Trader's Leap (Liaden Universe Book 23)

by Sharon Lee

  “Drink,” he said. “I will call for Healer Mendoza’s tray.”

  Colemeno

  Portmaster’s Office

  * * *

  It was a raucous meeting of the Council, with those most easily alarmed demanding to know what they wanted, this Tree-and-Dragon tradeship—and how, if they were Reavers come again?

  “The Reavers came in secret, to enslave,” Chair of Council gorminAstir said. “Also, we have the template for the Reaver pattern.” It had been graciously provided to the Council by the Haosa, though that was not mentioned. “We will not be surprised again.”

  “As to what they want,” said targElmina, “assuming, as I do, that they are not Reavers—they say that they want to trade. As this is the most common business of tradeships, I see no reason to doubt them. I have read the history they provided, and I see that they have been ill-treated by the Liaden Council of Clans, as our forebears were. They are now seeking to make routes which are profitable for the new homeworld. All of this is consistent with a stated intent to explore markets, and trade.”

  “The archives may be a resource in this,” said ivenAlyatta, the librarian. “I will be pleased to pull relevant documents for those who are interested.”

  “Also,” said seelyFaire, in her soft voice, “they may be coming to check on our progress, now that the Dust has cleared. Tree-and-Dragon—Clan Korval—and the Rabbit—Clan Ixin—were responsible for uniting the ancestors with The Redlands. It would not be unreasonable for them to have some curiosity regarding us.”

  She paused for a sip of tea, and looked around the table, a half-smile on her face.

  “I confess to having a curiosity regarding Tree-and-Dragon, after all.”

  That produced a flutter of laughter and some loosening of the tensions ’round the table, after which decisions were quickly made.

  The first decision was that a message be sent immediately to Trader Isfelm, informing her that a tradeship had arrived at Colemeno from out.

  The second decision was to allow Dutiful Passage docking and to entertain its representatives as befit the first honored new visitors to Colemeno since the Dust had gone.

  A committee was formed to put together that entertainment, while Portmaster krogerSlyte opened communication with the ship to find who those representatives would be.

  * * *

  The meeting had gone well, eventually, Bentamin thought, at his apartment some hours later. If they were fortunate, Trader Isfelm would arrive in time to prevent the port market manager from selling the entire Redland System to the Tree-and-Dragon trader.

  Dutiful Passage would have charts—new, accurate charts of the universe beyond the Dust. That realization might speed Isfelm’s arrival. Once seated at the same table, perhaps the two traders might craft an arrangement that would benefit themselves, and The Redlands, all together. That would be the happiest outcome.

  Bentamin drew a hard breath, and realized that he was smiling.

  There would be problems, he reminded himself, in an effort to defeat that smile of hopeful anticipation. Spacers would bring new customs, new talents that might not mix well with Civilization.

  “But after all,” he said aloud, “the traders and crews can be kept to the port, and we can employ the Deaf—”

  His comm chimed.

  He frowned, glancing at the time, hoping that it was not, at this hour, one of his more easily alarmed colleagues from the Council, calling for yet another dose of reassurance.

  The comm chimed again. He touched the button.

  “Yes.”

  “Bentamin, I hope I didn’t wake you,” his Aunt Asta said.

  “No, a Council meeting went late, and I’m just home,” he told her. “How may I serve you, Aunt Asta?”

  “By bringing me with you to the reception for Master Trader yos’Galan and his entourage two days hence, in the Great Hall at the port,” she said calmly.

  Bentamin stared at the comm, wondering which question he wanted to ask first. But really, he thought, the Oracle could easily have Seen the tradeship, Heard the name of the master trader—even Seen the Great Hall bedecked for celebration.

  Which left him only one thing to say.

  “Aunt Asta, I cannot bring you into a public gathering.”

  His aunt sighed, gustily.

