by Sharon Lee
The baton continued its circuit, producing yet more tales, with now and again a cry of, “Yes!” or “That was like him!” from others in circle, at last coming back to the hand of Silain-luthia.
Once again she raised it over her head, and, smiling upon the wholeness of them, called for song and dancing—
“So that Dmitri will hear in The World Beyond and smile to know that his sisters and his brothers share his joy and look forward to that time when they are reunited with him, in that kompani camped just out of sight.”
- - - - -
Rys stood in the shadows of the common hearth, watching the Bedel dance, joyous and bright as birds. The music was unfamiliar, and to his ear chaotic, woven by the dancers into something delightful and strange.
It seemed that all the Bedel were dancing—Silain and Jin made a pair of it, while Droi danced by herself, fueled by the same cruel energy that had characterized her love-making. Further afield, Udari was paired with Vylet, the length of a man’s arm separating them, her hips girdled with a rope of tiny bells that she kept a-ringing merrily.
Someone pressed a mug into his hand. He tasted the contents cautiously—beer. Having learnt his lesson regarding Bedel beer, he clung to the mug, but did not drink any more.
“Rys!” Kezzi was before him, her hair half-escaped from the braid, her face lit with a joy so pure that he had to look away.
“Udari said your leg is repaired, that you can walk, and run!”
“Why so I can,” he said, smiling. He turned in place, to demonstrate his new agility, and caught his breath when she snatched his gloved hand.
“But you’re not dancing!”
“I don’t know how.”
She laughed.
“You just—dance,” she said, tugging on his hand. “Here, I’ll show you!”
There came another tug, which he understood to mean that he was to accompany her. He bent to put the mug down where it might not be kicked, offered his ungloved hand to her clasp, and allowed himself to be escorted out onto the floor.
“Listen,” Kezzi commanded. “Just listen. Don’t think. Let the music fill you up.” She closed her eyes, perhaps to better facilitate listening. Rys did not close his, but watched her, seeing her muscles relax into the sound. Her foot tapped, her leg twitched, the hand in his flexed, and relaxed.
Kezzi began to move.
It was a distinctive dance, and, watching her, he could identify the particular thread of musical chaos that informed her. The stringed instrument, with its sharp, articulated highs and lows.
He moved with her, since it would be graceless to act the part of a stump. At first, he imperfectly aped her movements, but as his ear became more comfortable with the thread, and, indeed, he became more comfortable with the reality of being able to dance, he began to move more freely.
Kezzi swooped and leapt, and he did. She lunged, and he did. She flung her hands in the air and spun—and he did, coming to rest nose-to-chest with Rafin.
“He dances! Eh? Eh?” Rafin slapped him on the shoulder with a force that made him stagger, and strode away into Droi’s orbit. Captured, he began to stamp and clap his hands, spinning about her like a demented planet around its star.
Rys turned back to his own partner, finding her swaying still, but somewhat heavy of eye.
“Do you dance the night away, little sister? Or is the luthia’s apprentice permitted to rest?”
Kezzi sighed.
“The luthia said that I had to sleep tonight, because I have school tomorrow.” She put up a hand to cover a sudden yawn, and shook her head.
“Allow me to see you safely to rest, then,” he said. “Where do you go?”
“Malda waits for me at Silain’s hearth,” Kezzi said. “Vylet and Droi will dance late, and I wouldn’t want to wake them early…”
“No, that would be too bad, for everyone concerned. To Silain’s hearth it is.”
He walked with her, and she tucked her hand once again into his ungloved one.
“Did Udari tell you, that I have a brother who is a dragon?”
“He did,” Rys said, managing to keep his voice easy. “I am thinking what I must do about that.”
“Well, I hope you won’t have to do anything about it,” Kezzi said, around another yawn. “I wouldn’t like to have two of my brothers at outs.”
“That would be awkward,” he agreed. “I will do my best not to be at outs with your dragon-brother, sister.”
