Liaden Universe [19] - Alliance of Equals - eARC (25 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Langlastport

The Torridon Hotel

The short tour, from the Happy Occasion to the hotel, was like—it was like a public day at some
other
House’s gardens, Padi thought. One met only friends and agreeable acquaintances, and only glad subjects were discussed: the flowers, the weather, perhaps one’s new coat, or a piece of Quin’s jewelry.

Of course, public day at one’s
own
House was rather less agreeable, for it always occurred on a day for which one had received several pleasant invitations, which of course had to be turned down in favor of welcoming strangers into the gardens, strolling among them to point out the best flowers, or an exceptionally clever bit of topiary, and, of course, the refreshment trays.

Not very much different, now that she had actually traversed the path, from the duties of a host of a trade reception.

The merchants they called briefly upon—no more than five minutes each, so as not, Father said, to wear out their welcome on the very first pass—seemed not to find them a burden. Indeed, there were smiles, and exchanges of infokeys, and pleasant things said on both sides. Two wished the master trader to return on another day when they might talk at more depth. One ’prentice was desolate that his own master had not been able to be present when the traders called. She offered an infokey, saying the master would be pleased to meet the traders at their convenience anytime inside the next two-day, if their stay on port would accommodate it.

And so they progressed, with the hotel in sight and only two more shops between them and the entrance. Padi sighed to herself. She was enjoying herself immensely, though whether she had learned anything would need to wait upon review.

Though their progress was interesting—not just for the illustration of what an announcement in the port news, a direct letter to everyone listed in the Langlastport Merchant Association, and a reception might do to create a favorable impression—it remained to be learned whether the favorable impression translated into equally favorable negotiations and concluded deals.

She…was just as happy to leave those discoveries for the morrow, and the day after. Her head had begun to ache again, which she thought might be a lack of food. While there had certainly been sufficient food at the reception, she had felt it her duty to at least introduce herself to each guest, and direct them to the refreshment tables. At the beginning, also, she had been nervous regarding the arrangements, but, really, Ms. Hartensis had managed beautifully, and produced a buffet reception that even Cousin Kareen must have pronounced unexceptional.

In any case, she had rather stupidly not eaten anything, other than the samples, though she had managed a glass of two of the red juice, which had been very agreeable, though perhaps, in retrospect, a little sweet.

They strolled into the second-but-last shop, a gem-and-jewelry emporium. The ample light was pure, and drawers of gemstones gleamed and glittered behind security crystal displays. Padi narrowed her eyes against the excessive brightness as a tall and willowy person came out from behind the counter to bow gracefully to them. Surprisingly, it was a full Liaden bow, between business associates.

“Master Trader, Trader, welcome to my establishment! I am Tarona Rusk, and this”—a graceful motion of the hand drew their attention to the glittering displays—“is the Gems Garden.”

Tarona Rusk spoke the High Tongue with an accent, but her mode did not falter—also, as between business associates, which was, perhaps, a little forward, thought Padi, as they had concluded no business, but which also showed a willingness to proceed in an association.

Father bowed, and Padi did.

“Forgive me,” Father said upon straightening. “I had not expected to hear the language of home, here on Langlast.”

“I hope I have not offended?”

“Indeed, no. Merely a surprise—and that not unpleasant, at the end of a long day. I wonder—did you perhaps attend the University of Solcintra?”

Tarona Rusk laughed gently.

“No scholar, I!” she said, raising a hand. “Always, it was the stones with me, and the fabrication of settings which might be worthy of them.” Another small bow. “I had the honor to sit as Moonel’s ’prentice, in the Avenue of Jewels, at Solcintra Port.”

“I’ll wager he drove you harder than any professor,” Father said.

“Doubtless he did, and why not? Should I waste the master’s time and generosity by shirking my lessons, or creating that which was less than inspired? May I ask—how fares Moonel? Still at work in the Avenue of Jewels?”

Father sighed, and bowed gently, as the bearer of unfortunate news.

