Trader's Leap (Liaden Universe Book 23)

by Sharon Lee

  “Sir?”

  Tekelia stepped forward.

  “Why put Padi in the middle?”

  “It was the most fortunate thing that Padi was available to be the conduit,” Tekelia said earnestly. “If I had touched you, those of us gathered here would even now be searching the ambient for the disconnected pieces of your self, to return you to your proper plane, and body.

  “Padi centered you while I gathered only the excess energy—a much simpler process!”

  “So I apprehend.”

  He looked to Padi.

  “Well, daughter?”

  “Yes, sir. Very well.”

  “Then, perhaps—”

  “They come,” someone said sharply from the circle.

  Tekelia spun on one heel. Padi turned her head.

  Across from those already gathered, the dim air shimmered, and four people stepped forward onto the hilltop, as if they were exiting a lift.

  Padi recognized Tekelia’s cousin Bentamin, with Chairman Zeni gorminAstir; the other two were councilors, but she had forgotten their names.

  They paused, and Bentamin spoke to Tekelia.

  “Speaker for the Haosa, I greet you. These councilors and I are the representatives of Civilization. We will witness the action of the Great Ones foretold by the Oracle. We will assist, if asked. When we leave, the Oracle will accompany us.”

  “Civilization’s Warden, we welcome you and the councilors as witnesses, and will accept your assistance, should it be needed,” Tekelia answered in the same formal tone. “We have with us one of the Great Ones who was foretold. We await the other, with the Oracle. When their matter is settled, the Oracle will decide for herself where and how she will go.”

  There was a gasp from one of the councilors, which Tekelia and Bentamin alike affected not to hear.

  From among the Haosa, someone cleared their throat and said, very softly, “They come.”

  Ribbon Dance Hill

  * * *

  They stepped out of the shrouds between Maybe and Was, to the top of Ribbon Dance Hill—two women, hand in hand.

  One was elderly, plump, and rose-cheeked; her eyes a-glow and her hair snarled by the exertions of her journey.

  Her companion was tall, slim, and pale. Stars were caught in the floating strands of her night-black hair. Her dress was a blue that matched the color of the twilit skies, strung with crystal beads, like stars. A silver chain embraced her waist, and in her hand she held two bright and lambent silver rings.

  She bowed to the elder lady, and gently kissed her cheek.

  “My thanks for your guidance, for your friendship, and your care. Go, now, to your kin.”

  Released, the elder lady genuflected. She turned and walked into the circle, pausing at the Warden’s side.

  Padi, her arm pressed against Tekelia, watched the woman who was not Priscilla, and shivered.

  “Have you never seen her thus?” Tekelia asked.

  “Never,” Padi answered, “though I have seen another god, now that I think about it. He is utterly different.”

  The woman—the Goddess—turned ’round slowly where she stood.

  “Sweet children, have you come to sing us to our doom?”

  There was a pregnant moment, as if everyone gathered had been breath-caught at once. Then, the Warden of the Civilized stepped forward, and made a formal bow.

  “Lady, it was foretold that you would require a service from us. We have gathered for that particular purpose.”

  “A service? What should I want aside this hill, the forces that birthed us stretched, potent and living, above?”

  Bentamin bowed again.

  “Lady, only know that we are here to serve, and to witness, and to ease whatever you would do.”

  “To witness,” she repeated. “Yes, you will want to witness this, and recall it, and tell your children down through the ages that you saw the proof, the final proof, that the Enemy is defeated on their own terms.”

  Bentamin bowed, and stepped back into the circle.

  The Goddess raised her face to the sky where a few shy stars were beginning to show, between The Ribbons dancing. When she lowered her face, she was smiling.

  “Lute,” she said then, her voice soft and caressing. “My fierce angel, my support, my perfect opposite. The final door is sealed and forgotten. The power has been raised, and there are dancers in the wind. I say we are bid fair to go. How say you?”

