Adventures in the Liaden Universe. Collaterial Adventures (liaden)

by Sharon Lee

  “If that is your wish, then how can I deny you?”

  “Very properly said,” Etgora interjected. “And who better to know Port gossip than a Scout, who are said to have ears in every cranny?” He turned, spied his daughter, yet standing stiffly to one side.

  “Kesa, my jewel. Lord yos’Phelium will wish to reacquaint himself with his age-mates, as he is just returned from the Scouts. Pray show him to the Sunset Garden—and then you may refresh yourself.”

  He turned to Daav.

  “Card tables have been set out, sir, and other light amusements. Please, be easy in our House.”

  He flicked a glance at his mother, who inclined her head.

  “Amuse yourself, Daav, do. Etgora will wish to walk Ilthiria and myself through his garden. I will require your arm in two hours.”

  “Ma’am.” He bowed obedience to the Delm, then a general leave-taking to Lady yo’Lanna and Etgora. This done, he bowed once more, very gently, and offered his arm to Kesa del’Fordan, “Lady Kesa, will you walk with me?”

  She hesitated fractionally, brown eyes lifting to his face in a child’s straight look of assessment. Whatever she saw convinced her that he was not having fun at her expense, for she stepped forward and put her hand lightly on his sleeve.

  “Certainly, I will walk with you,” she said, unselfconsciously. “How else may I show you to the Sunset Garden?”

  “Very true,” Daav replied gravely. From the edge of his eye, he saw Etgora offer an arm and his mother take it. “In which direction shall we walk, then, Lady?”

  “This,” she said, moving a hand to the west, belatedly adding, “Of your goodness.”

  The pathways toward sunset were somewhat less crowded than those they had followed from the house. That was not to say, Daav thought, that the paths were empty or that the garden reposed in tranquility.

  He bowed briefly to Lady pel’Nyan and moved on, Kesa del’Fordan silent on his arm. Etgora, he considered, had come a fair way to making a recover. Lady yo’Lanna’s attendance had of course assured the attendance of several other Houses of rank. And if she were inclined to smile upon Etgora…

  Or, Daav thought suddenly, if Ilthiria yo’Lanna attended at the request of her old friend Chi yos’Phelium, Delm of the ancient ally of her House? Oh, yes, that fit well. Especially when one heard one’s mother declaring herself comforted in the presence of an ally. Korval had never taken allies easily, to the benefit, mostwise, of the more conservative Clans.

  Daav made a mental note to review the Summary of Balance dea’Gauss had sent more closely. He had missed the reason that Etgora was thought necessary to the interests of Korval. Presumption had, of course, been answered, but it seemed that the upstart clan could not be allowed entirely to sink. Thus, this gather, with its theme of courteous and charming commonsense, and everyone of consequence in attendance.

  In consideration of which, Daav said to himself, you are in arrears of your duty.

  He tipped his head, assessing his companion from beneath his lashes. She looked pale, he thought, and her jaw was definitely clenched too tightly for fashion. Her shoulders moved like boards beneath the pretty silk tunic and the hand that rested against his sleeve put no pressure on his arm at all.

  He cleared his throat gently and smiled when she looked up, startled.

  “I hope you will allow me to commend your performance as House Guard,” he murmured. “I am persuaded that you stand the duty often.”

  Kesa blushed, lashes flickering. “Not,” she said, somewhat faintly, “so very often.” She paused, glancing aside, then looked back to his face.

  “In fact,” she said, rather breathlessly, “this evening is the first time I have stood between the House and the world. It is—it has been my brother’s duty, you know—he is the elder—but, this evening, he… He asked our father for other work.”

  “Very proper in him,” Daav murmured, noting her hesitation and drawing the conclusion that Kesa’s brother’s “ask” had very little of “if-you-please” about it. “So this was your first time a House Guard? I am all admiration. Well I remember my first time at the door—a mere dinner party, nothing like what we have here!—and I was wishing for nothing but my bed before even half the guests were arrived!”

  She actually laughed, and Daav ducked as they passed beneath a string of balloons and streamers.

  Kesa paused, frowning up at him and the balloons just behind his head.

