The Braided World by Kay Kenyon Read Free Book Online

She stood before him, composing herself. She looked at her father, and the look seemed not quite what it should be. Nor her father's look.
    Anton turned from them to the open veranda, to thedrowned plaza outside, where the river system would soon retreat, leaving it and the Dassa lands clear—and perhaps more dangerous. He wished he did not know what he did about relations between some Dassa daughters and some fathers. Between some Dassa mothers and sons.
    The fruit dinner sat uneasily in his stomach, one thing warring with another.
    He accepted the weapon box from the king's hands.
    Joon turned to him. “You must visit at my pavilion, Captain.”
    “I will, thank you, Lady.”
    Anton took his leave. He wasn't sure what would happen next between father and daughter, or even if anything
would
, but he judged it an excellent time to leave. Gripping the box, he departed the king's suite of rooms, more or less satisfied. He had the gun; he had Zhen. And the king had implied that they might visit the Quadi ruins when the rivers returned to their banks. Anton took that as a promise.
    He walked away feeling as though he had just run an obstacle course, blindfolded. He thought Captain Darrow would have emerged from this meeting with more to show for himself. But the man was dead, damn him.
    Nick Venning sat in the canoe, watching the paddles dip as the Dassa soldiers sped them along the middle of the river. All other craft gave way before them, and the current was with them, speeding their trip. Rain fell, denting the gray river to a swath of hammered steel. The canoe the king provided had a roof on it, supported by poles. They were all soaking wet anyway, but it kept the deluge off.
    Behind him, Nick heard Zhen's complaints, though she was riding in a small screened-in cabin. She grumbled just loud enough for him to hear: “… cooped up for weeks in this stinking place and now can't see a stinking thing.”
    She hated going abroad covertly, and hated having Nick for an escort, although Anton had pushed hard for this tripto the shuttle for her to conduct diagnostics. He'd put Nick in charge, but without a side arm. Anton Prados kept their sole weapon for himself.
    Nick turned halfway around. “Want me to continue my travelogue, or you just feel like venting?” He thought he'd done a good job describing what he saw of the submerged delta system: bits of bridges, trees, islets. But Zhen was in a mood.
    “I want to vent.”
    “Fine, then. Knock yourself out.”
    He was tired of talking anyway, when there was so much to see. Through the downpour, he could just make out the larger world of Vidori's kingdom, his city called Lolo—although it was like no city he'd ever seen, and still wasn't
seeing
, it being seasonally drowned. Plying this tributary, the Puldar, were hundreds of skiffs and larger canoes, going about their business of trading and traveling, unfazed by the rain and the obstacle course of submerged objects.
    In the prow of his canoe sat two other individuals: a Dassa noblewoman, back straight as a broom handle, and behind her a hoda, huddled and miserable. These would be Zhen's test subjects once they reached the shuttle. He was sure no one had bothered to tell the hoda woman where she was going and why. He would have done so, but he was separated from her by the three soldiers propelling the craft forward.
    They passed a skiff laden with crates of fruit. On top of this cargo, a Dassa man and woman lay with each other, his hand roaming freely over her, and her moans carrying an unwelcome glimpse of high passion. Unwelcome, but Nick stared. It was difficult not to, though the crew had seen this kind of careless display before.
    Zhen poked her head out of the tent. “Don't act like a country boy” she said, following his gaze.
    “I'm not.” But, the thing was, this Dassa man was bringing the woman to climax, it seemed, simply by touching her legs. No Dassa in the vicinity paid the slightest attention.
    “You're