Dragon in Exile - eARC (21 page)

She leaned forward to pass Kareen the paper she’d written the man’s info on.

“Thank you. I will contact him immediately.”

“You do that,” Miri said cordially. She stood and stretched.

“Mr. Mark wanted to know if you’re writing a book,” she said.

Kareen’s lips bent in one of her rare smiles.

“Do you know?” she said, and the smile got just a little deeper. “I believe that I will.”

* * *

Droi sat by her hearth, alone.

Vylet had gone to the tent of her lover; her lover being wiser than to come to a tent that also sheltered Droi, with her dark Sight and murderous temper. More often than not these days, Kezzi slept in the
luthia’s
tent, which spoke to her increasing responsibilities as the
luthia’s
apprentice, as well as to Silain’s advancing years.

Droi had not Seen that Silain would soon be called to rise from her hearthside and go to her sisters in the World Beyond. She did not, of course, know what Silain herself might have Seen. There was also an imperative driving Kezzi’s education, for Kezzi
must
be the
kompani’s
next
luthia
. Jin was a strong healer, but her memory was weak, and her Sight, short. Droi’s healing skills were well-honed; her memory was retentive; and her Sight was long. Silain had, in fact, trained her fully, but in the end the darkness that ruled her Sight and her soul had combined to convince both
luthia
and ’prentice to stand away from the final testing.

Times would terrible, indeed, if only Droi were left as
luthia
.

She thought of these things as she sat, alone, by her hearth, and she thought, also, of her purpose, and her use to the
kompani
.

The Bedel said,
In kompani, all souls are equal
.

As with many things that the Bedel said, this was both true…and not true.

She, for instance, had a place in the
kompani
; with her healing skills, and long memory, she brought a talent for the
fleez
, and the ability to dream and understand the older dreams, some of which were strange indeed.

Despite these skills, all useful and necessary; and despite the fact that she knew, in the very core of her soul, that her brothers and sisters would never leave her alone among the
gadje
, nor deny her a place at the hearth…she was often alone
within
the
kompani
. Her brothers—strong, fierce, and handsome men, every one—her brothers were afraid of her. Her sisters—fierce beyond tigresses, strong enough to bear the foibles of their brothers, and so handsome that to see them was to fall in love…

Her sisters also feared her, though not, in her observation, so much as her brothers.

Even
gadje
knew enough to fear Droi when she walked in the City Above, and they shivered with mingled longing and dismay as she read their futures out of the cards for them.

Of all the
kompani
, only Rafin loved her, for Rafin loved danger above every other thing.

She sighed, her eyes dreaming on the glow of the hearthstone.

There had been talk, lately, of the ship. The ship that was many years late in returning for them. Alosha the headman had broken with tradition, and asked assistance from the Boss Conrad, in finding the ship of the Bedel among the trackless stars.

It thus became a matter of speculation in the
kompani
, and of discussion, for talk was to her brothers and sisters as meat and bread were to
gadje
.

So, there had been speculation—would the Boss Conrad’s family, old in the ways of ships and space, find the ship of the Bedel? Would the ship come? How quickly? What would be the first act of this one, or that, upon entering the ship which was only a story to all of this
kompani
, the grandchildren, and great-grandchildren of that sturdy
kompani
who had walked off of the ship onto Surebleak, to learn what there was to know.

Droi had dreamed dreams of the ship, and of ship-life. All the
kompani
had dreamed those dreams, by the will of the
luthia
and the headman.

And thus Droi knew that the ship was small inside. Not as small as this place where the
kompani
camped, but the
kompani
had all of the City Above to wander, when the common camp became too small, while there were nothing but stars, and vacuum, beyond the skin of the ship.

In the small space of the ship, there was no room to spare for a woman who was dangerous. While it remained true, even inside the ship, that her brothers and sisters would never leave her alone among the others; it was
a law
of the Bedel that no thing, no person, no event could be allowed to threaten the ship.

In anticipation of the ship, then, Droi had taken to dreaming, long and wide, digging deep into the very oldest dreams, looking for what…might be…a cure for what and who she was.

She sighed, her eyes closing against the firestone’s bright heart—then sat up straight, eyes wide, and staring into the dimness beyond the hearth.

The sound came again, and she knew that footstep.

“What do you want, Rys Dragonwing?”

