by Sharon Lee
He walked away toward the refreshment table and the elder lady laughed softly.
“Well, that’s fortunate,” she said, low-voiced. “He’s perfectly capable of ’porting an entire tray full of cakes from there to here, and holding them for an hour or so. I could see him considering the possibility, though he finally decided to be seemly. Quickly now, my dear, tell me how I may assist you.”
Priscilla felt Moonhawk grow heavier on her soul.
“Assist me?” she said, trying to strengthen her inner defenses.
“There is no time to be coy!” the elder lady snapped. “Bentamin will be back in a moment. Let us be plain. I am the Oracle, and you are the Great One who is in need.”
Priscilla drew a breath even as a whirlwind of energy swirled her away to a distant part of herself, and she heard Moonhawk’s voice.
“I seek the Hill, Oracle. I must be there in twilight.”
“I can show you the way. Is it you alone who travels?”
“There is another. He will follow. He must.”
“Then we go—now, for the Warden is returning. Are you able to travel by the Ways?”
“Yes.”
“Take my hand then. I will guide you.”
Priscilla struggled for control, and felt a soft touch, as though someone had put a gentle hand against her hair.
Peace, child, said the voice of the Goddess. I promised you freedom, and freedom you will have. But you must not distract me now. Sleep.
Returning with two cups of tea and a plate of cookies balanced between his hands and his thought, Bentamin saw his aunt—No. He saw the Oracle to the Civilized take Captain Mendoza’s slim hand, and lean confidentially forward. There was a moment of disorientation, as if the lines of reality had blurred and run.
Reality reasserted itself, sharp-edged and unequivocal.
Save that Captain Mendoza and the Oracle—were gone.
“Of course,” Shan was saying to Chair gorminAstir. “I will be most delighted to speak with Trader Isfelm. It is, if I may be candid, exactly what I had hoped for—that there was an established, inward route, so to speak, that had The Redlands as one of its anchors. When is the trader expected?”
The inside of his head itched; his chest was constricted, and the link to Priscilla was—hot, hot—
Cold.
He jerked around, saw her standing with an elder lady, talking with calm seriousness, even as he felt her—felt his lifemate struggling.
“Your pardon,” he said to Chair gorminAstir, and moved toward the two ladies who were speaking so calmly together. The elder extended a hand; Priscilla hesitated, and he felt her struggle increase.
“Priscilla!” he cried, pushing his way through a knot of conversationalists.
He reached for their link—but it slipped out of his grasp, Priscilla herself nothing more than a shadow, dreaming.
Four steps away, Priscilla—Moonhawk!—took the elder lady’s hand.
Shan leapt, stumbled as the room tilted sideways, recovered his stride—
They were gone.
And he was face-to-face with an astonished man who had just dropped two cups and a plate of cookies.
“You!” the man snapped.
Shan felt the surge of his will, Saw the restraints forming—and it would not do, at all, for him to be taken, just when her blasted Goddess had snatched Priscilla away. He felt a round smoothness between his fingers, too familiar and too useful. He took a breath, and thought himself invisible.
Priscilla and the elder lady—who Saru named the Oracle—vanished.
Padi leapt to her feet.
“Run!” she snapped at Saru, who didn’t wait to be told twice.
Father had very nearly reached the spot where the two ladies weren’t, and there—there, the strong-willed man—the Warden, also according to Saru—Padi Saw him create restraints, his will a visible thing, snapping toward Father—
Who faded gently against the air, vanishing completely.
Padi did not wait to see anything else.
She ducked behind the curtains, abandoning both cups and cookies—and only then realized her error.
The Warden was shouting for the others, find them and hold them!
Padi bit her lip. Priscilla had asked her to protect Father by any means necessary—and her best means of doing that was to remain uncaptured. If she was taken, she would be the Warden’s bait, to bring Father into his net.
Unfortunately, in her haste to hide, she had trapped herself, for the little alcove behind the curtain had no exit save back into the main room.
