"And the Internos would be upset if the Brummgas threw them out?"
Jack shook his head. "You don't get it. Foreign embassies are considered the property of that particular nation or government. By being a consular station, the Tubman house is basically a small chunk of Internos territory on Brum-a-dum.
Internos law applies there, not the Brummgan versions."
"Interesting," Draycos said thoughtfully. "How is it you know all this? Is it common knowledge?"
"It's common enough," Jack said. "I know it mostly because Uncle Virgil once did a scam that depended on how diplomatic privilege works."
"So you are saying that an attempt to move the Tubman Group out could be considered the same as an invasion?"
"The diplomats would probably find nicer-sounding words," Jack said. "But, yeah, that's what it boils down to. Gazen can hate it all he wants, but there's not a
grease-stained thing he can do about it."
"An interesting system," Draycos said. "And this applies to government and diplomatic stations throughout the Orion Arm?"
"Pretty much," Jack said. "It's at least as old as pre-space Earth politics.
The idea is that everyone wants their diplomats to be as secure as possible.
Sometimes they're the only ones who can keep two sides from stumbling into a war."
"But only when neither side actually desires that war," Draycos said grimly.
"The Valahgua—" He broke off. "Someone is coming."
Jack tensed. Maybe Draycos's little rewiring job hadn't been quite as undetectable as he'd thought. He could feel the ground shaking beneath Brummgan feet...
There was the click of a key in the lock, and abruptly the door was thrown open.
"You," a Brummgan voice said. "Out."
"What?" Jack asked, squinting against the blaze of sunlight and blue sky behind the broad shoulders.
"I said out," the Brummga grunted, reaching in and grabbing the front of Jack's harlequin shirt. "Her Thumbleness wants you."
The Brummga wasn't particularly gentle, and in the process of getting Jack out of the frying pan he managed to restart at least a dozen of his collection of aches. Even so, Jack found himself grinning inside as he was marched back across the lawn toward the kitchen door.
So he'd been right. Her Thumbleness had found him missing, had thrown the predictable tantrum, and Gazen had been forced to give him back to her.
So much for the slavemaster and his threats.
The feeling of satisfaction lasted all the way up to Her Thumbleness's room.
It was there as she loftily ordered the guards out and then told Jack to juggle for her. It even lasted until he picked up the small fruits he'd been using to juggle with.
It wasn't until the first one slipped from numbed fingers that his inner smile vanished.
"Shaak ri'hin mree ka'chu," Her Thumbleness growled.
Jack's comm clip was still hidden in his shoe, which meant no instant translation from Uncle Virge. But it didn't take a genius to tell that she was annoyed. "Yes, ma'am," he said, hastily stooping down and retrieving the fruit.
Again, he got them set up to juggle.
And again his fingers refused to cooperate. The repeated hits with Gazen's slapstick, plus the additional shocks from the frying pan, had left his muscles too drained and twitchy to handle delicate maneuvers.
And with a sinking feeling, he realized Gazen had known exactly what he was doing. Including how to handle Her Thumbleness and her tantrums.
This second failure earned him an impatient kick that sent him sprawling across the room. "Maybe we could try a trick instead?" Jack suggested, stifling a groan as he picked himself up off the floor.
He wasn't even quite vertical yet when a slap against his shoulder knocked him over again. "Wait!" he pleaded, blinking back stars as the back of his head hit the floor. "Please. Just give me a minute."
He might as well have asked storm clouds to stop raining. Her Thumbleness wasn't interested in waiting. She wasn't interested in anything but getting what she wanted, when she wanted it, and exactly the way she wanted it.
And in the age-old manner of careless and spoiled children everywhere, she was going to fix her broken toy by beating it until it started working again.
Howling in frustration, she charged.
Jack did his best to fend off the flailing hands and feet. But Her Thumbleness was too enraged, and too big. Another kick got through, this one landing in his lower rib cage. He gasped for air, spinning helplessly as two more slaps bounced off his shoulders.
And then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a huge hand sweeping toward the side of his head. He tried to get his arm up in time to block it, or to at least absorb some of its impact.
But he didn't make it. An instant later, the world went dark.
CHAPTER 23
He woke up in stages, passing from simple darkness to not-so-simple confusion, and finally to the realization that he was not at all comfortable.
"Are you awake?" Draycos's voice asked quietly in his right ear.
"I think so," Jack said, prying his eyes open.
The darkness didn't change. "Or maybe not," he amended, blinking a couple of times. He still couldn't see anything. "Where are we?"
"Back in the frying pan," Draycos told him. "You cannot see anything because it is night."
"Night?" Jack echoed, frowning. The last thing he remembered was Her Thumbleness trying her best to make a rag doll out of him. "How long was she beating on me, anyway?"
"Not long," Draycos said. "The guards came in only a few seconds after you lost consciousness. They took you away from her."
"Did anyone see you?"
"No," the dragon assured him. "I was not required to assist you in combat."
"Oh," Jack said, feeling vaguely disappointed. He'd always assumed that if things ever got seriously dangerous, his private K'da poet-warrior would be out of his collar in an instant to protect him. "Gazen ordered you returned here after the guards rescued you," Draycos went on.
"At that point I decided there was no reason to wake you. You have had very little sleep the past few days and needed the rest. In addition, I did not think there was much we could do until nightfall."
"Right on all counts," Jack said. He did feel better, actually.
Though that feeling was likely to change the minute he started moving around and found out what kind of new injuries Her Thumbleness had thoughtfully provided.
Carefully, gingerly, he probed at the ribs where the spoiled little brat had kicked him.
And got his second major surprise of the evening. The skin was definitely tender, but there was no sign of muscle or bone damage.
But that was impossible. That kick had sent him flying halfway across the room...
Frowning, he moved his fingers to his legs, and then to his shoulders. Again, there was nothing more serious than a few bruises.
"I did not fight, but I did what I could to protect you from harm," Draycos said. "When I could see where the blows would be striking, I raised my body slightly from your skin to take some of the impact on myself."
"You're kidding," Jack said, blinking in the darkness. "I didn't know you could do that."
"The ability is not common," Draycos said. "I was only rarely able to do such things with my last Shontine host, Polphir. I was never able to do so with any of my previous hosts."
"I guess K'da skills improve with age," Jack said. "You're more like wine than dogs."
"Pardon?"
"Wine improves with age," Jack explained. "And we have a saying that you can't teach an old dog new tricks."