The Dragon Variation (19 page)

"What's wrong?" she demanded, voice raspy and dry. "Er Thom—"

His fingers were firm, giving back pressure for pressure; his eyes never wavered from hers.

"My mother is—inconvenienced," he said patiently. "She is not able to meet you at once, but shall surely do so at Prime." His grip increased, painfully, but she made no move to withdraw her fingers. "You are welcome in my House, Anne. Please."

She held his eyes, his hand, for another heartbeat, trying desperately to plumb the wrongness, identify the ill. At last, defeated, she bowed her head and slid her fingers free.

"All right," she said softly, and raised her head in time to see Daav yos'Phelium's bold black eyes move slowly from her face to Er Thom's.

NUNCHEON PASSED IN a flurry
of small-talk, of which Er Thom's brother apparently possessed an unending supply. It seemed absurd, Anne thought as she nibbled cheese, that she should have found him strange and formidable scarcely an hour ago. Now, he was merely an amusing young man with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for telling the most ridiculous stories with an entirely straight face.

He's a bit like Jerzy, really,
she thought around a stab of homesickness.

Er Thom's contributions to the conversation were slight: Set-ups for his
cha'leket
's absurd stories and tolerant corroborations of unlikely events. Mostly, he busied himself with feeding Shan bits of cheese and slices of fruit from the plate he had filled for himself.

Anne, watching surreptitiously, thought Shan accounted for nearly all of the plate's contents, and that Er Thom perhaps had a taste of cheese with his wine.
Worried,
she thought, and wondered how ill his mother was.

When at last nuncheon was over, Daav walked them down the long hall to the door and gave Er Thom another hug.

"Don't keep yourself far," he said and Er Thom smiled—wanly, Anne thought, and caught his brother's arm.

"Come to Prime, do."

Daav's eyes opened wide. "What, tonight?"

"Why not?"

"An excellent question. I shall come in all my finery. In the meanwhile, commend me to your mother."

Er Thom's smile this time was a little less tense. Daav bent to hug Shan and kiss his cheek.

"Nephew. Come and visit me often, eh? I think we shall deal famously."

Shan returned the embrace and the kiss with exuberance, then stood back to wave.

"'Bye, Daav."

The man bowed lightly—as between kin, Anne read. "Until soon, young Shan."

"Professor Davis." The bow he accorded her was of respect. "We shall speak again, I hope. I have read your work, you know, and would welcome a chance to discuss your ideas more fully, if you will grant it."

"That would be pleasant," she told him, returning his bow with one of Respect-to-a-Delm-Not-One's-Own. "I look forward to it."

"Good." His eyes were intent on hers and she felt again that he was utterly beyond her, more alien than she could fathom.

"In the meanwhile," he said, all gentle courtesy, "if there is any matter in which I may serve you, please know that I am entirely at your disposal."

"Thank you," she said, matching his inflection as precisely as possible. "You are gracious and—kind—to a stranger."

For one moment more, the black eyes seared into hers, then he was bowing them gracefully out the door.

"Until Prime," he called, lifting a hand as Er Thom started the landcar. "Keep well, all."

The best advice for any Terran with a yen to visit the beautiful planet of Liad is: Stay home.

—From
A Terran's Guide to Liad
 

"THE NAME OF THE valley,"
Er Thom said, deliberately—Anne thought—to cut off any additional questions she might ask, "is
Valcon Berant'a
. Korval's Valley, they say in Solcintra. It was ceded by the passengers to Cantra yos'Phelium and Tor An yos'Galan, for the piloting fee. Jelaza Kazone was built first, of course, after the Tree was planted. Trealla Fantrol—the house of yos'Galan—that came later. It was built as a—sentinel post, you would say—to guard the inroad, to act as first deterrent—and to give warning to the delm."

Anne looked out the window at the lush landscape, turning this burst of information over in her mind.
Valcon Berant'a
? The Liaden name Er Thom had given did
not
mean "Korval's Valley." It meant, she decided after a moment of concentrated thought, 'Dragon's Price,' or perhaps 'Dragon Hoard.'

"A sentinel post," she asked as Er Thom slowed and made the turn into another drive. "Were there wars?"

