Ribbon Dance

Book : Liaden Universe®

by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller

Genres: Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

NEW ENTRY IN THE BEST-SELLING LIADEN UNIVERSE® SERIES

On a world where cake is a necessity it takes the Grid to protect the civilized and the deaf from the dire influences of the ambient and to keep the chaotic Haosa at bay.

Having arrived at recently Dust-bound Colemeno, Trader Padi yos’Galan is essential to Master Trader Shan yos’Galan’s plan to recoup Korval’s clan fortunes by establishing new routes for the clan’s tradeship. Shan’s inner Healer insists Padi come to terms with her as-yet unplumbed psychic abilities, which might place her in the top tier of dramliz, if she can learn control.

Padi yearns to concentrate on trade, but Colemeno’s fey ambient and deadly long-term politics combine to bring her face-to-face with the Haosa, and in particular with the mysterious and untouchable Tekelia, as Korval’s trade mission’s necessity of a port audit collide with a cruel history of murder, deception, and brutality. Amid the dangers, Padi unexpectedly finds herself eagerly exploring her dramliz side when faced with the unspoken powers of the ambient, the sky-filling energy of the ribbon dance, and Tekelia’s mutable eyes.

Release date: June 4, 2024

Publisher: Baen

Print pages: 464

Sample

Prologue

 

Gods willing, she had not left it too late.

She was done pretending they could ever be safe here; too many had fallen, proving otherwise.

Indeed, she had been on the edge of flight two years ago, but she had let Pel dissuade her. Pel, with his strength and his brilliance, and his close ties to the Council and the Warden himself.

It had seemed—truly it had seemed there was nothing that Pel could not bring right.

But even his light had been extinguished by the curse that pursued her bloodline.

If it were only herself, after Pel, she might not have cared enough—to run.

But there were others—innocents—and it fell to her, and her alone, to protect them.

There was no one else she could turn to. No one who would believe her. No one who cared what happened to them.

So she stood up again, after Pel’s death. Stood up to fight for her children.

She had already proven that she would do anything—commit any atrocity—to preserve their lives. If—when—doom found her, they would have only themselves—an indignant protest flickered past her Inner Eyes, of a small plump shape, fur grey-striped and plush. In spite of—everything—Zatorvia felt her lips twitch.

The children would, she amended her thought contritely, have each other, and Eet. As she had Eet, then and now.

There was a sense of mollification. Zatorvia continued to the safe, traced the unlock pattern against the aether, and caught up the bag inside when the door sprang open.

It was by no means all her fortune. She had not dared to access accounts that were doubtless being watched. But nor had she ever been foolish enough to put all of her money into accounts.

They were funded. She had skills. What they needed was to leave this place where every card fell to their enemy’s hand.

They would go tonight. The bargain was made with the trader, their passage secured. The car—the safe car sent from the escort agency—was due in moments. The children were in their room with the small travel cases they had packed, overseen by Eet, who would protect them with his last breath.

She closed the safe, slipped the bag away into an inner pocket of her coat, took a breath.

Something moved in the side of her eye. She turned, crying out as the figure took shape from a swirl of mist and smoke.

The weapon made no sound; the assassin’s aim was true.

She was dead before she began to fall, and the room was empty by the time her body hit the floor.

…not quite empty.

On a shelf by the door, barely distinguishable from the assembled bric-a-brac, was a furry, grey-striped shape. Bright eyes gleamed in the shadow, then vanished.

The doorbell chimed.

And chimed again.

 

On-Grid
The Sakuriji Council Chambers

 

A trade mission had arrived at Colemeno!

This was, in Majel ziaGorn’s opinion, the single most significant thing that had happened to the planet—to the entire Redlands System!—since the arrival of the Dust itself.

Not that Colemeno had lacked for trade—the Iverson Loop was regular, as were the Evrits; the Mikancy less so—traveling from worlds likewise caught inside the cloud. Colemeno had been the terminus of their routes.

But now the Dust was—not gone, not yet. But it had thinned enough that the Redlands were once again visible to the universe. The proof of that was the arrival of the Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission.

The Council of the Civilized had not been best pleased by this sudden arrival. History had taught Colemeno to be timid, and it had seemed that the majority of councilors might have called the Dust back, had that been possible.

However, confronted with the reality of an orbiting ship proposing to deliver a master trader and his team to the port, their purpose to explore mutual opportunity, the Council had risen to meet duty. They had allowed the trade mission to arrive, and had produced a reception in their honor.

Subsequently, Portmaster krogerSlyte had assigned the trade mission offices on Colemenoport, and the penthouse suite in the Wayfarer, the port’s best residence, meant to house important visitors.

The Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission being greatly important to the future of Colemeno, in Majel’s opinion, this was only proper courtesy. However, Council Chair gorminAstir had seemed…surprised…when the portmaster revealed this during her report to Council.

Still, the thing was done, and Portmaster krogerSlyte continued speaking with scarcely a pause, relating that the master trader had inquired after his opposite number on-port.

“We have no master traders on Colemeno,” Councilor tryaBent said tartly. “Shall we elevate someone so that the Liaden master trader may converse on his own level?”

Portmaster krogerSlyte frowned slightly at the councilor, and professed herself saddened to have so poorly conveyed the master trader’s intent.

“He wondered if he ought to interface with my office, or with the market master, or if perhaps there was in place a liaison committee. He wishes to keep us current with his work, and also seeks a—source, should he—” She smiled briefly. “Actually, he had phrased it—when he comes athwart law or custom—to advise him.”

She looked back to tryaBent.

“He was everything that was polite and forthcoming, Councilor. Merely, he wishes to proceed in an orderly, efficient manner, while avoiding law-breaking or offenses against custom.” She paused, half-smiling, and added, “He said that local custom trips even master traders and that at his point in life, he needed to be wary of falls.”

A slight ripple of amusement passed through the council chamber as Portmaster krogerSlyte resumed her seat.

Council Chair gorminAstir drank from her glass. Other councilors likewise refreshed themselves, or shifted in their chairs, leaned over to talk to their neighbor, or glanced at their notepads.

Majel looked at the agenda projected on the wall above the council chair’s head.

New business was next.

A shiver wracked him. This was it, he thought. This was opportunity, and it was his to seize.

Majel took a sip of water and a deep breath.

Council Chair gorminAstir put her glass down, glanced around the table, and nodded. A clear tone sounded.

The babble of voices died as the councilors looked toward the head of the table.

Council Chair gorminAstir folded her hands before her.

“Who,” she asked, “has new business?”

Majel raised his hand so quickly the foot of his chair squeaked against the floor.

Council Chair gorminAstir inclined her head.

“The Chair sees Majel ziaGorn of the Citizens Coalition.”

Majel came to his feet and bowed to the honor of the Council Chair.

“Chair gorminAstir. Colleagues.” His voice was firm; that was good. He had practiced long hours to perfect a firm, reasonable address. “I propose the creation of an official trade liaison, to stand between the Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission and the Council, in order to facilitate understanding and the open sharing of information.”

“Do you?” Council Chair gorminAstir said softly. “Do you, indeed?”

“Ridiculous!” said Councilor tryaBent, somewhat more loudly. “Who would take on so much additional work?”

“I would,” Majel said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Portmaster krogerSlyte smile, even as Councilor seelyFaire leapt to her feet.

“Absolutely not! It’s too dangerous.”

Majel gritted his teeth. Councilor seelyFaire was one of those who saw him, and his constituency, as little better than clumsy children, whom it was the primary duty of the Council of the Civilized to protect.

“Colemenoport is hardly dangerous,” he said now, and glanced aside. “Am I correct, Portmaster?”

“Councilor, you are. Colemenoport is not as a rule dangerous. In addition, it has its own guard house, with a full complement of proctors, and Truthseers. There are holding cells, which Chief bennaFalm assures me are seldom in use.”

“That is not what I meant!” Councilor seelyFaire snapped. “Plainly put, the trade mission is dangerous!” She glared ’round the table. “You who were present on Ribbon Dance Hill, you saw what the master trader and the ship’s captain managed there! Will we put one of our most fragile in their way?”

Majel ground down on the flare of anger. Useless—even counterproductive—to be angry at someone who wished only to protect the vulnerable.

“I was at Ribbon Dance Hill,” said the council chair, “in company with the Warden, Councilor targElmina, and Councilor azieEm. What we witnessed was, indeed, extraordinary. Master Trader yos’Galan and Captain Mendoza were god-ridden. This had been foreseen by our own Oracle, and reported to this Council by the Warden of Civilization some time ago. The intent of the gods was to reunite themselves with the universe. They accomplished their intent, whereupon the master trader and the captain were returned to themselves. Attending councilors and the Warden made this report to the Council.”

She glanced around the table, her eyes lingering on Majel.

“It is true that the Trade Mission’s principals are Talents—”

“Which is where the danger lurks,” Councilor seelyFaire interrupted. “Ma’am, Councilor ziaGorn is Deaf. He cannot defend himself from an attack.”

“Which is why,” said Councilor azieEm, in her soft voice that was nonetheless perfectly intelligible to the entire table, “we routinely send the Deaf to deal with the Haosa.”

Councilor seelyFaire blinked.

