The Wrong Lance

by Sharon Lee

  Miri paused, then, bringing his attention back to the garden. They had reached one of the last wide spots in the path, and she had paused to speak to Jeeves.

  "Best wait for us here," she said. "No sense you having to bushwhack your way down the path."

  "Yes, Korval," Jeeves said, which was, Val Con thought, very nice in him.

  Emissary Twelve scarcely seemed to mark the fact that they had left their escort behind.

  Miri led the way down the path, Val Con walking with her. They breathed in the scent of leaf and loam, of flowers and—

  Miri, the garden, Emissary Twelve—vanished in a blare of static; his ears roared, and cleared to hear with remarkable clarity, a large, calm, and very familiar voice.

  "Road Boss yos'Phelium, Team Leader Soreya Kasveini of TerraTrade Survey is here to conduct an interview. Are you available to her?"

  Gods, TerraTrade. He blanked the screen on his desk, closed his eyes, and visualized the Scout's Rainbow, feeling his heartbeat slow, and his breathing steady. His temper . . . well. Uncle Er Thom has used to say that manners were both one's first defense, and first offense, had he not?

  "I am pleased to speak with Team Leader Kasveini," he said, untruthfully. "Please, bring her in to me."

  * * *

  Val Con was on to something, Miri thought, feeling his concentration deepen. Maybe he'd actually met somebody like Emissary Twelve, back when he'd been living with Edger's clan.

  She hoped he had remembered something useful, because Emissary Twelve was starting to make her nervous. There was something more than just a little not-quite-right about—

  He was gone; vanished between one step and the next one, leaving her alone inside her head.

  She reached out, in a way she couldn't have described, if asked, but which was as natural as extending her hand. At the end of her mental fingers, she found him; his pattern edgy and ill-tempered, with a metallic patina of what might be formal manners overlying it all.

  If she had to guess—and it looked like she was going to have to—she'd figure that the TerraTrade survey team had made it to the Road Boss's office. She took a deep breath, disengaged, and damn' near ran into Emissary Twelve, who had frozen so completely she didn't seem to breathe. She was staring into the shrubberies that overgrew the pathway.

  "Is there a problem?" Miri asked.

  The saucer eyes never moved, but the chest did, rising and falling in one careful breath.

  "There are predators hiding inside those leaves."

  "Predators? I—"

  She closed her mouth, and looked harder at the bush that seemed to be the greatest source of concern. There, among the leaves, were two pair of glowing green eyes.

  "Cats," she said; "just cats."

  "Predators," Emissary Twelve insisted.

  "Well . . . yes. They hunt small things," Miri said; "pests. Mostly rodents."

  "They will not attack?"

  "They have no reason to attack," Miri said. "They might follow along, though. They're curious."

  "Sentient?" demanded Emissary Twelve.

  Miri blinked, then shrugged.

  "Let's go with yes," she said; "but they're really self-absorbed."

  Emissary Twelve shifted her gaze to Miri's face.

  "If they attack, I will defend myself," she said flatly.

  Oh, no; Miri'd seen Clutch move when they were defending themselves. Cats were fast, but they weren't that fast. Besides which . . .

  "If you think they're attacking, you'll defer to me," she said, reaching into High Liaden for just the right icy inflection. "The cats are part of this household, and they are under the protection of the delm. Understood?"

  There was a long-ish pause, eyes open and staring, then a blink.

  "Understood."

  "Good." Miri turned and started walking again. It had seemed a good idea to leave Jeeves—to leave Jeeves's chassis—back where the path was more open. Now, though, she regretted the loss of a visible display of authority. Her previous experience of Clutch hadn't encompassed anything like this nervy, cautious person. Of course, Edger was too tall, and too well-shelled, to be concerned about the possibility of an attack by house-cats. And she'd never seen Edger, or Sheather, or any of the marketing research team anywhere near the end of their resources.

  Even Watcher—well, Watcher hadn't liked them, but she hadn't gotten the sense that he'd been a danger to them.