"Ah, well, in the old times, you know, there were—disharmonies. Things did not always run smoothly and the Council of Clans did not always agree. Daav says civilized behavior is never to be depended upon." He laughed his soft laugh, so different from his
cha'leket
's. "Do not fear that I ask you to guest in a fortress, friend. Trealla Fantrol has—amenities. Very soon, now . . ."

It was, in fact, a matter of three more minutes and two more twists in the tree-lined drive. The car passed under an arch rich with yellow flowers and entered a sweeping curve.

Er Thom pulled up to the bottom of the stairway and turned the car off. Anne sat and tried not to stare, Shan completely still on her lap.

Trealla Fantrol was a mansion, with a marble stairway and towering granite facade. Windows glittered like diamonds among the gray stone and lawns like plush green velvet sloped away on both sides.

"This is the outpost?" she demanded in a voice that cracked. After the warm hominess of Daav's house . . .

"All of us would live at Jelaza Kazone," Er Thom said quietly, "if we could." He lay a light hand on her arm and immediately took it away.

"Come, allow me to show you and our son to your rooms. I will leave you for a time, so that you might refresh yourselves and rest. One has been engaged to care for our son—Mrs. Intassi, who had been our nurse when we were young. She will arrive before Prime. I shall instruct Mr. pak'Ora to conduct her to you immediately . . ."

Chattering,
Anne thought, in no little wonder, as Er Thom came around to her side of car and lifted Shan to his feet.
Er Thom is actually chattering
.

Chattering, he brought them up the marble stairway, through the front door and across the echoing lobby, up the Grand Staircase—each riser hand-carved with a scene from the Great Migration—down an interminable hallway to her room.

"The house has your palmprint on file," he told her as the door slid open. "If you do not find all precisely as you would wish it, only tell me and the deficiency will be corrected." He looked up at her, chatter suddenly broken as his eyes took fire. He glanced away.

"I am sorry to leave you so abruptly, Anne. I—necessity. Later, if you like it, I shall show you the house—and the grounds." He lay a hand on her arm and this time did not remove it so quickly. "My private code is in your computer. If there is—any way—in which I may serve you, do not hesitate . . ."

"All right," she said soothingly and against all sense extended a hand to stroke his cheek, meaning only to ease his nervousness.

As soon as she touched him, she knew it was a mistake; she barely needed to hear the sharp intake of his breath, or see the blaze of his eyes, which echoed the re-awakened blaze of her desire.

Ensorcelled yet again, she looked helplessly into his eyes, her hand trembling against his cheek, unwilling—unable—to move.

It was Er Thom who moved.

A single step, backward, his eyes hot on hers. Her hand fell, lifeless, to her side and he bowed: Esteem and respect.

"I shall return," he said, very softly indeed. "Please. Be at ease in our House."

He turned on his heel and was gone, the door closing behind him with the barest whisper of sound.

HE CAME AS ORDERED
to her private parlor, dressed in plain shirt and trousers, with the dust of the Port still on his boots, and made his bow, dutiful and low.

"Mother."

"My son."

Petrella surveyed him from her chair, meaning to make him writhe while she leisurely surveyed the wind-rumpled golden hair, the delicate wing of brow over eyes more purple than blue, the pleasing symmetry of face, and the firm, give-me-no-nonsense mouth. Er Thom, the son who was not her son. Chi's work, this one, returned at last to the mother who bore him on his twelfth name day, when he boarded
Dutiful Passage
as cabin boy.

He had Chi's look, Petrella allowed, which meant her own, since she and her twin had been as like as two seeds in a pod. She knew him to be mannerly and biddable, dutiful to a fault—far different than his volatile
cha'leket
, who looked more changeling than Korval.

"Are that woman and her child in this house?" she demanded abruptly, letting him hear the rasp of her displeasure.

He swayed a bow, discomfited not one whit. "The House is honored by the guesting of Professor Anne Davis," he said in his soft way, "mother of Shan yos'Galan, Seen by Korval."

"Oh, is it?" Petrella straightened to her full height in the chair, preparing to attack.

"Shan yos'Galan," Er Thom continued smoothly, "is the son of Er Thom yos'Galan, and grandson of Petrella yos'Galan." He lifted his head, purple eyes bland. "It would be—gracious—of the thodelm to complete what the delm has begun."

