once more.
Now it only remained to be seen what Captain Yu—and Sword Simonds, of course—would do with his data.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Thank you for coming, Admiral Courvosier.”
High Admiral Yanakov stood to greet his guest, and Courvosier’s eyebrows twitched as he saw the two women at the table, for the richness of their clothing and jewelry proclaimed that they were two of Yanakov’s wives. It was almost unheard of for a Grayson wife to appear at even a private dinner unless the guests were among her husband’s closest friends, and Yanakov knew Courvosier knew that . . . which made their presence a message.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Courvosier replied, ignoring, as etiquette demanded, the women’s presence, for no one had introduced them. But then-
“Allow me to present my wives,” Yanakov continued. “Rachel, my first wife.” The woman to his right smiled, meeting Courvosier’s eyes with a frankness which surprised the Manticoran. “Rachel, Admiral Raoul Courvosier.”
“Welcome to our home, Admiral.” Rachel’s voice was like her smile, soft but self-assured, and she extended a hand. Courvosier hadn’t been briefed on how one greeted a high-ranking Grayson wife, but he hadn’t 引越し spent a lifetime in the service of his Queen for nothing. He bowed over the offered hand and brushed it with his lips.
“Thank you, Madam Yanakov. I’m honored to be here.”
Her eyes widened as he kissed her hand, but she neither pulled away nor showed any sign of discomfort. Indeed, she smiled again as he released her, and then laid her hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
“May I prese 車 買い取り nt Anna, Bernard’s third wife.” Anna looked up with a smile of her own and held out her hand to be kissed in turn. “My sister Esther asked me to extend her regrets, Admiral,” Rachel continued, and Courvosier almost blinked before he remembered that all wives of a Grayson household referred to one another as sisters. “She’s come down with a bug, and Dr. Howard ordered her into bed.” Rachel’s gracious smile turned into something suspiciously like a grin this time. “I assure you, but for that, she would have been here. Like all of us, she’s been most eager to meet you.”
Courvosier wondered if it would be proper to express a desire to meet Esther some other time. It seemed harmless enough, but Grayson men were jealous of their wives. Better to settle for something with less faux pas potential.
“Please tell her I’m very sorry her illness kept her away.”
“I will,” Rachel replied, and waved gracefully at the fourth chair.
She rang a small bell as Courvosier sat, and silent, efficient serving women—girls, really, he thought, reminding himself that these people didn’t have access to prolong—bustled in with trays of food.
“Please don’t be afraid to eat freely, Admiral,” Yanakov said as a plate was set before his guest. “All these foods are from the orbital farms. Their metal levels are as low as anything grown on Manticore or Sphinx.”
Courvosier nodded, but he knew better than to dig straight in. He waited until the servants had withdrawn, then bowed his head respectfully as Yanakov recited a brief blessing over the food.
Grayson cuisine reminded Courvosier of a cross between Old Earth Oriental and something he might have encountered in New Toscana on