Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [74]
“That is true,” the Heir conceded.
“So your cards are your warriors, and you are their general. You alone determine whether they are simply to be sacrifices, or whether they can turn the tide of battle.”
There was another long pause while the Heir and his fellow nobles mulled over Riker’s words. Riker tugged at the collar of his recently acquired silk robe. The harem seemed much warmer and stuffier all of a sudden. He prayed that he had not completely soured relations between the Federation and the Dragon Empire.
Suddenly, Meng Chiao’s eyes lit up. He slapped his knee loudly. “Of course,” he said. “I see it now. The purple peacock crowns the hill of the scarlet ants!”
“Ah,” the Heir said knowingly. All the other Pai were nodding now, comprehension dawning for everyone except Riker. “You were right, Commander. That does make sense.” Chuan-chi threw down his cards. “I fold.”
“And I.”
“And I.”
One by one, the nobles folded, leaving a befuddled Will Riker to claim his winnings. Riker shook his head as he pulled the gleaming, golden pile toward him. This may be tricker than I thought… .
“One minute we were standing guard, glaring at the Pai soldiers, who were glaring at us. The next thing I remember was waking up on the floor while Dr. Selar asked me if I could recall what my name was.” Lieutenant Nanci Atherton shrugged her broad, muscular shoulders. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, sir.”
“This attack caught us all off guard, Lieutenant,” Worf growled. “You’re dismissed. Report to sickbay for a full examination.”
Atherton walked away toward the transport site, leaving Worf and Chih-li alone in the now-spacious emptiness of the High Hall of Ceremonial Grandeur. Her footsteps echoed throughout the vacant chamber. Worf remained amazed at the sheer audacity of the unknown thieves. How had they managed to steal a roomful of treasures from the very heart of the Imperial Palace?
“We must search every room in the palace,” he said. “The thieves cannot have gone far.” It was not the first time he had reached this conclusion in the last half hour.
“That is impossible,” Chih-li said for probably the twentieth time. “The Dragon’s guests are men of great honor. It would be an enormous insult to even suggest that one of them might be a thief.”
“But one of them most certainly is!” Worf snarled.
“Sadly, that appears to be the case,” Chih-li admitted. The Minister of Internal Security paced unhappily across the bare marble floor. “And yet, we cannot dishonor the rest of our guests by searching their quarters. Each and every one of them would feel obliged to challenge us to a duel for even contemplating such a search.”
Ordinarily, that prospect would have appealed to Worf, but time was running out. The wedding was now only hours away. Worf gave the problem serious thought. Upon reflection, it seemed to him that there were subtle differences between Klingon and Pai codes of honor. The Pai apparently placed great stock in appearances, while a Klingon’s honor was based on his deeds, or so it seemed to him. He wondered if there was any way to turn that distinction to his advantage.
“We must search every room,” Worf repeated. Chih-li began to object on principle, but the Klingon shushed him with a wave of his hand. “It should be possible, however, to ask in such a way as not to impugn the honor of any of your guests, perhaps by asking if someone else might have basely planted the stolen items in their quarters?”
The minister stopped pacing. A crafty smile appeared on his face. “You are both honorable and cunning, friend Worf. It may be that what you suggest is possible indeed. All we required was a polite fiction to allow all concerned to maintain the vestige of honor.”
“Including the guilty party?” Worf asked.
“We shall deal with that problem after we have recovered the gifts. It is my sincere hope that an honorable suicide can be arranged … one way or another.” The bloodthirsty gleam in the