A sharp yip sounded, and Kezzi laughed, slipping her hand away and bending down.
“Malda! Come.”
The dog arrived, wriggling at her feet. She pulled his ears, and rubbed his tummy then straightened.
“We’ll sleep in the hearth-room,” she said.
“And I, if it will not disturb you, will sit by the hearth. I…must pray.”
She smiled. “I’ll sleep better, for your prayers,” she said, which had the sound of set-piece, and then, before he could divine her intent, she leaned close and kissed his cheek.
- - - - -
“Who guards the hearth?”
Rys raised his head, and rolled to his feet.
“Grandmother, it is I.”
“So I see, on two strong legs. Is this Rafin’s genius, too?”
“A team effort. Udari was the impetus, Pulka envisioned the design, and Rafin…brought it into the world.”
He stepped forward, offering his natural hand. She placed her unburdened hand into his with a smile. Her skin was as soft as old paper, her bones as light as a bird’s.
“Will I make tea?” he asked; “or wish you sweet dreams?”
“Tea, if you please, Grandson. I will return the memory stick to its place, and come out to you in a moment.”
“Yes,” he said, and went to find the kettle.
The tea was ready by the time Silain rejoined him, once again dressed in her comfortable motley of scarves and shawls.
“Grandson,” she said, accepting the mug. “Sit with me, if you are not tired.”
“I dozed by the hearth, while I waited,” he said, sitting on the blanket by her right hand.
“It was good of you to keep watch over the child.”
He smiled. “Surely, she was at no risk, here in the heart of the kompani, and with Malda at her side.”
“Surely she was not,” Silain said composedly. “But rest comes easier when a brother is by.”
He sipped his tea, feeling warmed, despite that the child had been perfectly safe, and himself scarcely a deterrent, had danger come to call.
“You will have heard, I think,” said Silain, “that your sister’s brother, who lives in the house of his mother in the City Above, is a dragon.”
Rys drew a careful breath. “Udari brought me this news.”
“What will you do?”
“Grandmother, I do not know. I cannot recall the reason for my fear, though I do recall that one who has made an enemy of the dragon would do well to fear.”
“So, even if you have forgotten your argument, the dragon will very likely remember.”
Rys laughed around the stutter of panic in his breast.
“Oh, yes, and that si enough cause for fear. If I knew, then I feel I might draw up my courage to face—to face Korval. But to put myself forward, ignorant of both my fault and its proper answer…”
“You’re afraid that the dragon will eat you.”
He looked into her face, and old eyes forgiving of his fear.
“Grandmother, I can think of no reason to fear a settling of accounts with Korval, except that death must be my Balance.” He smiled, though he little felt like it.
“To lay waste to all that you and Udari have fashioned…”
Silain did not smile. She sipped her tea. He did the same.
“The mother of your sister’s brother and I will speak together, soon. With your permission, I’ll put your name before her and ask how you have wronged her.”
Light coruscated inside his head. He held his breath, but n
o flare or thunder of pain followed.
“Grandmother, I ask that you do not. Not yet. I…I want to think.”
Silence.
A sigh.
“Three days, Grandson. At the end of three days you’ll come here to me, and together we’ll go to the dragon Korval.”
He swallowed a protest. It was just. Indeed, she was lenient. She could have required him to accompany her to this imminent meeting, and given him to Korval. He was not Bedel. The kompani bore with him for love of Udari, and in obedience of the luthia’s word.
“Grandmother, it will be so,” he whispered, bowing his head.
“You’re a brave man, and the kompani has taken you to its heart. You’re not alone, Rys, whatever happens.”
It was foolish, but it eased him to hear her say so. He had been alone…clanless… There had been Jasin, and Momma—a place, and companionship, but no true belonging. To be among the kompani, in the heart of the Bedel, that had approached clan…
“What are you thinking?” Silain murmured.