“I regret. Moonel has gone ahead, doubtless to fashion more perfect settings for the stars. The shop in the Avenue of Jewels stood empty, when last I was on Solcintra Port.”

“Ah.”

The jeweler bowed her head, and swayed somewhat. When she looked up, her eyes were damp, but her face was properly smooth.

“It grieves me to hear it, though it ought be no surprise. One likes to recall those who illuminated one’s life as unchanged and ever-continuing. But—it is as you say; he has doubtless embraced a higher art, which we mere students hold no hope of comprehending.”

There was a small pause, so that they might admire the phrase, before the jeweler spoke again.

“Do you make a long stay, here on Langlastport?”

“A few days. Perhaps as long as a local week. Tomorrow’s tour will tell the tale.”

“Of course. Please, allow me to offer you this—” An infokey was proferred. Father took it gracefully and offered his, in turn.

“My thanks. For now, let me not keep you longer from your rest. Come again, before you leave us. It would please me, if we could identify a mutual benefit.”

“We will of course come again,” Father promised, and with that they sought the door.

—•—

“Vessel approaching,” Dil Nem said firmly from the pilot’s chair. “Langlast portmaster identification.”

He did not say that this meant nothing; the three ships that had pursued
Pale Wing
had, after all, been able to show an affiliation, however tenuous, with legitimate Liltander security.

Priscilla frowned at the screens over the third mate’s shoulder. The approaching vessel looked to be a working ship of some kind. Scans showed armament—two small guns—and very little armor. Port ID…

“Query their purpose for approach,” she said.

Dil Nem did that, nodded and glanced over his shoulder to Priscilla.

“Customs boat, Captain. They state routine fly-by, and advise that we will see them at intervals.” A pause. “They will release camera drones and magnetometers; this is standard procedure.”

“Port database confirms ID,” said Pilot Jorik, on comm.

Priscilla nodded.

“Log them,” she said.

“Aye, Captain,” said Jorik. “All occasions?”

“All occasions.”

—•—

“Will you share a glass of wine with me, daughter?”

Padi blinked, and sat up, startled.

They had dined privately in their suite, all three together. After, Mr. Higgs had excused himself to his room. The headache had faded again over the course of the meal, and Padi had been content merely to sit for a moment or two, treasuring both the absence of pain and the absence of any necessity to introduce herself or, indeed, to speak at all.

Except, she must have dozed off, and that would never do! She and Father still had the gathered keys to sort through, and a port itinerary to make, after which she would study for a few hours before bed.

“Forgive me,” she managed, to Father’s uplifted eyebrows, “I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.”

“The day has scarcely been free of stress,” Father said, repeating what he had said at the reception. “I find the gravity a trifle wearisome, myself. I offer again, daughter—will you share a glass of wine?”

Father had stopped at the duty-free shop in the lobby of their hotel to purchase a bottle of the local summer wine, and had set it on the wine table in their suite. Padi had supposed he would have a glass while they worked; he most usually had a glass of wine to hand, and had given it no more thought than that. But—

“I see that you are a little timid of a green vintage,” Father said, in the face of her continued silence. “Allow me to reassure you, based upon my sampling at your reception. I found it bright and balanced; a very pleasant little wine, and unlikely to produce any more lethargy than we already enjoy. We must, of course, assume that the bottle has not been mistreated, but I believe we may reasonably suppose that to be the case.”

That was merely nonsense, of course, words to fill time, and allow her to gather her thoughts. Plainly, Father was not intending to resume work after the meal. Father wished to speak with his daughter and his heir, between kin, which was certainly not a proposition she could—or wanted to—decline. She did wonder if she had erred in some grievous manner during the walk from the reception to the hotel, and which necessitated this change of plans.

But, there was a very easy way, after all, to discover that.

Padi inclined her head.

“Thank you, Father; I would be pleased to share wine and a moment with you.”

* * *

“It is pleasant!” She exclaimed, essaying another sip, and sighing. “What a pity, that—”

She swallowed the rest of what she had been about to say, feeling her cheeks warm.

Really, Padi, this is not a trade session!
she told herself.
Strive for some conduct.

