“Regarding your request for assurance that you will be paid,” Sariana went on, “I want you to know that the Avylyns and I have considered the matter carefully. We understand that you, like the bank, need some form of collateral. Lady Avylyn suggested a rather unusual idea. She said you might be willing to postpone taking your pay if, in the meantime, she offered to introduce you socially. She seems to think you might have an eye toward marriage and that you would welcome the opportunity to meet socially acceptable young ladies. Marriage is always an important decision and if you are presently considering it, then you might be interested in Lady Avylyn’s kind offer. If, however, that doesn’t appeal, I have another suggestion.”
Out of the flow of words pouring so earnestly from Sariana’s mouth, Gryph caught the one that mattered most. He nearly lost his balance. He gripped the edge of the stone table with far more force than was necessary.
“Marriage,” he repeated, his tongue thick in his mouth. He raised his eyes to Sariana’s politely composed face. “To you?”
“Oh, no, not to me,” Sariana said with a light laugh. “I’m afraid you weren’t listening. I said the Avylyns have agreed to introduce you socially to their friends and relatives. I understand that it is somewhat difficult for a Shield to meet suitable young women. Probably has something to do with spending too much of your time chasing bandits on the frontiers. Be that as it may, if you are agreeable to our offer, I see no reason why we can’t conclude our deal this evening. You would start work in the morning. What do you say?”
“I say you have the fast tongue of a Rendezvous lawyer.”
“It seems to me that the Avylyns are prepared to be quite generous,” Sariana said. “Given the limitations of your present social status, I should think you would be grateful for their offer. That is, if you are, indeed, in the market for a wife.”
Gryph experienced a sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to reach across the table, drag Sariana out of her chair and carry her out of the chamber. He knew what he would do with her as soon as he had her alone in his bedchamber, he told himself. He knew exactly what he would do with her.
“Listen, lady Business Manager,” he said grimly. “I don’t know where or how you did your social research, but I can guarantee that the last thing I’d sell my services for is a little help in finding a wife. I’ve been desperate, but never that desperate. I’m a Shield, damn it. I’ll do my own wife hunting.”
There was a collective gasp of anguish from the assembled Avylyns, but Gryph ignored them. His attention was on Sariana. She did not gasp or cry out in horror. She merely blinked, her long lashes momentarily veiling the speculative intelligence in her eyes.
Without a word she moved the weapon kit a little farther out of his reach. Gryph abruptly decided he’d had enough of her little games. He gathered himself for a quick, determined swipe at the kit.
Just as his hand came out, however, Sariana released the kit and it sank instantly out of sight. Gryph watched in shock as his precious weapon kit vanished into a concealed opening in the stone. The opening was already sealing shut. There was not even a line to mark where the trap door existed. Westerners loved such gadgets.
Impatience, irritation and the indulgent curiosity that Gryph had been experiencing up to that point disappeared in an instant. Fury engulfed him. The hand Gryph had been extending to grasp his kit locked around Sariana’s small wrist instead. He yanked her forward until her upper body was sprawled across the table. Her eyes widened and he realized he was finally seeing genuine alarm in her gaze. It was about time, he decided.
“Get it back.” Each word he spoke fell like a stone into the appalled silence that had seized the chamber. “Now.”
“Please,” she whispered, “just listen to me. That’s all I’m asking. Let me tell you the whole story of the prisma cutter. We need your help.”
“Get back my kit or I’ll find a way to make you vanish just as easily as you made it disappear. Understood?”
“You’ve made yourself quite clear,” she replied in a shaky voice.
She was finally scared, but her eyes still met his with steady determination. In spite of his raw mood, Gryph felt a reluctant surge of admiration for Sariana’s daring. He knew of no other woman in Serendipity or the outlying provinces who would have taken such a risk.
“Give it to him, Sariana,” Jasso hissed. “Quickly.”
“Hurry, before he kills us all,” Lady Avylyn pleaded.
Bryer and Mara sat staring at Sariana, panic in their expressions.
“What will it cost us to get your help?” Sariana whispered, her eyes huge.
Gryph was amazed. “You’re still trying to negotiate a deal, lady?”
“We need your help,” she repeated doggedly. “If you won’t accept the offer of being introduced socially while you wait for your payment, what kind of a deal will you accept? Name your price.”
Gryph looked down at her. “Tell me who needs my help.”
“I’ve just told you. The Avylyn Clan.”
He shook his head, knowing suddenly what he wanted from her. “No. Not the Avylyns. They would be long gone by now if it wasn’t for you. Tell me who really needs my services. Tell me who will pay whatever she has to pay in order to get them.”
Sariana stared at him, confused. Gryph waited, willing her to understand what he wanted from her. Then he saw the knowledge dawn in her large eyes.
“I need your help,” Sariana said quietly.
“Say it again.”
She set her teeth. “I need your help.”
Gryph nodded, satisfied. “That’s right. You. Not the Avylyns.” He released her. Sariana sat back in her seat, massaging her wrist unobtrusively. She regarded him with wary, smoldering eyes.