“I can vouch,” Portmaster krogerSlyte said into the small breach created by seelyFaire’s astonishment, “that the trade mission is composed of civilized persons. I do not foresee an attack of any kind—what would be the purpose? Master Trader yos’Galan wishes to evaluate Colemeno’s value to ongoing trade, and to perhaps establish a Tree-and-Dragon office at the port. Attacking citizens is inconsistent with those goals.”

“And yet it is Tree-and-Dragon,” tryaBent said. “Clan Korval was well known for precipitating violence.”

“For precipitating unlooked-for events,” Councilor ivenAlyatta, their archivist, corrected sharply. “I can provide you with cites, Councilor. Also, I believe the Council is aware of the debt the citizens—all of the citizens—of Colemeno owe to Clan Korval and Clan Ixin. Had they not defied the Council of Liad, our ancestors would have been purged, rather than removed from harm’s way.” 

“And placed into the way of harm of another type and disposition,” growled tryaBent.

Council Chair gorminAstir raised her eyebrows.

“Surely not even you, Coracta, can blame Clan Korval for conditions peculiar to Colemeno.”

tryaBent pressed her lips together, and glanced down at her notepad.

Portmaster krogerSlyte raised her hand.

“Speak,” said the council chair.

“Thank you, ma’am. As I believe you were about to say, the principals of the trade mission are Talents, but their security team are not. Surely that tells us something about the trade mission and Tree-and-Dragon?” She glanced around the table. “I think that Councilor ziaGorn’s proposal has merit, and I second it.”

“Thank you,” Council Chair gorminAstir said. She looked around the table once more. “Councilor seelyFaire, you have been heard. Is there further discussion?”

Councilor seelyFaire sat down. No one else spoke.

Council Chair gorminAstir inclined her head.

“Those in favor of establishing the adjunct position of trade liaison, to be filled by Councilor ziaGorn, in the particular case of interfacing with the Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission, effective immediately, raise your hands now.”

Two abstained—seelyFaire and tryaBent. Majel took a deep breath.

A bell rang, the sound silvery in the silence.

Council Chair gorminAstir inclined her head.

“The motion passes. Councilor ziaGorn, if the liaison’s office requires anything in order to facilitate its work, please let the Council know. We will expect reports at every meeting of the Council of the Whole. In between, your contact will be Portmaster krogerSlyte, unless she objects.”

“No, ma’am,” said the portmaster, “no objection at all.”

What did you just do? Majel asked himself, feeling panic starting in his chest. He breathed it down, rose again and bowed to those assembled.

“Councilors, I thank you,” he said. “I will do my best for the citizens—all of the citizens”—he smiled at Archivist ivenAlyatta—“of Colemeno.”

He sat down.

“Very good,” said Council Chair gorminAstir briskly. “Is there other new business?”

 

Colemenoport
Offices of Tree-and-Dragon Trade Mission

 

It was two weary traders who approached the offices of the trade mission in the early evening hours.

“So, Padi yos’Galan, are you still excited by the glamour of opening a new port, or are you regretting Trader Veshtin and Maribel’s interesting route?”

Padi eyed the master trader—no, surely, it was her father who asked the question; there was that certain tilt to the eyebrow, just there. Still, his melant’i was necessarily fluid, given the subject, and it did her no harm, she thought wryly, to practice diplomacy.

“Certainly, I must regret Trader Veshtin, who is by all reports a skilled trader, and an exemplary teacher,” she said evenly. “I believe that I could have learned much from her. But you know, sir, that one cannot be in two places at once.”

“Very true,” Father said, gravely. “One did wonder particularly after the glamour.”

“Well, the glamour—” Padi gave him a tired smile. “The glamour has perhaps been replaced by exhilaration, trepidation—and exhaustion.”

Father laughed.

“Yes, let us by no means forget exhaustion! I wonder at myself, if you will have it, Trader Padi, that I darted off with only the two of us—formidable as we are!—on this venture. The guild, as I am sure you know, recommends a master and three traders, with at least two qe’andra, for a trade team set to open a port.”

“We mustn’t discount Dyoli,” Padi said, “who was trained to trade. Nor Mar Tyn, who is as quick with his figures as any port clerk I’ve encountered.”

Mar Tyn pai’Fortana of their team, Dyoli ven’Deelin’s partner, had grown to adulthood in Liad’s Low Port, where the chiefest draw on one’s time was merely staying alive. In Mar Tyn’s case, his life had been further complicated by the fact that he was a Luck, the most inconvenient Talent that Padi—no expert—had yet heard of. If Mar Tyn had lived a more regular life, with a clan to support his ambitions, and leave to study, he might well have been an accountant.

