Lee, Sharon & Miller, Steve - Liaden Books 1-9

by Liaden 1-9 (lit)

  "Daav! Daav, I am—here!"

  He took a breath, imposing discipline. "Aelliana, where are you?"

  Somewhere beyond the chaos of color, a gong sounded, vibrating into his very soul. His vision cleared, and there again was the rock wall, bleeding color into the foggy floor, and the whole corridor was vibrating, as if the rocks themselves were singing, and the light thickened air was as lascivious as silk and Aelliana was beside him, her hand was on his shoulder, and he turned his face into her kiss—

  No. She was not there. Rather—she was everywhere. He could feel the flow of her thoughts, feel her deciding where to look, feel her adjusting her balance against the wall she braced against—

  His eyes—her eyes—focused on the wall opposite, shimmering with bolts of gold and green, but more solid, now, no longer threatening to fade into transparency.

  "Daav," his beloved said in his ear. "I can see that this will need work!"

  He half-gasped a laugh, as she lifted his right hand and caressed his face.

  "I think the worst is over," she murmured. "Let us return to our cave."

  "An excellent idea," he said. "A glass of wine would be most welcome. And a nap, if you will have it. Edger should be more considerate of an old man's frailties."

  "To Edger, you are the veriest babe," Aelliana retorted. "But, yes, a nap—and then we must talk."

  Edger stood with his intricately shelled back to them, engaged in a close study of the control board built into a rock buttress. He was also, Daav realized, humming, or possibly singing, as he touched first this, then that, on the board—

  The tune altered, and though he did not turn to look at them he raised a bit from the board as he spoke.

  "Please, Aelli and Daav, if you will but tarry for five or six more moments I will join you. I have news of interest to you both."

  So saying, Edger returned to his hum; leaving Daav and Aelliana to continue exploring this new, higher-level melding.

  It was, of course, the lifemate-bond, but somehow expanded, broadened, deepened beyond anything they had thought possible. Daav, wary of joy unleavened, proposed it to be an effect of the drive, which would fade upon the return to normal space. Aelliana considered that the drive was a factor in the…speed…of their joining, but offered the possibility that the seeds they had eaten were the motivating force.

  The exchange was far faster and far fuller than their usual, even the pleasant after-effect of the wine had not dulled the transfers. Occasionally, one or the other might be distracted by this memory or that sudden bit of information…

  Aelliana had sensed the change coming first, for the images and information she had been receiving through Daav had sharpened all at once—as if she were seeing with her own eyes—and she was able to conceive of moving an arm. Later, she proved herself capable of walking, without Daav's active assistance.

  The nap had been not quite that—instead they had relaxed with eyes closed and shared: thoughts, emotions, essence…

  There were some few of Daav's memories which Aelliana could not properly access, nor could he grasp all of hers—but in every case, those tended to be memories each had done the most to forget. And there were certainly enough tantalizing—and sometimes dismaying—glimpses to beguile them both. For Daav, of her brother Ran Eld and his friend; of a marriage full of taunts and pain; of his own young and subtle face. For Aelliana, of planets she had never seen; and the tender tuitions in patience…

  New to Daav was his ability to access a larger part of Aelliana's intuitive understandings of mathematics; new to her was sharing Daav's immediate and nuanced interpretations of the motivations of people. New, too, for her, was the surprising overlay of the Diaries, richly illustrating and informing her altered realization of her beloved, of Korval, and of Liaden history.

  It had taken effort—a willful exchange of thoughts rather than the subconscious communication they had allowed themselves to be enveloped by—to go to Edger.

  "Aelliana, my love, we cannot stare into this mirror until the stars cool. I do believe that this will, as you say, take some work. And perhaps the assistance of a master."

  So, they had gone to find Edger, with Daav, like a youngster learning to trust the way a simple lean could take advantage of a duocycle's momentum, accepting Aelliana's direction of their hike.

  "I will miss this," she said, "if you are right, and it is solely an artifact of the drive."

  "I know," he whispered, and felt her feeling his regret—and his fear.

  The gong sounded once more. Here in the control room it rang through them foot to head…

  Edger turned, sweeping into a full bow and speaking in a booming, formal voice.