Padi sighed. She was not a teleport—she thought—nor was she able to vanish into thin air, as Father had done—and very unnerving that had been, to observe!
I need help, she thought, and suddenly understood why norbears kept—and kept adding to—their index of useful persons. Who did she know, who might be able to assist her in what was quickly becoming a battle between dramliz?
One grey eye and one green eye in a pointed, half-wild face. Call me Tekelia, and I will come.
She closed her eyes, pushing aside her immediate peril, the inadequate curtains, the danger in the room beyond. She stepped back—back into the memory of a comfortable room, a tea service, an affable host . . .
Tekelia, she thought. And repeated the name aloud, in a breathy whisper.
“Tekelia.”
“Lock the doors!” Portmaster krogerSlyte ordered, which wasn’t, Bentamin allowed, a bad idea.
It was merely useless.
Captain Mendoza and the Oracle had not troubled themselves with doors, nor had the white-haired master trader. The other three—
He scanned the room hurriedly, catching no hint of Healer ven’Deelin or her companion.
“Warden.”
He turned to see timid Councilor azieEm at his side.
“Healer ven’Deelin and Mar Tyn pai’Fortana left the reception in company with Betya seelyFaire.”
He frowned at her.
“Where did they go?”
“Warden, I don’t know. I happened to look up as they passed through the door.”
“Thank you,” said Bentamin. “Please inform Chair gorminAstir of this circumstance. She will be able to contact Councilor seelyFaire.”
“Yes,” said azieEm, and went away.
Bentamin drew a breath, heard a small clink, and glanced down at the mess of broken dishes and spilled cookies and tea. With a sigh, he banished it into the Hall’s prep area.
Then he began another scan of the room, seeking one signature: the one person yet to be accounted for, the slim, neat young trader with her air of pleased competence . . .
He Saw something, at the edge of his Vision.
Something . . .
. . . just . . .
. . . there.
He turned toward the curtained alcove.
“I admit,” a low familiar voice murmured, “that I had hoped you would call me farther.”
Padi took a careful breath.
“Tekelia?”
“So you did call me, and so I did come. But, really, Padi, only to Colemeno’s own port?”
“How was I to know you were on Colemeno?”
“That’s fair,” Tekelia acknowledged; “and I am pleased that you called. May I know why you called?”
“I’m in trouble,” she said, peeking ’round the edge of the curtain.
“Is that rare?”
“Sadly, no. But I’m about to be discovered, taken, and held hostage.”
“That sounds wonderfully dire. Who would dare hold you hostage?”
“Do you see that man with the broken cups on his shoes?”
She felt a movement behind her, heard a slight snort.
“I do, yes.”
“He—” Padi began—and stopped, staring. The pool of tea, the smashed plates, and soggy cookies were gone.
And the man was walking toward the curtains.
“He’s found me,” she whispered, despairing.
“Very likely. He’s quite good. If he got even a glimpse of your signature, he will certainly find you. Especially, if I may, your signature.”
“Can you help me escape?”
“Escape? Well, I suppose I could, but he’s looking rather peeved already. I suggest it is not in your best interest to make him angry. He’s much easier to deal with when he’s cool-headed. Best to meet him now, I think.” Tekelia paused.
The man—he did, indeed, look peeved, Padi thought—was nearly to the alcove where the two of them stood behind the curtain.
“Would you,” Tekelia asked delicately, “have any idea what has happened to annoy him?”
Padi took a breath.
“He’s going to find both of us in a minute,” she said.
“Yes, that’s foregone. Why is he annoyed?”
“Captain Mendoza, who is also my father’s lifemate, stole a plump lady who was this man’s escort, and took her elsewhere. When he tried to—capture—my father, who had tried to prevent the abduction—my father vanished in turn.”
“Poor Bentamin,” said Tekelia, around a breath of what Padi very much feared was laughter.
“You know him?”
