Liaden Universe 18: Dragon in Exile

by Sharon Lee

Nothing happened. The fragile threads moved gently in the celestial breeze.

  Ren Zel brought his regard nearer, seeking any change, any small alteration . . .

  . . . and in that instant, Bon Vit’s soul ignited, expanding into a pure brilliance; energy flowing through the threads, strengthening them.

  Joy filled Ren Zel—and then horror, as he beheld the tiniest scrap of blackness, at the very heart of the glory that was Bon Vit. As he watched, the scrap fractured into tiny bits, like seeds, flowing with the golden energy toward the ties—the ties that bound all of the universe together.

  It was instinct; his gift knew how to spend itself. Say that he extended a hand. Extended a hand and pinched off the outward flow of Bon Vit’s energies into the universe. The seeds—the poison—swirled, trapped in golden energies, and burned away.

  Ren Zel released his fingers, his will, and Bon Vit was one with the universe again.

  Almost, he could weep. Perhaps he did weep, bent above the soul they had saved. Three, won back from nightmare! He had not, in his most secret heart, believed that they might win more than one.

  There was a disturbance in near-space. He felt his hand grasped. He heard, from somewhere, from everywhere, a voice speak his name.

  He turned and opened his eyes . . .

  . . . to his lifemate, bending above him where he lay on his back, her hands cupping his face, and her eyes filled with doubt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Boss Conrad’s House

  Blair Road

  The kitchen and household staffs, organized by Mr. pel’Tolian, had done well throughout what had become a long night. Tea and coffee were set out in the dining room, with tray after tray of food—cookies, fruits, crackers, cheese, sandwiches, and other quick fare upon first being roused to the emergency, with more substantial offerings following as the oven heated and the cook more clearly understood the need.

  At some point, hot cereal, fruit muffins, and cheese rolls joined the continuously renewed trays, and tureens of soup.

  Surely, Pat Rin thought, they had fed the street and more in the hours since the Watch had been called out to quench a fire and a riot at Quill’s Bakery. There had been a meeting in this room, not very many hours ago—Pat Rin believed that the sun had risen by that point—and there would be another one soon, but for the moment, there was only himself, a pot of his favorite tea and his breakfast, his cook having adamantly refused to allow the Boss to eat “what anybody could have off the tray.”

  He was given to understand that the Boss’s consequence demanded better, even if the Boss were . . . rather hungry.

  Still, it was pleasant to have his usual meal, and a few moments of solitude, in the wake of roar and ruckus. He picked up his teacup, and turned his head as the sound of soft footsteps on the inner stairway caught his ear.

  One set of footsteps, but a moment later he was joined by two—his cousins Val Con and Miri, looking well rested, which must be a sham, for surely they had not had even four hours’ sleep. Miri had a bruise on her right cheek, which he had not noticed last night, and which now gave him a chill, indeed. That the delm had involved themselves in a street brawl—that the delm had been about on the street without Security, and had been so near to danger that someone had landed a blow to the delmae’s face . . .

  “Good morning, Pat Rin,” she said cheerfully, in the Low Tongue.

  “Good morning, Cousin,” Val Con echoed. “Thank you for the use of your bed.”

  “I only wish you had used it longer,” Pat Rin said. “You cannot be rested.”

  “How many hours did you sleep?” Miri asked, moving to the common buffet, and pouring a cup of coffee from the carafe.

  “Two and one half hours,” Pat Rin said virtuously.

  “Doubtless because your lifemate threatened you at knife-point,” Val Con said shrewdly.

  Pat Rin did not answer, instead, nodding at the teapot.

  “That is fresh,” he said. “Miri, that coffee is hours old. Cook can brew—”

  She laughed.

  “Coffee that is stale is still superior to coffeetoot,” she told him, and to Val Con, “Will you have a sandwich, or muffins?”

  “Both,” he said promptly, fetching a cup from the sideboard and pouring from Pat Rin’s teapot.

  “How does the day march, Cousin?”

