Liaden Universe [19] - Alliance of Equals - eARC (29 page)

“Now, then, Trader, your goods will be delivered to your ship’s cargo holding area. More than that, a master infokey and a catalog of samples will be sent directly to you at your lodgings. You’ll be able to make as many keys as you’d like to off the master.”

“Thank you,” Padi said, standing up from the signing table. “Now, I know you will forgive me for rushing away. I am, as I said, at service of the master trader, who has a very full schedule.”

“Of course you are. No need to tarry, with our business concluded, now is there? Thank you, Trader, Master Trader, for taking the time out of those busy schedules to visit with me. Here now, let me show you the door. We hope to see you often trading here on Langlastport!”

That last was an utter lie, which left Shan to wonder why the man bothered. It would be interesting, he thought, as they were ushered toward the entranceway, to find if all the merchants of Langlastport felt the same way.

—•—

During his early contacts with Jeeves, the elder AI had encouraged
Admiral Bunter
to avail himself of fiction.

“Fiction will illuminate behavior with an intensity and a veracity that research texts and facts alone cannot convey. Neither is a substitute for the other, but taken together, they enhance understanding.”

Alone in his shredding environments,
Admiral Bunter
had not had the leisure to take his elder’s advice.

Now, he had leisure. And he had need.

And he had a vast library, which had been part of the cranium’s furnishings.

He accessed the fiction module, using the keywords
melant’i, Balance, honor
, and
necessity
, which returned results—many more results than he had, in his ignorance of the form, anticipated. There were, indeed, many volumes entitled “
melant’i
plays.”

A
play
was a fictional form which was told in physical movement and spoken word by humans, for the enjoyment of other humans, so much he knew. There were tapes in the archives of such performances, if he cared to view them.

Under the orders of Protocol to find a way other than the…traditional…to allow Tolly Jones to answer questions, the
Admiral
rather thought that he ought to view at least some of these so-called
melant’i
plays.

However, he had discovered that nonfiction was tiered—some was informative, the supporting research strong and the conclusions solidly constructed. Other nonfiction—he was beginning to form the opinion that this could be stated as
most
nonfiction—was less than informative, or it was derivative, or the research was shoddy, or the conclusions ill-drawn.

It was therefore necessary to crossref, and in some cases cross-check sources and conclusions, reading several papers on a particular subject before forming an opinion of one’s own.

The
Admiral
supposed that fiction was no different from nonfiction in this regard, and he did not wish to waste time—of which he had not much, before Tolly Jones debarked and
Admiral Bunter
was…alone.

Therefore, faced with the plentitude of
melant’i
plays on offer, he turned again to nonfiction, looking for a source, a key, to those plays that were most illuminating of the human condition.

Nor did research fail him. He found it almost at once:
Square Truth: The One Hundred Forty-Four Most Influential Melant’i Plays
, written by Patrick S. Bagley, Professor of Exotic Art Forms, who was, according to the information in the file, an expert in the field of
melant’i
plays, having devoted his life to their study, for which he had won acclaim from other scholars of the field.

This, then, was his source book. He would choose his plays based on this illustrious expert’s advice.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Langlastport

Shan stepped into the shower, turned his face up into the spray of cool, fragrant water and closed his eyes. Langlastport was open to the weather, which had turned quite warm toward the end of their day. He sighed in satisfaction at the sweet-smelling coolness, and imagined dust swirling away down the drain.

They had accomplished rather more today than he had hoped for. If tomorrow went as well, they might return to the
Passage
the day after.

He found, perhaps not surprisingly, that he wished to return to the
Passage
—very much. Langlastport could, without fear of overstating the case, be judged a successful encounter. Certainly, it was worthy of being incorporated into the developing route as a primary port, and the proximity of those Jump points clearly argued that it be placed on several secondary routes. He would need to do some redesigning, but that was, in the larger dance of the universe, a small thing.

Sighing in sheer pleasure, he began to soap his hair. The shampoo smelled even sweeter than the water; he would exit the shower as redolent as a garden in bloom.

He took a deep breath of damp, floral air, seeking for a moment at least to mitigate the taste of stone.

Memory flickered, and he abruptly recalled standing at the edge of Trealla Fantrol’s gardens, gazing up at the house, which had been emptied of all that yos’Galan cared to keep. He was not alone in the blue evening: his sisters were with him, Nova and Anthora; Priscilla, of course; and Ren Zel; Val Con, too, who had been raised as a brother to his yos’Galan cousins, inside the clan’s fortress, Trealla Fantrol.

The evening breeze, damp from traveling over the stream, sweet from tumbling the flowers, played about them, a seventh in their circle.

They joined hands there in the shadows, power flowing between them like water, while the breeze gamboled, sweet and chill.

Nova was a Rememberer, and it was she who led the way. Priscilla helped her step into a trance, whereupon she opened her eyes on the past, when there had been no house in this place at the mouth of Korval’s valley. Her vision flowed with the power around the linked circle, until they saw it, all and each of them: a meadowland innocent of man’s hand, the breeze combing out its silky grasses.