  “Do you know,” she said, her voice tart, “I really have no desire to have an argument about this, Bentamin. That being the case, I will instead provide you with an ultimatum. Either you bring me with you to the reception, or I will take the bus to the port and walk the rest of the distance to the Hall. I leave it to you to decide which action will pollute Civilization more readily.”

  “Aunt Asta . . . ”

  “And if you think my staff will prevent me from leaving my apartment, you are quite wrong,” she interrupted.

  That gave him pause. And in that pause, thought stirred. Aunt Asta might threaten him with a bus, but in sober reality, she need only call upon Tekelia for transport and support. And the thought of his chaotic and charismatic cousin in the midst of a reception for off-worlders chilled the blood far more than the prospect of the Oracle to the Civilized riding a public omnibus through the city.

  “If I knew more . . . ?” he suggested.

  “I have Seen that I will be needed,” she said flatly.

  Well then. Who was he, after all, to argue with the Oracle to the Civilized?

  “I will be pleased to escort you to the reception, Aunt Asta,” he said.

  “Excellent,” she answered cordially. “Call me tomorrow and we will arrange our details. Good-night, now. Sleep well.”

  She cut the connection.

  Dutiful Passage

  Colemeno Orbit

  * * *

  “I’m going to be meeting very many people,” Padi was telling Lady Selph. “Eventually, they’ll come into your collection.”

  Lady Selph allowed it to be known that, while she appreciated Padi’s exertions on her behalf, it would be far more satisfying if she were herself part of the trade party.

  “Perhaps once we know how Colemeno feels about norbears,” Padi temporized. “But, you know, we don’t want to overwhelm them just at first.”

  Lady Selph sighed, and wriggled to be let down.

  Padi obediently bent over the pen and placed the elderly lady on the sand. Master Frodo immediately bumbled over, bearing a fresh bit of greenery, which he offered to her.

  Padi had already said her good-byes to the rest of the norbears. She lingered a few minutes more, making sure that the fountain she had just refilled was clean and free-running, that the greens were perfectly fresh, and the bowl was filled to the top with dry food.

  Lady Selph was chewing on her leaf, Master Frodo curled next to her, his side touching hers. Delm Briat and Tiny were napping together at fountain side.

  It was time to go.

  Padi turned as the door to the Pet Library cycled, and Priscilla stepped into the room.

  “Excellent,” she said, giving Padi a nod. “May I have a moment of your time, clan-daughter?”

  Padi blinked. Priscilla never—well. Priscilla very rarely addressed her as clan-daughter, though it was both perfectly true and perfectly proper. The few times she had done so in the past, the address had been in Liaden and driven by circumstances. Here on the Passage . . . one could only wonder what it meant.

  And, of course, she was being given the opportunity to find out exactly that.

  “Certainly, I have a moment,” she said cordially. “Do you prefer to talk here, or shall we to the cafeteria or—”

  “The library, if you will. I have reserved a privacy booth.”

  A privacy booth? Curiouser and curiouser.

  “Lead on,” she said. “Please.”

  * * *

  They settled into the booth, Padi on the left bench, Priscilla on the right, the study screen folded away. Priscilla’s hands were in her lap, and they were clenched, Padi noted; the knuckles were ice-white.

  “I m
ust ask you, as the daughter of my lifemate,” Priscilla began, her voice stringently calm, “to guard him most nearly, as we come onto Colemeno.”

  Padi blinked.

  “Are we going into danger? Have you Seen something?”

  “I have Seen—something,” Priscilla said. “You should understand that Seeing something is often more trouble than having Seen nothing. Seeing requires interpretation, and the Seer is left perplexed, having Seen—something—without context.”

  “What does the Seer—do?” Padi asked. “Try to forget what they’ve Seen?”

  “No. We watch carefully, for context, and stay alert for situations that might lead to the event we had Seen. That’s what I would be doing in this . . . upcoming instance, except—there’s a complication.”

  Padi frowned.

  “A complication? What complication?”

  Priscilla’s lips curved into a shadow smile.

  “Me,” she said. “Or who I was. Do you know who I was, on Sintia?”

