Free Fortunes of the Imperium by Jody Lynn Nye Page B

haul me out of bed and dress me. Can you be there on time?”
    “Oh, yes,” Jil said, then hesitated. “But it isn’t just me.”
    “Oh?” I inquired. Parsons had not mentioned a companion. “Would you like to bring someone with you?”
    “Yes, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
    “I am sure that it isn’t. Who is it?”
    Jil beckoned. The gaggle approached.
    “Which one of them?” I asked.
    “Thomas!” Jil said, with an expansive gesture. “I want you to meet my companions! They are all wonderful people, and I know you will come to love them as much as I do.”
    “All of them?” I asked, in disbelief, peering from one elegantly clad lovely to another.
    “Of course, all of them! Banitra Savarola Wilcox, Hopeli Asmudov, Marquessa Royode, Sinim Nikhorunkorn Torm, this is my cousin, Lord Thomas Innes etcetera etcetera Kinago. I am sure he will tell you to call him Thomas. Thomas, these are my very dear friends. We are all looking forward to traveling with you.”
    I bowed, giving the most elegant of gestures with my right arm, while my mind went through deeply complicated contortions to accept what I had heard.
    “Ladies, it is my deep pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope that we will all become good friends. Jil is correct. Please do call me Thomas.”
    They giggled.
    I described her companions collectively as a gaggle, though once they separated into disparate examples of humanity I found elements of interest in each one of them. Two of them, Banitra and Sinim, were minor members of the nobility, though they were untitled, but meaning that they were very distantly related to Jil and to me. Banitra was attractive, with warm, tawny skin, very dark eyes, and with the molded brow that distinguished all Wilcoxes, including the current minister for industrial development. Like him, I perceived that she took in her surroundings with those bright eyes, filing away interesting facts for later. By her surnames Sinim shared several ancestors with Jil, though her skin was more bronze than gold, and her cheekbones more prominent. She was shorter of stature, and draped her curvaceous frame in swathes of turquoise crepe silk. Her long, black hair was gathered in a complicated plait.
    The other two were commoners. One could distinguish that condition by their very faces, which were asymmetrical to a dismaying degree. Since I was surrounded nearly all the time by my close family, all of whom were of Imperial blood, on beholding ordinary human beings, I sometimes found myself trying to urge their features into a more harmonious line by furtive movements of my shoulders or body, as one seeks to influence the arc of a ball one has already thrown. The action did no good in either case. Marquessa had dimples, a pointed chin, and thick blonde hair that waved upon the shoulders of a gown of excellent design and expensive cream-colored fabric. Teak-skinned Hopeli had a frame so slight I feared she would fly away, but she moved with admirable grace. All four ladies were charming and attractive, and seemed to be interesting conversationalists, as subject gave way to subject without hindrance or hesitation.
    My viewpad buzzed on my hip. I did not need to look at its screen to know what it said.
    “It is time for the toasts,” I said, offering Jil my arm. “Come along with me, ladies. This is the sole official event tonight.”

CHAPTER 6
    Precisely on schedule, serverbots were constructing a small dais in the center of the garden, immediately between the (unused) throne and the ornamental fountains. A trio of narrow pylons had been erected and draped with bunting that twinkled with tiny lights sewn throughout the fabric. I stepped into the center of the round stage, where my voice would be picked up and carried by the speakers concealed in the pylons and at numerous points around the massive garden. Another server, human this time, appeared at my elbow with a tray containing tall flutes of sparkling wine. I served them to my