“That having cheated death twice makes it no easier to face thrice.”
“Rys.” She gripped his wrist, tightly, her fingers stronger than he would have supposed. “I’ll take this woman’s measure. Kezzi tells me that she is a luthia, or like—a sister in dreaming. If this is so, she’ll measure with an even hand.”
He laughed.
“That is what frightens me, more than all the rest. But enough.” He raised his mug. “More tea?”
“Of your kindness.”
He refreshed both mugs, and settled himself again.
“There is a reason I waited for you,” he said. “A matter of custom and, in light of our previous discussion, of some urgency.”
“Speak.”
“Last night, Droi came to me, and we…coupled. She said that between us we made a child. A child for the kompani. I ask if that is so.”
“It is. The kompani’s numbers are fixed. Misfortune follows if the numbers go too low, or too high. With Dmitri on the threshold…”
“I understand,” he said. “I had merely…” He sighed and looked up into her face.
“In my…world. The numbers of the clan are fixed insofar as each adult must provide the clan with a child who will be one’s heir, to learn one’s life-work, and to succeed to one’s honors. I had no child, and even if I had, she would have been in the house, and died, with everyone else.”
Silain moved her hand, signaling a question.
“You spoke somewhat of this before, but I wonder—what killed your clan?”
“Yxtrang,” he said, and cleared his throat. “It was an Yxtrang raid. I was up early in the vineyards; the rest of the House was asleep. They glided in over the mountain, and—”
The shadow of wings, flickering over trellis and rock; the mountain heaving; the noise, and he rolled to his feet, staring down at the smoke and the crater…
He swallowed and bent his head.
“Yxtrang target Liaden worlds. There is nothing new in that.”
“I understand. Continue, Grandson.”
Continue? For a moment he was at a loss, then recalled the reason he had waited to meet Silain.
“The child, yes. I would explain the custom I know. We write contracts, before the proposed couple are joined, and between clans. This insures that there is no mistaking to whom the child belongs, and guarantees that all is properly made ready.
“As I am clanless, there is no one but me to…make arrangements for this child. She will belong to the kompani. That is well. However, the way of the kompani is not the way of the clan. What is…expected of me? I have little, and may soon have nothing, but I would honor the child properly, and put no hardship on Droi, or on the Bedel.”
There was a silence, and a small sound, as if Silain cleared her throat.
“The child will have brothers, and sisters, and the kompani to keep him and teach him. Maybe you think that Droi would be a chancy mother. She would be, and she knows this as well as any. Already, she has asked that Luma bring the child to her hearth.”
He thought for a moment.
“Dmitri’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Balance is preserved,” he said. “I approve.”
Silain nodded.
“How long,” she asked softly. “Since your clan died in this Yxtrang raid?”
He turned his hands up and looked down at them—one flesh, one gleaming mesh—before looking back to her.
“In the first relumma…in Standard Year 1387.”
“And have you,” she asked softly, “been alone since your clan died?”
He shook his head.
“I was hired as crew on a trade ship—a family ship. The eldest daughter—the first mate—I became her lover. But it was not clan. Her brother disliked me, and…”
…and, at Moleria, it was. He was called dockside, to the trader’s room, and there had been, had been…
Green and violet light flared, igniting the inside of his head.
“Rys!”
“Hold me, don’t loose…I can see it…I can know it…”
There had been a man—a pilot. Liaden. And Jasin’s brother, standing there, looking both terrified and delighted: “This is the man, sir.”
“Rys!”
“He sold me…sold me off the ship.” His lungs were on fire, and his head…”Jasin, she didn’t know…”
Cold eyes looked him up and down.
“Rys Lin pen’Chala, come with me,” the pilot said, in the mode of Greater to Lesser. “Your contract has been purchased by the Department of the Interior.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Well, there, you two just won me a plate of Redith’s cookies!” Sheyn said with a grin. He stepped back, pulling the door wide.
