Trader's Leap (Liaden Universe Book 23)

by Sharon Lee

  “I had no choice,” Dyoli was saying now, speaking, as he had, for the shadows. “If there was the least possibility that I would survive that . . . blow, your talent would bend it to our benefit. If I kept you alive, the odds were that we both would live. Care only for myself, and we both died.”

  She moved her shoulders.

  “Or so I reasoned. It was a risky throw, Mar Tyn; well I know it. But one uses the dice in-hand.”

  “And it came out well, you’ll tell me.”

  “Well?” she answered, saucy. “Did it not?”

  He sighed.

  “Your point,” he acknowledged. “We are not dead, we stand together in good health and”—he moved his hand, showing her the table—“there is food. Perhaps you should have some tea, and a cookie—to please the medic.”

  “Because my first purpose must be to please the medic,” she said crossly, but she did go to the table and allowed him to seat her.

  * * *

  “Now,” he said, after she had been persuaded to eat two cookies and drink a cup of tea. “What’s to do?”

  “Very much is to do, my Mar Tyn. The Larger Plan under which we labored while in the Mistress’s care bore fruit—Korval was cast out from Liad, their honor impugned.”

  “We had heard whispers of that, here and there, recall it?”

  “Barely—what were whispers to us then? Now—now this becomes important, for Korval must have me off this ship quickly, with all propriety and honor, so as not to earn Ixin’s frown.”

  She paused. Mar Tyn poured more tea into her cup.

  “Where do they propose to put us off?” he asked, as if it were of no great importance, which, on the one hand, it was not, but—

  “Our next port is Volmer,” she said, watching him.

  He moved his shoulders, the name of the largest hub in Clarion Trade Space meaning precisely nothing to him. But, there, Mar Tyn was not a trader.

  “Volmer is a hub. It is advantageously situated in a busy sector, and along half-a-dozen well-established trade routes. It is said that all ships stop at Volmer—and that is closer to being true than most such maxims are. Ixin stops there, and Ixin’s allies. Korval stops there, and Korval’s allies. The Carresens stop there, and others of the Terran syndicates. The odds are—very much in favor of there being a ship at Volmer which will be pleased to succor me, and win the Rabbit’s smile.”

  Mar Tyn sipped his tea, watching her.

  “They will take you back to Liad, these allies?” he asked.

  “Or to a port where they may meet an Ixin ship.”

  Dyoli was looking harassed. Mar Tyn considered pressing another cookie upon her, but decided that would only add to her stress. So far, he was hearing only good news. Dyoli would be returned to her clan, which would hold her safe and care for her. What more might a Luck in love ask for?

  Across from him, Dyoli sighed.

  “You don’t ask where you come into this plan of Korval’s,” she noted.

  “There’s no need to plan for me,” Mar Tyn said. “We claim partners. Korval will assume I go with you.” He smiled at her. “And so I will, to a point. From what I hear you say, Volmer will suit me well.”

  She glared at him.

  “You would remain at Volmer?”

  “I believe I won’t be given a choice, once we meet an ally of your House,” he murmured. “I can provide no lineage, nor do I have skills that might make me acceptable as crew.”

  “I will insist that you are boarded with me,” Dyoli said, stubborn.

  Mar Tyn sighed to himself.

  He had known that it would come to this, in those moments when he had been able to think of a life beyond the Mistress’s care.

  “And then? When we arrive on Liad, will you take me to the door of your clanhouse—the front door, Dyoli? How will your delm deal with that?”

  It was harsh; he was not accustomed to taking that tone with her. She had depended on him, and he on her—and they had survived. Together. Now, it was time to part.

  Truly, he had not thought to live long enough to arrive at this necessity, to be the one to force their parting.

  “I would prefer,” he said now, and softly, “not to return to Low Port. Volmer will suit me well enough.”

  Dyoli’s lips were pale, but she met his eyes firmly.

  “Our talents,” she said. “Together, we are unique.”