  “Vigorously, I fear. However, I am merely called upon to give direction, and, I suppose, to inspect. I may be required to give a presentation at the common school in assembly, but I hold out hope that I may importune Penn Kalhoon to stand in my place.”

  Miri arrived at the table, bearing her cup and a plate of sandwiches and fruit muffins. Val Con pulled a chair out and saw her seated.

  “How is Baker Quill?” Miri asked.

  “Resting still, so I believe, in yet another of my bedrooms. Later, she is to meet with the Blair Road Building Committee.”

  Val Con raised an eyebrow.

  “I did not know that there was a building committee.”

  “That is because you are behind in the news,” Pat Rin told him kindly. “Until this morning, there had not been a building committee. It constituted itself here in this room, over many cups of caffeinated beverages, and has among its members residents of my turf, several of the Watch, at least one Scout, and several residents of Boss Kalhoon’s turf.

  “The building committee’s first, self-appointed task is to rebuild Quill Bakery. Boss Conrad’s office has pledged an amount of money, and stands ready to assist, as needed. I believe that Andy Mack has lent a piece of equipment that will be used to clear the debris from the bakery site, once it is cool enough to manipulate.”

  “And the insurance salesmen?” Miri asked.

  “They are in the hands of the Watch, who expect that nothing useful will be gotten from them.”

  Pat Rin sipped his tea, found it tepid, and warmed it from the pot.

  “In the meanwhile, the Watch has taken Baker Quill’s educational project upon itself. Watchpersons will be visiting every shop in every turf. They will give each shopkeeper a sign that reads, No Insurance Sales Allowed, and they will explain the law. They will also leave a card with the contact information for an insurance hotline”—he caught his cousin’s eye and inclined his head—“another innovation that has been put into place while you slept.”

  “I must sleep more often,” Val Con said. “Only see the prodigies I inspire.”

  “Also . . .” Pat Rin said severely. “I—by which I of course mean Boss Kalhoon—will speak to the assembled students at the common school on the subject of insurance, and the law. Teachers will be asked to teach the History of Insurance, with particular attention on the present circumstances and the law. Cards with the hotline contact will be given to each child. They will be asked to share the cards, and their history lessons, with their families and friends. They will also be asked to be vigilant. If they should see someone attempting to collect insurance, and leave their name when calling the hotline, they will be given . . .” He moved his hands in the sign for uncertain course.

  “Money?” asked Val Con.

  “A coupon,” said Miri, in Terran. “Good for one of something at one of the shops on the street. Shopkeeper decides what to give, and how many. That way, everybody pitches in. Everybody feels good.”

  Pat Rin looked at Val Con.

  “Indeed, a coupon redeemable at one of the local shops. Thank you, Miri.”

  “You are very welcome, Cousin,” she said serenely. “I make no doubt you would have thought of it yourself, after you had slept longer than two-and-one-half hours.”

  “You give me too much credit,” he told her, seriously.

  The door to the kitchen swung open to admit Mr. pel’Tolian bearing another pot of tea, which he placed on the table before bowing to Val Con and Miri in full honor-to-the-delm-of-a-clan-not-one’s-own mode.

  “Delm Korval, Jeeves has called. He asks me to inform you that he has something of a delicate and urgent matter to discu
ss with you, when you return to Jelaza Kazone.”

  “Thank you, Mr. pel’Tolian,” Val Con said gravely.

  “Sir. May I fetch something fresh from the kitchen?”

  “Not on my account,” said Pat Rin. “Though perhaps my cousins would care for something warm?”

  “Thank you, no,” said Val Con. “If you have no immediate use for us, we will take ourselves home.”

  “Does sound like we got our marching orders, don’t it?” Miri added.

  “Indeed.”

  Mr. pel’Tolian bowed again, and withdrew. Pat Rin drank the last of the tea in his cup.

  “Allow me to walk you to the door,” he said, rising with his cousins. “While we go, I will deliver myself of a cousinly lecture on the foolhardiness of leaving one’s security at home.”

  Miri blinked up at him.

  “We can protect ourselves,” she said, mildly.

