Brother Death by Steve Perry Read Free Book Online Page A

old boards protest the passage. Mkono, Kifo thought, was an instrument upon whom the gods had writ boldly-and large.
    Without speaking the big man sat. Knotted his legs, thick, but supple, into adept's pose. Waited.
    Fifty heartbeats came and went. A hundred.
    Two hundred.
    Finally Kifo said, "There is now one less obstacle in the path of the Plan. The gods are pleased with their Hand."
    A faint glimmer of a smile flitted across Mkono's face. He inclined his head a few millimeters, eyes closed.
    The gods had not spoken of Mkono's mission; they did not converse with their servants directly in that manner. Neither had Mkono spoken of his success; still, the logic of it was simple enough: had Mkono failed, he would not be here. If the Hand believed that Kifo had some way of seeing that which he ought not to be able to see, so much the better. The Unique was supposed to be exalted, at least a little.
    "Your work is not yet done, but for now there comes a pause."
    The bigger man nodded again.
    "Train yourself well, Mkono. The gods save the hardest for the end. They will provide themselves a real challenge."
    "I shall not fail to meet and overcome it."
    Kifo kept his face carefully neutral. Mkono would be the most formidable of opponents, even without the help of the gods; with their blessings, it was hard to imagine how he could be defeated. He had once seen Mkono launch a simple strike in practice, his fist moving only a few centimeters to punch thick padding on the chest of a strong man, with two more strong men bracing him from behind. Mkono's blow had knocked all three sprawling. Mkono was a worthy instrument, the greatest in the temple's history, perhaps, honed to deadly sharpness, totally dedicated.
    The Plan moved toward completion and Kifo had confidence that it would come to pass. But the gods did not fancy easy victories. If there were no chances they might lose, they would not enter the game.
    And failure would be due to the instruments chosen, for the gods themselves did not err, save deliberately to give the game an edge. Mkono was willing to do his part. Kifo must see to it that any errors in the Plan were not his own doing, or suffer for it. A risky business indeed, for failing one's gods meant damnation; of course, that too was part of the allure. To dance on the keenest sword's edge without being cut was a powerful drug, addictive on its own even without the righteousness of the gods'
    bidding as a spur.
    Kifo did not wish his own victories to be too easy. Then again, neither did he wish to fail.
    In silence Brother Death sat meditating across from Brother Hand, considering all the possibilities. Their number was myriad, but not infinite, and therefore comprehensible.
    And what a man can comprehend, he can achieve.

Chapter SEVEN
    A DEEP AND esoteric life-philosophy was not Taz's main concern. She considered herself a pragmatist, dealing with the day-to-day realities of life. True, she knew that happenstance, luck, could run either way. Fortune was fickle by its nature, impossible to control. One moment you might be walking arm-in-arm with your close friend bore chance, the next second the sky could fall, and you'd be caught flatfooted, watching your friend sprint away, laughing her ass off. Such things were to shrug about, if you survived.
    Good luck decided to take a quick hike, Taz realized, as she and her brother arrived in The Oxidized Owl.
    The Owl, a local restaurant and pub, was always crowded, no matter what hour of the day or night. The reasons for this were simple enough: they served good food and drinks in large quantities and both were cheap. The owner, Noe Teng Bicho, was a more than somewhat gaudy sex-changer from PrimeSat in Centauri. Born male, subsequent surgery and viral/hormonal revision had transformed him into a her, right down to a womb-implant that could, should she ever desire it, produce a child. With a little help, of course. Everybody called the owner of the Owl "Pickle." Curious, Taz