Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [64]
“I am sorry,” Picard said, choosing the lesser of two evils. “But I’m afraid it will be quite impossible to taste this.”
“Why?” the Dragon said with a frown. His cherubic face grew petulant. “Do you mean it isn’t satisfactory?”
“I mean it would be quite impossible,” Picard repeated. Better to decline the meal, he decided, than to be rendered physically ill by it.
Scowling, the Dragon peered at the noisome mess in the gilded tray. He plucked free a talon from the stew; it came loose with a sticky, sucking sound. Filmy strands of semidissolved fiber clung to the talon; they might have been spiderwebs. The smell that rose from the talon was strong enough to tarnish the golden tray. The Dragon sniffed the claw. “Perhaps you are right,” he said at last. “This is an old recipe; the cooks may have prepared it incorrectly.”
A whimpering noise arose from the prostrate chef. The Dragon ignored it. He called out to one of the squat, pug-faced dogs prowling the kitchen. The animal trotted over eagerly. It gobbled the rancid talon in the Dragon’s outstretched hand. The Emperor watched the dog warily. At first it seemed delighted by the snack. Within seconds, however, the dog was gripped by convulsions. It shuddered, coughed once, than collapsed onto its side. Mu hastily examined the dog. “I fear it is dead, Exalted One,” he announced. Picard’s back stiffened in alarm.
“Definitely prepared incorrectly,” the Dragon said blandly. “Mu, have all who touched this dish incarcerated.”
“Your Excellence … no!” the terrified chef protested. All over the kitchen cries of distress arose from the cooks and servers.
“Wait,” Picard said, speaking loudly to be heard over the din. “Excellence, this may be more than a simple error in preparation. Consider: an attempt has been made to poison you once already.”
“And you think this is another?” the Dragon said. The thought had obviously not occurred to him. “What a bother. And I was so looking forward to sharing this culinary treat with you.”
Frustrated by the Dragon’s apparent lack of concern for his own well-being, Picard struggled to maintain his composure. “Counselor?” he asked Troi. “What’s your reading on the room? Anything incriminating?”
Troi shook her head. “I’m not detecting any sense of guilt or deception. If this was another assassination attempt, then the assassin is no longer present. That, or the assassin feels no guilt whatsoever.”
A chilling thought, Picard reflected. He needed to get to the bottom of this latest incident as soon as possible. “Excellence,” he said, “with your permission, I would like this dish and the dog examined by my people.”
“You want a dead dog?” the Dragon said, somewhat taken aback.
“To examine for signs of poison,” Picard explained. The Dragon shrugged. “My palace is yours, although surely there must be better prizes we can grant you than a dead animal and a poorly cooked meal?”
“The dog will do, Excellence,” Picard insisted. Poison or no poison, he was glad he’d been spared a taste of the foul concoction. Saved by a failed assassination attempt, he mused. His hand hovered above his comm badge; he was ready to contact the Enterprise and request that both specimens be beamed directly to sickbay for analysis.
To his surprise, Data contacted him first.
“I regret that I have some bad news, Captain,” the android’s voice came over the comm. “We have reason to believe that a G’kkau fleet is heading for Pai—and should be there within twelve hours.”
Chapter Ten
“YOU MEAN HE DOES WHAT?” the Green Pearl exclaimed. “It sounds dreadful!”
The future bride sat face-to-face with Beverly within the sealed harem chamber. Plush velvet cushions were strewn around them. At the far end of the room, Hsiao Har practiced somersaults and did her best to pretend she had no interest in Beverly and Yao Hu’s conversation. Beverly suspected she was hanging on every word.
Knowing little about the sexual mores of the Pai had placed Beverly in a delicate position. If she told the Pearl too little, the poor girl would go to her marriage bed ill prepared