by Sharon Lee
"Of a certainty you answered! You have every faith in my abilities. I own--it's well that one of us does so, but when one writes for advice, one does not wish for reassurance, one wishes for . . . advice."
"But, what could I have advised?"
"Had I known that, tumultuous youth, I might have advised myself!"
Jethri laughed. "I think I see the problem, here--you want a glass of Misravot."
After a moment, Tan Sim smiled.
"Do you know, I think I might."
"Well, then, here . . ." Jethri offered his arm, which Tan Sim took, and they moved in the direction of the bar.
"Now, give over scolding," Jethri said, "and tell me how you have come here."
"As for that--Captain sea'Kera was persuaded to put Genchi to the test after it was most carefully explained to him by his trader how wonderful an opportunity this gathering is, so wonderful that it must on no account be missed. Alas, Genchi is not a courier ship, and we have only just arrived. I see that there are seminars scheduled for tomorrow and the next day, Standard, so I still hope to make good connections."
"I have no doubt," Jethri said, as they moved forward in line toward the bar. "Also, I might introduce you to some of the honoreds I have met--and to Doricky, who will introduce you to a hundred more, I warrant."
"If you will introduce me to the trader with very deep pockets, who bought your pretty little ring, I would be most obliged. At least you must tell me who he is."
Jethri bit his lip. Tan Sim was his partner, and he needed to know this. Probably.
"The trader is known to everyone as Uncle," he said. "As it comes about, he is, in truth, my own uncle--the brother of my father. Tonight was my first meeting with him; I had only learned of his existence an hour before." They arrived at the bar, and Ranny Suki smiled to see him.
"Trader ven'Deelin! Another of your party?" She turned the smile on Tan Sim.
"My partner, in fact: Trader pen'Akla. He's only just arrived and is very much in need of a glass of the Misravot, should there be any more available."
"Indeed, I have the last bottle of your case here, sir! Allow me to pour. Also, there is a cold nuncheon laid at the back of the room, Trader pen'Akla. Please refresh yourself."
"I thank you." Tan Sim gave her one of his more charming smiles and a bow.
"Thank you," Jethri said, also, and they received their glasses and moved away.
"Do you wish to eat?"
"Do you know, a cold nuncheon sounds delightful. Tell me more about--"
"Trader ven'Deelin," a lately familiar voice spoke at his elbow.
Jethri turned carefully. "Master Trader pin'Aker," he murmured.
"Forgive me for intruding, Trader, I merely wished to express my congratulations on an excellent piece of trading and a very fine recover. A trader must sometimes think quickly to preserve the tempo and rescue the trade. These skills require practice. It was good of Host Doricky to arrange so neat a lesson for you."
Jethri blinked. Had he or had he not seen a twinkle in the Master Trader's eye? Best to answer modestly, in any wise.
He inclined his head respectfully. "Indeed, sir. I must remember to thank her for her care of me."
"You must, Trader; I strongly advise it. Perhaps, too, a small gift, if something appropriate comes to your hand."
"Thank you, Master Trader, for your advice. It will be my very great pleasure to choose a present for Grandma Ricky." He took a breath and laid his hand on Tan Sim's sleeve. "By your leave, sir, may I present to you my partner, Tan Sim pen'Akla Clan--"
"Pen'Akla!" the Master Trader interrupted. "Exactly the trader I had wished to find! Have you a moment to give me, sir? That is, if I do not interrupt business . . ."
Tan Sim blinked, and bowed prettily--but it was Tan Sim, with pretty bows something of a specialty. In spite of which, Jethri thought he saw a tremor along the carefully curved fingers, and remembered, darkly, that Genchi's rations tended toward the low end of recommended daily caloric intake.
"My pressing business," he said, "is to find Tan Sim something to eat, as he has only just arrived among us."
Master Trader pin'Aker was seen to smile gently upon Jethri.
"Allow me, please, Trader, to take that pleasant duty from you. I promise that I will take most excellent care of him and return him to you in good order."