“You approach a topic that I have been considering,” Father said, putting his hand against the plate. The door opened; he waved Padi in before him.

Sighing, she put her case on the conference table. They were just come from a reception hosted by the market manager, so that they might be introduced to the principal vendors on-port. They had stayed somewhat after to finalize the details of tomorrow morning’s facilities tour, while the rest of their party had returned to the apartment assigned to their use.

The message-waiting light was blinking on the comm, which had been the case very nearly since the portmaster had opened the office to them.

Father put his case next to hers, and touched her hand.

“I would like to have your advice regarding a notion of mine, if you will. Your comment just then brought it forward.”

“My comment?” Padi blinked. “Regarding what?”

“Regarding Master pai’Fortana’s skill with numbers, and ’counts. The ship’s library does have the complete educational module published by the Accountant’s Guild. Do you think Master pai’Fortana would view the arrival of that module as a gift? As a demand? Or—there was something else—ah! Or a subtle message reinforcing his certainty that his only service to the mission is that he somewhat softens Dyoli ven’Deelin’s demeanor?”

He paused with a half-smile, and added, “You understand that I do not wish to do further violence to Master pai’Fortana’s self-esteem.”

“I do understand, yes,” Padi said, wrinkling her nose as she stared down at the table.

It was a difficult case. One quite liked Mar Tyn, who, aside his facility with numbers, was quick-witted, observant, and genuinely kind.

“I think…” she said, looking up to meet Father’s eyes, “if the module were accompanied by a note from the master trader, stating that his skill deployed on behalf of the mission is noted, and valued—he would believe that from you. Following, you might say that you thought he would find the attached of interest.”

She sighed sharply, and looked up to meet a quizzical silver gaze.

“That’s a very light touch. Is it better to baffle than offend?”

“In the case, I think so,” Padi said. “If he is baffled”—which, she owned, he likely would be—“he will bring it to Dyoli.”

Father raised an eyebrow.

“So he will. And we may, I believe, depend upon a child of Ixin to explain the matter in a way that will see profit come to her hand. Yes. Thank you, Padi. I believe that the master trader will follow your suggestion.”

He patted her hand, and looked over his shoulder at the implacable glow of the message-waiting light.

“I propose that I check the comm,” he said. “Absent emergencies, we may then go home.”

Padi glanced up.

“I am promised to Tekelia this evening,” she said, and there was a warmth in eyes and pattern that could only give a father pause.

“Of course,” he murmured, and went to the comm.

* * *

There were two messages in-queue. The first revealed that Trader Isfelm wished to meet with Trader yos’Galan at her convenience to finalize the purchase of six adapter kits, which would let the older pod mounts on Ember accommodate the pods carried by Dutiful Passage.

Shan glanced over his shoulder. Padi nodded and made a note on her pad.

The second call was from Portmaster krogerSlyte, received only moments before he and Padi had entered the office, referencing the matter of a trade liaison, and asking for a call back. She left the code for her private line, which she had previously given him.

Shan did hesitate. Surely, the matter of the liaison was not an emergency, it was late in the day, and it took a great deal to wring an admission of exhaustion from Padi. But the portmaster was the trade mission’s staunchest ally so far among the so-called Councilors of the Civilized. It did not do to offend allies, nor to put them off when they were laboring on your behalf.

He entered the code into the comm.

“krogerSlyte,” the portmaster answered briskly.

“Portmaster, it is Master Trader yos’Galan. I have only just returned to our office, and found your message waiting. How may I serve you?”

“I have here in my office Councilor Majel ziaGorn, who has been appointed by the Council to stand as liaison to the trade mission. I wonder if I might bring him to you for an introduction.”

“Of course!” Shan said, and glanced over his shoulder at Padi. She inclined her head, bold heart. He smiled and went back to the comm.

“Would now be convenient to you?” he asked.

“Very much so,” the portmaster said, relief in her voice. “Expect us inside the quarter hour.”

She ended the call, and Shan stood up, stifling a sigh of his own.

Padi was at the buffet, pot in hand.

“I’ll make some tea, shall I?” she said.

“An excellent idea! I will set out some of those pretty iced cakes, in case our guests are peckish.”

“I hope they are,” Padi said frankly. “There are entirely too many pretty iced cakes in this undertaking.”

“A hazard of the trade,” Shan replied solemnly. “There’s nothing for it, save to recruit one’s fortitude.”

Padi laughed, her face lighting; her pattern flaring with such fey energy that—old and experienced Healer that he was—he was momentarily caught in thrall.

She disappeared behind the wall that hid a small, efficient kitchenette. Released from thrall, Shan took a breath and went to the buffet for the tea things.

