The Sword Unswayed

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The attack by the mad alien robot surprised everyone at the cookbook writers’ award banquet.

The official banquet had just broken up; the speeches had all been delivered; the awards had all been presented. People milled about in small groups as the crowd slowly filtered out of the dining hall. Bian Dinh stood beside her chair, her petite figure outlined by the gold silk dress embroidered with red dragons. “Did you hope to make the party rounds tonight, Debs?”

Rabinowitz winced at the college nickname. She’d already told Dinh three times she preferred “De-BOR-ah” these days, but the other woman steadfastly refused to listen. “Actually, I hoped to avoid them. I like writers individually, but in groups…” She gave a mock shudder. “As soon as they learn I’m a broker, they swarm on me to sell their books offworld. I hate saying no.”

“So I remember.”

“Well, I’ve learned how to say it, now, but I get tired of the way they look when I tell them it’s easier to snag the lottery.”

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