"Truly, Jeth Ree," Tan Sim added, sounded slightly panicked, "my meal can easily wait upon the Master Trader's business."
"No, no, Trader ven'Deelin and I are quite agreed!" said pin'Aker with a slight, indulgent bow. "I will see you properly fed, and we shall pursue our mutual business over what I am told are 'handwiches made of fresh-bake bread, local cheese, and the finest soy meats'!" He offered his arm, and dropped back into Liaden. "Come, Trader, who can resist such a treat?"
"Jeth Ree . . ."
"Go, please, eat! Master Trader, my thanks to you again, for your care. Tan Sim--I'm on Keravath!"
"Yes," Tan Sim said, and allowed himself to be borne off by the Master Trader.
Jethri turned away, sipping his wine absently, his mind occupied with the problem of a "small gift" for Doricky. Properly, such a gift, commemorating a service acknowledged, was small and personal. The more personal the gift, the greater the service.
He raised his hand to tug at his earlobe--and suddenly grinned.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tradedesk, Gallery 770
"Grandma Ricky." He stopped before her chair and bowed, as a child to a favored elder.
She looked up at him with a tired smile.
"Now, Trader, you're not looking to me for bed-games, I'm thinking."
"I would be honored, if you think you might find me of use," he said, which was the proper response, and he would be honored, if she decided so.
She laughed, right out loud.
"Forty Standards! Hell, twenty Standards! But now? And having been crushed? Find somebody who can keep up with you!"
"But I came," he said earnestly, "to thank you."
She eyed him shrewdly. "Thank me for what?"
"For the opportunity to succeed," he said seriously, which was almost exactly what he would have said in Liaden. He dropped to one knee beside her chair.
"May I give a gift?"
"I'm never one to turn down a present. Is it a nice one?"
"You must be the judge," he said, and reached up to detach the modest gold ring that adorned his ear. Leaning forward, he affixed it to hers, and leaned back smiling.
"Like it was made for you," he said.
She lifted her fingers, felt the adornment gently, and shook her head at him.
"You're a fool, boy," she said, precisely as if her eyes hadn't become just a little damp. "A fool, but a pretty-mannered one. You can come find me again at tomorrow's banquet. 'Til then, go away and let an old woman rest!"
"Yes, ma'am. Rest well."
He rose, and took himself off, heading vaguely toward the door, though he was still feeling energy twitching in his fingers and toes. Common sense suggested that it was late, the first seminar on the morrow was early, and a trader might be best served by going back to his cramped berth on Keravath and trying to exchange energy for sleep. It did seem as if Gallery 770 had lost a number of partiers, so perhaps he wouldn't be alone in--
"You are very condescending, sir!" he heard Samay say, from very close at hand. She was speaking High Liaden and her voice was even colder than that aloof dialect demanded.
Jethri turned--and found her at once, not half a dozen steps to his right, her back rigid and her head up. He could only see the side of her face, but her expression appeared to be perfectly, politely bland. She was addressing Bar Jan chel'Gaiban, whose face Jethri could see all too clearly: also politely bland, though showing a little color along the cheekbones, his stance suggesting that he was amused by something, as an adult might be amused at a child's tantrum.
"How should I be condescending?" he said, spreading his hands. "I merely speak the truth as we
both know it. We two are well-matched in clan and in melant'i, and there is then no question but that we may pleasure each other more satisfactorily than any other pairing available to either. Come, I offer bed-sport with a well-trained and well-regarded companion in luxury surely not available in any room on this . . . station. Let us go, before the evening becomes too short for pleasure."
He offered his arm.
Jethri hadn't thought Samay could get any stiffer.
"You misunderstand me," she said, her voice steady, and her tone cold enough it was a wonder Bar Jan's hair didn't show icicles. "I mean to say that I have already arranged for company this evening!"
She turned suddenly, and held out her hand to Jethri, her smile rather . . . forced.
"Trader, you find me at last! I hope your business has gone well?"