  “Your face is bruised,” Pat Rin said, feeling the little shiver of horror again.

  “That is because I stepped into a fist. Foolish of me, but not fatal.”

  “We are, indeed, able people,” Val Con said. “We do, however, honor your concern, and will strive to comport ourselves in a more . . . seemly manner.”

  “Thank you, Cousins. Surebleak—”

  “Exactly,” Val Con interrupted, “Surebleak.”

  He smiled and looked ’round to his lifemate.

  “Cha’trez? Will you drive?”

  “Addiction,” Master Healer Mithin said, her voice perfectly smooth, “is very difficult to heal. Such an addiction as this, to the location and source of your gift . . .” She moved her shoulders. “The only certain course would be to deny you access—”

  Anthora made a small sound, and pressed her fingers to her lips, as if he and Master Mithin both had not felt her horrified denial.

  “I do not,” Master Mithin said, “counsel separating one of the dramliz from their gift. History teaches us that it is far better to allow the pairing, though the gift consumes the dramliza.”

  “But Ren Zel’s gift will not consume him,” Anthora said, speaking as if her wish were fact.

  “Beloved.” He took her hand between both of his. “It is too big, this gift. If I am all it eats, we shall be fortunate.” Her eyes were wide and for once she appeared neither wooly-headed nor soft. In fact—it was a knife to his heart to see it in her eyes—she was frightened.

  “I will do my best,” he told her, “not to be eaten for some while yet.”

  “Limiting your interactions with the ether will lengthen the time before . . . whatever will happen, happens,” said Master Mithin.

  “You must not return,” Anthora said hastily. “Ren Zel, swear it!”

  “But how can I, when we have one more agent to free?” he asked, pressing her hand firmly, and keeping his eyes on hers. She would feel his longing to return; he could not hide it; he did not try to hide it.

  “No,” she said. “I forbid it.”

  He laughed softly. “Do you?”

  Tears spilled from fearful eyes, but she had the heart to smile.

  “No, of course I do not. Only . . .” Wet eyes lost their focus, as she used that other Sight—and then she was back with them.

  “We must go forward with this one, this last, and we must have you to watch and to witness and to preserve the universe from our folly. Ren Zel . . .”

  “When this is done, I will do what I might,” he said. “I swear it to you, beloved. I will resist, for as long as I am able.”

  “Yes,” she said, and cupped his cheek with her free hand. “Of course you will.”

  She took a deep breath. He released her hand and stepped back.

  “Let us finish,” she said, rising to her feet, “what we have begun.”

  Nelirikk was waiting at the side door, standing at parade rest.

  “One gathers that we are about to be scolded,” Val Con murmured as Miri pulled the little car into its spot, and killed the engine.

  “Should’ve seen that comin’, I guess,” she muttered, and threw him a grin.

  “Well, let’s go take our medicine. I think I can hurry this up by telling him I intend to go down to the port today.”

  “Do you?”

  “Well, if I don’t, then the word’ll get ’round that one or both of us is bad hurt, or scared, or both. Not the kind of thing does the street cred any good.”

  “If we show up and open the office, our credit will increase?”

  “Sure it will,” Miri said, and asked, “We?”

  “I thought I might go with you, if you are determined to have the port. I had wanted to speak with Andy Mack, in any case.”

  “Okay, then; we’ll both be virtuous. Let’s go.”

  She popped the door, and walked across the apron, toward the door, and the big man before it.

  Nelirikk straightened into full attention. Miri sighed, and felt Val Con take her hand.

  “At ease, Beautiful,” she said, pausing to look up—way up—at him.

  “Captain,” he said. “You and the Scout were attacked last night.”

  “Nope, we weren’t. We went looking for trouble, is what happened, and we found it. Then, we had to do something about it.”

  “I should have been with you.”

  “Would’ve thrown the fear of freezing into a couple of ’em,” Miri allowed thoughtfully, “but we did okay, just by our ownselves.”

  “Also,” Val Con spoke up, “we have increased our standing as warriors on the street. The tale of last night’s encounter will be told and retold among those who would oppose us.”