She was a bright light, his daughter—intelligent, Talented, and fierce. That they did not precisely know what her Talent happened to be, was, he suspected, of more concern to her elders than to Padi herself. She had little interest in Talents, despite being the daughter of a Healer who was lifemated to a Witch.

No, Padi’s whole desire was to trade.

That she would someday wear the amethyst ring that marked out a master trader was not in doubt, though she had only recently achieved the trader’s garnet.

He put the tea tray in the center of the table, with the cups; dealt out the napkins and little plates, and returned to the buffet for the cake tin.

Even before Colemeno, Padi’s Gift had been—strange. Now, with Colemeno’s field acting upon it, she was almost too bright to behold.

He had weighed—doubtless overweighed!—the wisdom of bringing his unSorted, brilliant child to Colemeno, with its invigorating atmosphere. Thus the offer of an apprenticeship with one of Tree-and-Dragon’s most gifted traders. Padi, however, her eye on trade, had seen that participating in the opening of a port, and the possible design of a hub, would stand her in better stead than a merely interesting trade route.

Padi returned, bearing the teapot, and set it among the cups at the center of the table.

“A festive arrangement,” Shan said approvingly. “The only thing lacking is guests.”

A tone sounded, and the blue light over the hall doorway flashed twice.

Padi grinned.

“On cue. How do you manage that?”

“You won’t get my secrets that easily, Trader,” he answered.

He tapped the release button set into the table, and stood next to Padi as the door opened, admitting Portmaster krogerSlyte, followed by quite a young man with short red curls clinging to his skull like a cap, square face dominated by a pair of very dark brown eyes. He was wearing a simple tunic over flowing long pants. His face was composed, but his emotive pattern was a jumble of excitement, trepidation, and wariness.

“Master Trader yos’Galan.” Portmaster krogerSlyte stopped before the table and made one of the shapeless bows that served as courtesy on Colemeno. “I thank you for agreeing to see me so quickly. My purpose this evening is to make you known to Majel ziaGorn, Councilor and Chair of the Citizens Coalition. Councilor ziaGorn will be the liaison between the trade mission and the Council of the Civilized.”

“Councilor ziaGorn, we are well met.”

Shan bowed as to an honored colleague, having not yet mastered the Colemeno style. He moved a hand, directing attention to Padi.

“Allow me to make you known to my second, Trader Padi yos’Galan.”

“Councilor.” Padi’s bow was nearer to that offered by the portmaster. Shan owned himself impressed.

Majel ziaGorn attempted to reproduce Shan’s bow, which was bold of him, and not badly done, for a first effort.

“Master Trader. Trader. I am honored. I look forward to working with you and the rest of the trade mission.” His voice was calm and firm, despite his inner turmoil. A person of discipline, then, Shan thought. Excellent.

“Our colleagues are elsewhere at the moment,” he said. “However, let us see if we cannot contrive to allow you to meet them soon.” He moved his hands, showing them the table and the tea things waiting. “Please, sit and refresh yourselves while we establish some beginning protocols.”

Portmaster krogerSlyte lifted a regretful hand.

“My purpose is accomplished,” she said, “and duty will have me elsewhere. Please, traders, do not hesitate to call on me if I can be of service to you or to the trade mission. Councilor ziaGorn has my pledge of assistance as well.”

“Thank you, Portmaster,” the councilor said. “For your support.”

“Councilor, it is my pleasure,” she assured him, which Shan Heard as pure truth. She produced another bow in the direction of the table, and Shan came around to walk the short distance to the door with her.

“You have been everything that is helpful to strangers on your port,” he murmured, touching the plate.

Portmaster krogerSlyte bent a humorous look on him as the door opened.

“I foresee a time when you will not be strangers on my port,” she said calmly.

“May your Seeing be true,” Shan said, politely.

“Oh, I think it is,” she said. “All that’s required is to do the work. Until soon, sir.”

She stepped out into the hall, the door closed, and Shan returned to the table.

Padi was pouring tea. Councilor ziaGorn sat calmly, face and emotions still at odds.

“I find it noteworthy,” Shan said, taking his seat next to Padi, “how often simply doing the work will accomplish wonders. Do you find it so, Councilor?”

There was a flicker of something as the man lifted his dark gaze to Shan’s face.

“Master Trader, my life has been built on the belief that work is the foundation of success. Thank you, Trader.”

The last was directed to Padi, as he accepted a cup of tea from her.

“Please,” Shan said, “make free of the cake. We have both just come from a reception at the port market.”

“And you are therefore replete, with tea and with cake,” Councilor ziaGorn said, humor lifting a corner of his straight mouth.

Shan received his teacup from Padi with a smile, and looked at the guest with approval.

