Accepting the lance, p.39
Accepting the Lance, page 39
part #22 of Liaden Universe Series
The luthia came on to the end of the ramp and extended her hands to Silain.
“Sister. I am Azath. Be welcome among us, your kin.”
“I am Silain, Sister; well met,” she said, looking into the young luthia’s dark eyes. In them, of a sudden, she Saw what had happened: the assault upon the ship itself that had cost them kin, and crew, and elders; the time consumed by repairs; and Jaren, once a captain, now the captain of the ship, in desperation sending to all of the old codes. Receiving an answer, he had come quickly, so quickly, to pick up the dozens his desperation had made.
“Ten,” she said, smiling into Azath’s dark eyes, “is better than none.”
“I agree,” said the other, joining arms with Silain and walking with her up the ramp. When they came to Alosha, she made as if to offer her other arm, but Jaren, captain of the ship, was before her, to clasp his shoulder.
“Brother, please, be welcome,” he said.
He turned then and looked over those who waited still, with their carts and their hopes. He looked over them and raised his arms.
“Be welcome, all! There is a feast made and tales to be told. We are the Bedel all and the ship is glad of each of us. Come! Come aboard!”
Jelaza Kazone
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Maysl whimpered in her ear and Droi was awake on the instant, cheek pressed against grass and bark.
She sat up, reaching for the child, and staring about them.
In fact, it had not been an easy nor a gentle healing. They had all of them been exhausted by the time they had reached an end, and fallen asleep like so many kittens on the warm grass undertree.
It was shadowed under the branches, and Droi’s guess was that, in the outside world, it was full dark and very probably freezing.
Here, though, it was comfortably dim and warm; there were small lights twinkling here and there among the bordering bushes.
She tended Maysl’s needs quickly, expertly, picked her up and carried her to the side of the cot where Rys slept, surrounded by and covered in cats.
The orange sleeping across his chest raised a broad head at her approach, considering her out of dark amber eyes.
“I will watch now, Sister,” she said, settling to the rug next to the cot.
The cat got to her feet, stretched, bowed, and jumped lightly from the cot to the ground. Two others also rose and ambled off after the first, and Droi nodded to herself, as she put Maysl to suck.
She raised a hand to touch the tiles on their silver chain, wondering if she ought to give Rys to Dream himself, or wait.
Most of those who had walked close to death returned with some or all of their memories, their sense of self, missing, as if Death, thwarted, had yet extracted a toll for the use of the path. It was because of this possibility that a Bedel would Dream himself into a set of tiles before embarking on any particularly hazardous adventure. Surely, it was why Silain had insisted that Rys do so.
But it sometimes happened that one who had been struck nearly to death returned with all of himself intact. And Rys—Rys had traveled the path between life and death more often than many. It was perhaps wise to wait.
There was no harm in the Dream, but it would return him to himself before he had left on the errand of his Brother Undertree. He would therefore lose, forever, all that had befallen him on that adventure, which might be valuable to him in continued life.
No, she decided. If he woke a stranger to himself, then she would give him the tiles. It was easy enough to do, and it harmed no one to wait for his waking.
So, she settled herself to wait, considering the man on the cot. He no longer looked as if he was dying—and not well. He looked like a man who had been ill, but who was mending, and who would be impatient when he woke and found that he was not immediately able to leap fully back into life.
She glanced around the glade again. Her brothers and sister were sleeping yet, each with a cat in attendance. Let them sleep, she thought; they had given much.
Maysl murmured. Droi turned back—
And met bright black eyes in a thin, somewhat pale face. He was smiling.
“Rys Dragonwing,” she whispered, his name no less potent for all of that. “Do you know yourself?”
“I think it more than enough that I know you, Droi,” he said, his smile widening. “And—could it be our daughter? Is it Maysl?”
“It is,” she said, feeling tears gather in her eyes and spill down her cheeks as she leaned forward to put their child in his arms.
