"You knew me," Roger grated. "Yeah, you're right. I was a little shit. But this isn't about me; it's about Mother. Look, I've got some intel. What they're doing to her is killing her. And as soon as the can is popped, Mom dies. Bingo. Gone."
"Maybe, maybe not," Catrone said, then looked up. "Ladies, you're looking even better than when you left, if that's possible."
"Isn't he a lech?" Sheila said with a grin.
"He's sweet," Despreaux said.
"I'm not." Catrone winked. "I'm a very bad boy. I understand you can be a right handful, too."
"Sometimes," Despreaux said warily.
"Very dangerous when cornered," Tomcat continued. "A right bad cat."
"Not anymore." Despreaux looked over at Roger. "I... gave it up."
"Really?" Catrone's tone softened. "It happens... even to the best partyers."
"I... got very tired," Despreaux said. "All the partying gets to you after a while. Got to me, anyway. R—Augustus, well, I've never seen him turn down a party. He doesn't start many, but he's always the last man standing."
"Really?" Catrone repeated in rather a different tone.
"Really." Despreaux took Roger's hand and looked at him sadly. "I've seen him at... too many parties. Big ones, small ones. Some... very personal ones. Sometimes I think he lives a little too much for partying."
"Ah," Roger said. "Rastar's chopping up another joint. You have to watch this. He's a master with a blade."
"We saw it on the way in," Sheila said. "He's incredibly fast."
"Augustus," Despreaux said, "why don't you show Sheila a real master?"
"You think?"
"Go ahead," she said, catching Rastar's eye.
Roger nodded, then stood up and walked to the far side of the bar. Rastar bowed to him and stepped back as Roger reached under the bar and pulled out two slightly smaller cleavers. He set them down, put a long apron on over his expensive clothes, and stepped up on the raised platform even the tallest human required to work at a cutting surface designed for Mardukans.
The cleavers were more like curved swords, about as long as a human forearm. Roger slid them into sheaths on a belt and buckled the belt around his waist, then bowed to the audience, which was watching the demonstration with interest.
He drew a deep breath and crossed his arms, placing a hand on either sword. Then he drew.
The blades blurred, catching the firelight as they twirled around his body, close enough from time to time that his long hair rippled in the breeze. They whirled suddenly upward in free flight, then dropped, only to be caught by the tips of the blades between either hand's thumb and forefinger. He held them out at full extension by the same grips, and then they blurred again. Suddenly there was the sound of the blades hitting flesh, and perfectly sliced chunks of meat flew through the air to land on the dome in a complex dodecahedron.
The last slice flashed through the air, and Roger bowed to the applause as he cleaned the blades, then put all the tools away. He walked back to his table and gave another bow to the three diners.
"Very impressive," Catrone said dryly.
"I learned in a hard school."
"I'll bet."
"Would you like to see an example of the school?" Roger asked. "It's a... special demonstration we perform. You see, we slaughter our own meat animals here. That way everything's fresh. Caused a bit of a stink with the local animal lovers, until we showed them the meat animals in question."
"You probably don't want to watch this one, Sheila," Despreaux said.
"I'm a farm girl," Sheila replied. "I've seen slaughtering before."
"Not like this," Despreaux said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
"If you're trying to impress me, Augustus..." Catrone said.
"I just think you should learn a little about the school," Roger replied. "See some of the... faculty I studied under, as it were. It won't take long. If Ms. Catrone wishes to sit it out... ?"
"Wouldn't miss it for worlds," Sheila declared, standing up. "Now?"
"Of course," Roger said, standing in turn and offering her his arm.
Catrone trailed along behind, wondering what the young idiot might think would impress him about killing some Mardukan cow. A few other diners, who'd heard about the slaughtering demonstration, attached themselves and followed "Mr. Chung" through a corridor and out into the back of the restaurant.
Behind the restaurant, there were a series of heavy-mesh plasteel cages, emitting a chorus of hissing. Three Mardukans stood by one of the cages, beside a door which led from it into an enclosed circular run, wearing heavy leather armor and carrying spears, two of them long, one short.
"There are several meat animals on Marduk," Roger said, walking over to a Mardukan who looked old for some reason and held a long case. "But for various reasons, we tend to serve one called atul. Humans on Marduk call them damnbeasts."
He opened the case and withdrew a really beautiful sword, fine folded steel, looking something like a thicker bladed katana.
"There's a local ordinance against firearms," Roger said, "so we have to take a more personal approach to slaughtering. In the jungle, and here, they use spears—rather long ones. Or a sword, for the more... adventurous. And there's a reason they're called damnbeasts."
What entered the run when one of the Mardukans opened the gate was the nastiest animal Catrone had ever seen. Three meters of teeth and claws, rippling in black-and-green stripes. It was low-slung and wide, six-legged, with a heavily armored head and shoulders. It darted into the light and looked at the humans on the other side of the run's mesh. Catrone could see the logic running through its head, and wondered just how smart the thing was.
One of the Mardukans with one of the long spears stabbed downward, but the thing moved aside like a cobra and caught at the Mardukan with the other long spear. Its jaws slammed shut on the Mardukan's leg with a clearly audible clop, and it tossed the three-meter-tall ET aside as if he were no heavier than a feather. It whipped around the circular run, watching the two remaining spearmen with the same feral intelligence, then turned and leapt at the fence.
The plasteel held it for a moment, then the half-ton-plus beast was up and onto the sagging fence, facing the ring of former diners, who suddenly looked likely to become dinner, instead.
"Okay, this is just not on," Roger said. "Higher fences are clearly in order."
He sprang forward as Catrone wondered what in hell the young idiot was about. The ex-Marine was torn between training, which told him to put himself between the prince and the threat, and simple logic, which said he'd last barely an instant and do no damned good at all. Not to mention making people wonder why he'd risked his life for a businessman. Instead, he moved in front of Sheila, noting that Despreaux had taken a combat stance and was shaking her head at the prince's action as well. But she also wasn't blocking him, which was interesting.
The beast scrambled higher, rolling the fence over with its weight until the plasteel collapsed almost completely. Then it was outside the run, turned to the diners, and charged.
What happened was almost too fast for even Tomcat's trained eyes to follow, but he caught it. The prince slashed downwards with the sword, striking the beast on the tip of the nose and turning it ever so slightly. A quick flash back, and the sword ran across its eyes, blinding it. Now sightless, it continued straight ahead, just past the prince's leg, and the last slash—full forehand—caught it under the neck, where it was partially unprotected. The blade sliced up and outward, neatly severing its neck, and the thing slid to a stop in the dirt of the slaughter yard, its shoulder just brushing the prince's leg.