Instead of grinning and walking through, Syl Vor kept his place on the top step. Kezzi waited beside him, feeling the presence of Udari and Gavit on the street below.
“Why?” Syl Vor asked.
“’Cause I bet her you two’d be early again. How’s your arm, Syl Vor?”
“It’s OK. You knew Pete and Luce and Rudy where here yesterday before us.”
“I did,” Sheyn said, suddenly serious. “An’ if you’ll remember, I told you so—not by name, I admit, and maybe I should’ve done that. Your mama and Ms. Audrey and Jansy took some time with me yesterday, trying to figure how it all could’ve all been gone about better.”
He tipped his head to one side, his expression serious.
“You think I set you up, honey?”
There was a pause before Syl Vor shook his head.
“No. You did tell us we weren’t the first in.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want it to happen again, that’s all.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more. So, I’m telling you that Rudy’s ahead of you this morning, and he’s in the lunchroom with Patsy, having some ’toot and cookies.”
“Who,” asked Kezzi, “is Patsy?”
Sheyn smiled at her. “She’s one of our bouncers, sweetie. If there looks to be any trouble, you dodge behind a big ol’ piece of furniture and let Patsy handle it.” His smile widened. “Make sure you take Syl Vor with you.”
“I will,” she assured him seriously, as a voice rose from behind them.
“Problem up there, Silver?”
“No, Gavit, thank you. We were only talking to Sheyn.”
“Well, talk inside. It might be spring, but that don’t mean Ms. Audrey wants to be heatin’ the whole street.”
“Yes,” he said, softly, and then, louder, looking up into Sheyn’s face with a smile that was almost like Vylet’s. “Yes.”
- - - - -
A gadje woman with sleepy green eyes and long black hair leaned against the side wall, her arms crossed over her chest.
Rudy was sitting at the table, his hands wrapped around the mug on the cloth in front of him. In the middle of the table was a plate of cookies. Kezzi sniffed appreciatively: spice cookies.
“Are you Patsy?” Syl Vor asked.
“That’s right,” the woman said, sternly. “You’ll be Syl Vor and Anna?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the both of you can stand down. I’ll do any heavy liftin’ needs doin’. Have a snack.”
“Thank you,” Syl Vor said, and walked toward the buffet, unsealing his jacket.
Kezzi picked up a mug and poured ’toot from the pot sitting to hand. The brew smelled acrid and strong, much like Bedel tea.
“Take that mug and set another one for me,” she told Syl Vor.
This he did without comment, and the two of them took seats side by side across from Rudy, who stared into his cup like he was trying to read his fortune in the swirls of surface oil.
Kezzi stood up so she could reach the plate, and grabbed a handful of cookies. She dropped all but one between her mug and Syl Vor’s and began to munch contentedly.
Syl Vor looked across the table.
“Good morning, Rudy,” he said, sounding as cool as his mother.
Rudy stiffened, and looked up. There was a bruise along his right cheek, and his eyes were slitted, as if the light bothered them.
“How’s your head?” she asked, before he answered Syl Vor.
“My head hurts,” he snapped. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing, except Syl Vor thought you were worth fighting for. Did a medic look at you? If your skull’s cracked, you shouldn’t be here.”
Rudy stared at her, his face red.
Patsy laughed.
“The doc down the clinic give ’im a pass to be here. You takin’ medic training, Anna?”
“Yes,” Kezzi told her, smiling sunnily, and washed the last of her cookie down with a swallow of ’toot.
“Which is why you got brought in for kid-onna-street,” Rudy snapped.
She ignored him, and helped herself to another cookie.
Rudy took a hard breath, picked up his mug, and put it down again without drinking.
“Syl Vor.”
“Yes?”
“Look, it was—I’m s’posed to thank you, for getting ’tween me and Pete, so—thank you. Now…” He did drink this time, like the ’toot was water, then thumped the mug to the table.