by Sharon Lee
The brown eyes looked into his: a weighing glance. Taam returned it calmly. The boy looked to Mr. dea'Gauss.
"Is that true?" There was no insult in the tone; he was merely requesting information. Taam Olanek found himself amused.
Mr. dea'Gauss inclined his head. "The word of Delm Plemia is above reproach, Master Arbuthnot. What he has said will be."
"Okay." The boy inclined his head. "Thank you, Delm Plemia."
Taam bowed graciously. "Thank you, Master Arbuthnot."
Mr. dea'Gauss indicated the patient woman. "Plemia, here is Thodelm Faaldom Clan Deshnol."
He inclined his head. "Thodelm, I am pleased to meet you."
She bowed, as Head-of-Line-to-Delm-of-Another-Clan. "I am pleased to meet you, Plemia." Neither voice nor face betrayed her thoughts. Her behavior was most proper.
As observer, Thodelm Faaldom sat at the bottom left of the table. The boy sat to her right, near Mr. dea'Gauss. Sav Rid eyed both coldly; he made neither overture nor introduction.
The hour struck on the clock above the door, nearly covering the sound of the door buzzer.
The woman was tall, though not much taller than Shan yos'Galan, who walked just behind her right shoulder, and black-haired and slender. But for its paleness, her face might have been Liaden. She wore calm authority like a silken cloak over the clothing of Thodelm.
Gliding, she crossed to the port master and bowed as between equals.
Pilot, Taam Olanek thought, seeing the woman's grace mirrored in her white-haired escort. He understood now Mr. dea'Gauss's moment of outrage. Pleasure-love she might be, but this regal lady was no one's plaything.
"Port Master," she was saying, her voice soft and deeper than one expected, "I'm happy to see you again. Please accept my gratitude now for your kindness to myself and my friend."
The port master smiled in momentary pleasure, then waved a dismissing hand. "You owe me no gratitude, Lady Mendoza. My duty was clear. I believe there are still amends to be made; we must meet again before you leave."
The black-haired woman murmured assent and stepped aside.
Shan yos'Galan made his bow to the port master. "I'm pleased to see you again, ma'am. Please accept my gratitude as well, to be flung aside with Lady Mendoza's."
She laughed. "A lesson in manners, Captain? Very well, I accept the gratitude of all—including the boy's, though he hasn't offered it. Perhaps he's a realist." She indicated the rest of the table. "We are all gathered now. Mr. dea'Gauss?"
Korval's man of business rose to his spare height and bowed profoundly to the two just arrived.
"Thodelm yos'Galan. Thodelm Mendoza. Here are Elyana Rominkoff, Port Master; Taam Olanek, Delm Plemia; Lina Faaldom, thodelm and observer; Gordon Arbuthnot, foster-son and witness; Sav Rid Olanek, Trader."
Plemia inclined his head. Beside him, Sav Rid shifted and snapped, "Lady Mendoza!"
The woman's face remained coolly serene; she might not have heard. Certainly yos'Galan had heard; the light eyes glittered steel.
Plemia turned his face. Deliberately, using the Command mode of the High Tongue, he instructed for the ears of all, "You will exercise fitting courtesy here!"
Impossibly, Sav Rid looked hurt. "Certainly, sir."
Taam sighed to himself and saw a flicker of a reaction cross Lady Faaldom's face. At the top of the table, Lady Mendoza sat, Lord yos'Galan at her right. Plemia very nearly sighed aloud. Korval thus demonstrated its support of Thodelm Mendoza's demands and subordination of its claims to hers.
"It must be known," Mr. dea'Gauss announced, "that a pin-beam has been received from Eldema yos'Galan. It reads thus—" He plucked a sheet of hard copy from the pile before him. "'In the present affair between Plemia and Korval, it shall be that Thodelm yos'Galan speaks with the very voice of Korval. I, Nova yos'Galan, First Speaker in Trust, Clan Korval.'"
yos'Galan inclined his white head, his ugly face austere. "It shall be done as the First Speaker instructs."
Mr. dea'Gauss laid the sheet aside. "For the purpose of balance, it shall be considered that Priscilla Delacroix y Mendoza is indeed Thodelm. Since she has chosen to disassociate herself from House Mendoza, Sintia, she must also be considered Delm Mendoza Offworld—"
"Offworld?" Sav Rid cried, cutting the old gentleman off. "Outlaw, more like!"
