Dragon in Exile - eARC (22 page)

“Stand back!” he called, approaching the crowd. “Something may explode!”

Somebody in the crowd laughed; somebody else turned, flipping his jacket back like he had a gun in his belt.

Somebody else yelled, her voice high with fright and fury:

“They’re burning my bakery! Stop them!”

“Oh, sure; they’ll stop us. C’mon in, friends; bet you ain’t seen a zample made in a good long while. Wouldn’t wanna forget what it was like, now would you?”

Miri had the guy holding the baker in her eye. Val Con, she knew, as clear as if they’d talked it out ahead of time, would take the guy showing his heat.

She kept walking, slipping her hand into her pocket. She felt the heat on half her face—it was burning good enough she could hear crackling wood. The little three-shot slid into her palm, nice and firm, and she skirted the crowd—eight, ten of ’em, maybe, but that’d be a couple rubberneckers, too.

Problem was knowing which was the rubberneckers—so she let the gun go free, though likely the move let the locals know she might pull…

The guy with the ’tude had turned on his heel to watch her hands. That was all right; Val Con had him; she felt him slip up behind the guy, and smack him a good one behind the ear with the hilt of his knife.

“Help me!” shouted the baker. “Help yourselves! Do you want the old ways back? Stop them!”

That was good for a couple laughs between the observers and the insurance crew, but not much else.

Twisting in her captor’s arms, the baker kicked backward with an amazing amount of energy. The guy grunted, and yanked her arms back. Miri

slipped in close, smelled the stink of a firestarter on him, looked him in the eye as he struggled to hold the baker.

“Let her go,” she commanded, using full merc volume. “Else, you’ll be the sorriest pile of slush on the planet.”

She moved closer, the merc motion offering
mayhem now
leading her hands toward his face. He twisted the baker between them, smiling like a dog.

This close, the fire scorched the air. Whoever’d set it had known what they were doing. It was hot, and it was burning fast. And if it was a bakery…

“Move!” she shouted. “This place is going to explode!”

As if to back her up, the fire gave a full-throated roar, flames licking out onto the sidewalk.

Three of the hangers-on lost their nerve, broke and ran up the street, toward Blair.

The guy holding the baker twitched, but that was all.

“She’s right,” the baker said, her voice eerily calm. “There’s flour dust over everything in there. It’ll explode an’ we’ll all get killed.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” somebody said from directly behind Miri—his approach had been masked by the noise of the fire.

She ducked, felt something go close past her cheek, spun and kicked.

Her guy grunted and went down, and Val Con came out of the dancing fire shadows, kicking the guy holding the baker solidly in the shoulder. Miri rolled now, seeing people breaking away from the fight.

The baker ran; her late captor rolled and came up, gun out, turning toward Val Con, and moving to a shooting crouch.

Miri struck low from the side, half-missing her mark in the flickering firelight, and that shot went wide of everyone, but the heel of the gun raked her face as he scrambled to get position on her.

Too many for him, she was up and ready to block his aim again when Val Con grabbed his gun arm and danced a bit of
menfri’at
, the twist removing the gun and breaking the gunman’s wrist in one elegant, fluid move.

The man yelled and kicked. Miri took his feet from under him, and he went flat—and completely still as Val Con grimly stood over him, the captured firearm aimed precisely between his eyes.

…and in the distance came the sound of a siren.

The Watch had arrived.

Interlude Seven

The Firmament

Vazineth was with the Healers, who would do such repairs as were necessary, and also firm her purpose. Sye Mon, her colleague, was also with her. He would not be a familiar face, when she woke, for they were not known to each other, but he would be someone who understood all of what had befallen her.

They three—Anthora, Master Mithin, and himself—they three were drunk, perhaps, with success. Anthora would have it that Vazineth had snatched the choice to herself, and that she, Anthora, had expended no effort at all. She was perfectly fit and rested.

Master Mithin pronounced herself very able to continue, and Ren Zel…

Ren Zel craved this place, where only truth existed, and peace informed the spaces between the stars. The threads sung to him; the golden light infused his bones. Every time he opened his eyes here was like a homecoming.

He gathered himself to witness, focusing upon the star that was the soul of Bon Vit Onida. The strands that bound the agent to the rest of the universe were fragile things; the soul small, as if it had drawn in on itself, becoming denser and less bright.

Near-space rippled.

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’ 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 tea cup, 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 discuss 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.”

“OK, 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 OK, 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. 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’ 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 Boss’ will be available today, in case anybody has any special questions. Right?”

Nelirikk was grinning.

“Right,” he said.

“OK—you do that, we’ll meetcha at the car in—” She looked to Val Con—“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 wide, the glow emanating largely from the top of the shoulders and 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.