Trader's Leap (Liaden Universe Book 23)

by Sharon Lee

  Again, he bowed, and this time, when he straightened to his full meager height, he met Priscilla’s eyes squarely.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Priscilla inclined her head.

  “Very well. Take us to your partner.”

  IV

  Let it be known: Shan would have rather been on Pommierport, even if he had no intention of trading. Ports were all of them unique, and who knew what small thing, chance-seen at this port, might spark a thought at some other, or influence a matter of trade.

  However, it had been the opinion of no one less than the ship’s medic that he could tolerate a little more rest, just to be certain that there were no relapses. Keriana took a dim view, indeed, of relapses.

  So, Shan was—not resting. Not exactly. But he was sitting quietly at his desk, doing research and running sims and in general not striding about in the dirt, the heat, and the gravity, portside.

  He had some time ago put out discreet inquiries on Lomar Fasholt, who had vanished from all of her usual ports and places about the time that Korval had quit Liad for their new homeworld of Surebleak.

  A few more answers to his questions had arrived in his mail queue, all of them unsatisfactory in the extreme, just as the others had been. He was beginning to believe that Lomar, far from not wanting to be found, no longer existed to be found.

  Sighing, he filed the unsatisfactory correspondence, rose, and walked over to the wine table. He poured a cup of cold water and stood sipping it, staring at nothing in particular.

  From the desk came a sharp ping. Incoming mail that was—he stirred himself and turned. Incoming pinbeam.

  He reached the desk in three long strides, leaned over to touch the screen and stared, breath-caught.

  There was a letter in-queue from Janifer Carresens-Denobli.

  I offer good greetings and fair profit to Shan yos’Galan.

  I have your latest message in hand and I thank you for your observations of conditions at Millsap. I tell you frankly that Millsap has been a concern. The essence of Dust is change, as we who study the Envidaria are made aware. Millsapport rejects this in regard to itself. Its location does not allow it the comfort of fantasy, as you have noted. Work goes forth with the administrators of Millsapport. I tell you this because you have noticed what they will not, and I am grateful to you for this report of conditions made with a third eye, as we say it. With your permission, I will include your observations in our next discussions with the administrators.

  In coincidence, I discovered your letter to me as I opened my desk to write to you. I am sad, that my topic cannot be so succinct of solving as yours. In truth, I think we must meet. There is much, of a sudden, for us to discuss, and that quickly. I see by the map that we are not too far distant, as the Jumps tend. I offer an immediate meeting at Eeshaybazi or Volmer, that choice falling to you.

  My hope is to find a return letter in my lists when next I open my desk. My further hope is that we two will very soon sit across from each other and speak with great frankness, for the good of the trade.

  I remain Janifer Carresens-Denobli.

  Shan read the letter twice. He got up, poured a cup of cold tea, and returned with it to the desk.

  He read the letter a third time.

  Then, he reached to the screen to pull up a star map and the current ship’s schedule.

  He split the screen, opened the coord book with the flick of a finger, snapped open a calculation space, and began to frame piloting equations.

  Eventually, he leaned back in his chair to take brief counsel of the ceiling, which was pleased to introduce no second thoughts.

  That understood, he bent again to his screen.

  The first letter was to Denobli, very brief, naming his choice of meeting place and expected arrival window. He sent that into the pinbeam queue, marked soonest.

  The second was a course change memo sent to the attention of the captain, reflecting the master trader’s necessity to be at Volmer. Soon.

  Off-Grid

  * * *

  While Tekelia had been sent to the Haosa by a family that valued talent in all its forms, the overwhelming preference of the Civilized was to keep their defective children with them, their talents sequestered, and their memories erased.

  It was therefore twice surprising to receive a message—from no one less than the Warden!—stating that two Wild Talents, siblings, would be arriving at Peck’s Market via the supplies caravan. The Warden’s personal interest extended so far as to solicit the kindness of the Speaker for the Haosa on behalf of the young people, who were provided with names.

