Accepting the lance, p.24
Accepting the Lance, page 24
part #22 of Liaden Universe Series
Nelirikk, up front in the driver’s seat, put the car into motion.
“Better’n I would’ve, coming new to the idea of the only thing standing between Surebleak and annihilation is Theo.”
“But Theo is only one of several things between us and annihilation,” he pointed out.
“She was able to see that, too. The decision right now is to hold it under Portmaster’s Lock. She wants to be kept in the loop.”
“We will ask Jeeves to send her updates.”
“Right.”
She sighed and leaned against him. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer still.
“How’s Pat Rin?”
“Relieved,” Val Con said, leaning his head against hers.
“Relieved?”
“Yes. That the event is out of his hands.”
“He’d rather leave it to Theo?”
“Pat Rin is of the opinion that Theo is perfectly able and, furthermore, has excellent backup. He predicts that she will sign them as contractors for a new Korval venture, in which we provide security to those willing to pay.”
Miri blinked.
“That’s actually not a bad idea.”
“It is,” Val Con stated clearly, “a very bad idea.”
“Says the Scout Commander who just gave Complex Logics the freedom of the space lanes.”
“That is completely different,” he answered with dignity.
“Sure it is.”
She glanced out the window as the car made a right turn rather than continuing up the Port Road. “We going somewhere?”
“I thought you might help me inspect the house Melina Sherton has for lease.”
“This is for Lady yo’Lanna?”
“Indeed. We dare not disappoint her.”
“So, you’re sure Theo’s going to talk the avenging AI army into going away?”
“Well, there is this: if we behave as if the AI army will have its way and allow all of our obligations to lapse, we then guarantee that Theo will carry the day, and Lady yo’Lanna will arrive on Surebleak and have no suitable place in which to establish her household. Whereupon, I would be called upon to endure the sharp edge of her tongue, which I tell you plainly, cha’trez, is not a prospect I can face with equanimity. Indeed,” he said, with a catch in his voice, “I tremble merely to think of it.”
Miri snorted.
“Is there likely to be anything on Surebleak that will suit her?” she asked.
“Possibly. For instance, Melina tells me that the property she has for lease had been a retreat for high-level executives. At the time of its building, it included every convenience. She believes that it may be brought to its former glory with a minimum of effort, and she has no objection to a tenant making those efforts. She has made such repairs as she deemed necessary to bring the house up to Surebleak standards of elegance.”
“How come it wasn’t broke into and gutted?”
“For the same reason that Yulie Shaper’s farm was largely left to itself: It is inconvenient to the city. And while the city was deteriorating, it was still the center of such civilization as remained. The presence of the power grids alone would have been argument enough to remain in the city. The retreat had its own power grid, which functioned for a time, then failed for lack of maintenance.”
Nelirikk bore left off the road and slowed considerably. Miri glanced at the screen that gave passengers the driver’s eye view of the road, and shook her head.
“Driveway needs repaving,” she commented.
“That is within the realm of the possible.”
There was shrubbery on both sides of the drive: green, despite it was winter. Nelirikk guided the car through a few long graceful turnings and before them was the house, at the top of the circular drive, glowing pink in the last low rays. A pitched roof extended from above the front door, across the drive to a small stone wall. Snow break, Miri realized.
“Lights are on,” Miri said.
“The grid was the first thing repaired, Melina said.”
The car stopped, the doors opened. They slid out and considered the front of the building.
“The Fat Cats knew how to live,” Miri said.
Val Con tucked his arm through hers as they walked toward the door. “Shall we have it for ourselves?”
“Are you kidding? We just moved house; I don’t figure on doing that again for another hunnert, two hunnert years.”
“Be certain; I would not on any account have you dissatisfied. What is Jelaza Kazone, after all, but a frontier fortress?”
“When you put it like that…” She paused and tipped her head, like she was actually giving the thing some thought—then shrugged. “No—no. It’s old, and it’s quirky, and it’s nothing like I’d been used to before, but—let’s stay with what’s been working. If it starts feeling too crowded, I guess we can add a room or two.”
“That has certainly been done before,” he said. “Now.”
They had reached the front door, which was wide and wooden, and carved with the Gilmour Agency logo.
“That’ll hafta go,” she said.
“The yo’Lanna House sigil will of course grace the front door,” he murmured, leaning to the keypad set into the door frame.
He raised a hand, pressed a quick series of seven keys, and was rewarded with a loud snap.
Slipping his arm free, he put his hand against the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges.
The lights came up as they entered, the door shutting with another snap as soon as they were fully inside the entry hall.
“Bright,” said Miri, looking around at the white stone walls and the white stone floor.
“It is rather unsubtle,” Val Con agreed, “but easily mended.”
He looked around the space, noting the capacious cloakroom to the right—a Surebleak necessity—and a small doorman’s office on the left. Beyond, the hall narrowed slightly as it delved deeper into the interior.
He offered his arm to Miri.
“Shall we?”