Clear at once was that Samay wasn't tolerating Bar Jan's advances, and wanted to be rid of him. Well, Jethri thought, he could certainly help her extricate herself from his attentions. He did feel a little pang, that it was a subterfuge, but still--Samay had been a pleasant and gracious companion all evening. She had submitted with good humor to the role of "arbiter" for the ridiculous auction, and had gracefully acted as Doricky's assistant. If she needed his help now to avoid an unwelcome connection, he would be churlish to refuse her.
So, he stepped forward with a slight, intimate bow, and a smile that deliberately excluded Bar Jan chel'Gaibin, offering his arm with a will.
"My business is well concluded," he told her. "Will you forgive me, that it took me from your side?"
She tipped her head, as if considering her options, then slipped her arm through his.
"I think that I might, since it ended well. But, come, shall we retire, before more business finds you?"
"I think that is the course of wisdom," he said. "Let us go, and quickly."
He allowed Samay to turn him toward the door, glancing over his shoulder to afford the jilted lover a cordial nod. "Trader. Good fortune to you."
Bar Jan chel'Gaibin turned away without a word and stalked off toward the bar.
*
Samay and her uncle had rooms on the station, an honor reserved for few, since there were, as Jethri understood, not very many hotel rooms yet ready for occupancy. They were still comfortably arm in arm, when they found the proper door. Jethri was pleased to see that Samay had become noticeably less stiff, as they put hallways between her and the Rinork heir, and by the time of their arrival at that door, they were chatting together comfortably, once more on the easy terms they had established in Gallery 770.
"Here," she said, pulling a key card from her sleeve.
Jethri stepped back, releasing her arm with a bow.
"I will leave you to your rest, and seek . . ." he began, but got no further.
She turned to look at him, her eyes. wide.
"But what is this? Come inside, Trader . . . Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Have you made arrangements?"
"No arrangements, but I thought--"
A door closed somewhat down the hall. Samay looked over her shoulder, then caught his hand.
"Come in, Trader, please, where we can discuss this in comfort"
She pushed the door open and bowed him in ahead of her. He could understand that she might not wish to air her business in a public hall, so he inclined his head and stepped inside.
*
"Comfort" was perhaps not the correct word for the room in which he found himself.
It was a nice room, and would one day be elegant, but for the moment it was filled with a temporary mix of furniture and fixtures brought together to permit the half-finished station to present itself at all.
Too, the room was set up for entertaining a crowd--cheeses and chernubia, wine and other drinks, and a dozen-plus chairs--
The single couch . . . was large enough that they could have reclined, their booted feet sole to sole at the center, and neither head would have quite touched the armrests. The lighting was also very bright--startling so, after the comfortable low lights of Gallery 770.
Jethri paused and looked around him.
"This will be a room for large events, I believe," Samay said, stepping in behind him and locking the door, "and I believe that the spaces are used differently . . ."
"Not," he agreed, "a place meant for quiet times. And large, if I may say, for one person . . ."
The merest trace of a blush whispered across Samay's face and she bowed lightly, acknowledging a hit. Jethri found much to favor in her forthrightness.
"My delm insisted I was to be treated as her representative here, which is absurd though I'm not to say so. This worked well in the Gallery, at least! So my uncle travels with his two favorites, as he always does, achieving a suite half as large . . . and I have been gifted with a suite sized for a Festival gathering! It is perplexing. By myself, I have not even a stuffed toy to speak to!"
She looked to him earnestly then, and offered lightly, "There are options for us, Trader. We have, off of this room, aside from the usual amenities, not less than three bedchambers, though one is rather small, and--"
"Wait." He raised a hand, and she stopped speaking, her head tipped slightly to one side, and her eyes very wide.
"You must forgive me," he said, "if I offend, but I must be clear regarding the intention of the evening. My understanding was that I assisted a comrade in evading a potentially distasteful situation. I gave that assistance with no expectation of . . . of . . . usurping your company for myself."
Samay's blush this time was more noticeable.