  “You were a priest in a religious order,” Padi said promptly, having gathered so much in the way that children do, through this dropped word and that mentioned event, over a period of years.

  Priscilla’s smile grew somewhat more definite.

  “Simply put—yes. More fully, on Sintia, I was not only a priestess of a Goddess, I was what we called a vessel. That means I willingly gave permission for another—intelligence—to overrule my spirit and my self and use me for Her own purpose. When that happened, we would say, the Goddess has filled her vessel.”

  Padi stared at her in horror.

  “You agreed to this?”

  “I was twelve,” Priscilla said apologetically. “And it was a very great honor.”

  In Padi’s opinion, it sounded like very great fraud. She refrained from saying so, and instead, asked a half-question.

  “But—you left Sintia.”

  “Yes. The religious order cast me out. But the Goddess did not relinquish her hold on me.”

  She paused, and added, “Apparently, good vessels are hard to find, and are not to be cast aside because of small differences in doctrine. And, truly, Her requirements were not a burden. For years, it seemed as though She had . . . faded, if not withdrawn entirely. But now—there is one last thing that She must do in this life, on this plane.”

  “And she needs you in order to accomplish this . . . one last thing,” Padi said, sternly repressing a shiver.

  “Yes. Which is why I am telling you this. This last task—I may not be able to guard Shan. I may not be . . . precisely . . . present.”

  Padi took a breath.

  “Allow me to review. You’re asking me to be particularly alert to any danger, and to watch Father carefully. I—yes, of course, willingly. May I know what you Saw?”

  Priscilla frowned.

  “I struggled with whether or not I should tell you more, because, as I said—context. But, it may help. What I Saw was a large gathering of people, most of them strangers, atop a hill in twilight. I Saw myself in the crowd. As my Sight was fading, I Saw Shan fall.”

  Padi’s breath caught in her throat.

  “But—”

  “Context,” Priscilla said again. “There is one more thing.”

  Padi eyed her. “If one may ask—how many one more things are there in this?”

  “This is the last. May I proceed?”

  “Please.”

  “If it appears that I am the cause of your father’s distress, you will not hesitate to act against me—against the Goddess, that will be.”

  “What! Priscilla—” She stopped.

  Priscilla waited.

  Padi took a breath.

  “Am I,” Padi asked calmly, “strong enough to kill a Goddess?”

  “You’re certainly strong enough to get Her attention,” Priscilla answered.

  “Marvelous. And if I do—get Her attention—what harm might I do to you?”

  “Perhaps none. Perhaps more than none. It will be an adventure, and we’ll all find out together.”

  “Priscilla . . . ”

  “Padi.”

  Priscilla leaned forward and took her hands. Padi found herself gazing into luminous black eyes.

  “Please,” said Priscilla.

  Padi sighed.

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can.”

  II

  Today, Padi thought, was her eighteenth nameday. She glanced down at her hand, where the garnets glittered. She’d written Gordy to tell him about the garnets, and gotten a vigorous congratulation in return.

  She’d also written to Vanz, her letter crossing his, bearing similar joyous news. Her nameday, however . . . Sadly, the arrival of her nameday had . . . paled, not only against the garnets, but their imminent arrival at Colemeno.

  Well, and one could not live in alt all the time. She finished pulling on her boots and crossed the room to her desk, tapped the screen up—and took a step back, blinking at the multiple warnings of messages in-queue.

  At the top was a ’beam packet, unfolding into a dozen letters—from Aunt Nova and Syl Vor, Grandfather Luken, Aunt Miri and Uncle Val Con, Quin, Cousin Pat Rin and Natesa, from Jeeves and the cats, too—there was a whimsy!—and, oh, everyone!

  Padi smiled, opening each quickly and skimming their nameday wishes. She would read each more carefully later, and write her return notes, but for now—they would be leaving soon for the planet surface and she needed to be quick with the rest of her correspondence.