  "True elders of your clan! I am humbled to be the first to see you thus."

  He straightened, and continued in what passed for a more conversational tone. "The art of your children, my kin, has strong roots; stronger than I knew. Already their names are spoken among the Elders—and your names, as well. My request was that the Elders act in unprecedented haste and see you immediately, in the human sense.

  "I am informed that the outer chamber will be open when we arrive, and that I might bring you directly there. The Elders make haste—surely, this is a work of art like none before! They will see you, I think, very quickly."

  There was a pause, which Daav allowed to stretch.

  "The Elders will see us," Aelliana breathed, for him alone. ''Van'chela, can you imagine it?"

  "I can," he answered, in the same way, "and it concerns me greatly. Recall that I know the Tree very well indeed, and I know what Jela's bargain has cost us…"

  Before them, Edger bowed slightly, as if rousing from some deep process of thought.

  "It would be pleasant if you would walk with me to the waterfall park. There, we may enjoy a small repast, and an hour of talk."

  "It sounds a good plan," Daav admitted. "Might I know the ship's schedule—and your own? If we are to travel the next weeks with you…"

  Edger blinked his huge yellow eyes, one, then the other.

  "I see that you have studied the affect of our ships at low drive," he said. "For a task of such moment and urgency, I have utilized the higher drives." He turned, widely, motioning them to follow.

  "We will enter my home atmosphere shortly after your next sleep period. You will be in the outer chamber, awaiting permission of the Elders to enter, in sixteen Standard Hours."

  Lytaxin

  Erob's House

  "What else?" Miri asked Val Con, after the last late meeting was done and they were alone in the sitting room of their suite.

  He turned from the wine table, bottle and glass in hand, eyebrow well up. "We have put such things into motion as may be put into motion. All that remains us is to defeat the Department, vanquish the Commander, and reclaim the Agents."

  "Piece of cake." She moved across the rug toward him. "Can the Agents be reclaimed?"

  "The Healers will know," he said softly, pouring. "If I was able to break training, perhaps others may do so, as well."

  "Or maybe not." She took the glass he handed her, and stood sipping, staring at nothing in particular, going over the plans they had laid. It was, she thought, going to be dicey.

  To say the least.

  "The kids?" she asked, that being a detail left in flux.

  Val Con raised his glass. Korval's Ring gleamed on his finger, big and flashy and flawed.

  "Do you think we should dispatch the Passage to the children? Shan and Priscilla are able, and the ship now runs as a battlewagon."

  She frowned, weighing it.

  "It'd draw attention—"

  The comm buzzed. Shaking her head, she crossed to it and pushed the button.

  "Robertson."

  "Cousin, it is Kol Vus. A person has called for yourself and for your lifemate. He awaits your pleasure in the public parlor."

  Miri's brows drew together in a small frown. "I thank you, cousin," she said, dropping effortlessly into the High Tongue. "Has
our guest a name?"

  "He produces Greenshaw Porter. He says it with remarkable ease."

  Her frown deepened slightly. "I see. Pray allow Mr. Porter to know that we are on our way to him."

  "Very good." The line went dead. Miri glanced up.

  "Odds that Greenshaw Porter's another one of ours? Who ain't here yet?"

  "Of the adult males? Luken bel'Tarda—and Pat Rin. Luken's duty under Plan B lies with the children, and I cannot this moment conceive of a circumstance that would cause him to abandon it. Pat Rin…" He moved his shoulders, abruptly aware of an uncomfortable home truth. "I cannot predict what Pat Rin might do, though I would not expect him to adopt a Terran persona. Certainly, not on a Liaden-held world."

  "Well, something's got Kol Vus' hair up." She shook her head, and regretfully put her wine aside. "Guess we'd better find out what."

  Greenshaw Porter was on his feet in the public parlor, which was only reasonable, the available chairs being much too short to accommodate his lanky frame. The House had provided him with neither tea or wine.

  He was a long-faced man, unmistakably Terran, his tan-colored hair short and bristling, his eyes gray and alert, and Val Con felt a curious sense of relief that, after all, it was not Pat Rin, come to add yet another Korval life to the tale of those present upon Lytaxin.