“I have a gift,” his voice answered, sweet and soft; “for our daughter.”

It came to her that Rys was not afraid of her, but, then, Rys was the most dangerous person she knew. More deadly even than Rafin, and certainly more fearsome than Black Droi.

“Our daughter yet abides inside my womb,” she reminded him. “Come later, with your gift.”

There was a shift in the darkness beyond the hearth, and Rys took shape before her, his curls tousled, and his face serious.

“I may not be able to come later,” he said. “Perhaps her mother will hold it for her, in trust.”

What was this? Rys was fully a member of the
kompani
. He had stood before the fire and been bound, soul and heart, to the heart and soul of the
kompani
. Venture away, he might, but he
must
return, wherever he might go. If he
could not
return, then were his brothers and sisters called upon to honor their promise.

“Bring it, then,” she said brusquely. “Sit there.” She nodded at the rug beside her.

He dropped gracefully into the place she had shown him, and reached into the pocket of his vest, bringing forth a reader, and a book.

Leaning forward, he placed both on the rug by her knee.

“She will not be able to read for some little while after she has been born,” Droi said.

“I know,” he answered. “I would ask you to read to her, as I would have done. The book is a collection of Liaden stories. I know many of them from my own childhood. My grandmother had read them to me.”

“Keep it, then, and read to her yourself.”

“That had been my plan. I hope that I will be able to carry it through.”

She heard what he did not say, and repeated it aloud.

“But?”

“But the
luthia
urges me to a task which must be performed, for my brother undertree, and which may mean that…I will not return. Indeed, I believe that I
cannot
return.”

Droi drew herself up. She was cold, where a moment before she had been drowsily warm.

“Let your brother send himself; you are not his brother alone!”

“Peace, peace. We have six in one hand and six in the other. If my brother does this thing, then his lady will pluck me from the heart of the
kompani
and bring me to the house undertree to stand in his place and see his duties done until he returns.”

Droi felt her breath go short. She lifted her chin and said, haughtily.

“She does not have this power. You are of the
kompani
.”

“I gave her the power in return for breaking her peace and giving my brother the dream that I made.”

It occurred to her, then, that
she
was afraid.

Rys sat on the rug, as neat and quiet as a cat. His face was delicate, a flower framed by the stormclouds of his curls. His nose, not so emphatic as a Bedel nose, had been broken with the rest of him, and was bent slightly to the left. His hand, that Rafin had made him, gleamed like molten gold in the hearthlight.

Droi thought of their child, and took a breath. She pushed the rising darkness away, and put her hand on the reader.

“I will keep this for our daughter, until you return, and in your absence, I will read from it, to her.”

He smiled, did Rys, which was enough to break even a Bedel heart.

Droi swallowed another breath.

“What was her name, your grandmother who told you stories?”

“Maysl,” he said, and swallowed as if he, too, had a difficulty breathing. “Her name was Maysl.”

“Maysl.” Droi tasted the name, finding it sweet. “A strong name. Our child shall be called so.”

Rys took a hard breath, and bowed his head.

“My heart is full,” he said.

They sat so, silent in the hearthlight, for some few minutes. Droi felt her fear fade to a fluttering in the center of her chest. Her breathing was easier, but her hands were still cold.

Rys raised his head.

“It was not well done of me, to break your solitude. I will go, and leave you in peace.”

He rose, hand flashing gold, and Droi cried out in protest.

“Rys!”

He bent, and took her outflung hand in his warm one.

“I am here. What may I do for you?”

“Stay,” she said, and rushed on as his lips parted. “Tonight. Here. I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“All right,” he said, gently, and sank down on the rug at her side.

Interlude Six

The Firmament

The star he had sworn to witness was guttering. It seemed to him a piece of charcoal barely larger than his fist. There was a flame at the very center, deeply gold, scarcely as big as a cantra-piece.

It was…in no way probable that the choice could effect Vazineth ser’Trishan’s fate. He had said as much, to Anthora, and to Master Healer Mithin. He had counseled, indeed, that the best they might do, here, was to ask the Master Healer to reach forth her will, and grant the final peace.

It had been their choice to continue, for, as Master Mithin had it, “The universe may yet surprise us.”