"Sav Rid!" Plemia allowed irritation to be heard. "I remind you again that I will have courtesy from you, for every person here."
"What difference," the younger man demanded, eyes glittering fever-bright, "if the bitch chooses to style itself thodelm? Our business is with Korval, which has the ill judgment to allow the fool to speak for it—"
"You are silent!"
A wave of heat washed past Taam's cheek, gone even as he understood the words to be in the High Tongue—Ultimate-Authority- to-Rankless-Person—and recognized the voice to belong to Thodelm Mendoza.
Beside him, Sav Rid opened his mouth, throat working. No sound emerged.
"Your delm," the woman continued in faultless Liaden, "will speak for you. When your words are required, you will be permitted speech."
"Most proper," Mr. dea'Gauss murmured.
Taam looked quickly around the table. Shan yos'Galan was expressionless; the port master was puzzled but unshaken. Gordon Arbuthnot's brown eyes were stretched wide. Lady Faaldom was staring at the black-haired woman, awe and consternation in her face.
"Korval," Lord yos'Galan said in quiet Trade, "acknowledges a subordinate position in these negotiations. Debts owed Lady Mendoza are by far the greatest and must be met. We support her claims and are guided by her thoughts."
"Just so." Plemia inclined his head, carefully not thinking about the impossibility of what he had just witnessed. Beside him, Sav Rid sat mute and shivering.
"Thodelm Mendoza. I have seen information provided by Mr. dea'Gauss regarding your grievance against Plemia. Also, I have heard privately from my clansman that which convinces me of the justice of that grievance. Without doubt, Plemia owes. The amount must yet be ascertained. I am interested in hearing your thoughts on this."
The black eyes considered him calmly. "Sav Rid Olanek must be removed as Trader on Daxflan immediately."
He stiffened. "That is a Clan decision, Thodelm."
"Then it is a decision I require of the Clan," she returned serenely. "Sav Rid Olanek is unfit. If he were examined by the Trader's Guild tomorrow, sir, he would be found wanting and his license revoked. More." She lifted a hand, forestalling his protest. "I tell you now, sir, your kinsman gave scant attention to the honor of his crew—Liaden as little as Terran. His cargo included illegal pharmaceuticals: Bellaquesa, I will swear to; others I might guess. He is a danger to the honor of your Clan, the honor of your ship . . . and to himself." She glanced at the man on her right. "Is it permitted that I ask Lady Faaldom to speak—as a Healer?"
"If Plemia agrees."
Taam inclined his head. "Plemia agrees."
"Healer Faaldom."
"Lady Mendoza?"
"I feel that Sav Rid Olanek is not—rational. Are you able to form an opinion? Would you tell us what it is?"
The Healer gave the softest of sighs. "My opinion parallels your own. Sav Rid Olanek is deranged. The pattern is one I have only occasionally seen, most often in connection with ingestion of harmful drugs. Bellaquesa addiction, for instance, might cause such a pattern."
"Can he be Healed?" There was hope in the Terran woman's voice. Taam Olanek looked at her in wonder.
The Healer hesitated. "It is beyond my skill."
"Beyond everyone's skill, Lina?" She spoke insistently, and Olanek felt his wonder grow.
"On Liad, perhaps. The path would be a long one, I think, and tedious." She sighed once more. "If Plemia desires, I will provide names, an introduction."
"You are kind, Healer. My thanks to you."
"You will need that list, sir," Lady Mendoza informed him. "My second demand is that he be Healed."
"Thodelm," he said with dignity, "you do
not need to demand it. The child shall have what he requires."
She bowed her head. "Forgive me, sir. I meant no offense."
"None was taken, Thodelm. May I know what items further go to balance Plemia's debt?"
"It must be recalled," yos'Galan said smoothly, before the lady could speak again, "that several attempts have been made on Lady Mendoza's life—which is the life of her House, entire. The first attempt must be laid directly upon Sav Rid Olanek, who ordered Dagmar Collier to strike. The second and third incidents must also be laid upon Trader Olanek for his inability to control the actions of one sworn to his service."