  Their visitor bowed as they entered the room, entirely in the Terran mode, then straightened and stated, in the staccato accents of Standard Terran, "Greenshaw Porter, Juntavas courier. Miri Robertson and Val Con yos'Phelium?"

  "That's right," Miri said easily.

  "Yes." Val Con assured him, noting the position of at least two guns and a blade distributed about the courier's person.

  The man nodded, apparently unsurprised. "The Juntavas has been looking for you. The offer is aid and comfort. We cooperate with Clutch turtles Edger and Sheather. I have verification."

  "Ah, do you?" Val Con murmured.

  The Juntava cocked a sapient eye. "Turtles thought you'd want it." He raised his hands, fingers spread wide. "I saw the rock in orbit. I heard there are turtles on planet. Order from Headquarters is proceed according to plan. Verification in my right outside pocket. You can take it, or I can give it."

  Inside his head, Val Con heard Miri's song, alert and watchful. Deliberately, not really certain that it would work, he looked at the places where the Juntava carried his concealed weapons—one, two, three—and heard her song shift. Almost, he thought he heard her murmur "gotcha".

  He raised his hands, fingers spread, returning the offered gesture of peace.

  "Please," he murmured, "feel free to display your verification."

  "Right." Slowly, fingers still held wide, he slipped his right hand into the outside pocket of his long jacket, and withdrew something so sharply luminous it seemed that he held a star between his thumb and first finger.

  Still moving deliberately, he extended the brilliant token. Val Con held his hand out, fingers cupped. The crystal hit his palm, unexpectedly heavy, warm, its edges sharp, but not sharpened. He glanced down, eyes narrowed against the whiteness of it, saw without surprise that it was luminous at its core.

  "Flashlight?" Miri asked from beside him.

  "Exactly," he murmured, and handed it to her, returning his attention to Greenshaw Porter.

  "We have received verification," he said, carefully. "More, we have only lately seen Clutch turtles Edger and Sheather, who know us to be well and at liberty. Please inform Headquarters that the Juntavas is quit in this matter."

  "Not exactly," the Juntava said, and Val Con raised an eyebrow, feeling Miri come to full alert beside him.

  "Explain."

  "The Juntavas is missing a Sector Judge."

  "Ah. I commiserate with the Juntavas upon its loss."

  Greenshaw Porter grimaced. "Supplemental data. I'm attached to the Justice Department. High Judge himself petitions Korval for info. The missing Judge put herself on detached duty. Last known to be in company with Pat Rin yos'Phelium." His forehead wrinkled slightly. "Your brother, maybe?"

  "Cousin," Val Con said absently, trying to reconcile Pat Rin with a Juntavas Sector Judge. And, yet, how could he predict what Pat Rin might do? He and his cousin were scarcely intimate. Indeed, Val Con had gathered that Pat Rin had few intimates. His foster-father, perhaps. And surely Luken bel'Tarda had taught his fosterling to give the Juntavas wide clearance.

  "Cousin," the Juntava repeated and nodded. "Questions from the High Judge: Does Korval know the location of Sector Judge Natesa? If yes, as a personal favor to the High Judge, who values his judges as a delm values his kin, will Korval divulge her location? Follow-up: If something happened to her, the High Judge asks for that info, too. No rage, no Balance. But he would like to recover the body." He hesitated before adding: "Myself, I know that Judge. She'd be hard to kill."

  "I am desolate to disappoint the High Judge," Val Con murmured, "but his inquiry marks the first time I have heard of Sector Judge Natesa."

  "You said she's on detached duty," Miri broke in. "Maybe she decided to quit the judging business?"

  Greenshaw Porter shook his head. "No'm. Judges put themselves on detached duty at will. They have discretion. Only Judges tell another Judge what to do. Or how to do it."

  She threw a glance at Val Con. "Sounds a lot like being a scout."

  "Perhaps," he returned, and looked to the Juntava. "Has my cousin been seen since Judge Natesa exercised her discretion?"

  "Nossir. Both were in a dust-up—gunplay, unidentified deaders—then went off-grid simultaneous. Neither one resurfaced."

