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

Ki was dressed only in a fundoshi, a white loincloth that covered the minimum, and Aubin noticed that the pattern of the hair on the Nidean's body that covered a broad area across the chest and then ran in a narrow line down the hard, flat stomach to disappear into the cloth had indeed lost its youthful reddish-gold. But in spite of the labor of working the heavy and demanding puppet, there was not the smallest sign of exertion, not even a heavy breath. The finely honed, slim, lithe body worked to perfection, every motion as supple as Ki's blue-white skin. His legs were as powerful as ever, and longer than the norm.

Ki's nose twitched, and Aubin noticed, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Nothing. A scent from the garden."

Aubin nodded, and added to his inventory the fact that Ki's extraordinarily fine olfactory sense was as sharp as ever. But as Aubin's green-flecked brown eyes stayed locked with Ki's golden, slatted ones, he could not quite keep the humor out of them.

"I may be uneducated in the ways of Nide, but may I point out that you are hardly appropriately attired for an Imperial banquet at Capitol Center?"

Ki's lip curled back partially exposing semi-pointed teeth, and a snarl rumbled heavily in his throat. "I have no use for Imperial banquets where hangers-on and leechs guzzle the Emperor's roed until they're drowning in their own senses!"

Aubin nodded. He had no use for the drug either. He had seen many a fine mind lost to the siren song of the enhanced sensory input and long, long life that roedentritic quopapavaradine provided. Though it was supposedly non-habitforming, in fact many would suicide rather than do without their daily dose.

"Nonetheless," Aubin said, "you are the Commander of the Imperial Lionman Guard, and your presence is required."

Ki sneered, making a wonderfully exaggerated wild face. "I've never needed a human to tell me my duty," he rumbled.

"Perhaps not," Aubin returned as he flipped an item from an end table in Ki's direction, "but maybe you need a nanny to see you properly dressed."

Ki grabbed the missile out of the air with his left hand unerringly, though his eyes never left Aubin's. There was a soft "chink" as the metallic hand closed over it, and any humor that had been in Ki's face fled with the sound.

"If you've damaged it, human . . ." rumbled threateningly from deep in his inflated chest.

Aubin winced. "I'm sorry, Ki," he said sincerely. "Check it."

Ki opened his hand. On it rested a beautifully crafted ring, an unusual affair that wrapped completely around the hand and was constructed of tarsh, a flexible silvery metal that, in the presence of body heat, moved as its wearer did. Set in it were two opals, one larger than the other, but each of excellent color and quality. It was intact and Ki nodded his acceptance of that fact.

Aubin let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He really had no idea how Ki would have reacted to the destruction of the last gift he'd received from his now-dead wife. Relief that he wouldn't need to find out flooded over him.

"Aubin, will you always try my patience?" Ki asked with great exasperation.

With a silly smile that reflected his relief, Aubin answered, "Almost certainly."

Ki's nose was twitching. Something was wrong. All things have their peculiar scent, and a Lionman, born to use his senses to hunt, trained to use his senses for his own protection and the protection of those in his care, was keenly aware of the world about him. He changed his path from the one that led into the palace and followed instead the one that led off to the practice field. He was supposed to meet the Empress, but she would understand if he were delayed. She valued the men who served her.

He sniffed. It was there, among the dust and the sweat and the body-generated heat. One of the new recruits was bathed in arrogance. The odor of it was so strong it almost wiped away the traces of Nide that still clung to the new arrivals.

Ki walked to the edge of the field, then stopped in the dappled shade of the only tree and watched. The new recruits were all dressed alike in the jumpsuits that would constitute their uniforms until they won the right to wear the red Imperial tri-lozenge. Except for wide variations in coloring, they looked much the same. They were young, lithe, tall, and eager. The eagerness made Ki smile. He remembered his own well, and sometimes felt it still.

But the arrogance he was catching was a different and dangerous thing. The cub who gave in to that would think himself invincible, and Ki wore the case-hardened proof that no one was invulnerable. He rubbed his metallic left hand with his right, remembering, then dropped it to his side and pulled the digits across the palm in an unconscious motion, not really feeling the bumps and ridges of the hand as his "fingers" crossed them.

The arrogant one was not hard to find. He was showing off. While the rest of his group worked hard just to maintain the pace Lieutenant Mikal Lawwnum set for them during dueling practice, the arrogant one ran ahead, adding fillups and flourishes to passes that were intended to be clean and simple.

Ki rested his back against the rough bark of the tree and watched for a time, satisfying himself as to the quality of Mikal's leadership. His instructions were excellent. He judged the recruits well and gave them enough to challenge, but not so much as to discourage. The recruits were a good group, too, working hard, trying for perfection, taking instruction well. Except for one.

The Commander rumbled deep in his throat while musing, then nodded to himself. It was time for them to meet the boss. He clasped his hands behind his back and strode out onto the field.

Mikal had been aware of the Commander's attendance for some time. He had