“Get my weapon kit out of that stone table,” Gryph ordered calmly.
Sariana pressed a hidden button under the table and a section of the polished stone surface silently slid open. She reached inside and retrieved the kit.
“I only wanted to make you listen to my proposition,” she said, handing the kit to him. “I just wanted to get your attention long enough to convince you that you won’t lose in this deal.”
“You’ve taken more risks tonight than you even realize,
Sariana Dayne,” Gryph remarked as he quickly fastened the weapon kit back on his belt. “But you’re in luck. I’ve decided I need the work after all. I’ll take the job provided you can afford daily expenses. I’ll let you know later what my final fee will be.”
Chapter
2
SARIANA was awake very early the next morning. As usual, she had dressed and breakfasted long before the rest of the household. Soon after her arrival in the western provinces she had discovered that the locals tended not to worry very much about such things as punctuality or disciplined work hours.
Lady Avylyn had admonished Sariana more than once for what she perceived as a lack of proper priorities. “Really, my dear,” the matriarch of the Avylyn Clan had declared, “you work much too hard. You must learn to play a bit more or you will run the risk of turning into a very dull little old lady.”
“I think the results of too much play and too little work are quite obvious in the present financial status of your clan, Lady Avylyn,” Sariana had retorted. “Only a lot of hard work is going to salvage the situation now.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure you have a point, Sariana, but it does seem a pity for you to miss so many lovely parties. Life is short, my dear.”
“I am well aware of that, madam. And because of that fact, I cannot waste a moment of my time here in the western provinces. The sooner I accomplish my professional goals, the sooner I can go home.”
“Yes, yes, I quite understand. But to be truthful, I cannot comprehend why anyone would want to return to the east. Such a dull, dreary place.”
Sariana had gritted her teeth, knowing La
dy Avylyn had never been to the eastern continent. But westerners had a definite image of the foreign lands of the east and that image was of a grim, gray, humorless place where no sensible person would want to live.
The westerner’s failure to appreciate the hard working, sober, disciplined ways of her homeland was a constant source of irritation to Sariana. She was fiercely determined not to lower her own personal standards in such matters while she was in exile. It was one of many small battles she waged here in the west.
Sariana was dressed this morning in one of the elegantly restrained business gowns she’d had made at a local clothing design shop. The owner of the shop, a short, stout woman who prided herself on introducing the latest styles to her customers, had been most upset by the order for a simple fitted jacket and long, narrow skirt in a subdued shade of gray.
“Too dull, much too dull for you,” the shop owner had protested when Sariana had given her the order. “You are living in Serendipity, the fashion capital of the western continent. Even the people in the smallest towns of the farthest provinces wear more stylish garments than the sort you wish to order. Bustles are in style but you don’t want one. Slashed sleeves are in vogue but you don’t want them, either. Look here, you haven’t even asked for any ribbon trim. I could do so much more, even with this simple design, if you would just let me choose the color and add some trim.”
“I’m a businesswoman,” Sariana had explained, not for the first time. “I prefer more restrained styles.”
“Ha. We have plenty of business people here in Serendipity,” the woman had shot back. “None of them has anything against a little style and color. That’s the problem with you eastern folks. You’re much too dull and sober and tiresomely strict. No fun at all. Remember, you’re not living in Rendezvous now, my dear. You’re living in Serendipity. Here we have color and light and contrast and lots and lots of style.” The woman had waved one hand in a sweeping gesture that included all of Serendipity, the surrounding province of Pallisar and the whole western continent.
It hadn’t been easy, but Sariana had finally gotten her way with the shop owner. The small confrontation had been typical of the sort she endured on a daily basis in Serendipity. Sometimes it was tiring to hold her ground, but she usually managed to prevail. It was amazing how effective persistence and rational determination could be against the flamboyant, emotional and melodramatic ways of the locals.
The expansive Avylyn household consisted of three long wings of chambers, gardens and halls that radiated out from a central core structure in the manner of spokes on a wheel. Sariana’s suite of apartments was situated in the spoke farthest away from the Avylyns’ private chambers and Sariana liked it that way.
The location of her rooms gave her a sense of privacy and some necessary distance from the ceaseless uproar that seemed to be the normal mode of communication for the Avylyns and everyone else in Serendipity. Nobody did things in a quiet, reflective, composed manner. Everyone looked for and found the most dramatic and extreme reactions to any given situation. Tears flowed, anger exploded and laughter sang out, all with just the slightest provocation. No one worried much about self-restraint.
It seemed to Sariana that normal day-to-day life provided plenty of opportunity for westerners to indulge their tastes for the extreme, but she had quickly learned that when a real excuse came around—weddings, funerals, or births, for example—all the stops were pulled and the moon was the limit.
The walk to her office, which was in the middle spoke on the floor above the jewelry design rooms, normally took Sariana through a long, glass hall full of exotic plants and flowers and into the luxurious central hub building with its spacious showrooms, ballrooms and reception areas. This morning Sariana took a short cut outside through the gardens.