  Mar Tyn looked aside.

  This was worse than he had ever imagined. He was not a cruel man, despite having had ample opportunity to become one. And it was Dyoli, whom he would never willingly hurt.

  Except to save her life.

  He raised his eyes again and met hers.

  “Will you tell your delm then—and the Healers—about your other talent?”

  “For you,” she said, “I will make the trade, and together we will transform Low Port.”

  He spared a thought for those monitoring this conversation, and shrugged. This was no plot against the ship, and he might find an ally in the yos’Galan, if these matters they told over were made known to him.

  “Dyoli,” he said urgently. “I cannot see you in Low Port.” He did not make the mistake of thinking that she could not survive Low Port. He had seen what Dyoli ven’Deelin could survive.

  “No,” she said, quite firmly. “Nor will you see me there. We are not going to Liad.”

  There was that look on her face—that particular look. Mar Tyn slid his hand toward the center of the table, palm up, fingers gently curled.

  “Tell me, then—where will we go?”

  Dyoli put her hand in his, and he felt the crackle of connection along the strange pathways from which his luck operated. They were joined, and operating on reality in a way he tried not to think about too closely.

  “We are going to Civilization,” Dyoli said her voice ringing with certainty. “We are needed, and we can teach much.”

  “Civilization,” Mar Tyn repeated. “And how will we arrive there?”

  “This ship. This ship will take us.”

  “Will it? And what will convince the yos’Galan and the captain?”

  Dyoli smiled, her face flushed.

  “An Ixin ship will come into Volmer,” she said. “Master Trader yos’Galan will send us to them.”

  Her eyes closed, and Mar Tyn felt the connection snap. Across the table, Dyoli sagged in her chair, but he was already out of his, kneeling, catching her as she slipped toward the floor, easing them both down and holding her in his arms.

  She was asleep, her head on his shoulder, and he recalled what the yos’Galan had told him, that she had overspent her strength, and that he would need to be vigilant on her behalf.

  Well.

  He should, he thought, call out to their auditors, but it was a comfort to hold her, and he sensed nothing wrong aside from a profound weariness. He would hold her a moment more before he called, and take his comfort.

  And trust that whatever they had done between them had been done well, and would cause no harm.

  Volmer

  * * *

  I

  They walked, the three of them having agreed that it would be pleasant to stretch one’s legs and to see what there was to see, which, on Volmer, was usually a great deal more than one could properly encompass in even three strolls from dock to Trade Bar.

  This was not Padi’s first time on Volmer, of course; one could scarcely trade without stopping at Volmer, even if only briefly. It was a hub, and more than that, it was used by some ships as a recreation stop, others for resupply, still others as a wayport. The trade at Volmer—there was that, just as there were ships that supplied her—but that was not, so Padi had always felt, the point of Volmer.

  The plan for the day was that Trader Padi yos’Galan would accompany her master trader to the Trade Bar and be made known to Trader Janifer Carresens-Denobli. After introductions, Padi would take to the trading zones, with Karna as security, while Master Trader yos’Galan and Trader Carresens-Denobli sat togeth
er and discussed . . . whatever it was that they would discuss.

  Padi and the master trader had talked at length regarding the goods they might add to the inventory, with The Redlands in their eye. They had done their research, made lists, compared them, made new lists. The venture was exploratory, but there was no reason not to show courtesy and forethought.

  While Padi was eager to be out and trading, she regretted that she would not be attending the meeting. To be privileged to sit at the table and listen to the discussions between Korval’s master trader, and a senior trader from one of the oldest and most successful Terran Syndicates—that would be beyond price. Who knew what she might learn?

  On the other hand, to be wholly in charge of the trade side while the master trader was in negotiations? That spoke of a trust in her abilities and trade-sense that could only gratify.

  Perhaps the garnet was not so distant, after all.

  “Here we are, my children,” the master trader announced. “Arrived in good time, with merry hearts! Let us find what delights await us.”

