Lee, Sharon & Miller, Steve - Liaden Books 1-9

by Liaden 1-9 (lit)

  "Yes, sir," the man said, standing stiffly upright.

  Anne made it to Er Thom's side and held out her arms. Shan smiled at her, somewhat unsteadily.

  "Hi, Ma," he whispered. Er Thom never turned his head.

  "You will call for assistance," he was telling Dus Tin sig'Eva, still in the cool tones of Employer to Employee. "When assistance arrives, you will accept the role of passenger back to your station, where you will report this incident to your supervisor. If you feel need of a Healer, that service will be provided you. In any case, you will be given the rest of this shift and all of your next shift off, with pay. It may be advisable for you to retrain on this piece of equipment."

  The man bowed. "Your Lordship," he said, with, Anne thought, staggered relief. Straightening, he turned and swarmed up the ladder into the driver's compartment, to radio for assistance.

  At last, Er Thom turned his head.

  "And now you, my swift one—" he began in Low Liaden.

  Shan shifted sharply in his arms. "Sparkles, Mirada!"

  Er Thom looked grim. "Sparkles, is it?" he said in ominous Terran.

  He swung the child to his feet, keeping a firm grip on one small hand. Anne grabbed the other and held tight. "Show me these sparkles."

  Obediently, Shan marched forward, mother and father in tow. Just two steps from the rear of the repair rig, he stopped and bent his head to point with his nose, since neither parent would relinquish a hand.

  "There!"

  Embedded in the tarmac was a faceted blue gem, sparkling in the brilliant Liaden sunlight.

  "Hah. And are these your usual sparkles or something a bit different, I wonder?"

  Shan blinked, expression doleful. "Sparkles," he repeated, and tried to yank his hand away from Er Thom. "Shan go," he demanded, stamping a foot.

  "Shannie!" Anne said warningly, but Er Thom let the small hand free.

  "Sparkles!" Shan cried, pointing down at the glittering gem. "More sparkles!" His finger stabbed at a point just over Er Thom's bright head. "Ma sparkles! Jerzy sparkles! Rilly! Everywhere sparkles, but not to touch! This sparkle to touch! Touch this, touch more?"

  "Ah." Er Thom went to one knee on the tarmac and looked very earnestly into Shan's face. "Here," he said softly, and to Anne's amazement, pulled off his master trader's ring, the amethyst blazing gloriously purple. "Touch this sparkle, denubia."

  Shan's fist closed greedily around the big gem. Enthralled, Anne knelt on his other side, letting his hand free, but keeping a firm grip on his shoulder.

  "Can you now touch these other sparkles?" Er Thom asked.

  There was a long, charged moment as Shan scanned the blank air above Er Thom's head, and extended a cautious, hungry hand.

  "Nothing," he said, body losing all its unnatural tenseness at once. His eyes filled with tears, but he only shook his head. "Can't touch Mirada."

  "Perhaps when you are older," Er Thom said gently, slipping the ring back onto his finger. "In the meanwhile, you see that there are—different sorts—of sparkles, eh? Those you can touch and those you can only see. Can you remember that?"

  "Yes," Shan told him, utterly certain.

  "Good. Then you must also remember never to run away from your mother again. It was ill-done and caused her pain. This is not how we use our kin, who deserve all of our love and all of our kindness. I am not pleased."

  Shan swallowed hard, eyes filling again. "I'm sorry, Mirada."

  "As is proper, for the fault is yours," Er Thom told him. "But you owe your mother some ease, do you not?"

  Woefully, he turned to Anne. "I'm sorry, Ma."

  "I'm sorry, too, Shannie," she said. "It was bad to run away like that, wasn't it?"

  He nodded, then the tears escaped in a rush and he flung himself into her arms, burying his face against her neck. "I'm sorry, sorry!" he hiccuped, sobbing with such extravagance that Er Thom began to look alarmed.

  Anne smiled at him and held up a finger.

  "All right," she said, gently rubbing Shan's back, working loose the tight muscles. "I guess that's sorry enough. But you need to do something else for me."

  "What?" Shan asked, raising his sodden face.

  "Promise you won't run away again."

  "I promise," he said and then sighed, tears gone as suddenly as they had appeared. "I won't run away."

