Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [40]
As they entered the garden of standing rocks, Kurn was conversing in bright sunlight with a shorter, stockier Klingon, whose jutting brow was easily his most distinguishing characteristic. Both men wore stately robes, which gave them an air of haughty authority.
At least in Kurn’s case, that illusion was quickly dispelled. When Worf and his companions caught his eye with their approach, Kurn grinned like a youth reveling over his first hunting trophy.
“WorPeople Brother!” he bellowed, so that the greeting echoed throughout the garden. “Let me look at you!”
Picard’s security chief was just as glad to see Kurn.
However, as always, he was somewhat less demonstrative in his enthusiasm.
Growing up in an alien culture-that of Earth, for the most part-Worf had learned all too well to hide his innermost feelings. His stint on the Enterprise had encouraged him to open up somewhat, but old habits were hard to break.
Kurn pounded Worf on the back and laughed: “It is good to see you, brother. I miss your companionship.”
“And I, yours,” the lieutenant responded. “Though I see you have managed to keep busy, with or without me.”
Kurn grunted and made a gesture of dismissal. “Serving on the Council is more drudgery than I had expected.
It leaves little time for my more pleasant duties-like the inspection I’ve agreed to carry out today.”
Picard saw Kurn’s companion approach them then, as if that had been his cue. He inclined his head respectfully-though his dark, deepset eyes were clearly drawn to Kahless more than to Worf or the captain.
“This,” said Kurn, “is Rajuc, son of Inagh, esteemed headmaster of this academy. You will find him to be a gracious host.”
Rajuc smiled, showing his short, sharp teeth. “My lord governor is too generous with his praise. Still, I will do what I can to make you comfortable here.” He turned to Kahless. “I have long been an admirer of your exploits, Emperor. This institution is honored beyond measure by your presence.”
Kahless shrugged. “Tell me that after I’ve bloodied your furnishings and ravaged your women,” he instructed.
For a moment, the headmaster seemed to take him seriously. Then his smile returned. “You may do your worst, great one-and I will be honored to be the first to match blades with you.”
Beaming, the clone slammed his fist into Rajuc’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit,” he hissed. “Give ground to no one.”
“I never have,” the headmaster informed him, warming to the subject. “Especially not to the rumor-mongers who would have us believe Kahless was a fraud. I assure you, Emperor, I place no credence at all in the scroll they claim to have found. As far as I am concerned, the stories we learned as children contain the truth of the matter.”
Kahless looked as if someone had rammed him in the stomach with the business end of a painstik. “Indeed,” he said tightly. “I am grateful for your loyalty, son of Inagh.”
No doubt true, thought Picard. However, the clone didn’t seem to like being reminded of the scroll-not in any context. It was quite simply a sore subject with him.
“You will be interested to know,” Rajuc continued, “that our eldest students plan to reenact Kahless’s departure for Sto-Vo-Kor in two days” time.” For the sake of protocol, he included Worf and Picard in his glance.
“Perhaps you can stay long enough to see it.”
“I am afraid not,” Kahless replied. “As much as I enjoy such dramas, we have business elsewhere which cannot wait.” He turned his attention to Kurn. “Which is what we came to speak with you about, Lord Governor.”
Worf’s brother inclined his shaggy head. “Of course, Emperor.” He gestured to a remote cul-de-sac in the garden, obscured by tall, oblong boulders on three sides.
“I believe you will find that spot over there to your liking.” Placing his hand on Rajuc’s shoulder, he added:
“I will see you shortly, Headmaster. There is still much we need to discuss.”
Rajuc inclined his head again-first to Kurn, then to Kahless, and finally to