"There are practicalities as well," Mr. dea'Gauss put in. "Unpaid wages, contract fee, clothing, hazard pay, recompense of personal indignities suffered while employed on Daxflan, family heirlooms lost—"
"Korval," yos'Galan broke in, "owes for the heirlooms, sir. Evidence indicates they were destroyed in retaliation for words spoken by Captain yos'Galan."
Mr. dea'Gauss made a notation. "So then. The sum owed, were there no further balance to be established: two cantra."
Plemia inclined his head. It surprised him that the woman should have drawn so low a wage, that she should have possessed so little. "Plemia agrees to a payment of two cantra in Balance for these things."
"Lady Mendoza," yos'Galan said gently, "has declined her right to Trader Olanek's life as Balance for his attempts on her own. The life-sum agreed upon by the Council of Clans for a first class pilot is three hundred cantra. It must be remembered that Lady Mendoza is currently the sum of her Line and Clan. It is to be assumed that one in her position would desire to establish a solid base for her House. Three children, I think, is not an unreasonable number. Nor is it unreasonable to suppose these offspring would inherit pilot reactions. Nine hundred cantra, then, for the children unborn."
Twelve hundred cantra.
"A just sum," Plemia murmured around the sinking feeling in his stomach. "Precise Balance is intended. However, if Lady Mendoza permits, I would propose this alternate plan: Plemia pays a sum of fifteen hundred cantra, over four Standards, the money to derive from Daxflan's profits—"
"No!" she said sharply. "I want no money from Daxflan."
Wearily he raised his eyes to hers. "Lady, I assure you, not all of Daxflan's profits come illegally. A guaranteed payment of three hundred seventy-five cantra per Standard would be made, even should Daxflan fail to earn that sum. Is this plan acceptable?"
She looked at him for a long moment, then glanced beyond. "Mr. dea'Gauss."
"Thodelm?"
"If Clan Korval permits, sir, I would like you to take charge of these—details. The sum of twelve hundred cantra at once or fifteen hundred over several Standards is agreeable to me. Otherwise, it would be—comforting—to know that you act in my interest."
"Korval raises no objection," Lord yos'Galan put in, "if Mr. dea'Gauss feels he can undertake the task."
"I accept the commission, Thodelm Mendoza. I am honored to give service." He inclined his head. "Perhaps Delm Plemia and I might meet on the morrow and discuss the matter more fully."
"Certainly, sir. At your convenience."
"We come now," Mr. dea'Gauss said, "to that owed Korval. There is deliberate loss engineered by Sav Rid Olanek. There is the paid attack upon the Dutiful Passage—"
"Korval," yos'Galan broke in, "makes the following demands for balance: From Plemia, twenty cantra toward the loss on the mezzik-root purchase. Captain yos'Galan will likewise pay twenty cantra to the ship, to remind him to hear more fully. Also, Korval does likewise insist that Trader Olanek be removed from Daxflan immediately and sent home, that Healing may commence.
"Last, Captain yos'Galan would speak with Delm Plemia and Captain yo'Vaade regarding the management of tradeships and the planning of trade routes. Plemia may reap profit from the discussion."
Taam Olanek felt himself adrift. He managed to incline his head. "Plemia agrees to all terms of Korval's Balance."
"So be it," Mr. dea'Gauss said formally, and made notation.
"I believe that Master Arbuthnot also holds a just claim," Taam ventured, still unsure of what had occurred.
"Me?" The boy looked up in surprise. "Shan? Does this—does Delm Plemia owe me something?"
"You were in quite a bit of danger through the Trader's mismanagement, you know, Gordy." From the mildness of the tone, yos'Galan might have been discussing a rather mediocre play.
The boy frowned and shook his head. "The only thing he owes me is an apology for calling me 'it.' But if he's going to see a Healer, I guess he'll learn better, so that's okay. Dagmar's the one put me in danger, and she paid as much as she can." Surprisingly, then, he inclined his head, speaking in tolerably accented High Tongue. "Thank you, sir, but I believe our accounts are in order."
Taam bowed his head. "Thank you, Master Arbuthnot. Should you have need, Plemia's name is for you to use."
"Thank you," Gordy said again in response to a glance from Lady Faaldom.
Plemia glanced at the port master. "Madam, I would ask assistance. Daxflan must be searched, and all illegal substances must be removed. Is it possible you could instruct me in the proper procedure?"
She nodded gravely. "Delm Plemia, I would be honored to assist you. Allow me to call on you tomorrow midday for the purpose."