"You
dare
," she breathed, anger filling her with vivid energy. "Is your thodelm a counterchance token, Er Thom yos'Galan, to dance when you choose the tune? Your
cha'leket
the delm has Seen your bastard, has he? You provide an accomplished fact, and I—too weak to protest dishonor—make my bow meekly and am ruled by the whim of an upstarting boy. Think again—
Master Trader
. That child is none of mine."

The firm mouth had tightened somewhat, she noted with satisfaction; the bow he gave her was grave.

"Mrs. Intassi," he murmured, as if all she had said were mere pleasantry, "has been engaged to care for my son. She arrives this afternoon to take charge of the nursery."

For a heartbeat she could only gape at him, then she drew a careful breath, fingers tightening ominously on the arm rests.

"I see. And if your thodelm requires you to engage a house in town in which these delightful arrangements may continue as planned?"

Once again, courteous and grave, he bowed. "Then of course I will remove myself immediately."

And the so-proper contract marriage with Syntebra el'Kemin, Petrella understood from that, would never be consummated. She glared at him, considering her next move.

"Enlighten me," she ordered after a moment. "Precisely where did you meet this—person—who has the honor of being yos'Galan's guest?"

The winged brows twitched—smoothed.

"Professor Davis and I became acquainted on Proziski, at the time when
Dutiful Passage
had been transport for the Liaden contingent of the Federated Trade Mission. Professor Davis had been engaged in field research under a grant from University Central, where she teaches." He paused.

"We met at the port master's rout," he finished gently, "and contracted an alliance of pleasure."

"With so many Liadens by your side, you take a
Terran
as pleasure-love?" She stared at him in disbelief.

The purple eyes sparked—and were shielded immediately by the sweep of long golden lashes. Er Thom said nothing.

"Speak, sirrah! I will know how a son of this House came to so far forget himself as to—"

"It was myself I considered!" he interrupted sharply, and there was no shielding the anger in his eyes now. "She cared nothing for bedding an a'thodelm, or for the daring of coming so near to Korval! She barely cared of
this
—" He flung out his hand, the master trader's ring flashing violet lightnings, "save it said I was competent, and she a lady who admires competence."

"Indeed! You fascinate me. And what did she care for, pray, if not for any of what you are?"

He drew a hard breath, his mouth a tight, straight line. "She cared for who I was," he said quietly, passion seeming spent as quickly as it had been struck. He moved a hand, softening the statement.

"It may have been at first, that I was Liaden, and exotic, and of a form that pleased her. What reasons do
Liaden
lovers need? For me, it was that she gave friendship with no eye to profit, and opened her door and her heart as if I were no less than kin."

"And got your child, to her honor!" Petrella commented caustically. "A strange accident, for one who admires competence."

Er Thom inclined his head. "So I also thought, at first," he said surprisingly. "Anne—Professor Davis—is not, as we have discussed, Liaden. In spite of this, she is a person of honor and meticulous
melant'i
. That her necessity required her to bear my child without proper negotiation is—regrettable. Having bowed to necessity, however, she strove to place honor properly, after the custom of her homeworld, and thus the child is yos'Galan. To the increase and joy of the clan."

Petrella glared. "I
will not be played,
sirrah! Strive to bear it in mind."

"As you say." He bowed obedience and went into stillness, hands loose at his sides, face bland and attentive.

Almost, Petrella laughed, for that was a trick from Chi's bag, designed to unnerve an opponent and force a response—and very often a blunder. She let the silence stretch, teasing his patience. When she spoke at last, her voice was almost mild.

"So, Shan yos'Galan has been Seen by the delm. Tell me, do, what the delm has Seen."

"A child of a little less than three Standard Years," Er Thom said gently, "with pale hair and silver blue eyes, bold and alert. He successfully completes puzzles and match-problems designed to challenge children half again his age. He sees
sparkles
, as he calls them, from which he may interpret another's emotional state."

Petrella stared. "A
Terran
?" she demanded.

Er Thom was seen to sigh. "A
yos'Galan
," he said patiently, "which has given dozens to the Healers and the
dramliz
over the years since the Exodus. Why stare that another child of the Line shows these abilities?"