  The path curved around the big bush that she thought of the gateway to the Tree Court.

  "Here we are," she said, over her shoulder. "Mind the footing."

  The Tree was in a rare good mood, she thought, as she picked her way over the surface roots toward the massive trunk. The breeze was warm, with a faint edge of brisk; and there was ozone in the mix, which wasn't usual. On the other hand, maybe the Tree was adjusting the air to their guest's preferred sort, as a courtesy.

  She paused halfway between the end of the path and the Tree itself, waiting for Emissary Twelve, who came to her side, and stopped, looking up.

  "I cannot escort that to the Elders," she said, sounding tired and irritable and more than ready to call it a day.

  "That's right," Miri said easily. "It took the largest vessel the Clutch own to move it—and the house—from Liad to this location. I'm pretty sure the Tree'll be pleased to give you all the information it has about the mending of the flaw in the universe. Edger had perfect recall, as far as I could ever tell, and Sheather, too. Is your memory that good?"

  "My memory is not impaired," Emissary Twelve snapped, which Miri chose to read it as just fact, rather than a comment on Ren Zel's shortcomings.

  "That's good, then. All you have to do is listen—and remember."

  "Listen," Emissary Twelve repeated, flatly.

  "Right. How we do it, is we put our hands flat against the trunk—here, I'll show you."

  She stepped up to the trunk, receiving an impression of amused welcome as the brisk little breeze ruffled her hair.

  "Good-morning to you, too," she said. "This is Emissary Twelve. She'd like you to tell her about the flaw in the universe, and what you and Ren Zel did to close it. Are you willing?"

  There was a stirring of pride in the air, which Miri took for yes.

  She turned to Emissary Twelve, who was standing a few steps too far from the trunk.

  "Gotta come closer," she said, and the Clutch obeyed, reluctantly, Miri thought.

  "Right," she said, and turned back to the Tree. Closing her eyes, she placed both hands against the trunk.

  The bark warmed under her palms, and she felt a rush of affectionate greenness. Sighing, she leaned into the feeling.

  "Your turn," she said, without opening her eyes.

  She felt the Tree greet the guest—warm and open, but without overt affection. Behind her eyes, she saw a glittering golden expanse opening on all sides, and flowing away—to a dark and inimical shadow at the edge of the field of gold. And where the shadow touched, gold blackened and shriveled.

  Wind blew in a frigid gale from the shadow, a wind that carried the stench of rotting vegetation, and old blood.

  More gold blackened, until there came a flash of pure energy, a counter-wind lashed into being, and—

  Somewhere, somebody screamed—a terrible gargling shriek. Shadow and gold alike snapped out of Miri's awareness, and the bark went cold and inert under her hands.

  She spun, one hand snatching at her hideaway—and falling away as she dropped to her knees beside the inert form of Emissary Twelve.

  * * *

  The breeze had become insistent, pushing them into what might have been an ill-advised trot, had the overgrowth not obligingly moved aside, rather than entangling their feet, or whipping back to strike an unprotected cheek.

  His legs being longer, Daav came into the Tree Court one step ahead of Aelliana—and slammed to a halt, throwing an arm out to stop her, as well. The breeze that had harried them died in the same instant, as they surveyed the scene before them.

 
One Clutch Turtle measuring its relatively meager length on the ground at the foot of the Tree.

  One Korval delm on her knees beside said Clutch, a slender hand on the shell-less breast, above the woven leather harness.

  On either side of the delm of Korval, her honor guard; two cats—one white and fluffy, the other sleek and striped—poised over ready toes, considering the downed visitor with what could only be disdain.

  "What," Aelliana said quietly, "has occurred here?"

  The kneeling delm lifted her head, but any explanation she might have expected to embark upon was lost to the Tree's sudden and succinct sequence of images.

  "Pretty much that's it," Miri said, when the Tree's narrative came to an end. "Mind you, I was in the loop, standing right next to her. It was . . . intense, but not overwhelming."

  She gave a wry smile.

  "To me, anyway."