Jelaza Kazone
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
“So what’s the delm’s schedule?” Miri asked as they shared a second cup of tea in the quiet of their suite.
She had agreed to stand Road Boss today, rather than switching off in the middle of the shift so that he might make Emissary Twelve known to the portmaster. It had occurred to him that it might prove useful—to Emissary Twelve, to the eventual contractors and to Surebleak—if the Clutch Turtle were given a tour down a usual sort of a day, and introduced to those things that the Clans of Men found both pleasing and necessary.
“Diglon claims the honor of driving for himself. Therefore, we will be picking Emissary Twelve up from her lodgings at Yulie’s farm. Also, I thought that I might see if Memit will allow me to take one or two pots of the flowers she has been encouraging in one of the smaller grow rooms. Since I am due to make an inspection of the work being done on Lady yo’Lanna’s house, we will stop there and note progress, and also place the flowers in the conservatory.”
“To see if they freeze?”
“It would be best to know before her ladyship arrives if plants actually will grow in her garden room.”
“There’s that. So—a tour of the house, the settling in of the plants…then?”
“Then a leisurely drive down through the city, so that Emissary Twelve may understand how the most of us live here, and at last to the portmaster and the formal introductions.”
“Not going to take her to the Emerald for lunch?”
“The Emerald, so I am told, will be undergoing a security event during the lunch shift, and Pat Rin believes that the fewer known targets present during the exercise, the better it will go for everyone.”
“All right, then—why not go to FlourPower?” Miri asked. “Granita’d take right to Emissary Twelve. Not to mention the Hooper might be of interest to the Emissary, and vice versa.”
“That’s a good thought. We will see how much time we have, after the other errands are accomplished.”
“The Road Boss doesn’t have anything on the books. Guess I’ll catch up reading reports.”
Val Con sighed. “Perhaps soon we may elevate someone to Assistant Road Boss.”
“Got that as a goal, myself. First, gotta train ’em, so it’ll still be a while before we can take a week or two so I can get some flight time on my ship.”
He considered her. “I will speak to Pat Rin. Perhaps, when High Winter is done, we may arrange for some time away.”
Miri grinned. “Maybe Cheever’d like to be Road Boss.”
Val Con inclined his head seriously. “Perhaps he would. We cannot know until we ask.”
“Well,” Miri said, “don’t ask unless I’m there with you. I wanna see his face.”
She rose, and he with her.
“Guess it’s time for this Boss to go to work. Have fun playing tour guide.”
“I think that I will.” He extended a hand, and she took it, looking up at him quizzically. “Will you sleep with me tonight, Miri?” he asked her.
“Only sleep? I don’t know that I think much of that.”
“Perhaps, if we consider the problem together, we might hit upon something to do that will amuse both of us.”
She grinned.
“Silver tongue,” she said, and raised her face. “Give me a kiss.”
Surebleak Port
Portmaster’s Office
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
The comm buzzed and Carla’s voice followed, sounding brisk but not annoyed, which was encouraging.
“Team Leader Kasveini is here for her appointment, Portmaster.”
Portmaster Liu glanced at the clock. It was ahead of the appointed time, and she’d be within her rights to ask the team leader to wait in reception for a while. On the other hand, Kasveini was probably every bit as nervous about this upcoming meet as she was. She might even, Liu thought, casting a half-guilty look at her coffeepot, benefit from a cup of something special.
“Send Team Leader Kasveini in, please, Carla,” she said.
She took her own mug in hand, knocking back the remains of her beverage, and stood up.
Kasveini was worried, Liu thought a moment later, as the other woman came into the office. Well, she had a right to be. Wasn’t like she was a little bundle o’sunshine herself.
“Coffee?” she offered, raising her mug and nodding toward the coffee station. “Fresh ground. Don’t do it often—well, who can afford it?—but I figured this was a special kind of day, and it wouldn’t do to be pouring Bloosharie before we have our lunch with Boss Surebleak.”
