Stardogs by Dave Freer Read Free Book Online

eliminated because of a clumsy attempt at flattery at an Imperial Levee. Here, The Archduke of Tzar had bowed low on his being introduced to the Emperor. “I am delighted to meet Your Magnificence at last” he simpered, “I’ve met your charming royal daughter so often. My people are besotted with her.” He had actually met Shari once, and had no idea that a great many of his people were in fact very attached to her.
    The fat, dissipated Turabi had not like that at all. He wasn’t happy that his despised elder sister should be taken for his daughter either. In a later consultation with Selim Puk it was decided that she had to go. Selim, as usual, had several nasty plots brewing. The security chief saw a suitable opportunity to dispose of several birds with one stone, as it were.

    “But, Your Highness,” said the rather florid-faced elderly man, peering at the list she’d handed him, “they’re all backwater planets, again.” He shook his head, despairing, “We’d make twice as much money on any one of the Inner worlds!”
    She smiled at him, graciously. She’d discovered that her smile was one of her most powerful weapons. “I know, Sir Syrian. But it is important that the people of the smaller places should feel involved too. Some things are more important than money.” It was a difficult concept for the former advertising executive, drafted out of retirement into the service of the cash-strapped ISPCA, to accept. At least two others of her audience also didn’t agree with her, but neither of them was going to voice their opinions. The handsome Viscount Martin Brettan wasn’t going to say anything because his slender stipend depended on staying in the Princess’s good books. The footman who was attempting to surreptitiously read the list that Syrian Brynant was fuming over wouldn’t say anything either. Footmen didn’t.
    Syrian Brynant hadn’t received a knighthood for lack of effort. “Well, Your Highness, what about a gala departure event here? I could raise…”
    “Absolutely out of the question.” Her voice was arctic.
    On the rare occasions Shari snapped like that you could forget further questioning. The fund-raising campaign manager bowed, defeated. “Very well, Princess.” He turned to go.
    “Sir Syrian. Do you mind leaving the second copy of that itinerary with us?” Shari’s voice was all urbanity again. “I think some of us would like to peruse it.” She smiled at the froglike, glasses-magnified eyes of the dumpy, oddly made-up woman in the corner. Inwardly Shari seethed in irritation at the clumsy footman-spy. Best to make it easy for the fool. It was, she supposed, some comfort that she was still being spied on by idiots and not competent men. But it was all so futile. The itinerary would be going to Imperial security anyway. And if he was a Wienan League spy, they’d be getting her itinerary as well as her politely-worded-but-brooking-no-refusal request for a Stardog for the imperial barge. The itinerary would cause their usual rash of protests and suggested changes, which she would, as usual, ignore.
    Lady Tanzo Adendorff’s badly pinned bun bobbed like a buoy in wind squall with her eager nodding. “Oh yes… I’d love to! I like to get my reading done first, you know.” Tanzo agreed wholeheartedly with the Princess that some things were more important than money. Well, one thing anyway. Xeno-archaeology. Money was only worth having if it could transport you to Denaari sites. But interstellar travel was ruinously expensive, and Imperial interest in archaeological research-funding was non-existent. As part of the Princess’s retinue she at least could sponge free transport to worlds far beyond her modest means. The odd-looking woman was no fool. In return she did what was expected of her, to deflect the intelligentsia from the princess at social gatherings. It was boring, but a small price to pay.
    Selim Puk had ensured that the Princess was never quite alone. The