Holding the vision firm, together they desired that it become truth. Anthora and Val Con led here, strong-willed and stubborn, forcing the vision into a reality, while Shan and Priscilla ensured that the flow of energy remained constant, and the clarity of vision did not falter until the moment that—it became real.

The grassy meadow and the tall house existed simultaneously, each wrapt in glowing strands. In that moment of duality, when they stood equally within two realities, Ren Zel extended his will—and broke the strand about the house.

The shock of that unmaking knocked the six of them to their knees; even the breeze faltered.

Dazed, they knelt in the grass, their accord broken, until, one by one, they gathered themselves, looking up at last to see…

A grassy meadowland, surrounded by formal gardens, and the moon just rising above Solcintra Spaceport.

—•—

Aboard the
Passage
, Priscilla woke all at once, and swung out of bed, pulling her robe around her as she crossed the room.

The comm chimed even as she put her hand on it. She smiled slightly and touched the switch. “Mendoza.”

“Master Trader yos’Galan for you, ma’am,” said Comm Tech Triloff. “Private channel.”

“Thank you, Sally. Please put him through.”

—•—

“Hello, love.”

Her voice was as clear as if she stood next to him. Warmth filled him—and perhaps heat, though
that
was a route laid through frustration.

Really, Shan
, he told himself.
Do try for some control.

“I miss you, too,” Priscilla said in his ear, her voice suddenly sultry.

“That’s a score on a wounded man, my lady,” he said, with what dignity he could bring to bear. “And to think that I called you for comfort.”

“What’s happened?”

“Happened?” He smiled. “In fact, nothing has happened. Padi failed to murder a textile broker this morning, though I swear as her master trader that she would have been
perfectly
justified to have done so. The third master of the technology exchange is a very pleasant fellow, besides being fascinating on his topic, and eager to teach both an ignorant master and an eager apprentice. He produced a sane and sound scheme for mutual profit, and we signed the contracts quickly. The account is formally under the master trader, because I had made first contact, but I believe I will assign it to Padi, as she seems to have an aptitude. Certainly, Master Seirt was charmed by her questions.”

He paused, seeing in his mind’s eye Priscilla leaning a hip against the comm table, her robe wrapt loose and her breasts glowing.

Really, Shan, have you
no
sense of self-preservation?

“Did I wake you?” he asked, dismayed to find that he had lost track of the shifts.

“No, I woke just before the comm chimed,” she said placidly. “Tell me what else didn’t happen.”

“You have most of it already. We called upon the ornamental ironworks, as we had been asked to do, in order to discuss our catalog. Though we enjoyed a gay time and a wide-ranging discussion, in the end it was simply found that we could not accommodate each other’s needs. We parted with protestations of goodwill, and presented ourselves at the Luthier’s Hall, where the catalog was also the proposed topic of conversation. There, however, we found much to recommend an association between us, and we’ll be sending down a five-wood sample case.

“After that, we paused in our labors. Padi had found us a convenable and not entirely ruinous restaurant where we refreshed ourselves with lunch, before making the rest of our calls.

“The first we called upon regretfully concluded that we should not meet her needs. The second specialized in beads that react to various environmental and chemical conditions by changing colors—not fire gems, but perhaps kin. Padi had an interest there, and might have come to an agreement on the spot, but the firm’s Official Signature was out and about other business. We may call tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, in order to pick up the completed paperwork and to present ourselves properly to the Signature.

“Our last prospect of the day also was interested in the catalog. We stopped there but briefly. Then, we occupied ourselves by paying cold calls to those shops and halls for which we had not gathered contact cards, leaving infokeys and catalogs at each. When we had accomplished that, we returned to our humble lodgings, where a buffet had been laid. We elected first to bathe, and Vanner has said that he will take his meal in private. Padi and I will meet in a few minutes, in order to plan tomorrow, and talk over today’s business.”

“It sounds like a great deal of nothing has happened,” Priscilla commented. “In your place, I would have chosen a nap before either a meal or a bath.”

There was a small pause; he felt her hesitation through their link.

“Priscilla?”

“When do you think your tour will be done?” she asked.

“I believe we will return to the ship on the day after tomorrow,” he said gently. “Pursuing all of this nothing is rather wearying. After we’re back aboard, I may wish to spend a day at the station, if I can bring the stationmaster and the yard boss together with me.”

“I will be all joy to see you when you return,” Priscilla murmured, and he smiled for the intimate phrase that had become both a joke and a promise between them.

“It sounds as if Padi is having some success,” Priscilla continued. “How does she go on?”

“Well. Better, I may admit with no dishonor to the apprentice herself, than I had anticipated.”

“And you?”

“I?” He sighed silently, knowing that she would hear it, regardless. “I am…a little tireder than I ought to be. I am growing less and less fond of the taste of grit, but there seems no escaping it for the moment. The protocols I put into place remain strong, even under extreme provocation. I think that our schedule is prudent. Have you spoken to Lina?”

