Liaden Universe [19] - Alliance of Equals - eARC (34 page)

“Now,” she said briskly, “you must see to your daughter. You have left her too long alone.”

“My daughter is being…cared for…by…a friend.”

“Is it so? Perhaps this explains why my colleagues have not yet returned. On your feet, little Healer. I will support you so far as the hotel.”

—•—

Shan’s essence had faded to a shadow, and Priscilla despaired. She had tried to reach him, and found blocks and warn-aways. He did not want her in this, whatever it was; she could only sit, and watch, and grieve.

Just when it seemed that he could not sustain himself—he began to grow firmer. Priscilla caught her breath, seeing the glitter of another’s power, feeding him, supporting him—and finally withdraw.

She let go the breath she had been holding. He was much improved, though by no means entirely well. Certainly, he was well enough to be taken up by the security team she had asked the portmaster to send to him. The shuttle, with Lina aboard, was already on its way down to the planet’s surface. Lina would set matters right, and hold him, when he found that his daughter was gone, leaving not so much as a scratch upon the ether to mark her passing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Admiral Bunter

Tolly sat down in his own chair, and keyed into the console. Keycodes gleamed on his screen, but he didn’t access them. Rather, he checked the interface, looking for traps or falls. Then, he scanned the logs, including ongoing system stats, changes, and updates. He didn’t find anything curious—or even interesting. Which didn’t surprise him, exactly. Inki could wipe a log with the best of them, not to mention that she knew when—and how—to turn logging off.

He half-thought, that she might have left a message for him, or some kind of clue in logging. Given the number of times in this operation that she’d dutifully fulfilled those duties the institute mandated while also creating conditions that would…somewhat mitigate the effect of dutiful obedience, it wasn’t completely out of the question. And, truth said, that was an intriguing ability, and he almost hoped he caught up with her again, so he could ask her how she managed it.

This time, though, he was disappointed; Inki had left no log records, nor a personal note for him, detailing the locations of the traps and the kills.

Fair enough, he thought, leaning back in his chair and smiling slightly; he’d just have to find them on his own.

“Tolly?”
Admiral Bunter
spoke from behind and above him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No more than there was five minutes ago,” he said. “Just savoring the moment, is all.”

He looked over his shoulder and upward.

“You sure you want to go through with this?” he asked.

“We discussed the pros and cons,” the
Admiral
said. “I understand that it is possible that this action will cause me to cease to exist. I accept this. I would rather cease to exist, than live in a state of uncertainty and enslavement.”

“Just making sure.”

He looked back to the screen, closed his eyes and focused himself with a quick mental exercise, opened his eyes, and tapped up the main screen.

The keys glowed there, tempting and powerful.
The keys to heaven
one of his teachers used to call them.

“All right, then,” he murmured to himself, rather than to the
Admiral
. “Let’s see what grand adventure lies before us.”

He extended his hand to the screen, and accepted the keys.

—•—

He was blind.

No, Shan corrected himself, around the taste of loss, of course he was not blind. Could he not perfectly well see the street, glossy with recent rain? Or that group of people, just there, chatting among themselves? And did he not note the woman who went hurrying past them, all but running on the rain-slick street?

Of course he wasn’t blind. His eyes were doing precisely what they ought.

However, there was a strange flatness to the group of friends, the hurrying woman, his escort with her arm through his, and bearing more of his weight than he wished to acknowledge.

“You used too much of yourself, and your talent has gone dry,” Tarona Rusk said. “Never fear; it will return, in time.”

“How much time?”

“You have a gift for questions, little Healer.”

“Have you a gift for answers?”

“I am no match for you.” She sighed. “Soon or late, dependent upon such things as may be measured, but which are not precise. I will tell you—the machine’s kiss is dire. It alone would have left you diminished for…some while. The kiss and such reckless spending as you have done…” He felt her shrug. “Consult a Healer, is my advice.”

“Thank you. Perhaps I shall.”

She laughed softly.

“Do not blame me; I had backed a different outcome.”

“So you had.”

They crossed under the hotel’s portico, walking slowly, to spare his strength. She slowed suddenly, her grip on his arm tightening.

“Hold,” she murmured in his ear. “I know these.”

Shan straightened, and heard her chuckle.