“Exactly. Trader yos’Galan was only just now remarking on how very much cake is on offer, everywhere we go.”

“Well, but it must be, mustn’t it? No one wants an incident. And cake is a very simple thing.”

“Very true,” Padi said. “And so we follow the path laid out for us, and offer tea and cake.”

She raised her cup and sipped, Shan and Councilor ziaGorn following suit.

“I appreciate your hospitality,” Councilor ziaGorn said seriously, when he had put his cup down.

“And we are pleased to offer it,” Padi said. “Please don’t imagine that I am going to force you to eat cake; it is merely there, should you desire it. I don’t wish to give the wrong impression.”

That won an actual laugh and a further settling of the councilor’s unruly emotions.

Shan hid his smile behind his teacup.

Well done, Padi, he thought.

He put his cup down and leaned forward somewhat, to meet the councilor’s eyes.

“What I propose, sir, is that we share contact information, and find a mutually agreeable time to introduce you to the rest of the team. Is this satisfactory to you? I assure you that I intend to do the work. Trader yos’Galan oversees me sternly in that regard.”

“I believe we all intend to do the work,” Councilor ziaGorn said. “I know that I’ve come to you, unexpected, at the end of a long day. Truthfully, I hadn’t hoped for an introduction so soon. I was only appointed by the Council this afternoon. Portmaster krogerSlyte has given me copies of her notes, but I haven’t had the chance to review them as yet.”

“Then we are agreed.”

Padi rose and went to the desk, returning with their general information packet, and the local card.

She put those items at the councilor’s elbow and resumed her seat.

“Those will give you some background on Tree-and-Dragon, on Clan Korval, and on the members of the trade mission,” Shan said. “Our local addresses and comm codes are on that card. Ah—”

He produced his case, extracted a card and handed it across to their liaison, who received it with wide eyes, and a return of some emotional tumult.

“Those codes are linked to Dutiful Passage. If you cannot find me locally, do not hesitate to use them.”

“I thank you,” Councilor ziaGorn whispered, and cleared his throat. “I am honored. I do know that master traders are not free with their cards, sir.”

Shan raised an eyebrow.

“You are our liaison, and we have all quite agreed that we are committed to getting the work done. You may never need it, but I would rather you had too much information, than too little.”

“Yes.” Councilor ziaGorn slipped the card into the tunic’s sleeve pocket. “I have nothing so organized to offer. I can give my codes and my address, if—”

Padi pulled out her notepad.

“Please,” she said. “They will be most helpful.”

“Majel ziaGorn,” he said, and recited his personal code and the one that would reach the offices of the Citizens Coalition. “You might also find me at my business, though it is somewhat out from the port. Cardfall Casino, on Riverview Street, in the Citizens Sector.” He recited that code, as well.

Padi inscribed it all while Shan fetched the screen from the desk, and brought up the team’s common schedule.

“The entire team is promised to the market manager for a tour of the facilities, first thing tomorrow. We are told that this will consume the better part of three hours. How are you fixed for the midday meal tomorrow?” he asked. “A working nuncheon is already on the schedule, and we may easily accommodate one—or even two!—more, should you have a second that you wish brought current. We will provide the meal, proper introductions will be made, and a list of topics and protocols drafted.”

“I believe we may also promise,” Padi murmured, “that there will be no cake.”

“Surely not!” Shan eyed her. “The cake must at least be present, Trader Padi.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Of course it must. What was I thinking?”

It was a fair imitation of him at his most vacuous. He gave her a nod and looked back to their new liaison, who had gone so far as to look—amused.

“Tomorrow, here, for the midday meal, introductions, and preliminary planning,” he said. “I anticipate it with pleasure.”

“Excellent,” said Shan, making a note in the calendar before he looked up and met the other man’s eyes. “Is there anything else that we ought to address immediately?”

“I believe we have made a good beginning,” said Councilor ziaGorn. He rose, bringing the information packet with him, and bowed, this time in the common Colemeno fashion.

“I leave you now to your rest.”

Shan rose and saw him to the door with another bow and murmured well-wishes.

When he returned Padi had already carried the tray into the kitchenette.

He put the cake tin away, and tidied the table.

Home, he thought, or at least the suite they had been granted, and some time in the company of his lifemate. A glass of wine would also be a comfort. Then, he had work to do.

“I’ll confirm our order with the caterer before I leave,” Padi said, recalling him to the present. “Shall I meet you here tomorrow, or at the market?”

Ah, yes, he thought; the facilities tour. And Padi was promised to her friend Tekelia this evening.

Shan took a breath and smiled.

“I think that we risk nothing with a separate arrival,” he said. “They will need to become accustomed to seeing us solitary at our work.”