  She sat back on her heels, moving her hand from the Clutch to the back of the cat at her right.

  "This is Emissary Twelve, by the way," she added, and shook her head, her gaze wandering back to the fallen. "Something not quite right with Emissary Twelve, if you ask me. She's edgy and outta temper; threatened to murder the cats if they tried to pull anything."

  She looked back up.

  "Edger got along just fine with cats."

  "Possibly Edger had prior experience of cats," Aelliana suggested.

  "Maybe. Val Con—I felt him get hold of something, right before he—I'm guessing the survey team came 'round for their interview . . . And now here I am thinking maybe it's best Emissary Twelve here is taking a nice nap."

  Another wry smile.

  "Time limit on that, though."

  Aelliana strolled into the center of the court, and sat down on the grass, facing Miri across the supine form of the Clutch. After a moment, Daav joined her.

  "If it can be told," he said, using his chin to point at the sleeper; "what does Emissary Twelve want with Kor Vid yos'Phelium?"

  Miri sighed.

  "You gotta understand that Kor Vid's the Emissary's third choice.

  "First, she wanted—immediately, she said, in a way that sounded even faster than standard human-issue immediately—Ren Zel, destroyer of the universe. 'course, that hit a stone wall, with him and Anthora at the Healers. She got real put off when I told her that he was already forgetting what he'd done, and might not be able to tell the Elders—Emissary Twelve is sent straight from Elders—anything more than they already know."

  "What do the Elders know, I wonder," Aelliana said.

  Miri looked at her owlishly.

  "That there was a flaw in the fabric of the universe which they'd been observing for some while. She didn't phrase it this way, but the impression I have from Emissary Twelve is that their noses are outta joint because Ren Zel fixed it."

  "They have him as destroyer of the universe? It would seem to me that his name ought to be adjusted to include redeemer of the universe," Daav said.

  "Yeah, the Elders apparently see that Ren Zel saved one of two possible universes, and the other one died because of it. The way I do the math, that makes him savior and destroyer in the same sentence, but apparently the Elders are peeved."

  "Ah," said Daav.

  The fluffy white cat stretched high on pink toes and walked across Emissary Twelve to claim Aelliana's lap.

  "One wonders what the Elders were intending to do about the situation," Aelliana said, stroking her sudden tenant. "Before Ren Zel won the game, that is."

  "Emissary Twelve didn't say. What she did say, since she hadn't been given any orders about people inconveniently losing their memories, was that she'd take Daav yos'Phelium, instead. Seems he promised, if the Elders had more questions, that he'd return to answer them."

  Aelliana turned to look at him.

  "Really, van'chela. However did you come to be so inept?"

  He moved his shoulders.

  "It seemed unlikely that the Elders would be able to produce further questions in my remaining lifetime. Also, they were pushing strongly for guarantees, and a willingness to answer further questions mollified them, so that I was able to extract myself."

  He frowned.

  "I note that Emissary Twelve has shaved her dice," he said slowly. "Daav yos'Phelium guaranteed that he would return to answer questions about Korval's relocation, the condition of the Tree, and the state of the ship which had been placed at Korval's service. He promised nothing regarding the salvation or destruction of universes."

  "It would seem that the delm is not eager to accommodate the Elders," Aelliana said. "At least so far as sending clan members to them."

  Miri looked down, seeming surprised to find the brown-striped cat had climbed onto her knee and was lounging at his ease, purring.

  "Well, assuming that the Elders are annoyed with us, the delm's official position is that we're naturally grieved to have offended an ally, but we're not sending any of ours for them to vent their spleen on."

  Aelliana inclined her head.

  "Do we know for certain," Daav said, "that a universe was destroyed?"

  Miri sighed.

  "For the purposes of this conversation, let's assume that two universes went in, one came out—just like the Elders are saying. Frankly, I'm not feeling up to considering the melding of two universes, or multiple cascading time warps, or anything else that needs more math to think about than a merc captain's likely to have on her at this hour of the day."

  "Simplicity serves us best," Daav agreed. "So, then; Ren Zel preserved our universe, which action caused the demise of a second. A wise choice; I could have made no better."

