C.J. CHERRYH
THE FOREIGNER UNIVERSE
FOREIGNER
PRECURSOR
INVADER
DEFENDER
INHERITOR
EXPLORER
DESTROYER
CONSPIRATOR
PRETENDER
DECEIVER
DELIVERER
BETRAYER
INTRUDER
PROTECTOR
THE ALLIANCE-UNION UNIVERSE
REGENESIS
DOWNBELOW STATION
THE DEEP BEYOND Omnibus:
Serpent’s Reach| Cuckoo’s Egg
ALLIANCE SPACE Omnibus:
Merchanter’s Luck| 40,000 in Gehenna
AT THE EDGE OF SPACE Omnibus:
Brothers of Earth| Hunter of Worlds
THE FADED SUN Omnibus:
Kesrith| Shon’jir| Kutath
THE CHANUR NOVELS
THE CHANUR SAGA Omnibus:
The Pride Of Chanur| Chanur’s Venture| The Kif Strike Back
CHANUR’S ENDGAME Omnibus:
Chanur’s Homecoming| Chanur’s Legacy
THE MORGAINE CYCLE
THE MORGAINE SAGA Omnibus:
Gate of Ivrel| Well of Shiuan| Fires of Azeroth
EXILE’S GATE
OTHER WORKS:
THE DREAMING TREE Omnibus:
The Tree of Swords and Jewels| The Dreamstone
ALTERNATE REALITIES Omnibus:
Port Eternity| Wave Without a Shore| Voyager in Night
THE COLLECTED SHORT FICTION OF C.J. CHERRYH
ANGEL WITH THE SWORD
A ForeignerNovel
Copyright © 2013 by C. J. Cherryh. All rights reserved.
Jacket art by Todd Lockwood.
DAW Books Collectors No. 1619.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Book designed by Stanley S. Drate/Folio Graphics Co., Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. All resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental.
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DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES
—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
To Jane and Lynn—above and beyond.
Contents
Also by C. J. Cherryh
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
1
Lace was back in fashion this spring—starched and delicate at once, layers of it flowing from cuffs and neck. It was a damned bother at a formal dinner, but there it was: the Lord of the Heavens had to be in fashion, and a state dinner in the court of Tabini-aiji meant a new coat, no question about that. So Bren Cameron arrived at Tabini-aiji’s door, accompanied by his four black-clad bodyguards, in a mode quietly equal to any of the lords present.
This new coat was a subdued beige-and-gold brocade, able, in this sparkling crowd, to fade into the background, and Bren Cameron—paidhi-aiji to that same Tabini-aiji, the ruler of the aishidi’tat, the Western Association of the atevi—liked it that way.
Paidhi-aiji. Official human-language translator—at least as he’d signed up for the job years ago. Back then he’d been the interface between the human enclave, restricted by treaty to the island of Mospheira, across the straits—and the atevi, native to the planet, who ruled the rest of the world.
Things had changed since then. Humans were in space, now. So were atevi.
And the paidhi’s office? The paidhi-aiji had become both diplomat and courier—become, in fact, paidhi in the sense in which atevi had always interpreted the office, long before the word humanentered their vocabulary. Translatorhad ceased to be much of his job at all, since humans and atevi interfaced daily on the space station, withfree access to the once-forbidden dictionary. Mospheira now worried far more about the space station orbiting overhead than they did the vast continent immediately across the water from them.
There had been a profound psychological shift in the attitudes on both sides of the strait. The earthly power that had threatened Mospheira in the past had ceased, at least in Mospheiran minds, to threaten them in any direct sense. The current worry of the human population on earth was the power of the human population in space versus their own insular ways and aims, most of which involved their comforts, their economy, and their sense of self-government.
Atevi were a presence onworld and off, had always been there, would always be there . . . and would always be different from them. Politically ambitious Mospheirans had little to gain these days by pointing out that obvious fact. Much more to the point, the meager trade that had gone back and forth between Mospheira and the continent for two hundred years had suddenly become a large and important commerce, linked to space in a triangular relationship. Businesswas now interestedin what happened on the continent—deeply interested.
But Mospheiran businessmen knew they had no control over it. They could only watch the ebb and flow of the market and adjust accordingly. Production once based on the direct advice of the paidhi must now flux according to a true supply and demand market.
The island government was also on its own these days. They no longer controlled the paidhi-aiji—who remained conspicuously human, in any gathering here on the continent, but who had all but ceased to represent Mospheiran interests. Translate at need, yes. Advise, yes. But circumstances . . . and ultimately his own inclinations . . . had made him an intrinsic part of the atevi world.
He’d gained property on the atevi side of the straits. A title. A seat in the legislature, too, if he wanted to press the point. He didn’t. He had more power, in terms of influence with the most powerful people in the atevi world, than that seat could ever wield . . . something he found it wisest not to advertise: those to whom it mattered—knew.