Free The Crown Jewels by Walter Jon Williams

why ?”
    *
    “Upon the success of your actions in the next few hours,” Baron Sinn declared, “may depend the Fate of the Empire.”
    Well, thought Sergeant Tvi, how much better than this can it ever get? The Fate of the Empire — her heart beat faster as the words rang in her mind like bells. This was a definite improvement on spending one’s life in the civil service, gazing out the window at the endless deserts and intractable inhabitants of Zynzlyp. Even Khotvinn’s dark, looming presence— he was a head taller even than Sinn— seemed less than its usual sinister self.
    “Khotvinn will be under your orders,” Sinn went on. “If there is trouble, he is trained to get you out of it.”
    “I don’t anticipate trouble, my lord.” In what Tvi hoped was a tone of quiet confidence.
    Sinn looked at her, his gaze commanding. “Anticipate every possible trouble, Tvi. Then you will be able to cope with each problem as it arises.”
    Why did officers always talk like this? Tvi wondered. Nothing a subordinate said was ever quite right. Even expressions of confidence triggered a lecture. Her reply was dutiful.
    “Yes, my lord.”
    Countess Anastasia stepped from the back of the room and laid a hand on Baron Sinn’s arm. The Baron stiffened.
    “Let no one get in your way,” the Countess said. Unlike the Baron, she spoke High Khosali. “This is no time for hesitation or foolish regard for life. There must be no witnesses. You must be prepared to take harsh action.” She held up a clenched fist.
    Tvi remained silent. She didn’t have to take orders from the Countess, but the Baron’s group was dependent on the Countess for support on this planet, so there was every reason to treat her with courtesy.
    The Fate of the Empire! Tvi thought again. Now there was something worth listening to boring speeches for. She wondered if, in future generations, there would be video programs about Tvi of the Secret Dragoons.
    The Countess went on about firmness and the necessity for action. Tvi knew that when her superiors shifted into High Khosali they were trying to inspire her, and she could successfully drowse through it with her eyes open. She therefore stood in a respectful attitude, her ears cocked forward as if she were listening, and in her mind pictured Video Tvi and watched with cool pleasure as the heroine stole documents, battled spies, saved the Emperor’s coffin from sabotage. . . . Then she looked at Khotvinn.
    The big Khosalikh was standing with his eyes gleaming, the fur on his shoulders standing. The monster was absorbing the Countess’s words with evident pleasure and anticipation, just waiting for the moment when he could crack bones, snap necks, bruise flesh. In their few days’ acquaintance, Khotvinn had always given Tvi the impression of something that might choose to live in a cave. Now that impression was enhanced. Tvi’s mind snapped to attention. Someone like Khotvinn wasn’t in her mental script. The Khotvinns of the videos always sought employment in the service of villains, and were usually massacred by the heroine just before intermission.
    Khotvinn was going to take watching. Tvi knew that now, and knew it for certain.
    *
    In her darksuit, Tvi flowed like black glass over the rolling yellow hills on the outskirts of Peleng City. Her sense of smell, enhanced by her darksuit attachments, brought her the scent of night-blooming bellseed flowers.
    Khotvinn stood by the flier like a monument. Tvi had decided not to use him on her reconnaissance— she considered him clumsy, and she was certain that he had let himself be seen tailing Maijstral’s assistant the day before. Tvi lighted and switched off the suit’s holograph projectors. Khotvinn gave no sign he noticed her presence.
    “Navarre’s flier is gone. There are no security arrangements on the house that I can detect.”
    Khotvinn was matter-of-fact. “Then let’s go.” His accent was provincial and hard to understand. He flexed his