  "Given that the delm does not care to send any of the clan to the Clutch, how was the problem of Emissary Twelve to be solved?" Aelliana asked.

  Miri waved a hand over her head, possibly indicating the Tree.

  "My idea was that maybe we could do a substitution that would satisfy everybody. Emissary Twelve owned to having a non-defective memory, so I figured if the Tree told her what happened, then she could tell the Elders, and nobody had to be disrupted."

  "Except that Emissary Twelve could not accept the Tree's sending." Aelliana shook her head. "There must be a way 'round that."

  From above them, high and away in the Tree's branches, came a sharp snap and the sound of something falling, swiftly, through leaf and branch.

  Miri extended her hand, fingers closing around the pod when it struck her palm.

  Daav sat up straight, ice running his spine.

  "Tell me that is not—"

  Miri shook her head.

  "It's for Emissary Twelve, all right. And I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one who thinks it's a bad idea."

  Chapter Five

  Surebleak Port

  Captain Waitley wasn't quite what Portmaster Liu had been expecting.

  No, scratch that, in a lot of ways, Captain Waitley was exactly what Portmaster Liu had been expecting: short for a Terran, tall for a Liaden, lean for the height she did have; shoulders showing attitude under a Jump jacket older and bigger than she was. Whatever else she was—and recklessly negligent wasn't off the table, in Portmaster Liu's not-exactly-objective opinion—Theo Waitley was definitely a member of Boss Conrad's extended family, Clan Korval. Portmaster Liu had been spending a lot of time lately with the Boss and the Boss's little brother, the Road Boss; she knew the family look when she saw it.

  What did surprise her was the wild scramble of wispy fair hair, the pale skin, and the obvious frown. Captain Waitley was ticked off, which was fair enough. What was interesting, though, was how plain she let that bad temper show.

  On several occasions over the course of their profitable, if not exactly placid, relationship, Boss Conrad had reason to be annoyed with Portmaster Liu, which she'd never known from his face. Crisp over-politeness was the first clue, followed by frozen good manners, and a toxic increase in irony levels, if whatever was making him peevish didn't subside straight off.

  Well, and maybe Capta
in Waitley had found that a frank and open display of temper got her the results she wanted. It probably took a fair amount of practice to perfect Boss Conrad's style.

  "Portmaster Liu, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," the captain said—well, snapped. "You wanted to talk with me about the drones we dropped off?"

  She blinked.

  Got right down to the business at hand, did Captain Waitley, without even so much as an inquiry into the Portmaster's general health and the state of the port. Nothing rude about it—a classic Terran approach, really. Some of the kids attached to Conrad's family were taking up the Terran mode, from what she'd seen and heard, so—fair enough, again.

  "I appreciate you coming so quick," she answered. "Good timing, as it happens. I got a survey team on my hands. They'll be wanting to have my attention in about twenty minutes. So we'll need to settle our business fairly smart."

  Captain Waitley nodded briskly.

  "I won't waste your time. I've come to pay my fine."

  Well, now—the fine. On the one hand, it was good that she knew she'd be having to pay a fine and wasn't making the smallest suggestion that it could be lost, friendly-like, in the paperwork.

  You'd think, though, given a captain with a reputation of a certain kind, attached to a family that valued its ships more than the lives of their children—you'd think that captain'd consider the fine—hefty as it was—the least of her problems.

  Which maybe meant that Captain Waitley hadn't quite reasoned her way into a full set of understandings.

  Well, Portmaster Liu thought, consciously bringing herself taller in the chair; this'll be fun.

  "Have a seat, Captain," she said, nodding at the smaller chair by the side of her desk.

  Captain Waitley's frown got frownier, but she sat down, civilized enough, and, as a seeming afterthought, folded her hands on her knee.

  "The fine now," the portmaster said, forcing herself to talk easy in the face of that visible increase in bad temper. "You'll take care of that with the bursar. I'll point you in his direction after we get done talking about the citation."