Kasveini smiled, faintly, but it was a smile.
“A small cup,” she said. “I have nerves enough, but fresh ground…”
“Gotcha.”
Liu went over to the station, sighing at the stray grounds littering the top. Expensive and messy, and worth both.
Occasionally.
She poured a scant mug for Kasveini, and an even scanter one for herself since she’d already had a full measure.
Guest served and seated, she sat down behind her desk and nodded.
Kasveini had always dressed with respect for a Surebleak winter—snow coat, high-necked sweaters, scarves, mittens and insulated boots. Today, she’d added a bright red insulated cap that was pulled down over her eyes. Wonderful things, insulated caps. ’Course, your hair stood up on end like you’d gotten the fright of your life when you took it off, but it was worth looking a fool for a warm head and ears.
The team leader sipped her coffee reverently, sighed, and looked up.
“I am energized, Portmaster. Worse, I am beginning to think that we should not have agreed to this meeting.”
“I’m walking right beside you,” Liu assured her. “Still haven’t thought of a better way to get this information Boss Surebleak claims to have. You?”
Kasveini shook her head.
“It’s a dangerous folly, but no—I can’t see another way.”
She patted her coat over her breast.
“I should tell you that I am recording,” she said. “I assume you will, as well.”
“Got it on already. Should’ve told you.”
“Yes. I have been recording since I put my coat on.”
Liu put her mug on the desk, looked at Kasveini’s tense face, and considered her own state of mind.
“Tell you what we can do. It’s early, but it’s not snowing, and we both know how to dress to keep warm. Let’s walk over to the Emerald the long way, cut over and take a look at the progress of the work.”
“That sounds…pleasant,” Kasveini said.
Liu nodded again and got up to get dressed for the weather.
* * *
They paused briefly at the observation window at the top of the stairs, taking in the action on the hybrid field serving what regular air traffic there was along with local and interstellar craft. The upgrades this port should see, Liu thought, why it could easily triple in size in a few Standards…
…if TerraTrade found for the port.
Liu sighed and watched snow swirl on the tarmac in the wake of an aircraft gathering speed on the runway—and continued swirling and dancing even after the plane lifted, rumbling, into the low cloud cover.
“We’ll take the townie route, close to the temp work zone,” she said, pointing it out to Kasveini. “You can see the top of the Emerald’s billboard lights from here, just the other side of the port entry. Right now the zone acts like a tunnel and we get to stay outta the worst of the breeze. Got plans for a merc recruitment office, a temp agency, some new storefronts and warehouse space. Korval’s expanding its yard, down over the other side, and Mack’s Repairs is getting a proposal together to expand his business.
“Not to mention, we got two bids in for landscaping. Hard to believe, but it’ll be good for business, and for the ships coming in.”
“All of this is speculation,” said Kasveini. “Surely, very little of this work will begin until the port receives TerraTrade’s decision.”
“No,” said Liu, looking out over the port and the work zone which was someday real soon going to be that merc hiring hall. “No, the mercs are building on their own. Korval’s expansion is under way, and that multiuse—well, you can’t see it from here—that’s already getting started.”
She turned to meet Kasveini’s eye.
“What’s that they say, outworld? Build it and they’ll come? Well, I guess you could say Surebleak’s building and ships’ll be stopping—whatever TerraTrade decides. An upgrade, that’ll make it all smoother, but the people on this world are used to doing the hard work themselves.”
Kasveini kept eye contact for a long moment, then looked away.
“We’d best go, if we’re going to walk. We don’t want to be late for the Boss.”
“They’ll keep the reservation,” Liu said, turning toward the lift. “And you’re right; we don’t know how long Boss Surebleak’ll wait.”