  Padi gasped—and looked toward the center. Father—

  Father was gone, a shimmering shadow in the place he had been standing.

  “Lute!” the Goddess called again, and the shadow blew apart in a blare of gilded white.

  All around, those watching gasped as the white cloud continued turning—once, twice—

  Three times.

  A man stepped out of the fading glory, and bowed, with an edge of irony.

  It was not Father, Padi saw with a small jolt, but Lute himself—though for all that, a Lute transformed. Gone were his tatters, replaced with elegance and quiet glory. His cloak fell flawless over one shoulder, showing a lining as bright as a sun. His long black hair was braided with silver bells, and there were the shadows of wings at his back.

  His hands, he held before him, fingers moving with subtle grace. Padi saw the red gaming counter walk across the back of his hand once—and fall off into the deepening air.

  “My Lady Moonhawk, first among the Names, who created us a Goddess; she who won us free of despair, and found for us both life and hope. The door has passed out of memory, and we are free. Only one task remains us, before together, we may go.”

  “One task, my Lute? What task is this?”

  “We must ask a boon of these gathered, who are, after all, our very grandchildren.”

  “Ask then,” said the Lady.

  Lute bowed and turned, graceful, his cape belling, and his arms outstretched as if to embrace the circle entire.

  “We ask the boon of your forgiveness,” he said, his voice carrying. “You are ours, children of the children of our wills and our thoughts, whom we did not protect. We were, I fear, rather bad gods. Born as we had been, we could scarcely have been otherwise.”

  He paused, but there was no movement, no question from those in circle, who stood, scarcely breathing.

  “We ask,” Lute continued, his hands folded, unnaturally still, before him. “We ask also that you witness our return to the elements that birthed us. While it is true that I was born from starlight, and my lady from crystal itself, these precise elements are not native to this universe. Be vigilant, children; take care that we do no damage as we leave you. Though we brought you here in turbulence, we would leave you here in peace.”

  There came a murmur from the circle, then. Tekelia stood forward, and Bentamin.

  “Our forgiveness we give freely, though we know of no wrong done to us,” Bentamin said, bowing.

  “Our thanks,” said Lute, and turned to Tekelia.

  “We will watch and be vigilant on your behalf, Lord and Lady,” Tekelia said gently. “You may pass in peace.”

  “Sweetly spoken.”

  Lute stepped to the Lady’s side.

  “It is time,” he said, and extended his hand.

  Moonhawk slipped one of the rings onto his finger. It blazed, limning him in silver, striking the shadows of his wings into glory.

  He took the second ring up from her palm, and slid it onto her finger.

  Bells sounded, high and cold, like ice. Or crystal. The Lady blazed like a promise, the two of them a benediction.

  A miracle.

  For long minutes they stood, side by side, casting their gleaming shadows against the twilit air, while overhead The Ribbons danced in mingled joy and sadness.

  “Blessings, children,” the Lady cried. “May all of your endeavors bring you joy.”

  The air gusted then, and they were gone, melted into the grass, the sky, The Ribbons brightly dancing.

  Crystals like embers blew briefly on the b
right wind, a single feather drifting among them until, all at once, they were gone.

  The circle as one breathed in—and breathed out.

  Lute and Moonhawk were gone. The center of the circle was empty.

  “No!” Padi cried, and took one step forward—

  Thunder boomed, the hillside shook, reality blurred into illusion—and became real again.

  In the center of the circle, holding hands, stood a man and a woman, wearing respectable trading clothes, the Tree-and-Dragon showing bright on the breast of each jacket. They turned to look at each other. The woman smiled. The man did.

  “Hello, Priscilla,” he said gently, and lifted her hand to his lips.

  Colemeno Port

  * * *

  It had been a long, exhilarating day, touring the markets, meeting with the vendors as a group, and privately with the market masters. Padi owned herself by turns fascinated, excited, frustrated, and by the end of the last meeting—tired to the bone, and looking forward to a quiet dinner.