  Vaiza and Torin xinRood.

  That, at least, explained Bentamin’s interest. xinRood as a family was prone to disaster, the most prominent being their association with kezlBlythe. In fact, it could be said with some accuracy that kezlBlythe was the disaster from which all others sprang.

  Vaiza and Torin were twins, quite young, and so, one would imagine, apt to fall quite easily into mortal peril. That they had not done so might be read as kezlBlythe retaining some seed of decency.

  However, Tekelia thought, considering Bentamin’s laconic bit of correspondence, it might also be an indication that all of kezlBlythe’s scheming could not undo a pair of fraternal twins who were barely past their eighth Name Days. Which fell somewhere between interesting and—terrifying.

  If the twins were Wild Talents—merely Wild Talents—then the kezlBlythe had potentially made a costly error.

  If they were not Wild Talents, then this banishment Off-Grid was the kezlBlythe move against their lives. Off-Grid was no place for Civilized children, who would certainly succumb quickly to the rarification of the atmosphere, as the ancestors had so charmingly had it.

  And there was the Warden’s personal interest explained. Tekelia was to determine the style and condition of these children, and report back. If they were Civilized, the Warden had something he had long yearned to find: cause to break kezlBlythe.

  If the children were Wild Talents—well. Best to do things in order.

  Which was why Tekelia was at Peck’s Market at a time so early the mist still clung to the treetops that marked the boundary of the Off-Grid, in company with Maradel arnFaelir, their medic; Tanin karPelin, the baker; Arbour poginGeist, the village administrator; and Geritsi slentAlin and Dosent, who together could calm, gladden, and reassure any number of frightened children simply by their presence.

  While they scarcely expected even the kezlBlythe to send children into the wilderness naked and starving, it was felt best not to take chances.

  Tanin, therefore, carried a basket filled with all manner of sweet and savory foodstuffs, as well as bottles of hot tea, while Maradel had her full medkit slung on her back. Arbour and Geritsi carried warm clothes and boots in their backpacks, while Tekelia and Dosent walked a little ahead of the group, casting for trouble and projecting warn-aways.

  They were barely arrived at Peck’s receiving yard when a caravan came puffing up the hill and pulled up to the dock. Arbour and Maradel went to the passenger door, and after a moment, one of the caravan crew came ’round with the key.

  By her easygoing smile and lack of either deference or alarm at the sight of them, she was Deaf, which was no surprise. Most of the caravan crews were.

  “Hated to have to lock them in,” she said to Arbour, as she put the device against the plate and tapped it. “Just wee little ones, they are. They have their pet, but I imagine still it was a long ride, with no windows to see from. Gave them the blanket from the cockpit, since they had none of their own. All else is theirs—and not much of it, too.”

  “Thank you,” Arbour said, smiling, “for your care. We brought warm things in case they were under-wrapped.”

  “That’ll do, then,” the crew woman said with satisfaction, and cast a look around. “They’re only little bits,” she said, as the key muttered to itself. “You got far to walk?”

  “We can carry them, if needed,” Maradel said. “Or they might
like to ride the sokyum; she’s quite gentle.”

  The key pinged, and the crew woman pulled the door wide, revealing two tiny people dressed in what looked to be tunics, a well-used blue blanket over their knees. There was a wide strap across the boy’s chest—perhaps he had a bag.

  “Here we are, now,” said the crew woman. “Were you bored?”

  “Eet told us stories,” said the one nearest the door. She bundled the cover together in her arms and handed it down. “Thank you; it was very warm.”

  “Glad to be of use,” the crew woman said, receiving the bundle and tucking it under one arm. She stepped back, urging Arbour forward with a jerk of her chin.

  “Here’s your friends come to take you to your new home. This gentle here has some warm clothes for you, so you see they mean to take proper care of you.”

  “Yes, Essy,” said the boy-child. “Thank you very much for your care.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, and might have said more, except a shout went up: “Essy! On the dock!” and instead she jerked her head down in a sort of general farewell to all, and ran for the back of the truck.