"You are kind, madam. I thank you."
"I believe," Mr. dea'Gauss said dryly, "that the meeting may be adjourned." Seeing no dissent, he turned down his papers.
At the head of the table, both tall thodelms stood, bowed, and glided toward the door. On the threshold the woman turned and raised a hand, tracing an invisible pattern in the air.
"Sav Rid Olanek," she announced in the High Tongue, "you may speak now."
Then they passed through the door and were gone.
Taam Olanek felt a sigh pass him, as if a bubble had given way. Beside him, Sav Rid burst into tears.
Shipyear 65
Tripday 287
Third Shift
16.00 Hours
Acting first mate Mendoza strode toward the captain's office. Hold 6, empty for the past two months, tantalized memory with the odors of leather, resin, spice. She took a deep breath, then sighed it out with a grin. It was hard to believe that they would establish orbit about Liad in five hours; hard to believe that so much had happened in five months. From pet librarian to acting first mate—she nearly laughed as she laid her hand against the captain's door.
He was frowning at the computer screen, his mental signature laced with irritation. At her entrance he looked up, irritation fading. "Hello, Priscilla."
She smiled, relaxing into the familiarity of his inner self. "You wanted to see me?"
He grinned. "Very good. When in doubt, hedge. The captain has several things to discuss with the first mate. Also the first mate was to have discovered what Lina Faaldom was going to do with that damn perfume of hers."
Priscilla laughed. "She's got a buyer in Chonselta City. They're going to package a distillate and sell it for a cantra the quarter ounce. The name is 'Festival Memories.'" She stopped because Shan was laughing.
"Oh, no! Shameless, shameless! She'd have done better to turn her hand to trading than librarying, Priscilla. 'Festival Memories,' in fact! The woman's dangerous." He leaned back, grinning hugely. "She's reserved a quantity for the crew, I hope?"
Priscilla nodded, lighthearted with his pleasure. "Anyone who wants part of their profit in perfume may take it that way, up to two bottles."
He chuckled. "Wonderful, wonderful. Pour yourself a drink, Priscilla, and come sit down."
She moved to the bar. "What are you drinking?"
"Nothing at the moment. But I would like a brandy, if you'd be so kind."
She poured them each a drink, brought him a glass, and settled into the right-hand chair.
Shan sipped, his light eyes on her. "Have you decided what you will do, Priscilla?"
"Do?"
He waved an apologetic hand. "Of cou
rse, it's true that you're rather well off now. You might choose to do nothing at all. But I'll tell you frankly, Priscilla, doing nothing is a very boring line of work." He sipped thoughtfully. "Not that there aren't a great many people who don't seem to find it arduous at all. My cousin Pat Rin, for an instance. The first jewels, the most fashionable companions . . . Why, if he didn't play the wheel with suspiciously consistent luck, he'd have no money at all to call his own, and live within his quarter-share he could not."
She smiled. "I don't think I'd do well as a gambler."
"Well, neither do I, frankly. But there are other things you might be about. Buy a house, a bit of land, start talking to people—lay the foundation for possible contracts and alliances."
"To set up my clan," she surmised.
"Exactly to set up your clan. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
She sipped her drink, considering him. Emotive patterns told too little. He was not desperate, but there was a—tentativeness—mixed somehow with the desire she had found herself responding to more and more of late.
"I thought I'd invest my money," she said quietly. "Mr. dea'Gauss kindly offered his services."
Shan raised his glass. "I see that Korval will have to begin casting about for a new man of business. Mr. dea'Gauss is clearly smitten. I had hoped it would prove to be merely a case of calf-love, Priscilla, I confess."
She laughed. "More likely he thinks I'm too young to manage my own affairs! He helped me gain funds and status; how can he leave me alone to botch things now?"
"A fair summation of Mr. dea'Gauss's melant'i in the situation," Shan acknowledged. "But you still don't tell me what you'll be doing, Priscilla."
"Have you heard from Kayzin Ne'Zame?"
The slanted brows pulled together. "She brought Daxflan safely home and continues to work closely with Plemia to revise ship's procedures and work out a route that will not unduly tax available resources. I believe she had hopes of showing him the advantages of belonging to a cooperative, with which project I wish her luck. Plemia was rather resistant to the idea when I brought it up in our discussions."
