by Sharon Lee
"I am called for the purpose of this mission, Emissary Twelve." The voice was light; nowhere near Edger's occasionally head-rattling boom. "I am charged by the Elders to deliver a message to the delm of Korval."
Miri took a breath—and Val Con was there. She felt the full presence of him, like he was standing at her shoulder, regarding the Emissary gravely.
"We are," she said, in High Liaden, surprising herself, at least. "We are the delm of Korval. Our kinswoman and house security attend us. They may hear the words of the Elders, which we stand ready to receive."
"I am to approach the delm of Korval in all their names and faces, and inform them that the Elders have been aware of a flaw in the fabric of the universe. They have accorded it long study as they sought to understand its nature and to formulate an appropriate response."
Emissary Twelve paused to blink enormous eyes.
"The flaw has vanished; the fabric of the universe is healed."
Well, thought Miri, it was nice to have corroboration, though she wouldn't have predicted receiving it from this particular source. Clutch lived a really long time. That given, they didn't tend to be quick to notice change.
"The state and energies of the universe are now what they were within the memory of the eldest of the Elders, who had scarcely been hatched when the anomaly occurred," Emissary Twelve continued. She tipped her head slightly, maybe approximating a bow.
"The Elders ask if the delm of Korval and the Elder Tree which the delm serves is aware of this circumstance."
"Yes," Miri said, in unison with Val Con; "we are aware."
There was a pause, not really that long, considering the source.
"If the answer to this query was in the affirmative, I was to ask further. Did the delm of Korval or the Elder Tree effect this healing?"
"The Tree assisted a clan member in the action," Val Con said by himself while Miri was trying to figure out where this was going. If the Clutch Elders had been aware of the tear, wound, whatever, in the fabric of the universe—well, it couldn't be a bad thing to save the universe . . .
Could it?
"The answers given are within tolerances," Emissary Twelve stated. "The Elders would have the destroyer of the universe brought to them, so that an examination may go forth."
OK, that definitely didn't sound good.
Val Con bowed slightly, which meant she did, too. Beside them, Theo wasn't saying anything at all, smart girl, standing alert and poised.
"I regret that the clan member responsible for preserving the universe that the Elders cohabit with the delm of Korval, the Tree, and countless other intelligences, is from home," Val Con said tartly. "He and his lifemate were gravely injured, and there is some question whether either will fully recover what they have lost. They have placed themselves into the hands of the Healers, from whose care we will remove them for no reason less than the imminent extinction of another universe."
"You should also know," Miri said, keeping to High Liaden; "that he does not remember what happened. The details were already fading when he returned to us, after the mission was done."
Eyes the size of soup tureens gazed at her mournfully.
"I apologize for my haste, which has caused you distress. The Elders have given me no instruction in the event of an imperfect memory."
"Even if that were not so," Val Con said in a tone that brooked no argument, "it is not for the Elders to decide for one of Korval. Korval decides for Korval, and our judgment is this: our wounded child will remain here, where he is shielded and safe, until he has recovered so far as he might."
Silence.
Blink.
"Yes," said Emissary Twelve. "I ask if the Elder Tree recalls the event and the actions."
Miri felt a flutter of green at the edge of her awareness. The Tree was paying attention, too. The Tree, she thought, might even be interested. That was unsettling.
"The Tree recalls the event with some amount of pride," Val Con said. "It is willing to speak with you, and impart the particulars, so that you may carry its account to the Elders."
Impossibly, Emissary Twelve's big eyes got bigger.
"I! I am the emissary sent by the Elders. It is to the Elders the Tree must speak."
"That's gonna be tricky," Miri said, in Terran.
Emissary Twelve closed her eyes.
Miri sighed.
"Look," she said; "Maybe the Elders can send somebody at a higher pay grade to take the Tree's testimony and maybe talk to our clan member, when he's in better shape," she said. "Twelfth Shell Fifth Hatched Knife Clan of Middle River's Spring Spawn of Farmer Greentrees of the Spearmaker's Den: The Edger might be a good choice. If he's not available, then I'd suggest Seventh Shell Third Hatched Knife Clan of Middle River's Spring Spawn of Farmer Greentrees of the Spearmaker's Den: The Sheather."
