Dragon in Exile - eARC (26 page)

“Your pardon?”

“We have brought four, including yourself, out of the dream, and back into life.”

“Have you, indeed?” He laughed, and caught Ren Zel’s arm.

“
Dramliza
, you are a marvel! When may I meet my comrades? I would know if we are of the same mind.”

“You are still in need of rest and Healing,” the master healer said, from his place by the door. “Another of your comrades also requires additional interventions. A local week, I believe, will see all of you recovered…enough.”

“Ah, ah—so long! But I bow to you, also, Master Healer. I would—very much!—rather know myself to be whole and complete, then to endanger any but those who deserve my Balance.”

“Just so,” said the master healer, and bowed gently to Ren Zel.

“If Pilot dea’Judan would leave us, we may have a session now, and speed your day forward.”

“Let it happen! Pilot dea’Judan—you have my love, sir; and your lady and Master Mithin. Please, convey my gratitude to them.”

“I will, gladly,” Ren Zel said, and bowed. “I leave you now. May you heal quickly and completely.”

He closed the door behind him, and walked to the end of the hallway, where there was a small window, and a chair set into the corner.

There he sat, and turned his face from the world, and wept until his tears ran dry.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Office of the Road Boss

Surebleak Port

He didn’t necessarily want it a matter of public observation, that he’d gone and paid a visit to the Road Boss in her Portside office, so Smealy perched himself at Jakob’s Juice Bar, where he had a good sight of the door. He sipped a tall glass of gwiffa juice, and watched streeters go in and out, ’til he’d had his fill of gwiffa juice and the guy behind the counter had started staring at him.

He paid his tab, plus some, threw down a line about being stood up, and sauntered out onto the port.

The Road Boss kept a short day—six hours open to all streeters—and it was getting close to quittin’ time. Smealy’d have to make his move soon, and never mind who saw him. And, now that he thought some more on the subject, it could do his cred some good to be seen goin’ into the office, all bold and easy-like. Man had a right to call on the Road Boss concerning Road Bidness, din’t he? Wasn’t that the whole reason for this office, here at the port?

He turned his saunter around right at the door to the Emerald, which maybe wasn’t expected, because Zimmer was usually better than getting seen when he was following somebody.

So, the rest of the committee had decided to keep an eye on him. He’d known they’d lost confidence, but it seemed he’d miscalculated as to how much. Sending Zimmer to watch him—that was bad.

The Road Boss’ office was just ahead. Smealy took a deep breath, got his shoulders level, checked his carry, right there in his outside right-hand pocket, and swung on out like a man without one worry on his mind.

That girl’d better be willing to do bidness.

* * *

Miri glanced up as the clock gave out with the half-hour warning. So it was true what they said about time flying when you were having fun.

“Captain,” Nelirikk said from the reception desk.

“Heard it,” she told him. “Had a lot of company today. Wonder what stirred up the wind?”

“Captain, it may be that the streeters have come to know that you are a sage commander, and are coming to depend on you.”

Miri blinked.

“Why, Beautiful, I think you might be developing a silver tongue.”

“Captain, I only offer the most likely possibility,” Nelirikk said. He might’ve said more—Miri got the impression he was warming to his topic—but the door bell rang, cutting him off.

“Good afternoon,” he said, and Miri looked to the screen.

“Afternoon,” the guy answered, with a nod. He was something of a dandy, by Surebleak standards; clean khakis with a crease in them sharp enough to cut bread, and a bright yellow sweater without a smidge of dirt on it. His hair was middling brown, brushed back from a broad, handsome face, and curling over the sweater’s collar, down-back.

“I’d like a word with the Boss.”

“May I know your name?” Nelirikk said, going by the book.

“Sure thing. Lionel Smealy, representing the Citizen’s Heavy Loads Committee.”

Miri frowned.

Apparently Smealy didn’t know when it was in his best interest to stay thrown out.
Her
mistake had been assuming he’d at least gotten the standard issue of basic common sense, so she hadn’t given Nelirikk his name as somebody to deny—and here he was, rising up to his full height, a process that Smealy followed with interest, but no visible alarm.

“Follow me, please.”

Miri stood up from behind her desk.

Easy, Robertson
, she told herself.
Let the man say what he come to say. Might be he’ll surprise you again and produce an apology.

The door opened, Nelirikk stood to one side, and made the announcement.

“Lionel Smealy, representing the Citizen’s Heavy Loads Committee.”

He breezed in, big, showy grin on his face, and one hand out to shake. It might’ve been the grin—too wide, and just a touch self-satisfied—but she didn’t put out her hand to meet his. Instead, she gave him a proper Liaden nod, like might be exchanged between business associates who weren’t on particularly cordial terms.

