Read King's Test for Free Online Page B

the
latest and most costly evening wear—black jacket, white tie, a
vest of shimmering rainbow-thread. He made a graceful gesture, jewels
flashed.
    "Gad,
darling! I've just heard. It's the reason I called, as a matter of
fact. Sorry to hear you re about to be blown up, but then war is
hell, isn't it, sweetheart?"
    "What do
you want, Ohme?" Sagan was fast losing patience,
    "I find it
rather embarrassing, speaking of such crass considerations at a time
like this, but—since you asked—I'd like my money. I've
laid out a considerable amount for this bauble of yours—"
    "You know
our deal. Cash on delivery."
    One of the
Adonian's plucked eyebrows rose. A smile crossed the curved lips. He
leaned back in his chair, his hand fluttering, languid, jewels
flashing. "Darling boy, what I'm about to say seems cruel, but
business is business, after all. Let's be reasonable, Derek. How can
I deliver the bomb to you when you're about to be annihilated? I want
to be paid . . . now. Transfer the money into my account. "
    "When I
have the bomb, you will have the cash."
    "No, no.
That won't do at all, I'm afraid." Snaga Ohme sighed delicately.
"I had hoped approaching death would make you more tractable. I
really can't afford to wait any longer. I am giving you fair warning,
dear boy. If I'm not paid, I shall put the bomb on the open market.
Highest bidder. First come, first served, so to speak."
    "You are
passing a death sentence on yourself, Snaga Ohme."
    The Adonian
smiled charmingly, flicked his hands. The light from the jewels
danced and sparkled. "Boom, darling!" Laughing, he ended
the transmission.
    Derek Sagan rose
to his feet. He slung the scrip over his shoulder, drew on his
ceremonial red and gold cape, its capacious folds neatly hiding the
scrip from the eyes of the curious.
    I'll deal with
Snaga Ohme later, he thought. Right now, I have a battle to fight and
to win.
    Maigrey divined
Sagan's intent only when he aimed the lasgun on her. She had just
seconds to alter her electromagnetic aura to absorb the impact of the
stunning ray. Hastily raised, her defenses were weak and, though the
full force of the blow was dissipated, it hit her like a giant fist,
slamming into her body.
    Probably just as
well, she thought, lying on the deck, struggling to cling to
consciousness. I could never have acted convincingly enough to fool
Sagan otherwise.
    It was a
temptation, once her eyes were closed, to leave them closed, to sink
into dark oblivion, let it ease the pain of body and mind. She dared
not move, lest they realize she was shamming, and her fatigue nearly
made the decision for her. She was aware of Sagan's touch, heard his
words as in a dream. Voices became submerged in a steady stream of
warmth and quiet that was slowly stealing over her. stealing her away
with it. Someone, probably Admiral Aks, thoughtfully covered her with
a blanket. This simple kindly gesture nearly made Maigrey cry again;
she had to bite her lip hard to keep back the tears.
    Drowsy, she let
her mind float free. Like iron drawn to the magnet, it hovered near
Sagan's. Preoccupied with the danger, his mind was absorbed in his
plans, his plots, his ideas, his fears. The Warlord did not notice
the lady's presence so near him. She was light, airy, a hint of
subtle perfume in his nostrils, the flutter of a butterfly wing on
his skin. She was aware of everything he did, every thought he had.
    The chapel
didn't surprise her. She knew of its existence as she knew of his
existence. One would have been deficient without the other. The
leather scrip belonging to a forgotten knight was an old friend;
Maigrey'd been present during the ceremony when Sagan had received it
from the brothers of the Order of Adamant. The other objects—the
dagger, the dish, the chalice—were as much a part of him as the
Star of the Guardians was a part of her. She was only mildly
surprised at the existence of the rosewood box. He had renounced the
Star of the Guardians,