  Arbour stepped forward and held up a hand.

  “I am Arbour poginGeist, administrator of Ribbon Dance Village, your new home. I welcome you in the name of the village. May I know your names?”

  Two pairs of wary blue eyes considered her, before the girl placed her palm against her chest.

  “I am Torin xinRood, and this is my brother Vaiza.”

  “Welcome, Torin and Vaiza. Where is Eet?”

  There was a moment of frozen silence, then Vaiza shifted. It was a bag on the strap, and he reached inside, bringing forth a furry, grey-striped creature. Tekelia looked sharp, and the creature resolved into a norbear, smaller than those that populated the woods and glades of Off-Grid, but immediately recognizable.

  Arbour inclined her head gravely.

  “Ribbon Dance Village also welcomes Eet.”

  Relief showed briefly on both faces, and Eet climbed back into the boy’s bag.

  Arbour held her arms up.

  “May I help you alight?”

  “Thank you,” said Torin, catching the offered support and sliding to the ground. Her shoes were shiny and thin, Tekelia noted, not suitable even for the relatively short walk back to the village. Geritsi’s Sight had not led her astray in the matter of boots. And there was, after all, Dosent, if she was feeling agreeable, and the children not too alarmed.

  Maradel stepped forward and offered a dismount to Vaiza, who accepted the assistance, and kept a grip on her arm, even when he was firm on his feet.

  “Come under the pavilion,” Arbour said, keeping a firm grip on Torin. “We’ll have a picnic and get to know each other.”

  “The Haosa,” Maradel added, “do all our important business over food.”

  Vaiza actually grinned, blue eyes sparkling.

  “I think I’ll like being Haosa,” he said.

  The children had been both hungry and wary, which did not escape Tekelia’s attention, and made Geritsi positively growl. However, they were sated for the moment, having each consumed one of Tanin’s small and savory meat pies, two mugs of hot tea, and a cookie.

  The caravan had driven off while they were eating, and it was for the moment quiet under the pavilion near the boundary trees.

  Gauging the moment with her usual nicety, Arbour announced that they ought to see the twins dressed for conditions. Tekelia obligingly produced three opaque walls across the pavilion, so that modesty could be served, and the breeze somewhat blocked.

  Tanin and Geritsi had taken Dosent for a stroll under the trees.

  Arbour and Maradel accompanied the children into their dressing area, bags of boots and clothing in hand, leaving Tekelia alone to guard the remains of the picnic and consider the present situation.

  Tekelia had Seen the medic examining Torin and Vaiza while they ate, apparently finding, as Tekelia did, two underfed, but basically sound children, who had been taught distrust too young—which could only be acknowledged a survival trait, given the presence of kezlBlythe in their lives.

  That they were talents was obvious—whether they were Wild Talents had yet to be determined. Tekelia’s preference was split on the point—if they were, in fact, Wild, then the Haosa would keep them as theirs by right. Which might very well open the Haosa to any future malice the kezlBlythe might hatch. If the twins were Civilized, then they fell into the very capable care of Cousin Bentamin, who, as Warden, could call upon all the resources of Civilization, and might thereby crush the kezlBlythe as they so richly deserved.

  It was, now that Tekelia thought on it, a little chilling to suppose that the kezlBlythe had already done these sums and concluded that they might more easily have their way with the Haosa.

  Which led to the next disturbing question:

  What could the kezlBlythe want that the Haosa had?

  A subtle movement brought Tekelia out of thought, to look at the table where Eet the norbear sat quite near, holding a piece of pie crust in one small hand.

  Tekelia touched the ambient and established a rapprochement. The norbear considered it with interest, and took a bite of his crust.

  “Young Eet,” Tekelia said slowly, “I wonder if you might assist me.”

  An answer rippled the conduit between them, as if the norbear had lifted a noncommittal shoulder.