* * *
If the Gilmour Retreat had shown up in Solcintra, no one, thought Miri, would have questioned its claim to be a clanhouse. The second floor had a plenitude of bedrooms, some with adjacent parlors. The third floor had plenty of room for storage—or expansion.
There was a library on the first floor, a couple of rooms that could be used as formal parlors, a dining room, a kitchen that could easily accommodate the catering demands of a large party, a music room, and a very large two-storied room, with long sparkling lights glittering off a row of shuttered glass doors—which Val Con pronounced a ballroom.
The gym was downstairs, and what could’ve been a pool—empty now, the tile at the bottom cracked.
“So, the answer to my question is—yes, there’s a house on Surebleak that’s likely to suit Lady yo’Lanna,” Miri said. “Color me amazed.”
“I think it will answer,” Val Con said. “There are, of course, repairs and improvements that might be undertaken, but she may certainly bring her household here immediately they arrive on planet and be tolerably comfortable.”
“And this party she wants to throw six minutes after she lands?”
“We will have the house thoroughly cleaned before she arrives. Lady yo’Lanna will place her furnishings, and plan on centering the entertainment in the ballroom—it is entirely possible.”
“If you say so,” Miri said dubiously. “I’d like to see it once she gets it set up.”
“I believe we may count on an invitation,” Val Con said, spinning slowly on his heel. He nodded toward a small staircase in the corner of the pool room.
“Where do you suppose that goes?”
“One way to find out,” Miri said, grabbing his hand.
* * *
“A glass extension?” Miri asked, walking slowly to the middle of the empty area. The black Surebleak night surrounded them, meager stars glittering.
“A conservatory,” Val Con said softly. “I had not dared to hope for such a thing.”
“Conservatory?” Miri asked, her head craned back to look at the night through the glass roof.
“An environmentally controlled indoor garden,” he explained. “Lady yo’Lanna’s gardens were her pride. This room—she will create a jewel. It must be hers.”
Miri spun to face him.
“Sounds like Melina’s got herself a tenant,” she said. “Unless you think she’ll sell—”
Green light flared along the side of her vision. Trained reactions threw her forward, knocking him to the floor, rolling for the deeper shadows near the wall.
“Miri?” His voice was soft in her ear.
“Muzzle flare,” she muttered, straining her ears. They’d left Nelirikk in the front hallway, never expecting to find a room at the tail end of the house, open to the whole countryside.
“No,” Val Con said, still soft. “Look up.”
She frowned, but obeyed—and looked up some more, mesmerized.
The sky was ablaze with color: zigzagging streamers of green, pink, blue; sheets of violet, yellow; and the occasional flare of brilliant white.
“An aurora?” she asked, whispering like it could hear her.
She felt him sigh.
“An aurora. Assuredly, Lady yo’Lanna must have this house.”
Six of Us
Jenarian Station
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
“Who are you?” Claidyne demanded.
The Healer was sitting in the comm chair, back to the screen, glaring balefully at Rys Lin, who was holding the pellet pistol on him.
“I am Caz Dor vin’Athen, Jenarian Station Healer,” he said doggedly.
He was a slightly pudgy man of middle years, his face showing more lines than his age should have accounted for. It was only in his eyes that one noted anything…unusual. He had a piercing gaze, as if he saw that which others could not.
“You are in need of Healing,” he told Claidyne. “I can see that you have been badly used—your pattern has torn, and though there has been some attempt at repair, I may do better for you, if you will allow it.”
“I find myself sufficient to my remaining tasks, I thank you,” Claidyne said, “though I wonder how you knew to find us here.”
“I saw you come this way, in the all-station screen.”
“So you were in the stationmaster’s office?” Rys Lin asked.
The Healer turned those piercing eyes on him.
“I was, yes.”
“Why not rouse security? Clearly, you thought we were dangerous, and it is not often—forgive me—that a Healer must make use of a gun.”
“I have been trained in weapons use,” the other man said sharply. He frowned, his bright eyes narrowing. “You…have been Healed.”
“Yes,” Rys Lin said softly. “I have been Healed. A field agent no longer, as you also see, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“And you are not going to reveal us to the stationmaster because there is no stationmaster,” Rys Lin pursued. “Or, rather, you are the stationmaster. How did that come about?”
“There was an event,” the Healer said. “Several among the crew perished, including the stationmaster and three of security. It falls to me to keep those who survived safe.”
He looked to Claidyne, his eyes narrowed.
“I can Heal you,” he said, his voice smooth and beguiling. “That staple cannot last long.”
“I value your opinion,” Claidyne told him. “Look very closely at that staple if you are able.”
“Of course I am—” He froze, eyes wide.
“Tree-and-Dragon?” he said quietly.
“As you see.”
There was silence. The Healer seemed to draw in on himself. Claidyne saw Rys Lin shift slightly, as if he, too, were gazing into a dimension just beyond the ordinary.
“Tree-and-Dragon,” Caz Dor vin’Athen repeated and turned to fully face Claidyne.
“I yield.”
