Rhythm of the Imperium Read Free

hand.
    “That’s so three weeks ago,” I said. “I had debunked so many superstitions by the time we returned from Nacer that there weren’t enough fun ones left to examine. Another time.”
    Which, functionally, to me meant never. When I took up an enthusiasm, I embraced it with my whole person, all my time and attention and not a small amount of money. When I ceased to be enthusiastic, I tended to put away all the trappings. I always meant to go back to them, but there was always something newer and more fascinating with which I could become involved.
    “Oh, I meant to mention, Thomas,” Jil began, leaning toward me. “I went to visit Uncle Rodrigo yesterday. I think he knew who I was, but perhaps he thought I was my mother. He was very sweet. He gave me this pendant.” She displayed an exquisitely wrought teardrop-shaped jewel of platinum and gold with a scattering of brilliant green gems fixed here and there that hung on a chain around her slender neck. “He sounded fine until he mentioned having just visited with Uncle Laurence. Is he getting worse?”
    I hesitated before I answered. My father, for whom I had named my scout ship, was a decorated war hero whose health had been catastrophically affected by his experiences. He frequently spoke to people who were not there, especially his younger brother, who was off on some nebulous expedition or other. In any case, I know Uncle Laurence wasn’t on Keinolt, though Father frequently hallucinated that he was.
    Father’s condition was a sore spot with me, as my cousins knew and were solicitous of. I had been the subject of some badinage during my school days over a visit he made during which he accused my mathematics professor of being some kind of nefarious criminal. While I agreed with him to an extent, particularly regarding the heinous character of that teacher’s pop quizzes, some of my fellow students, not my cousins but some rich incomers who thought that their fortunes elevated them to an equal rank with us nobles and who were sadly mistaken, found an impaired parent to be a figure of fun. It was that day that I discovered the school had a policy of punishing those students who challenged other students to a duel to the death on matters of honor. Ah, well, one day I would find those harassers and make such cutting remarks to them that they would drop dead on the spot from mortification, without needing to resort to physical weaponry. It was not so much a matter of my own honor, but my father’s, for which I would willingly die.
    “What compelled you to learn to fling yourself about?” Erita asked. “Your dance, if I may term it such, looks absolutely exhausting. Why exert yourself in such a fashion?”
    “Interpretive dance,” I said, warming to my topic with practiced ease, “is a marvelous art form. I saw a fascinating documentary on primitive cultures that tell stories through the movement of their bodies. Language, choices, symbolism. Since we are going to see a Zang demonstration, and their form of communication is notoriously difficult for younger races to comprehend, I thought I would gain insight into them with the use of body language. I undertook a study of numerous cultures, including many of our ancestral tribes, as well as those of other races, like our Uctu friends.” Here I nodded to Redius, who wrinkled his nose in his people’s substitute for sticking out one’s tongue or making a ruder gesture. “You see? Gestures and motions have profound meaning that it would serve us well to learn and possibly emulate. I rest my case.”
    Lieutenant Carissa Plet rose from her place and set her glass aside. The tall, thin blonde human was the nominal head of the Rodrigo ’s crew, though I was its actual commander, owing to my noble rank.
    “Thank you for allowing us to be present, sir,” she said, fixing me with the keen gaze I had come to know and respect, if not love. “It was most educational. We must return to our other duties