  Nelirikk’s eyes gleamed. “They will think, and think again before they dare stand against you,” he said.

  “That’s it,” Miri said. “But, all that good work’ll go right to waste ’less I go down and open up the office today, even late. The Scout’s got business at the port, too, so he’ll be coming along.”

  “I will accompany you,” Nelirikk asserted.

  “Sure you will,” Miri said, her voice slightly puzzled. “We gotta clean up, so why don’t you call down to the Emerald and see if somebody can go over to the Road Boss’s office and put a note on the door that says that, due to an emergency, the office will open late today.” She frowned, then snapped her fingers.

  “The note also needs to say that both Road Bosses will be available today, in case anybody has any special questions. Right?”

  Nelirikk was grinning.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Okay—you do that, we’ll meetcha at the car in”—she looked to Val Con—“an hour?”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “Yes, Captain!” Nelirikk said. He saluted, received her nod, and stepped back to open the door for the pair of them.

  The next obstacle was waiting at the foot of the stairs.

  “Jeeves,” Val Con said. “We are in some haste.”

  “Yes, sir. This will take moments. I would make you known to one who is also in some haste.”

  “Your child?” Miri asked.

  “Korval’s child. The delm so decreed.”

  Right, they had, hadn’t they? Too late, Miri wondered if that had been the smartest idea they’d ever had together.

  “Certainly, the delm will See the clan’s new child,” Val Con said. “Where may we find her?”

  “Thank you,” Jeeves said. “She awaits you in the small parlor.”

  The small parlor was an interior room, with no window to the outside. Consequently, it was dim even on this bright-for-Surebleak morning. A lamp had been lit, however, and washed the room with a pearly white—

  Miri stopped.

  The lamplight in the small parlor was pale rose, not white. And she had never seen this particular lamp before in her life.

  It was, granted, a pretty lamp; a shapely pale construction about as tall as Val Con’s sister, Theo, with a suggestion of shoulder, neck, and even face, all close to Theo’s width, the glow emanating largely from the top of the shoulders an
d the back of the could-be head. There were no sharp lines in it as the glow dimmed and the form diminished in size past suggested hips, gently into a rounded column hovering a couple inches above the carpet.

  The could-be face was as dark as space itself, and the glowing body provided all the illumination for the room.

  “Tocohl,” Jeeves said from behind her. “Please make your bow to Delm Korval.”

  The lamp shifted, top leaning slightly toward them, light playing oddly about the walls, and then arms and hands came soundlessly out of the housing beneath, and Tocohl bowed, gracefully, and with the proper hand expression: honor to the delm.

  “Greetings, Korval.” The voice was female, rich and slightly accented. Miri felt a small flutter from Val Con, sort of like a mental gasp, and looked at him, worriedly.

  His attention was on Tocohl. Jeeves’s daughter. The newest member of Clan Korval.

  “Greetings, Tocohl, daughter of Jeeves,” Val Con said, extending the hand with Korval’s Ring on it.

  Tocohl met his hand, and allowed herself to be drawn forward.

  “The clan increases,” Miri said, that being one of the set things that had to be said.

  “Indeed,” Val Con said, and paused.

  “At this point in the ceremony,” he said, “the delm kiss their clanswoman. Advise me, please.”

  The screen moved, tipping upward, and Miri caught sight of the pale grey shadow of a woman’s face.

  “Thank you,” Val Con said, and bent to kiss the shadowy lips.

  “The clan rejoices,” Miri said.

  The face turned in her direction and the slim body floated nearer.

  “Korval?” said that voice that made Val Con twitch. “May I also have your kiss?”

  The screen was warm against her lips, and momentarily soft.

  “The clan rejoices,” Val Con said, which kept the ritual Balanced.

  “I will strive to bring honor to the clan,” Tocohl said. “Sadly, I am not able to spend time with my kin, that I might learn better. My father has shared memories with me. They will comfort me and keep me until I can be with you again.”

  “Must you leave us so quickly?”