“Everyone knows the Warden of the Civilized. As it happens, I know him better than most, as we’re cousins. His name is Bentamin chastaMeir, and I believe that the plump lady must have been our Aunt Asta, Oracle to the Civilized. Do you know for yourself that Captain Mendoza stole her?”
“Do you think otherwise?”
“Well, it is possible that Aunt Asta wanted the captain for some small this or that—a private chat, for instance—and whisked them both off. Aunt Asta is rarely allowed parties, so does not often meet new people. If Captain Mendoza proved interesting, as I’m sure she must have done, it’s perfectly possible that Aunt Asta became . . . a little . . . greedy.”
“Captain Mendoza is a very powerful dramliza,” Padi said slowly.
“Yes, certainly. So is Aunt Asta. Ah, here’s Bentamin at last. Don’t squeak.”
“I never squeak!” Padi said indignantly—and the curtain was yanked aside.
“Trader yos’Galan,” the Warden of the Civilized stated coolly, “may I have—”
“Hello, Bentamin,” Tekelia said from behind Padi’s shoulder.
The cool-voiced man blinked, and looked, his expression going from peevish to stunned.
“How did you get in here?”
“I asked Tekelia to come to me,” Padi said.
“You asked Tekelia to come to you,” Bentamin repeated, his gaze back on her face. “How are you acquainted with Tekelia?”
“We met in charming and unusual circumstances,” Tekelia said. “Is Aunt Asta here, cousin? I haven’t seen her in such a time, I was quite looking forward.”
“You cannot be here,” Bentamin snapped.
“I was invited,” Tekelia replied mildly.
“And I,” Padi said, with emphasis, “am tired of being pent in.” She stepped out of the alcove, and the Warden gave ground.
Tekelia looked over Bentamin’s shoulder.
“No one seems to be taking the slightest interest in me.”
“That is because none of us is here at the moment,” Bentamin snapped. “Tekelia—go away. You cannot be in Civilization.”
“Can I not?”
Tekelia directed a glance downward, and Padi did, too, taking in a rough sweater, heavy pants and boots.
“You aren’t really dressed for a formal reception,” Padi said. “I ought to have given warning.”
“So that I could tarry to change into something more appropriate? No, you felt yourself in peril, you called, I came. That is a perfectly proper sequence, and there is nothing to forgive. In fact, it is precisely what I hoped would occur, ever since I received your token.
“As for clothing appropriate to a reception—that’s a small thing. Here.”
There was a slight shimmer; Tekelia went misty, and was solid again in the next moment, wearing a ruffled and wide-sleeved red shirt under an embroidered black vest. The scarlet flowers on the vest repeated down the side of the deep black pants until they broke at the arch of shiny black boots.
“There now,” Tekelia’s smile was pleased. “Am I not wholly civilized?”
“Not quite wholly,” Padi said. “Your hair wants attention. Here, I have another tie.”
She walked behind.
“Stand still,” she said, fishing in her belt. Carefully, she reached up, gathering up the warm, rough mass, combing it with the small comb she had also taken from her belt, smoothing it, and at last confining it with the tie.
“There!” she said. “That looks very well.”
She stepped up again to Tekelia’s side. Bentamin was staring.
“Have I committed a social error?” she asked.
“In no way,” Tekelia assured her with a smile.
“Your pardon,” Bentamin added. “I had been under the . . . obviously mistaken . . . impression that no one was permitted to touch Tekelia’s person. Where is Captain Mendoza, if you please, Trader?”
Padi pressed her lips together.
The Warden of the Civilized sighed.
“Very well. Where is Master Trader yos’Galan?”
“Padi,” Tekelia said gently. “Bentamin is your friend in this. He must find the Oracle. The whole of Civilization depends upon her Sight, and she is Bentamin’s specific and most particular charge. It will go very bad for him, if he loses her.”
Padi did not quite throttle the laugh.
“Yes,” Tekelia said approvingly. “It is exactly that dire.”
Bentamin glowered—and Padi held up a hand to forestall more bad temper.