  Indeed, she was ordering her thoughts in the direction of that goal when a man in the livery of the market staff came hurrying ’round the corner.

  He smiled when he saw them and lengthened his stride.

  “Master Trader yos’Galan, Trader yos’Galan. I’d been afraid that I was too late! Trader Isfelm has just arrived, and hopes to have a word with you.”

  It was surely not worthy that her first reaction was dismay, Padi thought. And then she caught Father’s consternation, followed by a ruffle of resigned humor.

  “Certainly, I will be pleased to stop for a word with Trader Isfelm,” he said. “Trader yos’Galan?”

  “A word,” she allowed, “or perhaps three. We ought to compare schedules and mark out a time for an in-depth meeting.”

  “Excellent,” the master trader murmured, and turned to the messenger.

  “Will you, of your kindness, lead us to Trader Isfelm?”

  “Of course!” the man said. “Just down here, Traders, in the short-term meeting room.”

  “It would seem that Trader Isfelm has the same notion as you, Trader,” the master trader murmured as they followed the staffer back up the hall.

  “It would,” Padi returned, with composure. “Perhaps we will continue to find ourselves as one on all matters of interest.”

  “Now, wouldn’t that be odd?”

  * * *

  The staffer opened the door, and bowed them energetically inside, which meant that the master trader stepped to the right, while Padi went to the left.

  The short-term meeting room was large enough to hold a small round table, four chairs, and a modest refreshments bureau. A keypad sat in the center of the table; the screen suspended on the far wall showed the port stats screen—ships in, ships due in, departure times filed . . .

  There were three ships in—Research Boat Ayjak, out of Metlin; Dutiful Passage, out of Surebleak; and Ember, out of Dallimere.

  Between the table and the buffet, back to the door, apparently quite intent on the screen, was a tall, slender shape wearing a space leather jacket in a style Padi had never seen before.

  “Trader Isfelm,” their guide said, somewhat breathlessly, “here are Master Trader yos’Galan and Trader yos’Galan.”

  “Ah, thank you.”

  The trader turned as the door shut, the room light falling full across her face.

  Padi took a quiet breath, and said nothing.

  “I have a wager in place with my brother,” said Trader Isfelm conversationally, “dating from the time we were learning our first board drills.”

  “Really? What was the wager, I wonder?” Father asked in the same tone.

  “Whether it would be Tree-and-Dragon or another of the trade clans that would arrive at The Redlands first, after the Dust had blown aside.”

  She paused.

  “He favored one of the lesser clans, reasoning that they would have more cause to be bold.”

  “And you?”

  “I? I would have nothing other than Tree-and-Dragon would be first. And here you are.”

  “And here we are,” Father agreed gently. “We had cause to be bold, you see.”

  Trader Isfelm laughed.

  “And when has that not been the case?”

  She raised her hand, so that the many gems in the Jump Pilot’s cluster flickered and flared in the room’s light, like a miniature galaxy. “You’ll be wanting this back . . . cousin.”

  “I am not the delm,” Father said. “Keep it until it can be returned in proper style.”

  Trader Isfelm inclined her head.

  “You may have heard that we—the Isfelm Trade Union—are principals in the Iverson Loop. The Redlands are one anchor; the other is still deep in the Dust. We, of course, wish to expand outward.”

  “And we wish—to expand,” Master Trader yos’Galan said. “It appears we have much to talk about, Trader.”

  “I agree,” said Trader Isfelm. “Perhaps we might arrange for a proper meeting.”

  “An excellent idea. Let us consider our schedules.”

  * * *

  They were able to block out the whole of the next afternoon for Trader Isfelm and the Iverson Loop by shifting two meetings with local vendors to the following morning. While Padi was finalizing those arrangements, Trader Isfelm bespoke a so-called project room, and ordered catering.

  “It seems our work here is, temporarily at least, done,” said the master trader, beginning to rise.

