Trader's Leap (Liaden Universe Book 23)

by Sharon Lee

  That was a blow, the more so because it was true.

  Tarona Rusk bowed.

  “Yes. Forgive me.”

  “And you were also tainted,” Kethi added. “Mistress, it was not your plan; it was never your heart.”

  “Yet, I did enslave you.”

  She swept her hand out over those gathered.

  “A question, if I may?”

  “Yes,” Kethi said, answering for all.

  “Are there any here who have none to care for, and who would consent to taking part in a further culling? There are those at the higher levels who may be truly evil; and others, who may require care.”

  There was a small hesitation before a man stood from the middle of the room.

  “I am willing,” he said.

  More rose, as if emboldened by his frankness, and at the final count, she had eight, which was more than she had hoped for.

  “Fel Pin will be in touch with you, and we will produce a proper plan,” she said then. “Please, hold yourselves ready.”

  They bowed, and she looked to Kethi vay’Elin.

  “I see that you have become the natural leader of the group,” she said, then. “I will not dispute you. I will assist as I am able, but I have my own proper business to tend, and I will not be thwarted there.”

  Kethi bowed.

  “I thank you, Mistress. May I suggest that we two meet within the next day to discuss your business and how you might assist us best. Now, we all have folk to tend to.”

  “Indeed, indeed.”

  She turned back to the gathering.

  “I thank you,” she said, her throat closing. “I thank you. Please, go where you are needed.”

  Dutiful Passage

  * * *

  Padi poured herself a cup of cold tea and returned to the desk, settling into the chair with a faint smile.

  Shan leaned back in his chair and considered her. She looked . . . well. The quick glance he allowed himself around the edge of his shields revealed a pattern vibrant, alert, and receptive. Sleep had done her well. Or perhaps there had been another influence.

  “How did you find Lady Selph?” he asked.

  “Everything that was polite,” Padi responded promptly. “She puts up with much, as you must know. She thinks you very clever to have called for the proper book. Also, she wishes to interview Mar Tyn pai’Fortana.”

  Shan blinked.

  “Does she?”

  “She was very clear, not to say adamant.”

  “It must of course be my first object to accommodate Lady Selph. I will see what I may do. I only hope that she doesn’t mean to attach him.”

  “I mean to cast no aspersions on the lady’s worth,” Padi said slowly, “but I . . . think that Mar Tyn pai’Fortana is . . . in love . . . with Healer ven’Deelin.”

  “Yes,” Shan said gently, “he is. Perhaps Lady Selph merely wishes to set up a flirtation, to distract him from his cares.”

  He turned to the screen, and called up the trade report she had compiled.

  Well, he thought, running his eye down the screen, they had doubtless received trade reports that had been more dire. He simply couldn’t at this moment recall when.

  “So, Trader,” he said, glancing over to her. “It appears that Pommierport neither needs nor desires our commerce.”

  “We hardly put ourselves forward,” Padi pointed out. “Had we held a reception, or even sent out cards and customized catalogs to the traders on-port . . . ”

  “No question, we did not display our best manners,” he murmured when she allowed her thought to drift off, eyes on some point visible only to herself.

  “Yes,” she answered, focusing on him again. “But I cannot recall the traders of any port which had allowed us to dock ignoring the free catalog.”

  “It may have happened before,” Shan replied, “but, if so, I confess the occasion has also escaped my memory.”

  “What could it mean?” Padi demanded. “Traders are forever curious about market and method. The catalogs provide a good deal of information for those who know how to look. It’s almost as if we were invisible to them!”

  Shan blinked at her.

  “Well now . . . ” he murmured.

  Padi’s eyes went wide.

  “What is it?”

  “A notion, only that. Tell me, Trader, by what method did you generate this report?”

  “Why, I . . . I logged into the account the port had assigned to us, and accessed the data directly from the trade database.”

  “Ah. And did you check the status of our listing?”