“Mr. Smealy, I’m Miri Robertson. I hope you won’t take offense if I ask you to make it march. The office’ll be closing up for the day in a couple minutes.”

“Sleet, what I got to say won’t take but one minute,” he said affably, leaning his hands on the back of the chair. “The Citizen’s Heavy Loads Committee wants to come to a ’rangement with you, as Road Boss, to give exceptions to heavy loads. We got a couple dozen small truckers signed up and ready to roll just as soon as we nail down the Road Boss’ percentage. I was thinking thirty percent’d look really good in your pocket. You might have another number in mind, though, and if you do just put it out here on the desk where we can both take a look at it.”

So…not an apology, after all.

“Smealy, does stupid run in your family?”

He blinked, the grin fading out.

“Hey, now, what kinda way is that to talk about a honest bidness ’rangement?”

“Didn’t my partner already tell you we ain’t selling exceptions?”

“He din’t seem to take much of a shine to the notion, not being local and unnerstanding the way we do things here. You, though—”

“Me, though,” Miri snapped, furious as much for the stupidity as the effrontery. “
Me
, though, I’m local, so it’s reasonable to expect I’d take a deal my partner already told you was no deal, and what—keep it quiet from him? That’s not how it works, Smealy; if one of us says no, you just take it that both of us said no. Now!”

She brought both palms down hard on the tabletop and was gratified to see how high he jumped at the sound. Behind him, Nelirikk stepped into the room; she flicked her fingers—
hold it
.

“Now,” she said, quieter, “you get the
sleet
outta here, Smealy. We ain’t selling exceptions. And if I hear you’re telling people otherwise, to get them signed up for your committee, I
will
drag you in front of the Bosses. You got that?”

He was standing stiff, all trace of smiling goodwill vanished.

“I got it,” he said, perfectly flat.

“Good. Beautiful!”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Show this man out, then lock the door. The office is closed.”

“Yes, Captain. Lionel Smealy, come with me.”

Surprisingly, he did that, without an argument, and without a backward look.

Miri closed her eyes, and ran the Scout’s Rainbow, for calm.

Then, she bent over the computer and started the shut-down routine.

* * *

Val Con had turned once, slowly, on Ms. Audrey’s request, a second time, at her sigh—and came to rest with his hands folded before him, and his head subtly tipped to one side.

“Ain’t that fine…” Ms. Audrey extended a well-ringed hand and lightly stroked the sleeve of his coat. She sighed again, fingered the lace, and gave his wrist a coquettish squeeze before stepping back out of easy reach.

“The set of you is a danger on the streets,” she said severely. “It’s a wonder poor Sheyn didn’t melt away like a snowflake, opening the door without having any warning about what was waiting on the porch.”

Poor Sheyn
had, to Pat Rin’s certain knowledge, a surveillance screen as part of his doorman’s accessories; it had been one of the first upgrades—absent the Sinner’s Carpet—that Audrey had installed. That aside, Sheyn
had
seemed, momentarily, overawed. He had recovered himself with admirable quickness, however, smiling deeply into Val Con’s eyes, and introducing himself, with the information that he could be called at any hour that was convenient. Val Con had thanked him with a gravity that could only put the seal on the boy’s infatuation, leaving it to Pat Rin to ask if Ms. Audrey would see them.

“Now, tell me what this is,” Audrey continued: “wedding or wake?”

“Neither,” Val Con said promptly. “This is a formal dress suit, intended to be worn to very boring receptions, the purpose of which are to see who of those in attendance has the best tailor. I have today subverted its intention, in order to perhaps learn a little about someone. After, Pat Rin declared it would be cruel in me to leave the city without calling upon you.”

“I’m not sure if it wasn’t more cruel to let me rest eyes on you.” She paused, as one struck by a sudden thought, and asked, somewhat wistfully. “Did Luken have a tailor, on the old world?”

“One’s father employed a very fine tailor,” Pat Rin said gravely, as Val Con seemed to become suddenly fascinated with his lace. “You must have him dress for you. He cuts quite a handsome figure.”

There was a moment of silence before Audrey shook away such thoughts as Pat Rin dared not guess, and said briskly.

“Well, now I’ve seen you and my heart’s broken like I was just sixteen, are you going to leave me here to sigh, or is there something else I can do for either—” a brow lifted suggestively as she surveyed them at her leisure—“
or both
—of you?”

“In fact…” Val Con began, looking up from the long study of his lace. “I wonder—”

He got no further. The daytime peace was shattered by what sounded like a box of rocks dropped from orbit striking the center of the house.

