Dragon's Honor - Kij Johnson [85]
“You needn’t bother,” the captain said. “Chih-li is taking charge of the investigation here. I’m afraid your presence would only provoke the Dragon; he would surely consider it an affront to the honor of his own security forces. The Pai are quite sensitive regarding such matters.”
“So I have discovered,” Worf confirmed. “The Minister of Internal Security has already challenged me to a duel, but we have agreed to postpone our battle until after the wedding.”
“What?!” The captain sounded alarmed at this new development.
“There is no reason to be concerned, Captain, Worf said. “The minister and I are most evenly matched. It will be an honorable and glorious battle.”
There was a long, uneasy silence before Picard spoke again. “Mr. Worf, I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with this now. For the present, I suggest you confine your activities to finding the missing gifts.”
“The gifts?” Worf said. “Surely the Green Pearl takes priority.”
“I would not be at all surprised,” Picard said, “if the two matters are related. Find the gifts and you may find the girl as well.”
“Very well, Captain,” Worf said. He inspected the two burly Pai guards who were even now watching him with what looked like bloodthirsty anticipation. It appeared it would no longer be necessary to fight his way past them. Too bad, he thought, but duty calls… .
Turning his back on the harem and its guardians, he marched briskly back toward the scene of the crime.
Chapter Thirteen
“DAMN,” RIKER SAID. “I lose again.”
“What a pity,” Chuan-chi said. “Such a shame to see your luck turning to this degree. For a time it seemed you might have bankrupted us all utterly.”
“The seeds of fortune seldom bloom in hydroponics,” Meng Chiao agreed.
Riker shrugged. He’d given up trying to translate Meng Chiao’s aphorisms into sense, as well as giving up the last several hands. His once-impressive pile of winnings had diminished to merely a handful of golden coins. “Oh, I doubt my luck could have lasted,” he laughed. “You are all fine players.”
Lord Li Po reached for Riker’s discarded hand. “Wait!” Riker said, but before Riker could stop him, Li Po flipped the cards over.
“You folded with a straight flush?” the noble said. “That was a winning hand!”
“It was a flush?” Riker said, feigning surprise. “Oh, so it was.”
Chuan-chi’s eyes narrowed as he peered at Riker suspiciously. “I think we must prevent such accidents in the future. From now on, any folded hands will be exposed at the end of the hand, to prevent any further errors.”
“That’s not necessary, sir,” Riker said. “It was a simple oversight on my part. The hour is late, I was tired, and I missed the full value of my cards.”
“Nevertheless,” the Heir insisted, “we would not wish you to lose money you would have won had you not been tired.”
This isn’t about money, Riker thought, it’s about diplomacy. This “friendly” game was turning out to be anything but relaxing. His neck ached and one of his legs had fallen asleep after his having squatted on cushions for hours. He shifted his weight awkwardly. “Making mistakes is just part of the game, gentlemen.”
Lord Li Po coughed gently. “I believe the Heir’s concern is that such mistakes might happen so consistently as to warrant a certain, shall we say, dubiety.”
“It is a matter of honor,” Chuan-chi said. Riker suspected he was enjoying the Starfleet officer’s discomfort.
“A frosted mirror reflects only grapefruit,” Meng Chiao contributed.
“I see,” Riker said. Losing is going to be harder than I thought. “In that case.”
“Shall we play another hand?” the Heir said.
Step by step, centimeter by centimeter, Worf scanned the High Hall of Ceremonial Grandeur. His tricorder probed the walls and floor; fortunately, no one had shielded the chamber against a scan from within. So far, he hadn’t found what he was looking for, but he did not feel discouraged just yet. The High Hall was a large