Sten bowed, set his full glass down on a bookcase, and walked to the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
STEN WALKED DOWN the steps and yawned broadly at Nebta's setting moon. A very long night, Sten, he thought to himself. And you still have four hours to go until you make contact.
"You look tired, Colonel," came the silken voice from the shadows.
Kill a man, love a woman, Sten hoped. It could turn out to be an interesting evening. He nodded to Sofia as she rose from her seat on the balustrade.
Not to mention interesting things like my dawn meeting yet to come, not to mention Parrel's wanting me to sell out the Prophet, not to mention this incredible woman who I do not believe wants to make love to me because of the cut of my hair.
And I will momentarily ignore the fact that my gonads are suggesting it's perfectly proper to sell out Emperor, mercenaries, Theodomir, and Uncle Tom Dooley for this woman. He smiled back at Sofia.
"You provided quite an entertainment," Sofia said.
"Not my idea of an enjoyable evening."
"After they removed your opponents, I looked for you."
"Thought it best to leave, Sofia. I do not think it's proper to dance with a woman with blood up to your elbows."
Sofia was surprised. The script was not going as it should.
"The only thing I could be sorry about," Sten improvised, "is that my late friends intervened before I could tell you how lovely you are."
Sofia brightened. Things might proceed. And Sten suppressed an urge to laugh. MANTIS SECTION/COVERT OPERATIONS: Instruction Order Something. Clause I Forget, Paragraph Who Remembers: "When approached on a sexual level, covert operators should remember that they have not necessarily been found attractive beyond the moon and the stars but rather that the person making the approach is allied with the opposition and attempting to subvert, to maneuver into a life-threatening situation, or to provide the opposition with blackmail material. In any event, until a life-threatening situation occurs, it is recommended that operatives pretend to be seducible. Interesting intelligence has been produced in such situations."
And so Sten stepped very close to Sofia, lowered his voice, and gently touched a finger to her cheek.
"Perhaps we might walk. Perhaps I might have a chance to tell you what I wasn't able to."
Sofia's smile vanished. Then it returned to her face. Very interesting. The woman is an amateur, Sten concluded. Parral, you should never have sent your little sister to do a whore's work.
Then, arm in arm, the two walked down the steps into Parrel's sprawling garden.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
IT WAS QUITE a garden.
At one end—almost a kilometer from the castle—the garden narrowed, then spread into a soft meadow where a gentle river flowed.
And of course there was a small dock in midmeadow.
And of course there was a boat.
You aren't that far removed from Imperial technology, Sten thought as he stood on the dock, romantically put an arm around Sofia, and looked at the boat.
It was clear plas, with an illuminated strip to mark its gunwale. No sign of power, no oars, just several soft cushions.
What a setup, Sten thought.
And so he kissed Sofia.
And again the world went soft around the edges as her lips caught him and brought him in. At that moment, Sten was having trouble remembering who was seducing whom.
He gently broke the kiss and touched her lips at the corners with his, twice. Then bent, took off her shoes, and stepped her down into the boat.
Noiselessly, the boat moved along the river. Above them hung the waning moon, and below them, Sten could see the luminous flash of fish as they slept below him.
And so we will round this bend in the river, Sten thought, and then the boat will dock itself in a lovely grotto. And what will I find there besides taps? Assassins? Kidnappers? Parral working a badger game? And good luck to 'em all. Sten bent over and kissed Sofia again.
It was a helluva grotto, Sten realized as the clear boat silently touched the grassy bank. Rocks had been sculpted to form a secluded hideaway. And down over them splashed a waterfall, illuminated with what Sten guessed were a couple of low-powered meth/HCl lasers, lasing from UV down toward yellow in the spectrum.
A helluva trap, too, as he lifted Sofia in his arms out of the boat, ready to peg her into the arms of any waiting killers.
But there was nothing.
"Your brother has quite a taste in gardens," he said.
"Parral?" Sofia was puzzled. "He doesn't know about this. I designed it."
The situation had gone awry slightly. Sten lowered Sofia to the grass, then stood again. She put both hands behind her head and eyed him quizzically. Sten lifted one boot behind him and touched a bootheel. The tiny indicator light stayed dark. How odd. No monitors.
For Sten, the situation was very rapidly getting out of hand.
He knelt beside Sofia, one leg curled under him, his hand ready to bring out the knife. She was still staring at him.
"Did you know Parral ordered me to dance with you?"
Sten hesitated, then nodded.
"You did?" she said, slightly surprised. "And did you know he wanted me to wait for you, outside the library? And I was supposed to take you—take you to my chambers?" Her voice was suddenly fast, confessional.
Sten was starting to realize that, at least in this case. Covert Operations Manual was a tad lacking. He had the sense to keep his mouth shut.
"Do you know what Parral wanted me to do?"
"I can imagine."
And Sofia stopped.
Embarrassed, Sten suddenly realized that he had carried his basilisk act a little too far.
He swung a leg over Sofia and, balancing himself on his knees, slowly brought both hands down the sides of her face, down across her chest, moving to the side of her breasts, across her stomach.
Sofia sighed gratefully and her eyes closed.
Sten's hands moved gently back up, then down, caressing her bare arms and hands.
Sofia's hand moved blindly to the catches on her gown and snapped them free. Sten, moving very slowly, slid the gown down to Sofia's waist, and her erect nipples on small breasts gleamed in the reflected laser-light from the waterfall.
He kissed her then, on the lips, on the throat and then down across her breasts to her stomach.
Then stood and dropped away his uniform.
And there was no sound except the whisper of her gown coming away from her body and the arabesque of two bodies meeting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
IT WAS MINUTES before dawn as Sten, now clad in black coveralls, moved from dying shadow to alleyway through Nebta's main street.
It ain't the killing, he thought sleepily to himself, that makes sojering hard. It's the fact the bassids never let you go to bed.
He preferred not to reflect—not then, anyway—on making love to Sofia. He wasn't sure what it all meant—other than Sofia was the first woman since Bet who had added star drive to her sexuality.
Besides, there was still this clottin' meeting.
After dark no one in his right mind went down Nebta's streets, which then became the province of the killer gangs and the only slightly less lethal night patrols who reasoned (with some justification) that anyone out after dark was either a villain or desperately in need of escort service. Payment up front, please.
Sten slid down an alley that stank of death, garbage, and betrayal. Waiting at the end of the alley was the only other person he'd seen on the streets besides one half-drunk patrol team. A beggar. A scrofulous beggar, whose sores gleamed luminous in the near dawn.