So it was that he closed his outer eyes, and stood watch over this cinder that had once been a woman’s soul. It was possible to feel anger in this place, though it was not wise. He therefore clung to his own peace, and prepared himself to witness a death.

Near-space rippled as the question was put.

The small flame that yet burned in the center of desolation flared, carbon boiling away in a black cloud, and Ren Zel shouted in this place where it was far less dangerous to be joyful, as Vazineth ser’Trishan definitively, absolutely…

Chose life.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Boss Nova’s House

Blair Road

Nova’s household marched to a meld of Liaden and Surebleak custom. That had surprised Miri the first time they’d stopped for dinner with Val Con’s sister. Sorting the list of family members from Most Rule Bound to Least, you’d get Kareen yos’Phelium right at the top, then Nova, who was second only because Kareen had time in grade.

Be that as was, Nova’s entire family sat down to dinner together, family being parsed to mean: Nova; Syl Vor; Syl Vor’s Bedel sister, Kezzi; and Mike Golden, Nova’s Head ’hand, just like Surebleak did it, when there was family to hand. In a proper Liaden house, Syl Vor and Kezzi would have eaten in the nursery, or, maybe the kitchen, and Mike would’ve eaten with the rest of the servants, thereby freeing the adult kin to speak frankly together.

Not that speaking frankly was all that exciting, since proper Liaden table manners called for pleasant subjects only to be discussed over dinner, so that one might do justice to the meal’s artistry.

It made for an…interesting, if not downright rowdy, table, a fact of which Nova seemed to be entirely unaware. Of course, Miri thought, any group that included Kezzi Bedel among their number was going to be rowdy, by definition. It had been hoped that close association with Syl Vor would impart a more seemly manner, but so far as Miri had been able to observe, association might be working in the opposite direction. Not that Syl Vor couldn’t use a little loosening up. ’Way too serious for a kid.

Given the mixed backgrounds of those present, dinner-language was Terran. They heard about Syl Vor and Kezzi’s triumphs in school. Kezzi had won a prize for reciting a long piece of poetry, Syl Vor reported.

Val Con congratulated her, gravely, on her triumph, which earned him a considering look out of knowing black eyes.

“It wasn’t hard,” she said. “I memorize recipes twice as long for my grandmother, and those are
important
. If I miss an ingredient or don’t remember the right measurement, I might kill someone. If I missed a couplet, the only thing that would have happened is that I’d been allowed to sit down sooner.”

“Still,” Val Con had said, “it is not a waste of time, to demonstrate one’s skills to those who might otherwise seek to take advantage.”

“I told you!” Syl Vor said, from beside her.

Kezzi tried to look disdainful, but she couldn’t quite hide the pleased smile at the corner of her mouth.

“I don’t have to prove myself to
gadje
,” was what she said.

“Very true,” Nova said gravely. “However, one does wish to keep up one’s grades, and to demonstrate to one’s teachers that their work is not entirely in vain.”

“That’s so,” Syl Vor said. “Ms. Grender was very proud of you.”

“She gave me a
hug
,” Kezzi said, not as if the memory was particularly pleasant.

“It is how she is,” Syl Vor said, patiently. “She hugs me, too.”

“Does she?” Miri asked. “So that means you won a prize?”

“No, that was because he helped Chow with his geography, and then
Chow
won a prize for getting from the Port to Boss Sherton’s turf, with nine side-trips, in the shortest time. Syl Vor got a hug, and Ms. Grender said he’s a
gifted teacher
.”

Kezzi bent an approving look on her brother, whose cheek had darkened a little in a blush.

“Excellent,” Val Con said. “One should always be generous with one’s teammates.”

Syl Vor’s blush got a little deeper, but he bowed his head and murmured, very properly, “Thank you, Uncle.”

Dinner over, the kids were sent upstairs to do homework, and the adults, including Mike Golden, retired to the side parlor.

Now, they could talk serious, and Nova didn’t wasn’t any time.

“Brother, have you had any news from the Council of Clans?”

Val Con raised an eyebrow, and lowered his wine glass.

“I can scarcely suppose that the Council will wish to compromise its
melant’i
by communicating with the delm of a clan that doesn’t exist.”

That was just plain and fancy provocation; he knew what she meant. Give Nova credit, though, she didn’t rise to the bait. Mike Golden was, Miri thought, good for her. Whether Nova was similarly good for Mike Golden…Miri directed a thoughtful look at the man. He turned his head like he’d felt her glance against his cheek, and winked at her, mouth quirking.