“No, we are all three in the soup! Bentamin has lost the Oracle. I have lost my father, after his lifemate had me particularly promise to protect him with my life. And Tekelia—”
“I—” Tekelia interrupted, “have missed my Aunt Asta, of whom I am quite fond.”
“Why would Captain Mendoza steal our Oracle?” Bentamin demanded.
“It is . . . possible that . . . Captain Mendoza . . . did not,” Padi said slowly. “In her youth, Captain Mendoza willingly agreed to serve as a receptacle for another intelligence. I do not quite understand how, but this intelligence may, at whim, fill the captain, override her will and—perform acts in the physical world.”
She paused, waiting for either of them to laugh. There was instead a thoughtful silence before Tekelia said, “I believe we have found Aunt Asta’s Great Ones, cousin. Or at least one of them.”
“I fear you may be correct. Trader yos’Galan, any information you have regarding the intentions of either Captain Mendoza or the intelligence which occasionally commands her may be vital to the safety of Civilization.”
“And the Haosa, too,” Tekelia added, voice dry.
Bentamin moved a hand, fingers fluttering.
“That goes without saying.”
“Which is well, since it is said so little.”
Padi cleared her throat—and stared at the cup of tea Bentamin was offering her.
“Thank you,” she said, and took the cup from his hand, sipping gratefully.
“Priscilla—Captain Mendoza—has Long-Sight,” she said slowly. “She had Seen herself and my father on a hillside at Colemeno as day faded, a crowd of strangers ringing them ’round. She Saw my father fall, as if struck.”
She paused for another sip of tea.
“She told me that she had felt the—the Goddess, as she had it—growing stronger and feared either that the Goddess was the source of his distress, or that she herself would be so depleted by the Goddess’s use that she would not be able to assist him.”
She took a breath.
“She told me these things so that I could be aware and guard my father from—anything or anyone—that might seek to harm him.”
She looked at their faces, saw that they were listening courteously.
“Priscilla did say that Long-Sight is unreliable due to a general
lack of context.”
A smile broke the severity of the Warden’s face.
“Now, there’s a particular accuracy,” he murmured. “Please, continue.”
Padi took one more deep breath, and told out the last of it.
“I asked her if she thought I was strong enough to—to destroy a Goddess. She said that I was at least strong enough to distract one.”
Tekelia laughed. Bentamin inclined his head.
Padi finished her tea.
“It seems the Great One seeks Ribbon Dance Hill,” Tekelia said. “Certainly, Aunt Asta could take her there.”
“But for what cause?” asked the Warden.
Both looked to Padi, who moved her shoulders.
“Priscilla said—no context.”
“Oracles,” Bentamin said, looking to Tekelia, “very rarely See all.”
“Oracles exist to tantalize us,” Tekelia said. “We know where they will be, Bentamin—and when.”
“At least we know where the Oracle and the Great One will be. Master Trader yos’Galan however—”
“Master Trader yos’Galan seems a clever man. If he is required on Ribbon Dance Hill as the day turns to twilight, I think that we can trust him to be there.”
Bentamin glanced at the cup in Padi’s hand.
“More tea, Trader?”
“Thank you, no.”
The cup vanished, with a little puff of cool air against Padi’s fingers.
“I must inform the Council,” Bentamin said. “I will be part of the circle on Ribbon Dance Hill.”
“Naturally,” Tekelia said.
“I may be constrained to bring others. The entire Council is not beyond the possible, though I will make my best efforts to limit their enthusiasm.”
“I understand,” Tekelia said. “You to yours, and I to mine. I will bear Padi with me, and gather the Haosa.”
Bentamin frowned.
“Why?”
“It was Seen, was it not? A circle on the hilltop at twilight. The councilors may form a mob and witness, if they must, but the evening’s work will fall on the Haosa.”
“I agree that the Haosa must be a part of it. However, I will take charge of Trader yos’Galan.”
“No,” Padi said. “You will not. I will go with Tekelia.”