Dudley Avenue and Farley Lane
Lady Kareen’s House
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
It was late, and the house had gone to rest for the night.
All of the house, that is, except for Lady Kareen, who had found herself restless once she had ascended to her bedroom, and so had descended again, to the warm coziness of the kitchen, where she put the kettle on the stove, opened the cookie tin and arranged a dozen of Esil’s finest on a plate, which she set in the center of the small table where staff gathered for their meals and tea-breaks. She put napkins and small plates at two places facing each other, warmed the pot, filled the infuser, poured the water from the kettle, and carried the teapot to the table. She had just placed the cups when there came a soft knock at the delivery door.
She crossed the room, half expecting Esil, who slept across the landing, to be there ahead of her. But Esil’s door was closed.
Kareen opened the door and stepped aside to allow the black-swathed figure to sweep inside, closing the door and locking it before following the other into the kitchen.
“Ah, warmth!” Silain the luthia said, throwing back the hood of her oversized coat. “Tea and cookies, too! I am certain that I did not ask for anything so grand.”
“I am not accustomed to receiving such hints as you shared,” Kareen answered calmly. “Really, Silain, tea is the least civilized thing one might offer a guest arriving out of the freezing darkness.”
Silain tipped her head and considered her out of knowing black eyes.
“Did you know who had called you?”
“There are very few people who can call me,” Kareen said placidly. “One of those is with the Healers; and the other prefers the comm. Here, let us put the coat by the stove to warm it.”
This was done. Silain adjusted her layers of colorful shawls and sat. Kareen poured tea into the waiting cups and sat in the chair across.
“Now. What is so secret that you arrive without even a grandson to guard you at an hour when all of us ought to have long sought our rest?”
“It is a secret that I would not willingly share with any of my children who have not thought of it for themselves,” Silain said, teacup nestled between her palms.
She sipped tea. Kareen did the same.
Silain sighed and lowered the cup, though she kept it between her hands.
“The ship is coming,” she said softly.
“An event long awaited,” Kareen replied. “When shall you be leaving us?”
“When the ship arrives,” Silain said. “We have been notified that the captain had noticed our absence and sent a query. The headman has sent an answer: We are here. It now falls to the ship, to send us further details.”
“Ah. I, for one, am grateful to have a little more time with my sister,” Kareen said.
“And I, with mine.”
Silain sipped tea, returned the cup to the table, and chose a cookie iced in pink.
“The heart of the kompani is divided,” she said, breaking the cookie in half. “I will myself go to the ship, when it comes. I have Seen this, and it is right that I should return. The ship will need the dreams and the knowledge that I will bring them, as the heart of the kompani.”
Holding half a cookie in each hand, she looked from one to the other.
“The headman will also go to the ship. It falls to him to accompany all those things which came to us during our time of gathering here in this place. As I am the heart, he is the head of the kompani. Both must return to the ship in order to complete the phase.”
She sighed and extended her left hand. Kareen took the cookie she was offered and sat, holding it and waiting. Silain nodded and bit into the half she had kept for herself. Kareen did the same.
“Others,” Silain said, when her cookie was eaten. “Others will also come, because they are old and ship life is soft, or because it is what they wish, or because they do not know how to wish for anything else.”
“And then there are those,” Kareen murmured, picking up the pot and refreshing their cups, “who will not go to the ship.”
“That is so. Precisely, that is so.”
Silain drank tea, meeting Kareen’s eyes as she brought cup to table.
“I am not angry,” she said. “Well I know my grandchildren, the strength of their spirits; the brightness of their souls, the power of their passions. Had the ship returned in its time, more might have been glad of her. But—the ship is not their home. This world is their home, and they will remain.”
“You are not angry,” Kareen said slowly. “Will the ship be angry?”
“Everything I know and have Dreamed suggests that the resources of the ship are limited. It comes to me that the captain may plan on losing a certain number from each kompani, and that, when the ship is late, it is for a reason.”
“Does the ship deliberately seed worlds with Bedel genes?” asked Kareen.
Silain moved her shoulders.
“It may be, and it may not be. There are many Dreams and many more stories. The one you took to guest from me…I thought to put the question there, but then I thought—No. I do not wish to know these things.”
She met Kareen’s eye with a smile.
“Else, knowing, I would be moved to alter.”
Kareen smiled.
“I understand.”
“Old women,” Silain said softly. “How we meddle, Sister.”
“And the universe the better for it,” Kareen said.
“True; that is true.”
“What would you have me to do?”
“Old women know that the young sometimes wish advice. I would ask that you give of your wisdom.”
“I will give what I might, but only if there is a request.”
“This,” said Silain, “is why I ask that you share your wisdom.”
Kareen smiled slightly and put her hand on the pot. “More tea?”
“No, I must go.”
“Must you? You might sleep here tonight where it is warm, and have a grandson properly see you home tomorrow.”
Silain extended a long, elegant hand and put it over Kareen’s.
“A sister’s care is treasure,” she said. “But, no. I must go now and be back before I am missed.”
