with the five aliens. Whatever method the Cayl had used for synthesizing the wine, it was the best any of them had ever tasted, and Brinda hastened to compliment the empress.

“Oh, no,” Pava protested. “I got the recipe from your Stryx friends before you arrived. And, Rimad,” she continued, turning to the Nangor. “You know perfectly well that experiments which disprove theories are just as valuable as those which confirm them. It would be a boring universe indeed if we got everything right the first time.”

A medium-size Cayl came cannoning into the dining room and scrabbled to a halt next to Pava’s chair.

“Grams, come quick. Bodu ate something he caught in the garden and now he’s throwing up all over the place!”

“Excuse me,” Pava said, leaping from her chair and dropping to all fours. “Please make yourselves at home until I return.” Then she sprinted off, her granddaughter in hot pursuit. Several of the hounds charged after them, but Gurf and three of the larger males maintained their vigil over the ambassadors.

“I hope the poor little cub is alright,” Brinda said. “It’s no fun being sick when you’re young.”

“Happens at least once every state dinner,” the Tzvim ambassador replied dismissively. “Cayl young eat everything they find on the ground, just like their dogs.”

Gurf growled a warning.

“Look, she could be back any time, so let’s get down to business,” the Lood ambassador said. “The four of us didn’t accept posting to this miserable planet for our health. Business at my embassy pawn shop is off ninety percent since that fool of an emperor announced he was dissolving the empire. The short-term contract the Cayl negotiated for extending their protection has resulted in the host worlds actually covering garrison expenses for the first time. That means the families of the warriors have stopped pawning their heirlooms to send money to their sons and dogs to keep them fed.”

“And as business rolls downhill, volume at my money transfer agency has collapsed,” the Shuga said angrily. “Without the three-percent fee and a little fun with the exchange rates, I’m stuck running my embassy at a loss.”

“If you think you’re in trouble, how about our allowance funds?” the Nangor demanded. “We had most of the Cayl in the capital giving us their cash in return for an allowance so they wouldn’t have to dirty themselves with holding money. Now, for the first time ever they’re all asking for the money at the same time, in case they have to move. How are we supposed to meet their demands?”

“It’s tied up in long-term investments?” Lynx asked.

The four ambassadors looked at the human, then broke out laughing. The Nangor wheezed like he had something stuck in his trunk.

The Tzvim recovered first and informed the humans, “The Nangors spend the money as it comes in. The Cayl are idiots. All that matters to them is science and fighting. Do you see that Shiduck hanging over there?”

The humans turned in the direction the Tzvim was pointing, but the wall was so covered with art they couldn’t tell which piece the alien ambassador was talking about.

“The big green square with the dot of white in the middle. I traded it to the empress for a Phweealleet that was presented to the imperial family at the Treaty of Sh’dad. I made a thousand percent on the deal.”

“A male would have given it to you as a gift,” the Shuga said. “The females are the ones who handle the household finances and they aren’t entirely stupid. I’ve never been able to get one to borrow money on any terms.”

“You don’t worry that the Cayl might be listening in while you tell us this?” Woojin asked, taken aback by the audacity of the ambassadors.

“Wouldn’t be honorable,” the Lood replied in a mocking tone. “Violating the privacy of guests and all that nonsense. My fellow ambassadors and I aren’t greedy people, but neither are we fools. You just stay out of our business and we’ll stay out of yours.”

“It won’t be hard for you to stay out of our business because we don’t have any,” Lynx told the ambassador bluntly. “We thought we were coming just to have a look around, but it turns out that we’re hostages for the safe return of the emperor. We don’t know much about how this empire works, but it looks to me like you’re doing your best to bite the hand that feeds you.”

“Would you excuse us for a moment?” the Lood said. The three other ambassadors looked at him questioningly, but they followed when he rose from his seat and led them over to a statue of a creature that looked like a giant crab.

“I don’t like the way the Lood reacted when you told him we’re hostages for the safe return of the emperor,” Woojin said softly. “It’s pretty clear that the ambassadors aren’t happy with the new state of affairs.”

“You mean they might think that by, uh, eliminating us, they could keep the emperor from returning?” Brinda asked.

“That’s how hostage exchanges normally work,” Woojin said. “If they come back with suggestions for sightseeing or invitations to visit their embassies, I suggest we plead scheduling conflicts.”

The empress returned to the dining hall, the fur on her stomach looking a bit damp, as if she had just washed something out of it. The ambassadors hurried back to their seats, and with the exception of the Lood, whose features were hidden, they all looked rather pleased with themselves.

“Oh, you waited for me to start,” Pava said, looking at the untouched serving dishes. “I’m honored by your regard, but it’s a shame to let food go cold.”

“I’d rather eat cold Cuy stew made by your hands than the pale imitation available elsewhere,” the Lood declared gallantly. “May I propose another toast?”

“As you wish,” Pava said shyly.

“To the safe return of Emperor Brynt!”

“Hear, hear,” the three ambassadors chimed in, blatantly eyeing the humans.

“Thank you, my friends,” the empress replied. “Now let’s eat while it’s still lukewarm.”

It quickly became apparent to the hostages that the scheming ambassadors hadn’t been play-acting when praising Pava’s cooking. Even though the human-compatible dishes were all cooked from synthesized ingredients which the Cayl had never seen before, the food tasted as good as the wine. Lynx recognized the lamb stew as something Ian’s wife was fond of making, so she assumed that Jeeves had passed along the recipes.

“Everything was absolutely delicious,” Z’tan declared when the serving dishes were empty. He delicately wiped a bit of gravy from the chin of his golden mask.

“It’s such a shame that the young cub got sick,” Rimad said in a heartfelt tone. “Don’t you think you could change the rules just once?” he added slyly.

Gurf growled again.

“I’m afraid there you have it, gentlemen,” the empress said sadly. “State dinners are limited to a single evening division, and it appears our time is almost up.”

“I would like to extend the hospitality of the Tzvim embassy to your guests,” Keef said. “Perhaps I could escort them on a daytrip to the Cliff of Heroes.”

“Yes, my embassy would be honored as well,” the Shuga said. “You know I would never miss an opportunity to build intercultural understanding. The Humans might enjoy a visit to the Poison Woods, wearing our protective clothing, of course.”

“Have you ever been boating in white water?” Rimad asked the hostages. “There’s a stretch of river not far from here that’s unmatched in the empire for a thrilling ride.”

“I was planning on an outing to Death Gorge in the near future myself,” Z’tan said. “It would be no trouble at all to bring three guests along.”

“No, no,” the empress said, holding up her hands to restrain the would-be tour guides. “I’m afraid the protocol for hostages is that I must keep them on the palace grounds. However, if they choose to remain for a vacation on Cayl after the emperor returns, I’m sure they will consider your hospitality.”

The Tzvim began to protest, but the large Cayl hound behind his seat lazily scratched the ambassador’s turtle-like shell, making a loud sound. The four aliens quickly rose to their feet.

“Thank you so much for having us, Empress,” the Lood spoke for them all. “If you reconsider, we’d be more than happy to watch your hostages for you.”