  “No, I quite see how it must be,” Tekelia assured him. “Your first duty is to the children. Indeed, I’ll lay odds you’re the reason they have thus far survived the tender regard of their cousins.”

  That earned a sharpening of the creature’s regard. Tekelia, seated, bowed.

  “They are safe with me, fire eater. But, here, where are my manners? I offer you thread for your web.”

  The signature of the old norbear tutor came easily to mind; it scarcely required an effort to place it into their shared consciousness.

  Eet considered the signature with some interest, and accepted it without acknowledging acquaintance. He then placed a reciprocal offering into the conduit, as was only polite.

  “Zandir kezlBlythe, I thank you. It is pleasant that we have an acquaintance in common, though I might wish it to be a more pleasant acquaintance.”

  Eet acknowledged this sally with a chuckle that rippled brightly along their connection, and offered another face, this one tasting like a query.

  Tekelia considered carefully the dark-haired woman with the sparkling blue eyes. There was something familiar—yes, of course. The similarity to Torin and Vaiza—especially to Torin—was striking.

  “I have not had the pleasure,” Tekelia said gently.

  Sadness flowed between them, and Tekelia gave the norbear a moment before producing another signature.

  This was not the usual sort of signature, but rather the thread that had repeated in the signatures of all the Reavers who had been read by the Haosa. It was possible that it was too esoteric for present company, who might not recognize the truncated thing as a signature at all. Norbears in general did much better with faces than with—

  Eet squeaked, dropping what was left of his crust, and sending a strong sense of negation through the ambient between them.

  “My pardon,” Tekelia said earnestly, “it was not my intention to distress you. Truly, I am pleased that we do not share this acquaintance. But, given the kezlBlythe . . . ”

  Comfortable understanding flowed across the conduit, the norbear equivalent of a pat on the hand.

  “Thank you,” Tekelia said, hearing Geritsi’s voice coming closer. “One more, if you will indulge me.”

  The image of the old norbear’s student filled the conduit, her signature, and her marvelous shields.

  There came another squeak, though of different quality than the first, expressing wonder more than disgust. Eet muttered softly to himself and then, slowly, an image took shape, and Tekelia was looking at a strong-faced woman, dark brows and high cheeks, with the glitter of well-built shielding a
round her, and another glitter on one long, wiry hand—a ring of many jewels that might perhaps have been found gaudy on a person of less presence.

  Tekelia bowed again.

  “Interesting. She is very like. Thank you.”

  The norbear allowed it to be learned that he would welcome another session when they both had leisure, then turned toward the children’s dressing room, ears pricked as the walls flowed away again into the ambient, and the twins stepped toward the table, looking much more the thing in warm, flat-woven sweaters, tough canvas trousers, and good boots.

  “Well, then,” said Tekelia standing up and away from the table as they approached. “That’s more the style.”

  “Now you look like proper Haosa!” Geritsi added, coming ’round Tekelia’s right side, with Dosent pacing at her knee.

  “We have time to eat something more, to keep us on the walk,” Tanin added, circling wide toward the table.

  Torin smiled—somewhat less tightly than previously, and Tekelia saw a gleam of actual pleasure in her eyes as she found the norbear sitting in the center of the table, among the ruins from their previous snack.

  “I don’t think pie is good for you,” she said, and Tanin laughed.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a norbear eat anything that didn’t make it rounder and sassier,” he said. “I’ve got a bit of fruit here, though, which might be welcome?”

  He and Tanin and the unrepentant Eet turned toward the basket; Maradel and Arbour were walking lazily toward the table—

  And Vaiza flung himself directly at Tekelia, arms wide and eyes blazing.

  Tekelia blinked a pillow into existence between them. A very soft pillow, though it would still be seen as rejection by—the rush of emotion was searingly obvious at this proximity—a lonely and affection-starved child.

  “Hey, there!”

  Geritsi swooped down and close, just brushing the pillow with her elbow, scooping Vaiza into her arms. She pressed her cheek against his hair, rumpling it, and braced him against her hip.