“No, do not gird yourself for war. It would appear that a pair of my colleagues have come under the attention of Port Security. We will pass them by, and I will see you into the hotel, as I promised, before we part.”

“Stay,” he said to her. “Korval will protect you.”

“Ah, now there’s an honorable offer, but one I must refuse. I have no need of, nor use for Korval’s protections. I have keys and codes, and knowledge, and I mean to use them well. We will walk on—no one will mind us—and when we achieve the lobby, you will call upon the desk to assist you, and I will go my way.”

They walked, as she said, and no one stopped them, or even seemed very much interested in them, past the two men speaking earnestly with the security team; and the guard upon the door, until they entered the lobby, and Tarona Rusk let him go.

“Farewell, Shan yos’Galan,” she said, and bowed as one acknowledging a debt which can never be repaid. “I thank you, for the gift of my life, and the opportunity to achieve Balance within it.”

It was on the tip of his tongue, to urge her again to shelter under the Dragon’s wing, but a hand fell on his shoulder, and he unsteadily turned to face a long-jawed man in an orange security vest.

“Master Trader yos’Galan?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me, please, sir. I’m afraid there’s been some unpleasantness.”

Unpleasantness
.

Fear stabbed him. Had Lute kept his word?

“My daughter—” he said.

“Just this way,” the guard said soothingly, moving his hand toward the bank of elevators.

Shan took a step and stopped, looking over his shoulder to say a proper farewell to Tarona Rusk.

But she was gone.

* * *

Four men dead, they said, and extensive damage to the property. Glass dust glittered on every surface, on every body.

Padi shone like an ice maiden, her eyes closed, her face expressionless, her breathing as slow as if she were in trance.

He touched her hair; he called her name, softly.

There was no response.

“The doctor says shock,” said the head of the investigation crew—Kayorli Brice was her name, Shan recalled. “She’s the only survivor. Bruising on her shoulder consistent with being struck with a heavy object, no other trauma. The others…” She sighed.

“Two dead by hand—broken necks. The other two—speared back to front with glass shards as wide as your hand. I’ll tell you what, Master Trader yos’Galan—I’d give a lot to find where all this
glass
came from.”

Shan shook his head, wearily. He had answered questions; he had directed Port Security to the Gem Garden, and to poor Vanner’s body. He had told them everything that had happened—to the limit that they would understand—which gave them an ambitious criminal who sought to hold a master trader for ransom from his ship.

He had no names for the other dead. Padi’s dead, as he thought of them.

Eventually, the team leader went away, and shortly after, a medic lifted Padi onto a stretcher, while others readied the dead for transport.

“You’re her parent?” the medic asked him.

“I am, yes.”

“The doctor gave her a field exam, said she’s in no danger. There’s an ambulance on the way, to take her to the hospital, so she can be checked out thorough. That’s the best course, sir; but as her parent, you need to agree.”

“I agree,” he said, and the medic nodded.

“We’ll just take her down now to the holding room off the lobby,” he said. “Whisk her right out when the car pulls in.” He looked down at Shan’s mangled and bloody sleeve, and looked up again. “You’re all right yourself, sir?”

“I’m tired,” he said truthfully, “and worried about my daughter.”

“Sure you are. You come on along with us, now. You can rest a bit in the holding room.”

—•—

The raptor kept a close guard on the stone tower. Twice, Padi had put her head out the door, and twice, it dove for her, screaming.

She ducked back, gasping, and it went away again, to perch in the tree opposite, glass pinions gleaming.

Frowning, she considered it, recognizing it for her fears, which she had rejected and shoved away from her for so long that they had joined forces and taken on a life of their own. Far from remaining in the closet she had made for it, now it was loose in the world, and she was held prisoner in her own prison.

She remembered following those glass wings to this place, away from the carnage in the hotel. Safe, she had wanted to be safe!

And so she was safe, with a dragon guarding her door.

Padi stirred, and lifted her head to stare out at the dragon on its branch. Her nature, that she had rejected.

She took a deep breath, tasting lavender. Homesickness stabbed her, and she remembered Aunt Anthora sitting on the back patio at Trealla Fantrol, lavender heaped around her. She gathered the long stems tight, bent them over the flowers to make a basket, and wove them together with a ribbon. She handed one to Padi with a smile.

