A Silence in the Heavens by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

the Regimental reception for Paladin Ezekiel Crow was going smoothly. For a combat officer with a sideline in domestic intelligence, Colonel Michael Griffin had turned out to be surprisingly good at pulling a party together. She made a mental note to write him up a letter of commendation; as her father had said more than once, it never hurt to have another one or two of those in your personnel file, as a reserve against later disaster.
    In the meantime, she intended to take advantage of her first opportunity to spend any length of time with the newly arrived Paladin. She still felt somewhat irked that the Exarch had placed so little confidence in her, but the irritation was tempered with a profound relief that she was not, after all, going to have to face everything that was coming alone.
    And if she had to work with a Paladin of the Sphere, she had to admit that Ezekiel Crow was one of the best: distinguished graduate of the military academy right here on Northwind; Planetary Legate for Footfall in Prefecture V; leader of a successful campaign against smuggling and terrorist activity in that region; Knight of the Sphere; architect of a peaceful settlement to the Liao Conservatory of Military Arts Rebellion; and finally, a Paladin at the young—for that position—age of forty.
    She wasn’t certain what she’d expected, as far as appearance went. She’d seen occasional pictures and tri-vee likenesses of him, and while they gave the viewer an idea of things like height and coloring, and recorded his fondness for wearing civilian clothing of plain color and conservative cut on those rare occasions when he wasn’t in uniform, they did nothing to convey his undeniable presence.
    Crow had chosen to wear dress uniform that night—making it the first time that many of the guests at the reception had seen a Paladin in all of his glory. Tara was glad that she’d decided to wear formal civilian clothing, which wouldn’t threaten to outshine him. The plain black velvet gown made an effective contrast to the richness of Crow’s military regalia.
    Alone among the guests, Colonel Griffin had seemed less than completely overawed by Ezekiel Crow. He’d been perfectly respectful, of course, just . . . standoffish, in a way that he had never been while working with Tara alone. Perhaps he too had felt insulted on her behalf by the Exarch’s gift. If so, she could hardly fault his loyalty.
    Everybody else, on the other hand, had professed themselves delighted to meet the Paladin. Tara watched with appreciation as Crow greeted the president of the Northwind branch of Bannson Universal Unlimited, talked economics with him earnestly for three minutes, and sent the man on his way smiling.
    At the next lull in the conversation, she murmured, “Damn, my lord, but you’re good. I couldn’t have handled him that neatly if I’d tried.”
    His answering smile warmed the dark blue of his eyes, and softened his austere features into something close to attractiveness. “I’ve had considerably more practice.”
    “It’s the part of political life I like the least,” she admitted. “Pretending to be interested in everybody. I suppose I’m just a soldier at heart, like my father.”
    “You could do worse. Everything I’ve heard about Jon Campbell says that he was a good man.”
    “He was,” she said. “It’s been years, now, and I still miss him.” She forced a smile. “But enough of past hurts. Can I offer you some whisky punch, my lord?”
    He shook his head. “Your local recipes are too strong for me, I’m afraid. I don’t drink.”
    “Try some of the pink fizzy stuff, then. It’s guaranteed free of intoxicating or hallucinogenic substances.” She caught the eye of a member of the catering staff. “Bring the Paladin a glass of the offworlders’ punch and a plate of the mixed pastries, please.”
    She turned back to Crow. “We don’t want you expiring from hunger before we have a chance to pick your brains and use your