  He swept through the doors into the main floor, Padi on his right, Karna on his left and one step behind, her head moving alertly.

  Despite the fullness of the room, the master trader appeared to be neither tallying the number of occupants, nor keeping a particular eye out for familiar faces or favored colleagues.

  Indeed, he strode forward, deliberately visible, more so even than a master trader’s usual entrance onto what amounted to his floor. It was as if Thodelm yos’Galan had arrived, Padi thought—and corrected herself immediately.

  No. It was as if Thodelm yos’Galan and Master Trader yos’Galan had arrived at one and the same time. And together, they drew every eye. There could be no doubt that everyone in the Trade Bar was made aware of his arrival. Nor any doubt, but that he wished this to be the case.

  Padi put her chin up and followed, making her own effort to be visible, though certainly she could not hope to eclipse the master.

  They arrived at the counter. The master trader placed his finger on the bell. Padi glanced up at the board, seeing the names of ships she knew as well as those that she did not, and—there! There was the particular ship she had been hoping to find.

  Nubella Run out of Tradedesk.

  Senior Trader Janifer Carresens-Denobli’s ship. Padi sighed quietly. It had been her secretly held concern the proposed meeting would be revealed as another strike against the Passage, but no. The meeting had been made in good faith.

  She sighed again, gently, just as the barkeep arrived in response to the bell.

  “Service, Trader?”

  Master Trader yos’Galan beamed at her.

  “Good-day to you. I am Shan yos’Galan, master trader on Dutiful Passage. I believe you are holding a meeting room key for me.”

  The nearby hubbub died, and Padi saw heads turn in their direction. Karna noticed, too, and gave the impression that she had straightened to a new height. Vanner, who had frequently been their on-port security, had done the same thing when he felt interest focused on his charges—a subtle reminder that there was security present, active, aware, and ready to answer any threat that was proposed.

  Amazingly, the tactic usually served to divert interest—as it did now.

  Curious faces turned away, voices took up their interrupted conversations, and the barkeeper spoke.

  “Yes, Master Trader. Here is your key.” She produced an iridescent metal card, and placed it in the transfer tray. “Shall you wish a guide?”

  The master trader took the key in hand, glanced at it and bestowed a smile upon the barkeep.

  “Thank you, but no. I am familiar with the facility.”

  “Very well, then, sir. On each floor, spin-side, there is an infobooth, in case need should arise.”

  “Thank you,” the master trader said again, and turned from the counter. “Trader yos’Galan,” he said. “With me, please.”

  “Sir,” she murmured.

  Together, they passed down the quiet room, Karna at their backs, Padi feeling the weight of speculative stares.

  * * *

  The lift stopped at the seventh floor, and the door opened briskly. Karna stepped into the hallway first. Over her shoulder, Padi saw the door of the lift opposite open. Two dark-haired traders in pale blue uniforms stepped into the hall, and paused, the elder, standing slightly to the fore, tipped his head gently to one side.

  The master trader strode off the lift, stepping past Karna to the elder trader, sweeping out a big hand in a gesture that was, Padi thought, a sort of bow.

  “They arrived together from their separate starts, and the hour-song had yet to die,” he announced.

  The trader laughed, and flung his hand out in precisely the same gesture.

  “You know it! But what else! A good omen, yes? In poetry or in life-time.”

  “A good omen, indeed,” the master trader said, with his true-smile. “Trader Denobli. Good-day to you.”

  “And to you, Master Trader yos’Galan. A fortunate meeting, though we should, I think, have met before. I see you have our key in hand. Please, admit—ah, but no, my wits! First, you must allow me the pleasure—here I bring to your attention my ’prentice, Vanz Carresens-Denobli, soon to wear the garnet!”

  “I am gratified,” the master trader said, and ’prentice Vanz did very well with a bow in the Liaden style, perfectly recognizable as honor to the master.

  “Master Trader yos’Galan, I am honored,” he said, face and voice displaying sincerity.