Nova, in the meantime, was coping with Val Con.

“Certainly, the philosophical aspects of our situation are piquant,” she said seriously. “We must, the two of us, sit down and discuss them thoroughly, some day soon. In the present, however, I only mean to ask if Ms. dea’Gauss has had word from the Elders dea’Gauss regarding the possible breach of the Council’s Guarantee of Balance.”

“In fact, she has,” Val Con said, abandoning the fun game of tweaking his sister in favor of a straight answer. “It would appear that the Council has very many highly critical items on its agenda that must be dealt with before it might consider taking up something so trivial as an apparent breach of contract.”

Nova drew a hard breath.

“Tabled it, did they?” asked Mike Golden.

Val Con turned slightly to face him.

“Nothing so active, I am afraid, Mr. Golden. The Council has not allowed the matter to be taken up. Not even so that it may immediately be put down.”

Mike Golden looked grave.

“We gonna need to bring in extra ’hands?”

“That is what we wished the Council to clarify for us,” Nova said. “It comes to a simple yes or no: Is the Council knowingly—willfully—in breach, or was this attempt upon Quin merely one woman who had decided that her personal loss was too great to accept a Balance in the Common Cause?”

Mike Golden looked thoughtful.

“This breach business—would this council of yours put it out on the street that they wasn’t going to—what? fine?—anybody who felt like ignoring the contract? Or would they just let the flakes fall, and hope to eventually see a blizzard?”

Val Con looked at Nova.

Nova looked at Val Con.

“That’s a good question,” she said.

“It is, indeed. Thank you, Mr. Golden. We shall make inquiries at a…less formal level.” He looked back to Nova.

“My aunt Mizel? Certainly, they would have taken care that no sort of…
announcement to the street
was made in yo’Lanna’s hearing.”

“But Etgora tells yo’Lanna everything,” Nova murmured. “And so does Mizel. I will write; I am sadly behind in our correspondence, and this will give me an opportunity to make amends by serving a hint of scandal.”

“Excellent. I will write a letter or two, also.”

“Mike, you oughta sign up to be a
qe’andra
in training,” Miri said, giving him a grin.

He gave the grin back, but shook his head.

“Better suited to be a ’hand. Sitting and writing and researching gets me all twitchy, and pretty soon I gotta go take a walk. Say, to the Port an’ back.”

She laughed.

“Any more insurance salesmen coming around, by the way?”

The grin faded.

“Now, there you hit a sore point. They keep coming, and the Watch can’t be everywhere. Some of the streeters know that they can—and oughta—call in anybody sellin’, but others…” He shook his head, and turned his big hands palm up, looking from her to Val Con to Nova.

“They wanna be safe, you unnerstand. So, some folks are payin’, and that just gives the insurance sellers leverage—Well, they say, your neighbor ’cross the street,
she’s
paying up. Guess she knows what’s in her own interest.” He nodded to Miri.

“You know how the spiel goes.”

“Yeah…”

She shook her head.

“Easy to say that we’re gonna have to educate the streeters, but we’re already going to the street level with the
qe’andra
. We can’t always be shouting at them to learn things…”

“What we got going in our favor,” Mike Golden said, “is the streeters themselves. You take Ms. Quill, the baker. I’m not out on the street three times outta four except I meet her at this place and that, talking about how the Bosses made the collecting of insurance illegal, and the making of examples, too. Her and the printer went together an’ made up window signs that say,
No Insurance Sales Allowed
, an’ some little cards they give to all the streeters, with the Watch’s contact number, and Boss Conrad’s contact…”

“And Boss Nova’s contact,” Boss Nova said wryly. She shook her head. “We have had some calls, and the Watch has taken up a few, but where one is taken off the street, two appear.”

“Seems like some folks liked the old days better’n the new ways,” Mike Golden said.

“Nostalgia is a powerful force,” Val Con murmured. “I assume that there has been some money collected. Is there any hint as to where—or to whom—it flows?”

“Well, now,
that’s
worrisome,” Mike Golden admitted. “If some up-an-comer with more brains than most is using insurance sales to build up a little operating budget before they move in to retire Conrad…” He looked to Nova and gave her a small grin.