  “I do not—you are very tall, are you not? I recall my father said that Korval is a tall Clan. He—Jen Dal was to have made certain the lines were strung well above—but I am certain,” she said in a sudden rush, “that he could not have realized that, that—”

  “That the pickpocket who wishes to rob Korval must bring his own stepladder,” Daav said lightly, rescuing her from what could only be an unfortunate culmination of her sentence.

  Kesa frowned. “I do not entirely—”

  “Ah, Daav! I had heard the Scouts had released you to us!”

  The voice was lovely, as was the lady. Two years ago, he had been besotted with both. He was no longer besotted, but he was indebted to her for a lesson well-delivered and equally well-learned, and so he bowed, with courtesy.

  “Bobrin, good evening to you.”

  She returned his bow, eyes teasing his face, then straightened, one hand rising to her flower-braided hair. Her eyes left his face, and found Kesa.

  “It is Etgora’s daughter, is it not?”

  Kesa bowed low—Child of the House to Honored Guest. “Kesa del’Fordan, Lady del’Pemridj.”

  “Just so.” Bobrin inclined her beflowered head, then shot Daav a glance of pure mischief. “Take advice and walk carefully with this one, House-daughter. Daav—” she paused, likely on the edge of more specific mischief. Daav met her eye squarely, and had the satisfaction of seeing her look aside.

  “Daav,” she said, “Good evening.”

  She swept down the path and Daav became aware that he was gritting his teeth. Deliberately, he relaxed his jaw and looked down at his companion.

  Kesa was staring after Bobrin, brown eyes wide. After a moment, she sighed and glanced up at Daav.

  “She is a very beautiful lady. I—do you think when I am grown I might wear flowers in my hair?”

  When you are grown, Daav thought, my hope is that you will care more for other matters—even for what I deduce is your scapegrace brother—than for the dressing of your hair.

  Her look, however, was appealing—and she was, after all, a child—so he swallowed his initial answer and instead looked about with wide amaze, flinging his arm out.

  “Why, here we are in the very heart of a garden! What is to prevent you from having flowers in your hair this instant, if you wish it?”

  “I—” She, too, stared about, as if she just now realized their setting, then looked back to his face.

  “No one, that is, I have yet to learn the—the proper manner in which to place flowers in the hair.”

  “Ah, there you are fortunate,” Daav said gaily. “I have some training in the placement of hair-ornaments. Perhaps you will allow me to be of service to you.”

  The brown eyes took fire. “Would you? I—I would be in your debt.”

  “Not a bit of it.” Daav said stoutly. “It is a pleasure to share my skill. Now, which flowers will you have?”

  She moved to the edge of the walk, staring at the orderly rows of blossom. “That, if you please,” she said, pointing to a low, spike-leafed shrub. Its indigo blooms were flat and multi-petalled, noteworthy without being ostentatious, and a good match for the silk Doorkeeper’s tunic.

  “Excellent,” Daav murmured approvingly and bent to pluck one. The stem was woody, but broke easily. “Yes, very good. Now, my Lady, if you will step over here, so that we do not impede traffic while this very delicate operation is performed…”

  Kesa stepped to his side, Daav inclined his head to Lord Andresi—another of his mother’s cronies—who smiled and passed on without
comment.

  “Now, then,” Daav said. “I will wish you to stand very tall, but not at all stiffly. True beauty is never ill at ease. Very good. A moment, now, while I discover the perfect placement—yes, I believe so.” He hesitated, flower poised. “Be easy, Lady Kesa, but as still as you may—”

  He moved, Scout-quick, smoothing her thick brown hair with one hand while he slid the flower home just above her right ear.

  “Let us be certain that it is well-anchored,” Daav said, hands hovering. “Move your head now—look up at me. Ah—”

  “Stand away from my sister!”

  The voice was, of course, too loud. Had the phrase been whispered it would have been too loud, at this gather. Daav sighed and glanced up.

  The young man bearing down on them had something of Etgora’s look to him, albeit Etgora in an ugly pet. He had, Daav judged, about twenty Standard years.

  “Calm yourself, sir,” Daav said moderately. “I am doing your sister no harm.”