  Gods, if it didn't scan like a Departmental "dust up ", Val Con thought. And never think that an Agent was less than the match of a Sector Judge, no matter how hard she was to kill.

  As for Pat Rin…Let it be known that Pat Rin was not an idiot. Let it further be known that he was a wizard with his pistols, and that he had once killed a man. And against whatever the Department might wish to inflict upon him—from mere death to menti-cide—he would hold no defenses whatsoever.

  He looked up at the Juntavas courier.

  "I am hardly in a position to trade fairly with the High Judge," he said carefully, feeling Miri drawing closer to his side. "However, I would be honored, were the Juntavas to allow me to know the time and the place where my cousin and Sector Judge Natesa were last seen."

  Greenshaw Porter nodded. "I'm cleared for that. I have the report from Housekeeping. I'm cleared to share that, too."

  "Thank you. That would be most helpful."

  "I'll transfer it from my ship. Need a comm address."

  Val Con recited the code for the unit in their upstairs rooms.

  The courier repeated the address, nodded and bowed once more in the Terran mode.

  "I'll asap that. I'm on-planet until tomorrow mid-day. Aid-and-comfort is in force until I lift."

  "Thank you," Val Con said again. "I do not believe it will be needed."

  Ren Zel stirred, stretched, smiled, opened his eyes—and stifled a curse. The clock across the room was adamant: three minutes until the start of his shift on the bridge. He rolled out of bed, realized abruptly that he was fully clothed and not a little rumpled; his boots showing smudges of what might have been grass stains. To appear on-shift so…He looked again at the clock. Two minutes until he was wanted on the bridge—and far worse to be late than untidy. Ren Zel ran.

  They read the reports from the Juntavas together, Miri sitting on the arm of the chair, her hip against his shoulder.

  There was a short bio of Sector Judge Natesa, accompanied by an image of a slender lady of good countenance, dark-skinned and sloe-eyed, her hair a silky black cap 'round her neat head.

  Miri gave a low whistle, and leaned forward to tap the screen over the bio. "This girl can cook, boss. No wonder they miss her."

  "She appears competent in the extreme," he agreed, scrolling down through a surprising number of missions completed on behalf of the Juntavas, most at the upper echelons of pow
er.

  Sector Judges might well be able to declare themselves on detached duty at will, but it appeared that Judge Natesa had been happy in her work, and had only thrice previously removed herself from duty—twice on recuperative vacations and one comprehensive disappearance, from which she reappeared within a relumma. "First class pilot," he murmured, going through the remainder of her accomplishments, "master shooter; explosives expert. Yes— a lady of many competencies."

  Who had very competently disappeared, so the next, extremely brief report stated, on Day 289, Standard Year 1392, from a Juntavas maintained yard, after filing the appropriate intention with her office.

  Gods, so long ago? Val Con shivered and hit the key for the next file. The report from Housekeeping, prepared by order of Sector Judge Natesa, was admirably detailed, listing descriptions of the dead, contents of pockets, wallets, pouches; types and numbers of weapons. A blue evening jacket, well-splattered with blood, but whole, was noted, and a square of cleansilk, its virtue destroyed by the blood.

  "Note the guns," he murmured. "Note the other items inventoried…"

  "Picks, garrotes, pipettes of acid, poison." She sighed. "You're thinking the Department."

  "I am. The jacket is…distressing. Pat Rin often wears blue."

  "Yeah, but there's no pellet holes in this one. Whoever was wearing it probably ditched it on account of it ain't polite to wear bloodstains on the street." Miri said sensibly. "Unless you got a match further up?"

  He shook his head, unrelieved. Death was certainly preferable to the living agonies the Department was capable of inflicting. Kin might wish a clean death for kin, against so terrible an alternative. "No," he said, aloud. "No, he is not listed among the dead."

  "But that ain't making you feel any better." She frowned down at him. "In fact, it's making you feel worse."

  He met her eyes. "I would not willingly remand my direst enemy to the Department's care, much less kin." He sighed. "Even kin scarcely known."

  She blinked, then turned back to the screen, leaning forward to manipulate the keys, scrolling back up through Natesa's last filed contact with her office.