  “Of course I did,” she said, somewhat sharply. “It was listed as active.”

  “Forgive me,” he said gently. “What I mean to ask is if you looked at our account on the Open Trade Board, as if, for instance, you were a trader on-port browsing the new listings?”

  She stared.

  “No,” she said, after a moment. “No, sir; I did not.”

  “Nor did I. Let us do so together, shall we?”

  * * *

  The long and short of it was that there were no offerings from Master Trader Shan yos’Galan of Dutiful Passage on the Open Trade Board.

  “Which makes it scarcely surprising,” Shan said to Padi’s infuriated face, “that we had no takers for the catalogs.”

  “That is . . . they charged us for that listing!”

  “Of course they did,” he said, reaching for his glass. “They would hardly have been so foolish as to tip their hand by not charging us.”

  “They ought to be reported to the Guild,” Padi said coldly.

  Shan considered her with interest.

  “For what violation?” he asked.

  Padi glared at him.

  “They cheated!”

  “One can hardly dispute that,” he conceded, putting his glass aside. “But I wonder what you would hope to gain by reporting this small divertissement to the Guild. We did not, after all, come courting Pommierport. It was merely a reasonably convenient port which would take our disaffected crew. Trade was never our first purpose here.”

  A shadow crossed Padi’s face.

  “Do you think they cheated there, too?”

  “I think it unlikely, since mistreatment of personnel would quickly become known to the Guild, and would cost the port dear in fines, and possibly net them a temporary downgrade. They surely wouldn’t wish to risk so much.

  “However, given this other business, it would not be unreasonable for us to assure ourselves that our former crew members are safe and well treated. I will bring the matter before the captain, and request that she open a conversation on the topic with her contact on-port.

  “We will not,” he added firmly, as Padi seemed yet disposed to distress, “leave this planet without being certain that our former crew mates are safe, and in no danger of being harmed in any way.”

  She took a breath—a very deep breath—and he almost heard the focusing exercise she accessed hum in the air between them.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said, sounding very nearly calm.

  “You are welcome. It does you honor, that you thought of this.”

  She gave him a dour look.

  “I am in earnest,” he told her. “They left us, after all, and have no further call on our protection.”

  “They have past credit,” she said tartly. “We could not, in honor nor in conscience, leave them in peril.”

  “Quite right,” Shan said, inclining his head. “Allow a master a little pride, that his apprentice goes beyond what has been taught her.”

  “That,” Padi returned, sharp again, “is nonsense, if I may be allowed, Master Trader. A master teaches by example.”

  It was, he told himself, ridiculous to feel himself on the edge of tears.

  “I see that I am gaming out of my league,” he said lightly. “Now, Trader, attend me. There is a copy of the book you kindly brought to me yesterday awaiting you in the library. Pray go and claim it, and devote an hour to its study before
you present yourself to the cargo master. Your tutor in the dramliz arts will either be Lina or Priscilla, depending on who is available at the appropriate hour. If both are otherwise engaged, you will be forced to suffer me, which I am certain will be tedious in the extreme, so we will each of us have to hope for better.”

  “Has Healer ven’Deelin not improved?” asked Padi, giving the last ploy the attention it deserved.

  “My best information regarding the Healer is that she rests in the care of Keriana, who is, as you are aware, fierce in defense of her patients’ health. Once she is satisfied that Healer ven’Deelin is in no physical danger, she will permit Lina and Priscilla to attempt a Healing.

  “I have not yet heard that Keriana has ceded oversight of Healer ven’Deelin. Neither have I heard that the Healer’s physical state has declined. We must assume from this that progress is being made, if more slowly than we would like.”

  Padi nodded.

  “Keriana is careful, but the waiting is difficult for those of us who wish Healer ven’Deelin, and Mar Tyn pai’Fortana, well.” She moved her hands, showing empty palms. “Is there anything else, Master Trader?”