“Hang it in your closet, to make everything smell sweet.”

The memory was very strong; the scent of lavender filled her head. Looking out the door, she could see lavender blooming along the path—and blinked. There had been no path; there had been no flowers, only the stone and the closet and her fear.

She got to her feet, her eyes on the lavender, and stepped out onto the path, hearing gravel crunch under her feet. Bending, she broke one stem—and jerked upright as a chill shadow passed over her.

She turned, but it was too far to the door; she looked up, into the descending wings, and thrust the lavender up into its face.

The dragon screamed, and swept by, turning on the tip of one wing and landing again, with an offended shake of its wings, on the highest branch of the tree.

Padi—stared.

Her nature, she thought. Father had told her that she must accept her nature, but had he never told her what her nature
was
?

She was of Korval—a Dragon born.

That
was her nature.

“Dragon!” she called, and opened her arms, centered and calm on the clean gravel path. “Come here.”

The long head swiveled, the wings flexed. It was airborne that quickly, and Padi waited, watching the bright wings climb. Her breath came quick, and her stomach was tight, but that was all right, she told herself. Fear was the shadow cast by courage.

Above her, the dragon circled once, folded its wings and plummeted toward her.

—•—

The holding room was dim, and rather chilly. He pulled the blanket up under Padi’s chin, and tried to extend a thread—to touch her, to read her.

There was nothing but emptiness where there had used to be colors, and patterns, and the vivid play of emotion.

Shan closed his eyes, and leaned forward in the chair so that he could lay his head down on the pillow next to hers.

Perhaps he dozed, or perhaps he waked. No matter—not really.

“That Witch will take a hundred lives,” Lute commented, “and confound your enemies, also.”

Shan sighed. “Which Witch?”

“Have you forgotten her already? Tarona Rusk.” There was a pause, and a sharp sigh. “Child, what have you done to yourself?”

“I healed Tarona Rusk.” Shan made a conscious effort to gather his strength, and lifted his head to glare at the man sitting on the other side of Padi’s stretcher.

Lute gave him a straight look. “And taken several injuries along the path.”

“I’ll mend,” Shan said, and ignored his other self’s smile. “Padi, however—”

“The maiden will be well,” Lute interrupted, with a glance at her still and glittering face.

“Says the man who left her alone, when he promised to keep her safe.”

“I did what was in my power,” Lute said. “I could encourage her, push her, and suggest, but
I
cannot
act
here, child, unless you would see the back of the universe broken.”

Shan frowned.

“That sounds rather…potent for a hedge magician.”

Lute smiled. “I was close enough to a god, once. They make sure to bind us close.”

“They?”

But Lute only smiled and glanced down again at Padi’s face. “Here she comes home to us,” he murmured.

Padi opened her eyes.

—•—

She was lying in her bunk, and Father sitting beside, leaning forward, with tears in his eyes. He was tired, she saw, very tired, and his pattern was very thin.

“You should have told me,” she said, “that it was the Dragon I must accept.”

“Should I have? How stupid of me. Padi—”

He extended a hand, and she caught it between both of hers.

“Here,” she murmured, “let me help.”

—•—

The shuttle had reached Langlastport. Priscilla received the report with a nod, and a murmured, “Thank you,” most of her attention on Shan’s essence. Though he had improved, he was by no means strong, and she worried about the extent of his injuries.

She had tried, once his pattern had stabilized, to reestablish their link, but it had been like trying to link to a cloud. Finally, fearing that she was doing him further harm, she had withdrawn to watch, and worry, and occasionally search for Padi, whose pattern remained missing entirely from the ether.

At the moment, Shan’s pattern was quiet; perhaps he was sleeping. Perhaps, Priscilla thought wryly, she ought to do the same.

In fact, she thought, she
should
rest. Shan would need her when he came aboard, and it would be best if she were at full energy.

She rose from her chair—and abruptly sat down again as a bell pealed inside her head: the linkages—all the linkages—with Shan bloomed, brightly silver.

She opened her Inner Eyes and found him immediately, glowing…not quite as brightly as he had, but bright, and strong and firm.

And near him—indeed, all but eclipsing him, was a brave new star in the firmament, displaying a pattern Priscilla had never thought to see again.

Padi yos’Galan had accepted her nature.

And the universe had acquired a Dragon.