  "Good," Anne said and set him back so she could stand, remembering to keep a tight grip on his hand. She glanced over at Er Thom, who had also risen.

  "Why does he cry like that?" he asked, trouble still showing in his eyes.

  Anne grinned. "You can write a note and thank Jerzy. Shan had gotten cranky one day and started to whimper over something and Jerzy told him that if he wanted to be really convincing, he had to project—and proceeded to demonstrate. By the time I came in, the two of them were sitting on the floor in the middle of Jerzy's apartment, holding each other and sobbing their hearts out." She shook her head, suddenly serious.

  "Are you OK?" she asked, extending a tentative hand and touching his shoulder. "That was quite a tumble."

  "I am fine," he assured her solemnly.

  "Your jacket's gotten scarred," she said, fingering the leather briefly before prudence took her hand away.

  He glanced negligently at the scrape, shoulders moving. "If that is the worst of the matter then we may make our bow to the luck." He reached down and took Shan's hand.

  "In the meanwhile, our car awaits," he said, and led them around the stalled repair rig and away.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The number of High Houses is precisely fifty. And then there is Korval.

  —From the Annual Census of Clans

  The landcar was low and sleek and surprisingly roomy. Anne leaned back in a passenger's seat adjusted to accommodate her height, Shan dozing on her lap, and watched Solcintra Port flash by.

  She gave an inward sigh of regret for the quickness of the tour as Er Thom guided the car through Port Gate One and into the city proper.

  He glanced over at her, violet eyes serious. "Forgive me my necessity," he murmured, "and allow me to show you the Port another day—soon."

  She blinked, then inclined her head. "Thank you, Er Thom. I'd like that."

  "I, also," he answered and fell silent once more, driving the car with the same effortless efficiency he had demonstrated at the yacht's control board.

  Anne settled against the back of her seat and watched him, content to let Solcintra City slip by with only a few cursory glances. Another day, and she would see it all, immerse herself—safely anchored by Er Thom's melant'i and knowledge—in all the wonder the City of Jewels could muster.

  The car slid effortlessly around a flowered corner, under an ancient archway of shaped stone, negotiated a sweeping curve in a smooth uptake of speed and they were suddenly out of the city and moving through a landscape of plush lawns and wide gardens.

  "Soon now," Er Thom said so softly she might have thought he was speaking to himself, except the words were in Terran.

  The car accelerated once more, lawns and gardens flickering by—and changing. The houses became larger, set further back from the road, some hidden entirely, marked only by gates and driveways.

  Er Thom sent the car right at an abrupt branching of ways. They climbed a sudden hill and a valley stretched before them. At the near end, Anne saw a cluster of trees, glimpsed roof top and chimneys through the leaves.

  On the far side of the valley were more trees and, soaring high into the green-tinged, cloudless sky, a—Tree.

  "What on—?" She sat forward in the seat, earning a sleepy grumble from Shan. "It can't be a tree!"

  "And yet it is a tree," Er Thom said, as the car descended the hill to the valley floor. "Jelaza Kazone, Korval's Tree, which is at the house of my brother, also called Jelaza Kazone."

  Jelaza Kazone, the professorial corner of her mind supplied helpfully, meant "Jela's Peace" or "Jela's Fulfillment". She stared at the impossible tallness of it, and licked lips suddenly go
ne dry.

  "Who is Jela?" she murmured, barely knowing that she asked the question aloud, so absorbed she was by the Tree itself.

  "Cantra yos'Phelium's partner, all honor to him, who died before the Exodus."

  Anne managed to move her eyes from the Tree—from Jelaza Kazone—to Er Thom's profile. "But—'Jela's Fulfillment'? And he never made it to Liad?"

  "Ah. But it had been Jela's Tree, you know, and he had made her swear to keep it safe."

  "Oh." She eased back slowly, and several minutes passed in silence, until she said: "So the delm is the Dragon who guards the Tree—the actual Tree. Your shield isn't an—allegory?"

  "Ale—?" He frowned, puzzlement plain. "Your pardon. It—the delm's instruction, when we were children, was that each of us holds the burden of Cantra's promise, and—should there be but one of Korval alive, the life of that one was only to keep the Tree."

  Anne sighed, slowly, and shook her head. "It's the Tree— Jela's original?"