Emissary Twelve opened her eyes.
"That is for the Elders to say. I have been provided with an option which may be adapted to this case. In the event that the Destroyer of Universes had died of his efforts, I was to bring Daav yos'Phelium to the Elders."
"Daav yos'Phelium," Val Con said carefully, "was not involved in the effort to preserve our universe."
"Daav yos'Phelium gave his word to the Elders that he would answer their further questions, should any arise. Further questions have arisen."
"That is unfortunate," Val Con said. "Daav yos'Phelium has, in the time since the Elders received his word, died."
Well, thought Miri, that was true, so far as it went. It was damn' near an art form among Liadens, to see how close they could shave to the exact truth, and still mislead. As true-lies went, in fact, this one was almost unsubtle, but apparently Val Con was so determined to keep kin close he was willing to sacrifice style points.
Emissary Twelve was silent. Her chest was seen to rise—and fall.
"Surely Daav yos'Phelium would have left his unfulfilled promises in the care of a second," she said. "I believe this is a Liaden custom."
Score one for Emissary Twelve, Miri thought, even as she felt the sting of Val Con's irritation.
"Jeeves," she said; "would you please ask Kor Vid yos'Phelium and his partner to join us? Tell him the Clutch would like to speak with him."
"Relaying message. He is at Lady Kareen's house; it may be some time before he arrives."
"Understood." Miri looked to Emissary Twelve.
The kid was exhausted, she thought, and who wouldn't be? She had to've strung a dozen Jumps or more together to get here so soon after Ren Zel's little act of heroism. And now that she was arrived, the delm of Korval wasn't sticking to the script.
"The house offers hospitality," Val Con said, in her voice; "refreshment, and a quiet place to recover from your exertions until the pilots arrive."
"The offer does the house honor," Emissary Twelve said, and you'd've said she was squaring her shoulders, if she'd had shoulders in the proper way. "The order from the Elders was with all haste. Therefore, I will now speak with the Elder Tree."
"Sure," said Miri. "I'll show you the way."
She turned to Theo, who was looking like she was going to bite the kid's head off, and maybe Miri's, too.
"You wanna bring the pilots to the Tree if we're not back by the time they get here?"
Give her credit, Theo's face didn't get any more sour.
"Yes," she said.
"Thanks." Miri stepped forward, feeling Val Con at her side, and beckoned to Emissary Twelve. "Right this way. With me, Jeeves—Oh, and Jeeves?"
"Yes, Miri?"
"You can bring house systems to normal, when you get time."
"Yes, Miri."
* * *
Theo watched as Miri and Jeeves—or maybe it was Miri, Val Con, and Jeeves—guided Emissary Twelve down the drive, toward the garden gate.
"Theo? What troubles you?" Bechimo's voice was inside her head, in the place she thought of as bond-space; where she and Bechimo shared math and piloting approaches; where she was able to see ship's systems
as Bechimo did, and the coruscating fabrics of space.
"Val Con," she said quietly. "He was here. With Miri. Sharing Miri."
"Joyita's research indicates that such abilities may often be found among what the literature signifies as true lifematings, or wizard's matches."
Theo blinked.
"Why is Joyita researching lifemates?" she asked, but she had a feeling that she already knew the answer to that question.
"When your brother Val Con was on this vessel, seeking information on which to build his field judgment, he asked if we—you and I—were lifemated. I of course said that we were not."
Her brother Val Con had been a scout, and their shared parent had been a scout. She'd always considered it part of Father's personality—part of what made him Father—that he asked so many questions—and none of them idle.
Possibly, she thought now, it was a scout thing—something they had been trained in, like Father's specialty in Cultural Genetics.
Or maybe only particularly nosy people became scouts.
"Theo?"