  “Not at present. If something occurs to me, be certain that I know where to find you.”

  She smiled, a trifle lopsided, and rose.

  “That’s well, then. I look forward to reading the book, and to discussing it with you.”

  “Let us plan on having that conversation on the morrow.”

  She bowed, and was gone, the door hissing shut behind her.

  Shan, with a sigh, turned to the screen—

  Pain trembled through him, panic edged his awareness: Someone was in distress—in very great distress—if he felt so much of it through his shields.

  It was instinct that he cast his shields wide, and stepped into Healspace.

  He saw it at once: the thread burning black against the pearlescent fog. One of the links that bound him to Tarona Rusk. The thread that she, herself, had tied when she had given him back his life.

  Another shudder of pain wracked Healspace; the panic a live thing now. He extended himself and touched the link, feeling it burn—and cool.

  Balance in all things, he thought, even as Healspace dissolved around him.

  He blinked, and sighed, and closed his shields. Carefully, he accessed a rejuvenating exercise; felt his flagging energy revive.

  Well, he thought—and tapped up his work screen.

  Mar Tyn had slept, risen, and showered. Very shortly thereafter, Tima, the security guard, arrived, bearing a tray filled with all kinds of breakfast foods, and an entire pot of tea.

  “My thanks,” he said to her.

  “The ship cares for its guests,” she answered, and he noted how nice the two of them were, not to mention that the timing of the tray’s arrival verified that he was monitored—a prisoner, not a guest.

  “I saw Keriana, our medic, as I was on my way to you. She reports that Healer ven’Deelin is improving; Keriana is satisfied with her progress, but admits that it’s not rapid. Some things, she said to me, cannot be rushed.”

  “Very true,” he answered. “If you have the opportunity, please convey my gratitude to Medic Keriana, for her care.”

  “I will.”

  Tima tipped her head slightly, considering him.

  “If you like it, I will bring you with me to the gym during my exercise period.”

  “That is kind,” he said sincerely. “A round of exercise would be welcome.”

  “That will be at sixth hour. When you’re done with the tray, just push that button and someone will come.”

  “My thanks,” he said again.

  She inclined her head.

  “I’ll leave you now to break your fast,” she said—and did so.

  “May I refill your glass, Priscilla?” Shan asked.

  “Thank you,” she said, and indulged herself by watching him cross the room.

  He returned, one eyebrow up, as if he had heard her appreciation, and put the refreshed glass by her hand. She smiled her thanks as he settled into the chair across from her.

  “I made a call to the Guild Intake Office,” she said, “and was assured by Specialist Hanssen that our former crew are being treated in strict accordance with the regs.”

  She gave him a droll look.

  “Compliments were exchanged, and we parted as very good friends. I then found where Hepster si’Neest was located, and contacted her. She has no complaints.”

  Shan blinked.

  “Is she well?”

  “I believe so. Shall I inquire further?”

  “No, I think that the quality of the assurances we have received may be allowed to put our fears to rest,” he said. “I hope Padi will see it in the same light, but really—Hepster si’Neest must carry all before her.”

  “As when has she not?” Priscilla murmured, and heard him chuckle.

  “Indeed.” He moved a hand.

  “What news of Dyoli ven’Deelin?”

  “Keriana will be doing an examination this morning. If Healer ven’Deelin is found to be stable enough, Lina and I will attempt a Healing.”

  “Thank you,” Shan said. “I am to take Lady Selph to meet Mar Tyn pai’Fortana in a few minutes, and he will be wanting news, poor—”

  The comm on Priscilla’s desk chimed.

  “Yes?”

  “Priscilla,” Lina said briskly. “Keriana has given us leave to scan Dyoli ven’Deelin and to attempt a Healing. I think we ought both to be present for this, to back each other up. What time is convenient for you?”

  “I can come immediately,” Priscilla answered.

  “I was hoping that might be the case,” Lina said. “Immediately, it is.”