It was another brilliant morning, of course. All the mornings were brilliant during the summer. Afternoon rainstorms were also typical of the season. Such storms were filled with lightning, thunder and torrents of water. Fall, winter and spring would bring their own kinds of brilliance and spectacle. Leaves of unbelievable hues in the fall; dazzling snows that made the ground look as if it were covered in prisma arrived in the middle of winter; a riot of new color and rich greenery would herald the Spring. Nature was as vivid and cheerfully temperamental in the western provinces as the people themselves. It was all so radically different from the moderate climate and serene tones of her homeland. Sariana sighed softly, thinking about it.
She would sometimes awaken in the middle of the night with a familiar nightmare. The dream was a strange one, appearing in a variety of guises, but it always had its roots in the same underlying fear. It was a fear that she would somehow become so entangled in the chaos and color of the western continent that she would never be able to return to Rendezvous.
Lying in her bed after one of those disturbing dreams, Sariana would stare into the darkness and do battle with a homesickness that was so strong and so deep that she sometimes gave into tears.
The Avylyns would have been shocked to know the depths of her loneliness. They had done their exuberant best to make her welcome. But if they had known about the tears, they would undoubtedly have been relieved by the knowledge that their calm, practical and restrained business manager was, indeed, capable of some strong emotion.
At least she hadn’t awakened with an attack of homesickness last night, Sariana thought wryly as she hurried through the gardens and into a wide hall. She’d had too much else on her mind to allow herself the indulgence of self-pity.
Disaster had come within a footstep of her and the Avylyns last night. She knew that now. She had known it when the Shield had grabbed her wrist and looked down at her with eyes that held the lethal allure of a bottomless sea. The memory made her shiver even now in the bright light of day.
Perhaps she should have paid more attention to her clients’ nervous fears about using a Shield. But it was too late to go back now. What was done was done. They now had a Shield working for them, whether or not they wanted him.
The middle wing of chambers was always humming with activity, even at this time of day. The Avylyns employed many people, most of whom were related to the Clan. The basic social structure of class and clan was similar to a guild system. A person who could not claim a proper social class or clan family was a true outlaw. He was also usually unemployed.
As she hurried into her office, Sariana nodded absently at a household attendant and requested a large pot of strong laceleaf tea. She needed it this morning. When the tea arrived she took it with a word of thanks and firmly closed the door.
With a sigh of relief, Sariana walked across the white marble floor to the circle of black stone that was her desk. In the center was a cushioned chair suspended from the ceiling that rotated easily in a complete circle to follow the curve of the desk.
She pressed the hidden mechanism that opened one section of the desk, stepped through into the inner circle and assumed her seat. The desk closed soundlessly behind her. It would take an expert’s eye to find the seam.
The surface of the stone desk was completely bare except for the tea tray. Sariana touched another hidden device and a section of the polished surface opened to reveal a pile of business papers. She stared at them morosely. The last thing she felt like doing this morning was going over the deplorable state of the Avylyns’ finances. She had been doing little else every workday for the past year. At times the task of saving the financial life of the Avylyn Clan had appeared hopeless. But now she knew she was well on the way to salvaging the Avylyns’ fortunes and with them, her own.
Sariana knew that her hopes of future success and her chances of returning to her homeland were inextricably tied to the Avylyns’ success. She would do just about anything to ensure both. The thought of being stranded in the western provinces for the rest of her life was enough of a spur to make her take risks she would never have taken under normal circumstances.
Sariana stabbed the closure device on the desk and watched with morbid satisfaction as the financial papers sank instantly out of sight.
The cleverly designed tables and desks in the Avylyn household were not the only interesting discoveries Sariana had made since her arrival in Serendipity. The people of the western continent were an inventive lot with a definite flair for the cunning and the bizarre. They loved gadgets.
Her own people were a far more serious and sophisticated crowd, skilled in matters of business, finance, education and trade. Occasionally Sariana wondered if the people of the two continents had gone in opposite directions because of the different environments each group of colonists had faced or because of the arrangement of the social classes on board the original colony ships.
It was never intended that the settlers on board The Serendipity and The Rendezvous be separated. The two ships were meant to land near each other. The resulting colony would thus have started out with a full compliment of all the social groups deemed necessary for survival and progress in the new world.
At least, that was the original plan of the radical group of social philosophers who had set out to colonize the planet of Windarra a few hundred years before. Most of the clans of the various business and educational classes had been on board The Rendezvous. Nearly all of the artistic, craft and design clans had boarded The Serendipity.
Each ship had been given an equal share of representatives from the medical and social philosopher classes. The ships’ officers and crew had formed a social class of their own. It had been decided that after the landing, the members of that particular class would be adopted into the clans of their choice. The theory was that they would no longer be needed as a separate and unique class. The star-ships were not designed to make a return trip to the home planets.
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