"So, why is Joyita researching this and not you?"
"I am not researching the question, because I know the answer," Bechimo answered, bad-temperedly. "You and I—the captain and the ship—are bonded, as the Builders intended, in order to make a more perfect partnership which protects and sustains the crew and the route; the captain and the ship.
"Joyita, however, has decided to indulge in mischief."
That was a little sharp, Theo thought—and also unfair.
"But maybe it's not mischief. My brother asked me the same question—and I told him the same thing you did, that we're bonded. But, that—"
She waved in the direction that the Clutch had been escorted.
"We already knew that Miri and Val Con each know where the other is—can feel where the other one is—even when they're out of sight. And we just saw him . . . join her to talk to Emissary Twelve, even though he's at the Port office.
"Val Con's really alert to details, patterns—and he makes connections. When you and I talk in bond-space, it must look enough like what he and Miri do that he—made the match. It's an interesting connection; I can see why Joyita's intrigued. Please ask him to keep me informed on the progress of his research."
There was silence in bond-space. Maybe even petulant silence. Before Theo could decide, she heard the sound of a door opening behind her. She turned around as Kara stepped out of the house, Hevelin perched on her shoulder.
"Trouble?"
Kara made a wry face.
"Insistence. Ambassador Hevelin has a great need to visit with the Elder Tree and also to associate with the pilot who just arrived in that—" she used her chin to the point at the boulder in the driveway—"to find whom she knows."
She sighed, and showed Theo empty hands palm-up, and the suggestion of a shrug.
"Once the shields were dropped, it was far easier to bring him, than to argue."
Theo shifted her attention to the oh-so-innocent norbear on Kara's shoulder, and frowned, hard.
"You're getting to be a nuisance," she told him. "And a bully."
She caught a flutter of distress; Hevelin was sorry she was upset, and his good friend Kara, too.
The distress morphed into something harder; Theo glimpsed a sort of glittery grey rock, and raised her eyebrows.
"But?" she prompted.
"Ah," said Kara; "this approach is familiar. He is about to plead his melant'i."
Indeed, a series of images flowed to Theo: Hevelin curled against a plump white norbear with a black spot before each ear. Hevelin conversing with a rangy woman with knowing eyes and short-cropped brown hair. Hevelin sitting on Clarence's lap, surveying the board. Hevelin meeting Grakow. Hevelin disciplining Stost. Hevelin holding a gun, safety off, nose pointed toward the decking.
Theo blinked, and murmured for Kara's benefit: "I'm getting Sinaya and Guild Master Constince from Velaskiz Rotundo; Clarence maybe running through board drills; Stost getting yelled at; Grakow; and his, um, quick reactions to the loose gun on Minot Station."
She glanced at Kara.
"Is that the sequence you got?"
"Very exactly."
"Well, it's persuasive," Theo said; "but what're we supposed to be persuaded of?"
"I believe the narrative has to do with Hevelin's obligations and accomplishments as an ambassador for his race, and an operative for the Pilot's Guild. It is, one understands, nothing less than his duty to expand the net of his acquaintance."
"He's got a point, there," Theo said. "That's what the Guild set him up to do."
"I do not dispute it. It is the contention that his point carries all others before it that I question."
"Well, it can't." Theo considered the norbear, receiving once more the impression of stone. "Emissary Twelve, who just landed, has urgent business with the Tree, and with a pilot who's been called to the house to deal with her. Your business has to wait on hers, and it might be that she doesn't have any time for you. She seemed kind of rushed, and under a lot of pressure. You've got to expect that, sometimes at least, somebody else's duty takes precedence."
Hevelin granted her argument, graciously, and repeated his necessity, with the assurance that he would be very quick, and seek only a few key connections, to establish a point from which to dream further.
"That is very handsome of you," Kara said, having apparently caught that bit fair. "However, Theo's case stands; no matter your necessity, it is possible that you will not be permitted to speak with Emissary Twelve. In this case, her duties carry more weight than yours."
Hevelin begged leave to doubt this.