“That’s the kind of stuff that keeps a ’hand up at night,” he told her, apologetically.

He turned back to Val Con. “The couple salesfolk the Watch took in gave up the name and address of where they took the money, but o’course everything was gone an’ empty by the time we got there.”

“Of course,” Val Con said.

“Been any examples made?” Miri asked.

Mike shook his head.

“The baker, she almost got made an example, but she had one of Boss Conrad’s ’hands with her in the shop, so that melted before it froze. The rest’ve been threats; no action.”

“Which may mean that—whoever is behind the project—is merely opportunistic, and has no intention of actually endangering themselves.”

“Or they could be saving it up for a big show, to impress everybody,” Miri said.

Mike Golden gave her an earnest look.

“Now, see? That’s the
other
thing that keeps me up at night.”

* * *

“You wished to see me, Grandmother?” It was late, and he was weary, having worked a full day at Rafin’s forge with three other of his brothers. He had returned with Udari to the hearth they shared, only to find Isart there, bearing the
luthia’s
wish that Rys go to her immediately upon his return.

“Please say to the
luthia
that I am on my way to her hearth,” Rys said, and watched Isart dash away before turning to his brother.

“This may be our good-bye, and my heart is so full that I have no words.”

But Udari shook his head.

“Brothers do not say good-bye. Though we may not see each other for a time, we will see each other again.”

They would find each other in the World Beyond, that was the meaning here. Udari was devout, and his faith comforted him. Rys…was not devout, but he would not break Udari’s peace with his doubts.

So…”Great will be my joy, Brother, when we meet again.”

“Hah.” Udari opened his arms, and they embraced before Rys left their hearth and walked down the common to the
luthia’s
tent.

“Rys, my son,” Silain smiled, and extended a hand to him, “come here to me.”

Obediently, he knelt on the rug at her side. She cupped his face between her hands and looked into his eyes.

“You are troubled.”

“Grandmother, I am
frightened
.”

She released him and sat back.

“Of course you’re frightened; you’re not a fool. But you may put your fear aside for this night. It is not time, yet, to go to your brother undertree. There is one more task that I would have you complete for me, if you can find it in your heart.”

She was a subtle woman; she had shaped him and used him, and she would soon send him to his death. For all of that, he loved her; and for all of that, he smiled.

“When have I refused you anything?”

Silain smiled, as one who is a partner in secrets.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done before,” she said. “Only I wish you to dream.”

* * *

“There’s a man’s bit bad,” Miri said, as Val Con guided the car down Blair, toward the intersection with Port Road.

“Not so bad as some,” Val Con said, who was driving with really commendable restraint, even though the streets were just about empty, this time of night. “Mr. Golden does not strike me as the sort of man who allows his wits to wander, no matter how badly he might be
bit
.”

“No percentage in getting your Boss get killed,” Miri noted. “Twice as much reason not to let your wits wander.” She sighed.

“Val Con-husband,” she said, switching to Low Liaden.

She felt the flicker that meant he’d been startled, but he followed her into the more intimate language.

“Miri-wife. What may I do for you?”

“Speak with me in Liaden every day, if you will. It is so often necessary to speak Terran during the day. I find I miss the Low Tongue, in particular.” She paused.

“It is a sweet tongue,” Val Con murmured.

“Sweet, and…complex. I would not wish to lose the level of…subtlety gained.” She shook her head. “I wish none of us to become diminished by this new adventure.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“None of us ought to be diminished by our changed circumstances. It is true that adventures sometimes drive one into simplicity.” She felt, rather than saw his smile.

“Life is wonderfully simplified when all that is required is that one survive.”

“That is the door that opened into this…” she hesitated, feeling over the possible descriptors in her head.

“Opportunity?” he suggested.

She laughed.

“Opportunity, then. I wonder—”

They were crossing Virg Street. One block ahead was the Port Road.

To the left, down Virg—

“Fire!” Miri cried, but Val Con was already turning the car.

She reached for the comm and punched in the code for the Watch.

“Robertson, at the intersection of Virg and Blair,” she told the sleepy dispatcher. “Fire, and a crowd.”

“On our way,” came the reply, the dispatcher sounding not so sleepy now.

Val Con pulled the car to the curb a dozen feet in front of the fire, and jumped out, Miri half-a-second behind him.