"It is I who must ask forgiveness. Indeed, it had been in my mind to ask if you might be available to celebrate mutual pleasure this evening, but the opportunity. . .then here comes Bar Jan chel'Gaibin, who informs me that I needn't worry that I will be importuned by Wynhael's associates; he has already lain his claim, for clearly of all the station, only he and I are a worthy night match!"
Jethri felt his jaw drop, which he ought by this point in his training be proof against, and manfully pressed his lips together. At least, he comforted himself, he hadn't let the gasp loose. The effrontery was, well, breathtaking! Chel'Gaibin was High House; he must have had lessons: in protocol, in bed-sport, in--he must have meant the insult!
"I thank you," Samay said, "for your very complete understanding. Please, allow me to offer you refreshment--perhaps some fruit juice?--and we will discuss this matter properly between us."
*
Both of them deeming the formal parlor too . . . big, they had carried a tray of light snacks and another, with pitcher and glasses, to the room Samay described as the "small parlor." Though there was a bunk bed in the room, it was easily ignored in favor of the grouping at the front of the space. Here was adjustable lighting, and a couch piled with pillows, and two comfortable chairs that friends might arrange to accommodate soft voice and subtle gesture.
The chairs placed, then, and the lights softened, they each settled, fruit juice in hand, smiled, and lifted their glasses in a toast.
"To enjoyable connections," Samay murmured, and Jethri did not demur.
"Now, Trader, I must tell you--it would please me very much if you will stay. I know too well that the manner of your coming here is not, entirely, to Code. I say now that it was not my intent to . . . to coerce you. Please, you must not feel compelled to stay here, and I will beg you to inform me, if we have become . . . out of Balance."
She stopped, her eyes bright, leaning slightly forward in her chair.
Seated as he was, Jethri bowed slightly. "As I count, we are in perfect Balance. If my arrival was irregular, I am still happy to be here."
Tension left her shoulders; she leaned back in her chair, her slight, enchanting smile on display.
"Good, that is good." She sipped her juice, then gave him one of her clear, straight looks.
"You must understand that I am not yet . . . fully in the habit of--which is to say . . . I have not previously invited a night friend into my own bedchamber! Doubtless had I
more experience, I might have found opportunity to speak earlier in the evening, and thus prevented . . . the slight disorder which we have together overcome. However, you need not be concerned that I have no skills. Certainly, I have been properly, and thoroughly, tutored in the art. More, I have been to several Festivals. Surely, I should say that, if it pleases you, you may call me this evening by my small name, my friend name of Maya, or even, if you like--I offer you this for quietest moments, which my nanny and my aunt both called me--Nera, after the small birds. I find it soothing, but it is not a public name!"
Jethri felt his throat catch, for he knew that such a name was indeed a gift.
Carefully, he smiled. "I hope I shall earn such good names for my tongue," he murmured. "I do hope you will call me Jethri, and the short form is simply 'Jeth' if you like. I am not so lucky as to be short-named for a bird or a cloud or a jewel!"
He sipped his juice, recalling the rest of what he ought, in respect of shared pleasure, to likewise reveal to his partner.
"I fear that I bring rather less to the evening than might be assumed. Indeed, at the time you were being tutored in the arts and graces, I would scarcely have been bundling. My own I'gaina Prenada has given me what is said to be a thorough introduction, and was kind enough to pronounce me an apt and energetic scholar. However, this was well within the relumma. I have no Festival gleanings to increase our delight, nor even, I fear, very much skill."
"Appreciation and energy are very welcome in a bed-friend," Samay said firmly. "I expect that we will deal well; certainly, we must between us produce a unique pleasure. But you must tell me, Jeth, what is this bundling? A Terran art?"
He laughed.
"Say, rather, a Terran work-around." He said the last word in Terran, saw her puzzled glance, and held up his hand for a moment while he made a translation, "A circumvention," he achieved, in Liaden.
"I understand the word," she said after a moment, "but what would the problem be, that bundling . . .works-around?"
