Starfist: Hangfire (43 page)
Finished pouring, she set the pot on a small mat on the table and bowed as low as she could in the small space between the table and her master's knee.
In front of the table, opposite the Great Master and his bodyguards, the Over Masters sat in open ranks on thinner mats. Their armor, like the armor of the bodyguards, was functional; their swords, like that of the Great Master, were sheathed. Ten more Large Ones sat around the sides of the room, unsheathed swords across their laps, facing in toward the Over Masters. No acid-guns were visible, but from the tops of the walls four were trained on the Over Masters.
For the moment, the Great Master ignored his subordinates. He lifted the small cup and brought it to his lips. He sipped the steaming liquid and his eyes closed in ecstasy. He gently replaced the cup on the table and spoke briefly to the female. His voice was a growl that invoked the rumbling of water crashing at the foot of a mountain cliff. The female murmured a few words of reply, her voice the sound of a gently babbling brook, then rose gracefully and backed from the room, her eyes cast downward. A moment later several females entered the room. The tightness of the ankle-length skirts of their robes made them shuffle. Each carried a small, stub-legged table. Each table bore two small cups and a pot. Steam rose from the pot spouts.
The females gracefully knelt, each between two Over Masters, and set the tables down where the Over Master to either side could easily reach it. They poured from the pot into the cups, rose gracefully, and exited. The female who served the Great Master returned and knelt between his knee and the table, her head bowed low.
The Great Master picked up his cup and sipped again. A rolling bark of contentment came from somewhere deep in his chest. He put the cup back down. Only then did he look out at the assembled Over Masters. As though in response to a command only they could hear, they bowed so their foreheads nearly touched the mats in front of their folded legs.
"The Earthmen of this dirtball have sent a message to their so-called Confederation," the Great Master growled liquidly. "The Confederation will send their Marines, as they have done before."
"Rise!" he barked.
The Over Masters raised themselves from their bows and looked with grimly eager faces at the Great Master.
"The Grand Master's plan is for us to severely damage the Earth Marines when they come. Then, when they think they have defeated us and are beginning to relax and lick their wounds, he will send in the second wave to defeat them.
"I have a different plan." He chuckled with the sound of gravel washing down a sluice. "The last time we fought their Marines, we fought from well-prepared positions, but we were spread too thinly and they defeated us in detail. This time, we will make our preparations to spread them out. And we will then defeat their Marines in detail." He grinned. "When the second division arrives, they can help us celebrate our victory."
With a flourish, he lifted his cup and held it high in salute. The Over Masters picked up their cups and returned the salute.
"My staff will give you each copies of the plans when you leave here. Using the Earthman prisoners as slaves, some of you will see to the preparation of our positions. Others of you will continue to kill or enslave the pond-scum Earthmen who inhabit this world. If any of them remain alive and uncaptured when the Marines arrive, they will be too demoralized to give the Marines any aid." He grinned again.
The nearing fulfillment of a holy mission shone in his eyes. He brought the cup to his mouth and tossed back its contents. The Over Masters did the same.
"Victory will be ours!"
The Over Masters roared out cheers.
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