  “I will be the judge of that, sir!” the other snapped. “As kinsman, I—”

  “Jen Dal, be still!” Kesa flung about—the flower stayed firmly in place, Daav saw with pleasure. “There’s nothing amiss.” She swallowed and glanced back to Daav. “Lord yos’Phelium, here is my brother Jen Dal del’Fordan. Jen Dal, here is Daav yos’Phelium Clan—”

  “I know who he is,” Jen Dal said awfully. “Sir, you have not yet put yourself at a decent distance from my sister.” Kesa made a sound rather like a splutter, which Daav interpreted as outrage. Her brother spared her a single withering glance.

  “Be still, Kesa. This is a matter of honor.”

  “If it’s a matter of my honor,” Kesa said, with spirit, “then I should judge the damage and the price, not you.”

  “Completely by Code,” Daav said, uneasily aware that they were attracting a crowd.

  The young gentleman stared at him, eyes hard with hatred. So, thought Daav, the balloons were not strung so low by accident. Here’s one who has taken Etgora’s fall as a blow to his heart, and cannot see ’ round his anger to the greater good of the house.

  “My sister is a child, sir. It is as ludicrous to expect her to know proper Code as it is to expect her to know all the faces of harm.”

  Daav drew a breath, trying to still the quick flare of anger. For Kesa’s sake, for the sake of Etgora’s value to Korval, he would not lose his temper. He would quell this self-important upstart and dismiss him, then disperse the growing crowd of the curious. He was Chi yos’Phelium’s son. These things were not beyond him.

  “Sir, your concern for your kin does you credit. However, I feel that you have allowed an elder sibling’s natural partiality—”

  Jen Dal del’Fordan turned his face away.

  “Kesa,” he said, as if Daav had finished speaking—no, as if Daav had never begun to speak!—“pray remove yourself from the proximity of this—person.”

  Tears filled the brown eyes. “Jen Dal, he is our guest! I am quite unharmed, Lord yos’Phelium was only placing a flower in my hair, as I asked him to do!” There was a ripple through those gathered at that, but Jen Dal was unmoved.

  “This man is son of a House with a long history of predation among the lesser Houses. I will not see him attack my kin. He will—”

  Oh, gods, Daav thought, suddenly seeing the destination of the farce. You fool! He leaned forward and touched Kesa lightly on the sleeve.

  “Lady, your brother is correct. You cannot stay this.”

  For a heartbeat, the brown eyes searched his face, then she stepped back, bowed fully—House child to Honored Guest—and turned, she walked away as sedately as one with years of negotiation behind her, and the crowd parted to let her through.

  “You, sir,” Jen Dal del’Fordan cried, “will satisfy the honor of my House!”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Daav said, voice stringently calm, despite the anger trembling within. “The honor of your House is intact, as you well know.”

  “I know nothing of the sort. Korval destroys Clans as casually as I pluck a flower.” The last was said with a sneer and Daav caught his breath at the sheer, blinding stupidity of the man. Did he not know that even now Korval and Etgora were mending the damage given his Clan? Did he not know that with Korval’s patronage and the smiles of the High Houses, Etgora would recover its loss and reap new profits before Kesa signed her first Contract lines?

  “You do your sister an injustice—you call her honor and her understanding into question before all these.”

  He threw an arm out, showing the so-quiet crowd damming the pathway. “Is this the path a brother treads, in the task of keeping his kin safely? Your understanding is at fault in this, sir. Neither Etgora nor Etgora’s children has taken lasting harm from Korval. Have done and stand away.”

  Jen Dal del’Fordan smiled. “And I say,” he returned, voice, without doubt, pitched to carry far into the gardens, “that Korval has tainted Etgora’s honor. Everyone here has heard me. I will have satisfaction, sir!”

  Fool! Daav raged, forcing himself to breathe deeply. He bowed, deliberately, in the mode of Master to Novice, taking a savage satisfaction in the gasp from the crowd.

  “Call the House’s dueling master,” he said, and his voice was not-quite-steady. “I will satisfy you.”

  From tine corner of his eye, he saw the crowd waver and reform with Etgora and his mother in the first rank. His mother’s face was very calm.

  * * *

  THE CARD TABLES in the sunset Glade had been hastily removed to make room for the combatants. Clan Etgora’s dueling master bowed to Daav.