  “Trader Carresens-Denobli, well met,” the master trader said affably. “Good fortune to you in your pursuit of the garnet.”

  He moved a big hand, sweeping Padi forward with the sheer force of his personality.

  “Allow me to enjoy presenting to you my ’prentice Padi yos’Galan, also soon to wear the garnet.”

  Padi bowed to the elder trader in the Terran style, fingers fluttering well met in the oldest dialect of Old Trade. “Trader Denobli, I have heard stories.”

  A shout of laughter greeted this.

  “So, so. And we traders, we know what to make of stories! Hah! I am honored, Trader yos’Galan.”

  He paused and tipped his head once more.

  Father moved a gentle hand.

  “I bring Karna Tivit to your attention, Trader. She stands an honored member of our ship’s security team and will be accompanying Trader yos’Galan on her tour of the markets.”

  “Ah, prudence,” said Trader Denobli, his face regretful—and in the next moment bright with animated good will.

  “But wait! Do I hear that Trader yos’Galan will be enjoying Volmer’s markets?”

  “You do hear it,” the master trader said solemnly.

  “Then I must ask of Trader yos’Galan a boon. Perhaps she will not mind so very much to have another trader with her? For this is a splendid notion you have, Master Trader! Why should business wait upon us, when we are both assisted by very able traders who are each soon to wear the garnet! Let them walk the markets together and see to the necessary! It would be a fine thing, and generate happiness all around.”

  “I would be pleased to tour the markets with Trader Vanz,” Padi said, giving him a smile, which he returned.

  “I would welcome the opportunity,” Trader Vanz said. “We can learn from each other.”

  “So! Master Trader yos’Galan, what say you?”

  Master Trader yos’Galan inclined his head.

  “I say that I wish the traders success in the markets.”

  “It is done, then!”

  Trader Denobli turned to his ’prentice.

  “You know everything that I know,” he said with a weighty seriousness that Padi would have found suspicious in Father on such an occasion. “You know where we are bound; you know our inventory. You need no instruction from me. Go, Trader. Do well for the ship.”

  “Sir.”

  Trader Vanz faced Padi in turn, bowing very slightly, and gestured for her to proceed him.
>
  “Trader.”

  “Certainly,” said Padi, and moved to the lifts, Trader Vanz at her side, and Karna behind them. Padi pressed the button, the door opened, and the three of them entered.

  The lift door closed.

  “Now,” said Trader Denobli, with an outright grin, “the key, Master Trader. Ply it well!”

  The room lights came on as they crossed the threshold. Shan put the key on the shelf by the door, and turned to survey the room. Trader Denobli walked toward the table, round in the traditional manner, then turned on his heel.

  “Well, Master Trader, what do you think?” he asked.

  “I think,” Shan said with feeling, “that you are beyond me, Trader Denobli.”

  Black eyebrows rose in an expression of faint disbelief.

  “This comes from the trader who sent me Theo Waitley, and her so very interesting ship?”

  “Ah.” Shan moved farther into the room, watching the other man’s face. “The ship—I had not been . . . certain about the ship, you understand.”

  Janifer Carresens-Denobli raised both hands chest-high, showing his empty palms.

  “It happens that I understand this well. The ship—we have no claim on the ship, though long-ago captains were invested. In the hour of murder and treachery—if the ship had come to us, gladly we would have extended the protection of family. That was not the choice made. We honor the choice made by an individual acting to preserve their life.”

  “Which brings me to the subject of news,” Shan said, approaching the table. “You are aware of the field judgment rendered by Scout Commander yos’Phelium, on behalf of the Independent Logics?”

  Denobli smiled gently.

  “Indeed, indeed. The Scout Commander’s field judgment was the cause of much celebration in our family, and continues to make us all very happy. Our own Disian, of which there is nothing better in all the worlds, I am given to know, than to stand as Disian’s own captain, she is in a state of optimism. The family, we are more conservative, and we ask her to be happy—but to wait. She has, perhaps, agreed to this.”