Solbidyum Wars Saga 9: At What Price by Dale Musser Read Free Book Online

them among ones most treasured patrons.”
    “Even after all these years I still don’t get this First Citizen thing.  Many deserve the honor more than we do; Jenira, for example.  We just happened to be in the right situation at the right moment; but we’re not heroes…at least I’m not.  Jenira, on the other hand, puts herself in harm’s way by design to combat the Brotherhood.”
    “Oh? And you don’t?  Don’t forget, Tib, I was there, and you didn’t exactly get involved in the battle to retake the DUSTEN by accident.  You volunteered – and you weren’t even in the military!  You were new to the Federation, already rich beyond compare, and you could have walked away and into obscurity if you wished.  But you didn’t.  So tell me how much different is that from Jenira?  I don’t disagree with you that Jenira deserves to be a First Citizen as much as you or I do, but Jenira hasn’t been in the spotlight with the Federation like we have.  Her battles may have been just as dramatic as ours, but the fate of the entire Federation didn’t rest on the outcome of her fights.  There will be nearly endless chapters in the history books about the war with the Brotherhood and the larger portion of them will be about you and your accomplishments.  Jenira will indeed be mentioned in those chapters, but she will only take up a few sentences or paragraphs and those again will be mostly associated with you.  Even my own mentions will be in association with you.  There won’t be any standalone chapters about me.  Now stop brooding about it and enjoy your meal,” she added with a smile.
    The meal was exquisite, far exceeding Celpar’s description.  The soup was fabulous and only whetted my appetite for what followed.  The salad was good; not remarkable, according to my palate, but Kala raved about it.  On the other hand, the Bladaglub far surpassed anything I’d eaten before.  Its white flesh was much like Earth lobster and a similar taste and texture, though a bit sweeter and actually somewhat salty at the same time.  This steaming-hot delicacy was served with a dipping sauce made with a sweet wine and other creamy ingredients I didn’t recognize. I must confess that had I been served three times the amount, it wouldn’t have satisfied my ravenous appetite for more.  Kala seemed to enjoy hers as well, but she showed much more reserve than I did.  The real surprise came when we were served dessert and foccee.  When the plate was set before me, the dish seemed vaguely familiar.  It was a pastry of some sort with a white, powdery topping.  Then I realized it resembled a traditional New Orleans beignet, a variation of pastry from old Earth that originated in a land called France and was carried with early immigrants into my homeland.  It had long been a favorite of mine and was served as a breakfast food as well as a dessert.  But surely this wasn’t a beignet, I thought to myself, even though it certainly looked like one.  I was about to comment on it to Kala, when I noticed a tear rolling down her face as she stared at her own dessert.  A small brown cake sat on her plate.  It didn’t look all that superb, just an unremarkable cube of something I didn’t recognize.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked.
    “I can’t believe it, Tib,” she said as she lifted a small bite to her mouth.  Then the tears really started to flow.
    “What is it?  Are you alright?” I asked in alarm.  She didn’t answer but motioned with her hands that she was okay.  I waited as she chewed and swallowed.  Finally, she answered in a tearful voice.  “It’s the cake my mother used to make for Lunnie and me when we were young.  I haven’t had any since her death.  It’s unbelievable, Tibby.  This is exactly the way she used to make it.  Lunnie and I used to beg mother to make this cake because it was our favorite.  How did Celpar know?  How could he have gotten the recipe?”
    I recalled how much I