  The connection closed, and Priscilla rose, sending Shan a grin.

  “No rest for the wicked,” she said.

  He considered her with interest.

  “Are you wicked, Priscilla?”

  “It must be a matter of interpretation, mustn’t it? Especially for a vessel of a goddess?”

  He sighed.

  “The trouble with gods is that they force one to engage with philosophy. Surely the vessel is distinct from the goddess?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll argue that one over dinner, my dear. I did tell Lina immediately.”

  “So you did. Until dinner, Priscilla.”

  “Until dinner.”

  The tea had been very good, and every dish he had tasted. He ate his fill, slowly, putting his whole attention on the meal.

  When he was through, he looked wistfully at what remained, thinking what might fit into his pockets—which was a Lowporter’s instinct, certain enough. Extra today was a hedge against want, tomorrow.

  Well, he was not in Low Port now. He touched the button, and politely thanked the man who came to take the tray away.

  When he was alone again, Mar Tyn retracted the table, set the chair straight with the walls, and made certain that no crumbs or other untidiness had been introduced into the room.

  That done, matters became more difficult. Abruptly, he sat on the edge of his bunk, eyes closed and hands fisted on his knees, fighting the urge to push at his talent, to attempt to reach out to Dyoli along the link she had made for them, to—

  He must, he told himself firmly, be patient. Above all else, he must not attempt to wield his gift—that way lay sorrow, as well he knew.

  Need crashed through him, rocking his resolve. He grit his teeth until it receded, leaving him shaken, but firm.

  He might access a meditation, he thought. This turmoil of emotion—it sapped his strength and his focus, just when he must be ready and able for Dyoli, when she came to herself and needed him.

  He closed his eyes and managed a few deep breaths, and then a few more, putting his attention on a slow count to one hundred forty-four.

  He took another deep breath, and opened his eyes. The desperate desire to force his talent was more bearable now. What he needed was—a diversion.
He turned to the screen—a book, he thought, grimly. He would read, and be seemly. He would not—

  The door chime sounded, followed by a clear, pleasant voice.

  “Master pai’Fortana, it is Shan yos’Galan, come to you again. I have with me someone who very much wishes to make your acquaintance, if you will allow it.”

  Mar Tyn sighed lightly, for here, surely, was his own small luck in action. A diversion indeed.

  “I am always glad of new acquaintance, Master Trader,” he said, rising to face the door. “Please enter.”

  * * *

  The master trader entered as he had been bade, looking much as he had previously, saving the addition of a filigreed box which he carried by a handle on the top.

  Mar Tyn stepped forward, extending the table and locking it into position.

  “Here,” he said, and stepped back to allow the other man room.

  He noted as he moved that the master trader, despite his statement to the contrary, appeared to have no companion with him beyond—

  He stared at the box now safely disposed on the table with a little shudder of foreknowing.

  “Indeed,” the yos’Galan said sympathetically. “But I don’t think she means to harm you, Master pai’Fortana. Merely, she wishes to make your acquaintance.”

  Mar Tyn glanced up at him.

  “It is a norbear?” he asked, and continued without waiting for verification. “I had heard they were . . . chancy.”

  “As are we all—and they rarely mean harm. However, as both you and I are aware, intentions are not always proof against reality.”

  He pressed his thumb against the plate at the top of the box.

  “For instance, while she surely would not intend to cause a ship-wide panic, I could not be certain that she would be able to resist going exploring on her own if I had merely carried her to you on my shoulder, as she insisted was consistent with her dignity.

  “Sadly, it was necessary that we both suffer the indignity of a cage, for what is the discomfort of a few when weighed against the comfort of many?”

  He snapped two latches, one on each side of the cage’s front panel, and eased the leading edge down to the tabletop.

  “I fear she may be a little out of temper. I trust that she is old enough and wise enough to recognize that I am the villain of the piece and that you are blameless.”