“And it is not too soon to begin,” Padi said with a smile. “I will meet you at the market.”

She stepped to his side and rose up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“I wish the master trader will allow my father some rest this evening,” she murmured, and Shan laughed.

“I’ll tell him you said so.”

* * *

“Yes, that is correct,” Padi told Catering Manager jakValin, at Skywise Provianto. “And that is against the Tree-and-Dragon draw account.”

“Yes, Trader. Will you wish servers?”

“We will serve ourselves.”

“Very good, Trader. The order will come to the Tree-and-Dragon office suite at the midday meal hour, tomorrow. Is there anything else?”

“Not at present, I thank you.”

“We are pleased to serve. Good evening to you, Trader.”

“Good evening,” Padi answered, and closed the connection.

She rose, and crossed the room, to be certain the door was locked, then returned to the table, where her case awaited her. She did have work to do this night, but Tekelia was an easy companion, and apt to have work of their own, after the evening meal was done. It would seem that the universe did not lack for work to be done.

She smiled slightly, picked up her case and murmured, “Tekelia.”

Mist swirled, or smoke, and Tekelia stood before her, in sweater, tough pants, and boots, dark hair caught back with what had been the extra hair ring Padi carried in her belt in case of need. There was a smile on the round, tan face, and the eyes at the moment were one amber, and one green.

“The meal is prepped and the wine is breathing. Will you join me?”

“With the greatest pleasure—yes,” Padi said, and stepped forward to take the arm offered to her.

Mist swirled, glittering briefly.

The office was empty.

 

Colemenoport
Wayfarer

 

“Good evening, Priscilla.”

Smiling, she looked up from the desk in the window. He felt her regard sweep over him even as she pushed back her chair and rose.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll pour the wine.”

Shan raised his eyebrows.

“As dire as that?”

She moved across the room to the refreshment stand.

“Only half as dire,” she said. “Sit down, love.”

“Since you ask so nicely.”

He put his case on the chair near the door, slipped off his jacket and hung it on the back before crossing to the U-shaped half-sofa that had become their preferred meeting spot.

He sat with a sigh.

“Truly, Priscilla, I don’t mean to disturb your work.”

“It’s scarcely work, and well worth interrupting. Portmaster krogerSlyte sent me a list of lectures on the topic of the mosaic depicting the Landing at Colemeno that we had all admired on our arrival, and professes herself at my service as an escort to any I might care to attend.”

She came to the sofa, handed him a glass of the red, keeping a glass of mint tea for herself, and sank down next to him.

“Ought the portmaster’s attention concern me?” Shan inquired.

“I’ll try not to break her heart,” she answered dryly.

“You are always so nice in these affairs, Priscilla,” he said earnestly, and raised his glass.

“To work worth interrupting.”

Priscilla tipped her head, though she raised her glass and touched it to his just hard enough to waken a ring.

“Hardly the most auspicious of toasts,” she murmured.

“Well. I fear I may be instructed by my daughter, who expressed her wish that the master trader would allow her father some rest this evening.”

“Not so ill a wish. Do you think the master trader will grant it?”

“In some measure, I believe he may. There are documents to review, but I believe most may wait upon tomorrow.” He sipped his wine and sighed. “Indeed, ought to wait until we have toured the facilities, and know for ourselves what is in hand and in what condition. This whole venture being sky-pie, there’s surely no need to make more.”

“Not entirely pie in the sky,” Priscilla said. “Unless the Dust hasn’t actually receded?”

“Oh, no, that seems to be a certainty. Whether Colemeno wants to open itself and boldly rejoin the rest of the universe—that remains at question.”

He sipped his wine, and leaned forward to put the glass on the table.

“On that topic, you may be gratified to learn that the Council has assigned one of its number as the liaison to the trade mission.”

“That is news. When will we meet her?”

“Padi and I met him briefly this evening. The entire team will meet him at nuncheon tomorrow, after the tour.”

He moved his shoulders.

“His name is Majel ziaGorn, and his honor is Chair of the Citizens Coalition. Portmaster krogerSlyte places great confidence in him, and brought him herself to make his bow. We have exchanged contact information, by which I find that he also owns a casino.”

Priscilla lifted her eyebrows.

“A casino?”

“You don’t approve of casinos?”

She did not dignify that with an answer, and nor, Shan thought, reaching again for his glass, should she have.

“It only seems very odd that there would be casinos in a place where everyone is Talented.”

“Yes, but do you know? Majel ziaGorn isn’t Talented. He is quite refreshingly normal.”

Priscilla’s brows knit; she sipped her tea, and put the glass aside.

“And the Council of the Civilized assigned him to us,” she said. “That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it? And a casino argues that he is not alone in lacking a Talent.”