“I have. We talked over techniques, and we have a plan in place. I’ve made arrangements to be available at need.”

“Excellent.”

A silence fell between them. He felt her through their link; the strength of her desire humbled him even as it kindled him. There was nuance, of course: love, tenderness, wistfulness, and, surprisingly, a tiny undercurrent of fear.

He cleared his throat.

“I should stop indulging myself and allow you to return to bed,” he said. “I know very well that starship captains have more than nothing to do, even in orbit.”

She laughed.

“Oh, yes! Like waiting for the next arrival of the customs cutter, and watching it send out its cameras and measuring drones.”

“What? No paperwork; no crew crises? You disappoint me.”

“I’ll try to do better,” she said, with a smile in her voice.

“See that you do,” he replied, with a smile in his.

“Good-night, my love,” she said then. “Sleep well. Give my love to Padi.”

“I will. Dream sweetly, Priscilla,” he answered, and then, soft as a kiss, “Out.”

—•—

Padi put the last of the cards down on the table, and reached for her teacup.

“We have only three calls to make tomorrow,” she said, “and the locations are practically next door to each other. Thank you for verifying that Master Zeldner does have a shop on port.”

“You’re quite welcome. Do you have a plan of action for tomorrow?”

“I will call the contacts tomorrow as soon as business opens and arrange appointments early in the day. I propose we make our cold calls in Beesbrikle Section around those appointments, take the light rail to Fralst Section and make cold calls there.”

“And eat lunch?” Father asked.

“And eat lunch,” she agreed.

“Well, it seems a sound enough plan; I leave the details in your capable hands. Now, will you join me at the window for a glass of wine and a discussion of our day? I’m very interested in your impressions.”

—•—

“I should have handled the situation with Broker Plishet more…adroitly,” Padi said. She was curled into the chair with her feet under her, a silhouette against the glow from the night glow from the window.

“I thought you did as well as you might have done,” he commented, when she said nothing more. “He was bent on creating mischief; you prevented that, demonstrated that you were a serious trader, and gave him an honorable way out the situation.” He sipped his wine.

“To be perfectly frank, master to ’prentice, I’m not certain I would have given him a way out.”

“He has colleagues and associates on port,” Padi protested. “We might have lost business from those who would not be offended on
my
behalf.” She sighed and took a gentle sip of wine.

“Langlast is very promising, after our last several ports,” she said slowly. “I want us to do
well
.”

“Commendable,” Shan murmured. “And, I reiterate, you
did
do well. There was no subtlety you could have deployed which would have turned him from his course.” He raised his glass. “One cannot finesse a sledgehammer.”

Padi grinned suddenly.

“I thought I’d been too subtle, when he took so long to pick up the hint about the
real
merchandise!” she said and chuckled.

Shan drew in a soft breath at that chuckle, and sipped wine carefully to cover the moment.

“So, then, we’ll allow that it went as well as it could have gone, and far better than it might have gone. I commend you on your adroitness, your quick thinking, and your control over your temper.”

Padi tipped her head.

“You didn’t…
do
anything, did you, Father?”

“There was nothing for me to do,” he said calmly.

She snorted lightly.

“You let me know his state of mind.”

“The state of his emotions, say rather. It was a small thing, and he was broadcasting rather loudly.”

“So my…gift, whatever it comes to be, will—perhaps—enhance my ability to trade.”

“It may,” he said, moving his shoulders. “It may not. I would venture to say that it will not
enhance
your ability, though it may be occasionally useful in preventing you from being cheated, or getting hit on the head.”

She was silent, and he caught a strong edge of wistful aversion.

“So reluctant to accept your nature, Padi?”

“I don’t want to be like Aunt Anthora!”

That came out in a burst of utter honestly.

Shan blinked and leaned forward to put his glass on the table.

“Now, I was under the impression that you were rather fond of your Aunt Anthora.”

“I was—I
am
. But, her gift—the burden of her gift—is too much. It made her so…so…” She flailed briefly for a word, and finally produced—“Odd.”

Shan sighed.

“I won’t dispute that your aunt is odd, or that her gift is a heavy one. However, as her fond brother, and her elder, I may say with authority that she has
always
been
odd
. Whether her gift has made her
odder
—with whom would we compare her?”

Padi was silent. Shan sighed.

“I think that there is a very good reason why gifts of this sort come to us when we are halfling. Yes, there are hormonal and biologic reasons, but there is also this other reason—by the time we are halflings, our basic nature is formed. Not even the sudden addition of a strange and delightful ability can warp us at the core. Certainly, it’s necessary to
adapt
, but we adapt constantly—and, may I say, Korval adapts more quickly than many. The arrival of your gift, in whatever form it takes, can only ‘enhance’
you
.”

She doubted it still, he felt it. He also felt her
want
to believe him.

“It will be well,” he said, projecting a strong line of comfort. “In fact, I am so certain that it will be well that I propose a wager.”

She shifted slightly in her chair.

“What wager?” she asked, with the caution of one who had wagered with him before.