  There was another pinbeam, from Ms. dea’Gauss. That, Padi thought, would be her adjusted quartershare amounts, reflecting both her increased worth to the clan as a full trader, and as one who had achieved her eighteenth nameday without, as Father would have it, something catastrophic having occurred. Eighteen was not a marker year—not like twelve or, indeed, thirty-five—but it was the year by which she was expected, by Korval’s own laws, to be a confirmed contributor to the health of the clan.

  She opened Ms. dea’Gauss’s message, revealing the expected documents. She read them over, noting that the increase in her quartershare was somewhat larger than she had anticipated, appended her initials and her signature in the indicated places, and sent the letter into the outgoing queue.

  There was also a letter from Vanz, who opened, rather surprisingly, with a well-wish for her nameday before moving on to business. He had found a market for a lot of six adapter sets at a general repair facility orbiting one of Nubella Run’s usual stops.

  They get a ship or two out of the Dust every year, so the tech let me know. He’d been in the way of fabricating his own sort of adapters, which worked well enough, but took time. He was pleased to see ready-mades, which will save time for him and his customers.

  I’d been looking forward to seeing how the units will go nearer to Dust-edge, but that might mean rationing sales, close in, which will be no great pleasure.

  I hope the trading goes well for you at The Redlands. I’ll tell you that I’m looking forward to hearing the whole tale, next we’re on-port together.

  Padi smiled and closed the letter, glancing again at the queue, but Vanz’s was the last letter. She marked it to be answered, along with the well-wishes from her family, and straightened as the comm chimed.

  “yos’Galan,” she said, wincing as she caught sight of the time.

  “Trader yos’Galan,” said Mar Tyn pai’Fortana gravely. “The master trader wonders if you will join us in the atrium meeting room for a working meal before we descend.”

  Padi bit her lip.

  “Thank you, Master pai’Fortana,” she said, matching him for gravity. “Pray give the master trader my regards, and assure him that I will arrive within the next six minutes.”

  * * *

  Colemeno Portmaster krogerSlyte had been kind enough to forward an agenda and a letter from the Colemeno Administrative Council.

  The Council was pleased to welcome Tree-and-Dragon tradeship Dutiful Passage. It was understood that a small group
would arrive on-port from the Passage, that delegation to include Master Trader Shan yos’Galan, Trader Padi yos’Galan, Captain Priscilla Delacroix y Mendoza, Healer Dyoli ven’Deelin, and Master Mar Tyn pai’Fortana, as well as Security Officers Grad Elbin, Tima Fagen, and Karna Tivit.

  Colemeno Council was pleased to host a small reception in order that Council members and other persons of interest to the Tree-and-Dragon delegation might be introduced to one another.

  Though it had not been requested, the Council stated that they were not at the moment able to open Colemeno port to shore leave for general crew. Council members were looking forward to speaking with the master trader and the captain on this and other topics, to find what accommodations might be made. The Council was excited by the possibility of new trade, its members particularly pleased to welcome a Tree-and-Dragon tradeship.

  “Well, Trader?” the master trader asked from his seat at the head of the table. “I recall that you had hoped for a descent into savagery. Are you disappointed, or fulfilled?”

  Padi met his eyes.

  “I am—puzzled,” she admitted. From the side of her eye, she saw Dyoli ven’Deelin incline her head slightly.

  “What puzzles you?” inquired the master trader.

  “Well . . . they have followed the forms,” Padi said slowly, frowning at the letter projected onto the screen above the table, “and they have said nearly all the correct things. The leap to deny shore leave, which we certainly did not request, this being as strange a port to us as our ship is strange to them—”

  She sighed sharply.

  “I would say that they are . . . considerably wary of us.”

  “As anybody would be,” the master trader said. “We’ve made no secret of our recent past, after all.”

  “True.”

  “We may still withdraw,” the master trader said. “What say you, Trader?”

  “Withdraw?” Padi stared at him. “Of course we cannot withdraw! We will attend the reception, display our manners and our acumen, and sweep all before us.”