  "Yes," Er Thom murmured, slowing the car as they approached a cluster of low bushes.

  "That makes it, what? Nine hundred years old?"

  "Somewhat—older, perhaps," he said, flicking a glance at her as he turned into one of those long, mysterious driveways. "We arrive."

  Jelaza Kazone, the house, was two stories high, overhung with a sloping roof. A porch girded the second story; chairs and loungers could be seen here and there.

  It was, Anne thought in relief, a cozy sort of house, with nothing of the mansion about it, never mind that it was big enough to hold seventy apartments the size of her own on University. Perhaps the benign presence of Jelaza Kazone, the Tree, helped make it feel so comfortable.

  For the Tree, pinnacle now lost to her sight, grew out of the center of the house.

  Questioned, Er Thom told her that the house had been built piece-by-piece as the clan grew, until it now surrounded the Tree on all sides.

  "My rooms are—were—on the second story, facing the inner court, where the Tree is." The car glided to a soundless stop and Er Thom made several quick adjustments, before turning in his seat to look at her.

  "The delm will—very soon—See our child and the clan will rejoice," he said earnestly, taking her hand in his and looking up into her eyes. "Anne. If there is—a thing in your heart—you—are welcomed—to lay it before Korval for—for solving." The pressure of his fingers on hers was hard, nearly painful, and she had the impression he was striving to impart information of paramount importance.

  "It is known—forgive me!—that you have none to speak on your behalf. We would not—wish to be—backward—in service to—to the guest." He drew a deep breath and released her hands, looking doubtfully into her eyes.

  "I mean no insult, Anne."

  "No, of course not," she said gently, while her mind raced. Traditionally, delms solved—spoke for—those of their own clan. For Delm Korval to be willing to speak for someone outside his clan—and a Terran besides!—was something rather extraordinary. Anne inclined her head deeply.

  "I am—disarmed—by Korval's graciousness," she said carefully. "You do me great honor. I will not hesitate to bring any worthy matter to the delm's attention."

  Er Thom's face relaxed into a smile.

  "That is good, then," he said, and glanced down at Shan. "Now, we must wake this sleepy one and take him within."

  Master Daav, the stately individual who answered the door-summons informed Er Thom with precision, was in the Inner Court. If the Lord and Lady and Young Sir would follow, please?

  They did, down a well-lit, wood-paneled hallway, footsteps muffled on bright, thick carpet, past closed doors with ancient china knobs set in the centers. Even Shan seemed awed, and kept close to Anne's side, his fingers clutching at hers.

  Rounding a corner, they went down a slightly narrower hall that ended in a glass door. Their guide opened the door with a flourish and bowed them into the Inner Court.

  Anne went three steps into the garden and stopped, blinking at the profusion of flowers and shrubs, the riot of bird song and the flutter of jewel-colored insects.

  Er Thom continued across the silky grass, glancing this way and that among the unruly flowers.

  "Well met, brother!" a cheery voice called from no particular direction.

  Er Thom stopped, head tipped to one side. "Daav?"

  "Who else? Had you a good trip?"

  "Smooth and easy." Er Thom approached the monumental Tree, and lay his palm flat against the silvery trunk as he peered upward into the branches, "It is difficult to converse when I cannot see you."

  "Easily solved. Climb yourself up."

  "Might you not climb yourself down?" Er Thom inquired. "There are others present and matters that require your attention."

  "Ah. You see how it is, brother: My manners have atrophied utterly in your absence."

  "Will you climb down?" Er Thom demanded, a curious mix of laughter and frustration in his voice. Anne drifted closer, Shan silent and alert at her side.

  "I will, indeed," said the Tree cheerfully. "Have a care, denubia, and stand away. It would not do for me to fall on you."

  There was remarkably little movement among the silent broad leaves. When the lithe dark man dropped from the branches, it was as if he were part of a conjuror's trick: Now you see him…

  "So then." He grinned at Er Thom and opened his arms, heedless of the twig caught in his hair and the smear of green across one wide, white sleeve.

  Without hesitation, Er Thom went forward and the two embraced, cheek to cheek.

  "Welcome home, darling," the dark-haired man said, his words in Low Liaden carrying clearly to Anne. "You were missed."

