Cats in Space and Other Places by Bill Fawcett (best book recommendations txt) 📗

face turned snow white, drained of all color. He looked pasty and sick at the thought of his own death. Ki, realizing that a sick Emperor is not a sight for everyone, took charge, dismissing the Envoys, who were only too happy to go, and calling for Lionmen to clear away the debris. The Emperor, still somewhat dazed, looked down at his irridescent green robes. They were spattered with blood. Ki expected an outburst of some sort, rage at the spoiled finery, and was repulsed and revolted by what he got instead.

"It's ruined, of course," mumbled Ozenscebo as he fumbled with a golden-green sleeve, "but the blood is such a lovely color. Rich. A lovely color."

Ki was grateful when the Emperor decided to leave as well. Seeing that everything was as he ordered, Ki wanted nothing so much as to leave the carnage behind. As he walked toward the back of the hall, he noticed that two people remained behind. One was Aubin, the other Ambassador Maaeve. As Ki approached, she bowed to him, deeply, and departed, never having said a word. Aubin stood and stared as if he were some sort of bumpkin who had never seen a Lionman before. Ki began to walk out the door, expecting Aubin to follow, but Aubin only turned his head and continued to stare, unable to absorb what he had seen. Ki retraced his steps, took Aubin by the arm and led him down the corridor until Aubin shook him loose. Aubin did not speak, either. Their course led in no particular direction, but they continued to walk at the pace Ki set.

At last Ki asked, "Why are you so quiet, my friend?"

Aubin stumbled slightly, awkward with emotion. "I've walked half my life with you and I never suspected. The man who moved like that is not the man I know."

Ki sneered, somewhat offended. "You've always known what I am."

"Yes. But there's knowing and there's seeing."

"Do you find me distasteful?"

Though Ki's voice was cold and deadly even, Aubin was certain he heard sadness in the question.

"No," Aubin answered thoughtfully. "Merely interesting. Interesting times need interesting men."

"And yet again," Ki mumbled with a grimace.

They walked on a way in silence, each alone with his thoughts. But they had, by unspoken mutual consent, taken the turn toward Aubin's quarters.

"I'd like to examine that sword sometime," Aubin said quietly, with a hint of shyness. "It is apparently something I do not understand as well as I should."

"When it's clean."

They entered Aubin's apartment, two old friends standing now on shaky ground. Aubin headed for his liquor cabinet while Ki disappeared into the bathroom. While he waited, Aubin looked at himself carefully in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He was getting old. His shoulders were no longer so straight, and his hair, which had once been brown and rich and wavy, was no longer so full or so dark. His sleepy brown eyes reflected his deep weariness and his body sagged with a little excess weight. His hand shook slightly as he raised the glass, reaction to the fear fountaining inside him. This day had been too full. Ki was gone for some time, and Aubin was achingly certain he had lost his friend as well as his youth. The wait was a sad and long one for him, full of interior terrors, and yet he was startled when Ki at last reappeared.

"It's clean," Ki said of the naked blade he held. He extended it to Aubin, hilt first. "Don't touch the blade. The acid in your skin will etch it, and your fingerprints will become a permanent part of the edge. This hoj has been in my Pride for four generations. See? Each of these stones set here in the pommel represent a man who has kept the blade. Another shanshen will be added for me when the blade goes to Mikal. It was made by the master swordsmith Kaanshaar." He ran his long, thick, slightly pointed nail along the steel, and it hissed in response, sending a chill running down Aubin's human spine. "If you look at the pattern, you will see his handiwork. The wave and ruffle pattern of the folded metal is his signature."

Aubin was a jumble of emotion and still hesitated to take the proffered sword. He looked at the gleaming steel blue of the killing surface and the hilt covered with grey blue stuff like sharkskin. At last he took it in his hands, awed by the purpose for which it had been used such a short time ago, and found to his surprise that he quickly drifted deeper and deeper into a flow that followed the wave pattern on the edge.

Very quietly, Ki said, "Usually the only ones who are permitted a close inspection of a hoj are Pride members and those who feel its cutting edge. Please keep this to yourself."

Ki waited, watching Aubin lose himself in the pattern, seeing the beginnings of real understanding of what the blade meant to Ki dawning in Aubin's face. He flexed his left hand, feeling the lightness that meant the sword was not part of him at the moment. He waited what he felt was a reasonable time, longer than he wanted to, a small eternity, then extended his hand to take the blade back. Aubin released it slowly. In spite of its intended purpose, it was a thing of delicate luster and deep pattern, and Aubin found he was entranced.

Ki took the blade to himself like a lost lover. He held it quietly for a moment, then slid his thumb along the cutting edge hard enough to draw blood in order to satisfy the steel. It sighed as he replaced it in its scabbard.

It was very cool and the air was dead still and damp with dew. The trees in the garden and on the ground far below the palace walls sat perfectly still in true wooden fashion, as if carved, waiting for the breeze that would signal the