Father grinned at her over the rim of his wine cup.

“Difficult, isn’t it? But don’t despair! Couching all and everything in terms of trade and profit is a positive sign of progress toward your goal. I swear so to you, as your grandfather once swore to me.”

According to those tales she had heard of him, Grandfather Er Thom had not been much given to joking. He had, however, been rather incisively ironic.

“We have,” she pointed out, a little more sharply than was perhaps entirely proper, “been trading all day.”

“Indeed we have, but now we must adopt another mode, if you will allow me.” He shifted somewhat in his chair, and stretched out a long arm to place the wine cup on the table between them. They sat side by side, in matching upholstered chairs by the suite’s large window, overlooking Langlastport and the mountains beyond.

Padi put her glass on the table, also, and inclined her head formally.

“You wished to speak with me, Father?”

“Excellent. You set the tone well. In fact, my child, I do wish to speak with you. More—I wish to ask you a question. It is a question I now feel that I ought to have asked long since, but better tardy, so it is said, than never arrive.”

He paused. Padi waited.

Father sighed, and moved a hand—pilot talk for
straightest route possible
.

“I wish you to tell me, please, daughter, what happened at Runig’s Rock.”

Padi blinked.

“
Happened
?
Nothing
happened—which was the intent, as I understood it. We had our lessons, and we walked our rounds; we exercised, played cards, and read; Syl Vor drew; the twins slept—oh!”

She put her fingers against her lips, recalling one thing that
had
happened, and about which they had not considered it wise to be forthcoming. Grandfather Luken knew, of course, and…well, perhaps Quin had told
his
father, now that they were home and it hardly mattered any more. Still, it
had been
an infraction; they had disobeyed Grandfather Luken and Cousin Kareen, as well as violating systems…

“But don’t keep me in suspense!” Father urged. “What is this one thing that happened?”

“Well…Quin had been…distressed…for Cousin Pat Rin. We had news, from time to time of you, and the
Passage
, and Aunt Nova—but it was as if Cousin Pat Rin had simply fallen away into the starfields…”

“Because, after all,” Father said, after she had paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, “that was what he was supposed to have done.”

“Well, yes, certainly! But, Father,
you know
Quin! He’s made of nerves! So, I said to him that we might look at the check-in list.”

Both of Father’s eyebrows rose.

“Did you?” he murmured.

“Yes, sir; I thought it would ease him. We…well,
I
…circumvented the codes, so that he could check the list—I broke nothing!—and we put everything back as it had been when we were done; but the point is—which is to say,
what happened
—is that he found that his father had
not
checked in—not at all. Not even once.”

“I can scarcely suppose that this was the comfort you had hoped to offer kin,” Father said, reaching for his wine cup. “How did Quin go on after that?”

“Pretty well. That is, he spoke with Grandfather, who of course scolded him for listening at doors. Then he pointed out that Cousin Pat Rin was not a fool, and would therefore not endanger himself by foolish action. If checking in would expose him to enemies, then surely, he would fail to check in.”

“And that comforted Quin, did it?”

“It did, yes.”

“Well, then, the episode seems to have ended well, though I regret that an action of yours stirred Luken into sternness. He does so dislike being stern.”

“Yes,” Padi said.

“Was he also stern to you?”

“No, Father. I think—that Quin did not tell him I had helped with the codes.”

There was a small pause, followed by a light sigh.

“Ah. Well, a pilot must have a care for his copilot, after all. Especially when there is only one available.”

“Yes,” she said again, and sighed herself, leaning back into the chair. She did not close her eyes. She had already disgraced herself once by falling asleep after dinner. It would scarcely do to fall asleep again, in the middle of a conversation. Though, now that Father had the answer to his question, perhaps—

“Forgive me,” he said, interrupting her train of thought, “that I am not specific. I have nothing to lead me, save this stone…
edifice
…with which you increasingly distress your elders, the maintenance of which appears to be taking a very great deal of your energy. What happened, child, that you felt you must create such a thing?”