  “My Lord yos’Phelium. As the one challenged, you may choose the weapons of the duel. The House can provide pistols, swords, knives, or Turing forks from its own arsenal. If you wish a weapon we do not own, the House will acquire a matched set of the weapon of your choice, within reason. If it appears, in the judgement of the Master of the Duel, that your weapon has been chosen with an eye to indefinitely postponing this duel, you will be required to choose another weapon. Is this understood, sir?”

  “It is.” Daav closed his eyes, briefly considering edges and explosives, bludgeons, the perfectly tuned gun in his sleeve, but—no. Such weapons were insufficiently potent; they limited one to the infliction of mere physical damage. He required—he would have—a fuller Balance.

  Daav opened his eyes and pointed at the gaily colored balloons, strung on their strings at the edge of the glade.

  “There is my weapon of choice, sir. If the House is able, let a dozen of those be filled with water and let both my opponent and I choose three. Can this be done?”

  The dueling master bowed. “Indeed it can. And the distance?”

  “Twelve paces, I believe,” Daav said, counting the moves. “Yes, that will do.”

  “Very well,” said the dueling master and went away to give instructions.

  The balloons arrived in very short order and were placed, carefully, on the lawn. A murmur rose up from the crowd—and an outcry from Daav’s opponent.

  “What is this? Toys? Do you consider a challenge from Etgora a matter for mockery, sir? Dueling master! Take these insults away, sir, and bring us the matched set in the mahogany case!”

  The dueling master bowed. “The rules of the duel state clearly that weapons are the choice of the challenged, sir. Lord yos’Phelium has chosen balloons filled with water, at twelve paces. He is within both his rights and the bounds of the duel.”

  “I will not—” began Jen Dal, but it was Etgora who spoke up from the sidelines.

  “Do you know, my son, I think you will? Lord yos’Phelium has made his choice. Plainly, he is a man who stands by his decisions, no matter how foolish they may appear. I would counsel you to do the same.”

  “Lord yos’Phelium,” said the Master of Duel, “choose your weapons.”

  Daav stepped forward, knelt in the grass and picked up the first balloon. It was not quite as firm as he wished and he set it aside. The second pleased him a
nd he cradled that one in his arm. The third…

  “Will you hurt him?” Kesa asked from his side. He glanced at her, unsmiling.

  “I do not think these will hurt him, though that is always a danger, in a duel.”

  “But you will make him ridiculous,” said Kesa. “Jen Dal hates to be laughed at.”

  “Many people do,” Daav said, finding his third weapon in the seventh balloon. He tucked it neatly in the cradle of his left arm and rose to his feet. “Stand clear of the firing range, Lady Kesa. Of your kindness.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, throwing one of her disconcertingly direct looks at his face. Then she bowed, simply, as between equals, and walked sedately to her father’s side, in the first rank of spectators.

  Daav waited while his opponent randomly picked his weapons, then stomped to the center of the field, the balloons wriggling and threatening to leap from his ineptly crossed arms.

  The dueling master held his hands over his head.

  “The contestants will count off six paces each, turn and stand steady. First shot to the challenged. A hit is counted only on a strike to the body of one’s opponent. The affair is finished when each contestant has expended his ammunition. The win goes to the contestant who has taken the least hits, or to he who draws first blood. In case of tie, Lady yo’Lanna shall decide the victor.” He lowered his hands and stepped back.

  “Gentlemen, turn. Count off. One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Turn! Lord yos’Phelium, fire at will.”

  Deftly, Daav plucked a balloon from the cradle of his arm, gauged its flow, probable spin and mass—and threw.

  The balloon elongated, caught up with itself, tumbled once and hit Jen Dal’s tunic, dead center, with a satisfying splat. Someone in the crowd laughed, and quickly stopped.

  “This is a farce!” shouted Jen Dal.

  “It is a duel,” the master returned sternly. “Attend, if you please, sir. The shot is yours.”

  Jen Dal clumsily tipped his balloons onto his off-hand, snatched one free, holding it firmly—as it happened, a bit too firmly, for the sphere exploded, showering him with water.

  Ignoring the resulting curses, the dueling master looked to Daav, who sent his next balloon high into Jen Dal’s left shoulder.