  The embrace ended and Er Thom stepped back, though his cha'leket kept a light hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing the new scar on the leather jacket.

  "Perilous journey, pilot?"

  "A tumble at the Port," Er Thom returned calmly. "Nothing to signify."

  "Hah. But there are others present and matters that require my attention—or so recent rumor sings me! Lead on, brother; I am entirely at your disposal."

  "Then you must come this way and make your bow to the guest," Er Thom told him, leading him the way across the grass to Anne.

  He extended a hand on which the master trader's ring blazed and laid it lightly on her sleeve. "Anne," he murmured, switching to his accented, careful Terran, "here is my brother, Daav yos'Phelium, Delm Korval."

  She smiled at the dark-haired man and bowed acknowledgement of the introduction. "I am happy to meet you, Daav yos'Phelium."

  "Korval," Er Thom continued. "This is Anne Davis, Professor of Linguistics."

  From beneath a pair of well-marked brows, bright dark eyes met hers, disconcertingly direct before he made his own bow.

  "Professor Davis, I am delighted to meet you at last." His Terran bore a lighter accent than Er Thom's; his voice was deeper, almost grainy. He was a fraction taller, wiry rather than slim, with a face more foxy than elfin. A curiously twisted silver loop swung from his right earlobe and his dark brown hair fell, unrelieved by a single curl, an inch below his shoulders.

  "And this…" Er Thom bent, touching Shan on the cheek with light fingertips. "Korval, I Show you Shan yos'Galan."

  "So." Daav yos'Phelium moved, dropping lightly to his knees before the wide-eyed child. He held out a hand on which a wide band glittered, lush with enamel-work. "Good-day to you, Shan yos'Galan."

  Shan tipped his head, considering the man before him for a long moment.

  "Hi," he said at last, his usual greeting, and brought his free hand up to meet the one the man still patiently offered.

  Wiry golden fingers closed around the small hand and Daav smiled. "Did you have a good trip, Nephew?"

  "OK," Shan told him, moving forward a half-step, his eyes on his uncle's face. Reluctantly, Anne relinquished her hold on his hand and he took another small step, so he was standing with his toes nearly touching the man's knees.

  "Do you see sparkles?" he aske
d, abruptly.

  "Alas," Daav answered, "I do not. Do you see sparkles?"

  "Yes, but not the kind to touch. Mirada on hand has sparkles to touch." He bit his lip, looking earnestly into the man's face.

  "You happen sparkles," he said plaintively. "Can't see sparkles?"

  The well-marked brows pulled together. "Happen sparkles?" he murmured.

  "He means 'make,'" Anne explained. "You make sparkles."

  "Ah, do I? I had no notion. Have you brought me a nascent wizard, denubia?" This last was apparently to Er Thom.

  "Perhaps," that gentleman replied. "Perhaps a Healer. Or perhaps only one who has the gift of knowing when another is happy."

  "Not too bad a gift, eh?" He smiled at Shan and then sent his brilliant black gaze to Anne's face.

  "If Korval Sees this child, he is of the clan," he said, voice and eyes intently serious. "You understand this?"

  Anne nodded. "Er Thom explained that it was—vital—for the delm to—count—a new yos'Galan."

  "So? And did Er Thom also explain that what Korval acquires Korval does not relinquish? You have seen our shield."

  "The dragon over the tree—yes." She hesitated, looked from his intent face to Er Thom's, equally intent. "Shan yos'Galan is my son," she said to him, voice excruciatingly even. "Whether he is—of—Clan Korval or not."

  "Yes," Er Thom said, meeting her gaze straightly, hand half-lifting toward her. "How could it be otherwise?"

  "Scholar." Daav yos'Phelium's voice brought her eyes back to his face, which was no less serious than it had been. "Scholar, if you are at all unsure—stand away. There is no dishonor in taking time to be certain."

  She stared down at him where he knelt in the grass, holding her son by the hand. Leaf-stained as he was, with his fox-face and bold eyes, lean and tough as a dock-worker—He was beyond her experience: Half-wild and unknown; utterly, bewilderingly different than Er Thom, who was her friend and who—she knew—wished her well—and wished to do well for their son.

  "It's what we came to do," she said slowly, voice cracking slightly. She shook her head, as much from a need to break that compelling black gaze as from a desire to deny—anything.