“Dammit, Cholly, ain’t you got any idee where you puttin’ them elbows! Now you gone and woke up the pretties, an’ our bonus is slush!”

“Because,” Val Con murmured, diverted, “shouting at the top of one’s lungs will certainly wake no one.”

Audrey shook her head at him, lips quivering.

“I thought offering a bonus for not bringing the roof ’round our ears while they was fixing the staircase would keep the noise down, some. Mostly, it has, but Cholly, there, he ain’t what you’d call a study in grace.”

“Fixing the staircase?” Pat Rin asked. “Was it in disrepair?”

“No—nothing like that! Nothin’ on Surebleak’s any solider than that stair. But the thing was, see, once they started in ripping out the old carpet, and Luken got a good look at what he calls
the space
, he suggested opening it up some. And, more fool that I am, I asked him what did he mean,
open it up
? So, he goes away and comes back no more’n half-hour later with a sketch, and it sure did look elegant, and the crew boss said they could do it, easy, ’cause there weren’t no supporting walls involved, and—I let myself get swept away, is what it was.”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I tell you what, I’d forgotten how expensive men are, when you take to keeping one of your own.”

Pat Rin dared a glance at Val Con’s face, which was very grave, and braced himself.

“You might turn him out, if you find him too dear. The clan will certainly take him back.”

Audrey considered him.

“I find him dear, all right,” she said. “And the clan ain’t never let go of him, Mr. Dragon; don’t you bat them pretty green eyes at me.”

“All right,” Val Con said, agreeably.

“But,” Pat Rin said, throwing himself into the breach, “new carpet? I thought the house had only just had new carpet.”

Audrey turned to him.

“Well, it had. And there’s another story hanging there, and Luken at the heart of it, again. Look, I’m gonna have to throw my weight around a little with the crew—they expect it. C’mon and take a look at what they done, if you want to.”

Pat Rin looked at Val Con.

“Cousin?”

“Of course, I must see it.”

* * * * *

While Audrey spoke with Jermin, the crew boss, and the unfortunate Cholly, Pat Rin and Val Con toured the construction site.

White plastic stairs were exposed, where the former rug had been stripped away, and the interior wall that had hidden the stairway from the grand parlor had been taken down. Instead of being hidden from below, those who had agreed to ascend to the next level of pleasure would be in full sight. At the top of the flight, on the hall that led to the various chambers of joy, the wall had been removed also, replaced to waist height with a gilded and filigreed screen.

“There’s gonna be pink light in the hall up above,” Audrey said, joining them in looking upward. “All the folks down in the main parlor will be able to watch the course of the lovers, as they climb to, and then cross, the bridge into ecstasy.”

She lowered her eyes and met Pat Rin’s.

“So says Luken.”

“It sounds very like him,” he answered politely.

“Expensive he may be, but this…conceit of Luken’s is likely to see your custom among Liadens increase dramatically. It strikes a very subtle note. Your guests
must
recall the Jewel Boxes and the small, elite
hetaerana
clubs.” Val Con nodded. “Truly, Audrey, your investment in our erring elder will be repaid six times, and quickly.”

“I’ll consider keeping him, then. But now I’m curious. Was Luken…involved with a business like mine, back on the old world?”

Pat Rin caught Val Con’s eye. Val Con moved his shoulders. Pat Rin looked back to Audrey.

“He may have done. But, you know, my father is more than simply a seller of rugs. He designs rooms. He has an understanding of space that is very nearly unparalleled. On Liad, his eye and his artistry were—I do not embellish!—sought after by everyone who wished to bring a room to its full elegance or power. You have now released the staircase to its full range of possibility. Those who ascend it will be changed. Those who watch the ascension will be changed. The whole character of the transaction about to be joined is altered, from secretive, to openly joyous.”

“A bridge to ecstasy, indeed,” Val Con added.

Audrey blinked, then looked up again, at the bridge.

“Well,” she said softly. “Guess I’m gonna hafta get Quin to give lessons to us all.”

Val Con’s eyebrows went up. Pat Rin cleared this throat.

“Quin is tutoring Villy. A mixture, so I apprehend, of core work from Trigrace Academy; with basic kinesics; and an abridged course of
melant’i
plays.”

“Is Villy enjoying his lessons?”

“So far as I understand it.”

“And is Quin enjoying them as well?”

“Very much, I believe.”

“Excellent.”

“Here,” Audrey said abruptly. She held out a square of carpeting, all a-swirl with reds, oranges, and deep browns. It seemed to glow from within, which would, Pat Rin thought, be the silk threads woven among the
quetrine
wool. Such a carpet was a treasure, virtually indestructible. Such a carpet—