Surebleak Port
Emerald Casino
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Herb polished a glass, for something to do that wasn’t obviously watching a screen. That was part of a barkeep’s job, here at the Emerald: keeping an eye on a screen or two, making sure the customers were getting what they wanted and weren’t being bothered by anybody they didn’t want to be bothered by. The little bank o’screens Herb got to scan was all eyes on the bar and restaurant side, so it was only a dozen, all tucked up an’ out of the sight of customers. Nothing at all like the big security room down in the back, with eyes on almost every square inch of the Emerald…three banks of ’em, ’cause redundancy, the expert who’d installed those screens had said during the training session on how to properly scan your screens and how to identify a problem—redundancy was the key to security.
Right this hour, Jeremy’d given him the word to keep a special eye on Booth K1, which was Herb’s screen four. That was the portmaster’s reservation. She hadn’t showed yet, but one of her guests had—the one Jeremy’d told him to particularly watch for. Short guy, wearing a blue winter coat, hood up like he was still cold from the outside, red glove snaps on the shoulder. Asked for the portmaster’s reservation, and Herb’d called Rithy over to show him the way.
She did that, and he saw on the screen that she offered him a hot cup o’something, saw the guy shake his head. The table being already set for three, Rithy brought a pitcher o’water and three glasses, and after she’d gone, the guy’d poured himself a little, and sat there sipping, hood still up, which was just getting silly in Herb’s opinion. The hood would be holding the cold now, and the casino was nice an’ warm, but—however he wanted to do it. Wasn’t no snow offa Herb’s roof.
Herb’d polished three more glasses to a high shine and filled a couple orders for the floor servers before he glanced at the screen again. The guy was still sitting there, hood up, empty glass sitting next to his hands folded on top the table.
Herb glanced ’round the bar an’ out toward the front door. Portmaster hadn’t showed yet. Wasn’t like her to be late; ’specially not she didn’t have Carla call and let ’em know. Well, maybe her cab’d got caught up in that mess they called a work zone.
Herb had double reasons to want to see the portmaster today, not only to fill the reservation and let Jeremy in Security calm down from his morning full of triple-checking cameras, but to let her know they’d got in a whole case of that Bloosharie she was special fond of—not that she’d likely be drinking on duty, no, not her!
Jeremy, though, that was the main reason he wished she’d come in. Jeremy was all jitters and Herb was wishing he could drop him a glass o’beer on the side. All nerves and prancing, that was what—an’ a guy as big as Jeremy, well…prancing wasn’t necessarily what you wanted to see on that.
“Check ticks for me, Herbie?”
Sure enough, it was Jeremy, shoving his comm under Herb’s nose…
“Nothing wrong with the comm or the timer. Same time as mine.”
“Feels off, Herb. I didn’t miss the portmaster, did I? Portmaster and TerraTrade? They didn’t call bar-side, or send somebody for a carry-away? Din’t sneak in when I was…”
“Not here yet, just take a look—” Herb knew for sure the portmaster hadn’t snuck by him without a hello.
“I am looking. There ain’t nobody in that booth now.”
Jeremy straightened fast.
“Where’d he go?”
“Prolly in the facilities,” Herb said.
“Icebait,” Jeremy said, not quite under his breath, and brought the comm to his lips. “Security, recheck all cameras. Liu’s not here and the ghost is gone! Check facilities, check casino!”
“Weren’t you watching?”
Jeremy’s face was serious and closing in on a blush like it did when he got mad. Then he ran to the empty table and through the kitchen door.
Herb was aware of a sudden rushing here and there among Security, and of a stomach suddenly tight with worry that maybe he should’ve watched harder, at that.
On the Road
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Diglon guided the car carefully up the still-to-be repaired driveway of Melina Sherton’s rental.
He waited with the car, while Val Con and Emissary Twelve disembarked and went up the stairs to the front door, Val Con noting the Clutch person’s slight difficulty in managing. He made a note to have a ramp installed, to accommodate others—possibly including Lady yo’Lanna herself—who might find the short flight difficult.