Kara tapped her foot, and looked to Theo.
"Permission to tutor Ambassador Hevelin on the workings of melant'i, especially with regard to relative necessity."
Theo stared at her.
"Relative necessity?" she repeated. "I thought necessity was absolute."
"In many applications, it may seem so," Kara said. "However, given two necessities—the example my grandmother relished was—the necessity to put out a fire in the garage before it reaches the flammables, and the necessity to arrive at a formal dinner on time—the necessity which produces the more immediate consequences has precedence."
She gave Theo a droll look.
"The necessity of not blowing up the garage, the house, and the neighborhood clearly bears the greatest weight in the example, even should an important alliance be strained or lost by a tardy arrival at the table."
"Maybe you ought to tutor me, too," Theo said, ruefully.
"It will be my pleasure to mark out the pertinent paragraphs in the Code for you to sleep-learn, and to discuss them with you, after."
"I have the references in the Liaden Code of Proper Conduct, Theo," Bechimo said in bond-space. "They are tagged and you may refer to them at need."
"Thank you," Theo answered. "Talking the nuances over with Kara will help me really know the material, rather than having it on file."
"As you will." Bechimo said shortly—and withdrew.
Theo blinked back to the driveway in time to see Kara frowning at her.
"Bechimo was letting me know that he had marked out the passages for me and put them in a reference file," Theo explained.
"Ah," Kara answered, her voice absolutely even. "And you said?"
"I said that your plan—sleep-learning bolstered by discussion—would insure that I'd really learn the material, rather than needing to look it up every time there was need."
"Just so," Kara said.
It seemed like she was about to say something else—then decided against. She turned away, Hevelin on her shoulder, and walked over to the boulder-ship sitting on the driveway, its hatch still up.
It had, Theo saw, stopped steaming, but that didn't necessarily mean it was cool.
"This is a very strange vessel," Kara said. "A rock? Where is the drive? Where are the coils?"
She took another step closer, and Theo moved toward her, r
eady to snatch her back, if anything untoward happened.
Nothing did happen, though, other than Kara pausing at a respectful distance from the open hatch, and twisting interestingly, in an attempt to see inside.
"The Clutch use the Electron Substitution Drive," Theo reminded her.
"As we learned at school," Kara agreed. "I don't recall much more detail than that—certainly nothing about engines, or coils, or fuel."
Theo frowned.
"Clutch travel through dense space, by choice," she said, trying to remember the textbook on drives and motivation protocols. Surprisingly, though this was exactly the sort of thing that interested Bechimo, bond-space was empty of his presence; empty of any sudden manifestation of an article or schematic . . .
"I recall that," Kara said. "And also the assertion that the drive produces an effect where the ship simultaneously exists at the beginning of its route, and the end."
"There was something about entanglement, too," Theo said, and shook her head. "I'd have to look it up."
"And I. But even granted the lack of coils or Struven units, it must propel itself in some manner!"
She began a slow walk around the boulder, and Theo let her go, straining in her turn to see inside the ship, and getting an impression of smooth rock walls, and lighting that was both dim, and subtly off. The shelf she glimpsed opposite the hatch might have been a board.
Or, she allowed, it might have just been a shelf carved out of the rock.
"Bechimo," she said, in bond-space.
"Yes, Captain?"
Theo sighed quietly. Apparently she was in disgrace. Well, she'd sort it out later.
"Would you please do a complete scan of this ship? It's going to bother Kara for the rest of her life if she can't figure out how it flies."
"Certainly, Captain," Bechimo said, and withdrew.
Definitely in disgrace. She wondered what she'd done, then put it out of her mind as the sound of the gate working brought her about.
A car swept up the drive, and pulled over. The back doors opened, and two pilots exited.
Two young pilots exited.
Theo bit her lip, remembering that Kara and Hevelin were witnesses. These two pilots therefore were not her father and Val Con's mother, but young cousins, come to Surebleak, to throw their luck in with the rest of Clan Korval.
