Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [23]
“But, my dear captain,” the Dragon protested, “there would be no honor in slaying a foe in such an underhanded manner. Even Lord Lu Tung, my esteemed former adversary, would never stoop to such cowardly tactics.”
A backhanded compliment if ever there was one, Picard thought, but if Lu Tung took offense at the Dragon’s remark, his face revealed no sign of it. “Indeed,” he agreed. “Poison is not the way of the Pai, no matter who sits upon the throne.”
“Not yet maybe,” Kan-hi muttered, “but just wait until my brother is Emperor.”
“You will be the first to know,” Chuan-chi said ominously.
An angry look from the Dragon silenced them both. Frustrated, Picard realized that the Pai nobles were too caught up in their own personal feuds to take the assassination attempt seriously and that, without any physical evidence, there was no way to prove to them that the dart had been intended to kill someone upon the dais. Very well, he decided, if the Pai could not be bothered to protect themselves, then it was up to him and his crew to keep everyone alive and well until the wedding.
“Excellence,” he addressed the Dragon. “Under the circumstances, I should like to summon Lieutenant Worf, my chief of security, to the palace to insure your safety.” He was reluctant to remove Worf from the bridge when the location of the G’kkau warship remained unknown, but Geordi could always take charge of keeping an eye out for the Fang. With an assassin clearly on the loose in the palace, he preferred Worf here.
Unfortunately, the Dragon disagreed. “What?” he said indignantly. “Are you implying that I, the Divine Ruler of the Dragon Empire, cannot protect myself?”
“Of course not, Excellence,” Picard said, “but a little extra caution at this most vital of junctures can only profit us all.”
“Nonsense, Picard. This is a matter of honor. The Dragon Empire does not require the protection of outsiders such as your security chief. I expressly forbid you to bring this man here. You are my guest,” the Dragon stated emphatically. “Please do me the courtesy of behaving as one.”
So much for that idea, Picard decided, unwilling to provoke the Dragon any further. Perhaps later he could devise a pretext for beaming Worf down without offending the Emperor’s acute sense of honor. For now, he would have to rely on the officers at hand.
“Excellence,” he said, “some small business has come up which requires my attention. With your permission, I would like to confer with my officers in private.”
“Right this minute?” the Dragon asked, incredulous. “Why, we haven’t been served dessert yet. Trust me, Picard, I’m sure my chef has prepared something truly special for the two of us.”
I can hardly wait, Picard thought glumly. “This will not take long. I look forward to resuming our meal shortly.”
“Well, if you must, you must,” the Dragon sighed. “I know too well the demands which befall men of our exalted position. Mu! Escort Captain Picard and his honored associates to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Do not worry, friend Picard, I shall instruct the chef to hold dessert until your return. In truth, I’ve always thought candied rahgid eyes taste better cold.”
The Hall of Supreme Harmony was a spacious chamber on the ground floor of the northern tower, not far from the courtyard where the banquet wore on. Hanging silk lanterns illuminated the walls, which were adorned with large blue glyphs of Chinese design. Picard guessed that characters probably spelled out ancient words of wisdom for the edification of the hall’s visitors. The air smelled faintly of oranges, and he could still hear the harps and flutes of the musicians playing outdoors. The hall held no furniture, so the Starfleet officers remained standing upon the white polished floor.
“Mr. Data,” Picard said. “From what you saw of the dart’s trajectory, can you tell who was the intended target?”
“I am afraid not, Captain. At the point I intercepted the dart I could only determine that it was aiming for someone on the dais.”
“It seems to me,” Riker commented, “that the Dragon would