  Trader Isfelm held up a hand.

  “In fact, there is one thing more, if you have time, Trader yos’Galan.”

  “A little time,” said Padi, and Trader Isfelm smiled.

  “I swear it is one question only. The adapter kits you have on offer—will they bring twelve forty-twos into compliance with the pods I see on Dutiful Passage?”

  “Fifteen-thirties,” Padi said. “Yes, they will.” She paused, and added, “It was a lucky find.”

  Trader Isfelm smiled gently.

  “Of course it was,” she said.

  Off-Grid

  * * *

  “Was this new—cousin—unexpected?” Tekelia asked. They were on the balcony overlooking the forest, dawdling over their wine.

  It had come dark while they were eating dinner, but there were The Ribbons, which gave their dancing light, besides that the trees themselves gave a small, self-satisfied illumination. Padi sighed and sipped her wine, and was . . . content.

  “The new cousin,” she said slowly, “was neither expected nor unexpected. It’s the Luck, you see—and also the family. Isfelm, and the Pilot’s cluster—one assumes this particular cousin is out of yos’Phelium. Korval did have a part in bringing the small talents here from Liad. It would not be at all wonderful, that a yos’Phelium pilot decided to indulge herself with a bit of exploration. I expect we may have the whole history from the trader, tomorrow.”

  “What is Trader Isfelm’s signature, I wonder?” asked Tekelia.

  “Hmm?”

  Padi considered for a moment, and produced it, shining in the dark air before them.

  “Ah.” Tekelia sighed. “You know, I had someone suggest that signature as being connected to you, a little time ago.”

  “Who was that, I wonder?”

  “A norbear named Eet. You may well meet him, if you come often to the village.”

  Padi laughed.

  “Lady Selph was adamant that I make her part of the trade team; it had almost been worth my life to refuse. Shall I send for her?”

  “I see no reason why not, though Bentamin might.”

  “Bentamin holds no sway in the village surely?”

  “Well, but one must bring the lady through the port,” Tekelia pointed out. “There’s the test that she might fail.”

  “True. Well. Perhaps after we’ve demonstrated how mannerly and—and civilized—we are.”

  Tekelia laughed, and Padi did, and when merriment was done, they sat quietly, sipping wine in the cool dark.

 
“What do you foresee?” Tekelia asked eventually.

  Padi tipped her head.

  “I don’t know that I have any sort of Sight,” she said.

  “But you don’t know that you are blind,” Tekelia countered. “So near the Hill, even the smallest inclination to a particular talent will be magnified. But I was merely asking after your thoughts—how do you foresee the master trader’s mission resolving?”

  “Well, that. The master trader came prepared to establish a trade hub here, with Ixin as the junior partner. I think he will achieve that, easily. Once there is a hub in place, other traders will come—from out, as Portmaster krogerSlyte has it. Now that the Dust is cleared, The Redlands are not so distant as they had seemed, before.

  “It’s apparent that Trader Isfelm means to go out by whatever means. She asked about the adapter kits—but I believe she would go as a ’prentice in hydroponics, if only she was going out.”

  “The master trader will, in his turn, want to go in,” Tekelia suggested.

  “The master trader will want one of his to go in,” Padi corrected. “And that will be me, as I am proximate, and wear the garnet.”

  “And will you go?”

  “Yes, of course, I will go,” Padi said, a little surprised by the question. “We must learn what we can bring to Colemeno for itself, and for the Iverson Loop, to the profit of all.”

  She turned suddenly, to consider Tekelia’s face in the glow from the trees.

  “There is a thing we say, our family being both, you know,” she said slowly. “Pilots choose, but traders leap.”

  “And so you will leap,” Tekelia said, “and land where the Luck will take you.”

  “It sounds mad,” Padi said apologetically.

  “Not at all,” Tekelia answered politely.

  Padi extended a hand. Warm fingers met hers, and they sat, content, together, while The Ribbons danced brilliant above.