“So it does. I’ll be pleased to meet him tomorrow.”

“Excellent. Speaking of tomorrow, Padi will be meeting us at the market. She is tonight promised to Tekelia.”

Priscilla tipped her head.

“And that distresses you?”

He half-laughed.

“I would put it no higher than concern, but that would merely be a quibble,” he said.

“Yet Tekelia stood as a staunch ally, and assisted you, and Padi, when there was need.”

“And in addition seems a person of honor, if quite appallingly strong for even a dramliza.” Shan moved his hand. “Forgive me, Priscilla; I fear I am coming the parent.”

She laughed gently.

“As a parent, my love, you must trust your work. You have raised a strong, sensible woman, who is both generous and fierce.”

He sighed.

“She is all of that,” he allowed.

“So,” Priscilla said, after a moment. “Padi will not be joining us for the meal. Dyoli and Mar Tyn have already said that they will dine in their rooms. Grad, Karna, and Tima are reviewing a new training module that came down from the ship today. Tima told me that they would order some cold trays and browse.”

“Which leaves us alone for the meal,” Shan said.

“So it would appear.”

“Then I have a proposition for you, Priscilla. Allow the master trader an hour to read the documents necessary to tomorrow’s tour. We may then follow the excellent examples before us, and retire to our room to dine tête-à-tête and take whatever recreation may seem good to us.”

“I accept your proposition, sir, and note that the captain still needs to read that same documentation.”

“We might read it together, then,” Shan said.

“So we might. Let me refresh our glasses while you get your case.”

 

On-Grid
Cardfall Casino

 

Majel had gone through the trade mission’s info-packet once, and left the pages spread over his desk while he got up to go to the window.

His apartment on the casino’s third floor gave him the view promised by the address. At this hour, the river was dark silk, the reflections of the lumenberry trees twinkling in its depths.

Normally, it was a view he found soothing and renewing.

This evening, however, his thoughts were occupied with the information in the packet, seeking to rectify it with the traders he had met.

The traders—in a word, the traders had been charming. The master trader was not an elder, despite the white hair. His manner had been easy; his whole aspect open and frank. The younger trader—the master’s daughter, according to the info-packet—had been at pains to put him at ease, which argued that she had been privy to his initial dismay at the speed with which everything had happened, from the moment he had brought his new business before the Council. That was not a surprise; he had been fairly warned that the mission’s principals were Talents. They were ethical persons, so Portmaster krogerSlyte had been at pains to assure him—and certainly they had seemed so, to him.

Portmaster krogerSlyte…In Majel’s experience, the portmaster had been a stolid sort of councilor. She voted with the majority more often than not, and introduced nothing more than the quarterly port budget into the Council’s business.

Her partiality for the trade mission might be seen as worrisome, Majel thought, until one recalled that the portmaster’s concern had always been the port. If Colemeno became a hub, or merely expanded to accommodate a permanent Tree-and-Dragon trade office—then Portmaster krogerSlyte’s worth to the Redlands increased.

Looked at from that angle, her eagerness to have the mission succeed made a great deal of sense.

Nor was the portmaster the only one who stood to benefit from the success of the master trader’s work, he thought wryly.

Why, only see that upstart, Majel ziaGorn, newest councilor at the table, who had been vinsEbin’s aide for a scant six Standard Years before being seated in her chair—practically leaping out of that same chair in order to grasp a position of influence.

Majel half-laughed. Yes, well. Durella had warned him that ambition would be his downfall.

And to be perfectly fair, he had not fallen. He had placed himself into a position of trust, the like of which had never before been held by the Chair of the Citizens Coalition. If he were careful, and honest in his duty, he stood to gain much, not only for himself, but for those he represented. If the Council—if the Civilized could be brought to see that being Deaf meant nothing more than an inability to interact with the ambient, and did not also carry a meaning of vulnerable, half-witted, or frail—that would be success. For the Deaf to become accepted fully as citizens into Civilization—that was where his ambition led him.

So. The traders were charming, mannered, and Civilized. The info-packet had outlined some difficult times for Tree-and-Dragon Trade family and Clan Korval, directly preceding their arrival at Colemeno, including banishment from Liad. In that trouble, at least, they held solidarity with the Redlands, the ancestors having been likewise banished from the homeworld.

He was minded, here, of tryaBent’s assertion that Clan Korval was known to promote violence, and the archivist’s counterproposal of “unlooked-for events,” backed by cites. That was information that might also be of value to the liaison to the trade mission.

He turned from the window toward the desk, intending to make a note to ask ivenAlyatta for the cites regarding Tree-and-Dragon’s propensity for—trouble. ...