Back | Next
Contents

Dutiful Passage
Lytaxin Orbit

IN RECEIPT OF his delm's order, Shan lost no time in repairing to the spaceport and hiring a lift to Dutiful Passage. Ostensibly, he was dispatched to insure that all was in readiness for departure, a detail that could have been retired by a short comm call to the captain of the vessel. However, his delm had most particularly desired him to attend to this task personally.

His brother had asked that his affection be conveyed to Priscilla, which Shan certainly intended to do—directly after he had assured the lady of his own passionate regard.

In the passenger section of the hired ship, Shan reclined his chair. He was well asleep before they cleared atmosphere; and woke, as he had primed himself to do, when they docked.

He sat up, eyes on the amber caution light over the hatch. The instant it turned green, he was on his feet.

"My thanks," he called to the pilot, and hit the bar, passing from the shuttle into the blessed familiarity of Docking Bay Six.

Three long strides and he was through the second door and into the alcove beyond, where she waited for him: tall, beautiful and stern—a goddess. Almost, he fell to his knees before her.

Even as his stride faltered, the goddess vanished, and it was a woman before him, her black eyes overflowing with tears given the lie by her smile, and by the arrow of joy that blazed from her heart to his.

She came into his arms—or he into hers. What did it matter? They embraced, neither speaking, allowing the tides of emotion to sweep between them, open as they were Healer to Healer—and, somehow, more.

And when the emotion had found its level and the joyful tears had stopped, Priscilla stirred in his arms, and lifted her hands to cup his face, her eyes searching his, puzzled, and perhaps a little afraid.

"Shan?" she said, in her deep, thrilling voice. "What have you done to yourself?"

 

MIRI AND HER LIFEMATE were on their way to the atrium, along with Daav and his. Daav claimed never to have seen a Clutch turtle before, a confidence Miri took with a cellar of salt.

"OK," she said. "Turtles out of the garden, then what? Jase?"

"Clonak," Val Con murmured. "Since he is to house. Also, we should find how Hazenthull and Diglon go on—for that matter, we should find how Nelirikk goes on. Then, certainly, Jason." He pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Haste is necessary. The ship—were I the Commander, I would have arranged for a direct beam to headquarters the instant the ship recognized me. We must assume that they know the trap was sprung—and that the ship has died. They will assume four Agents dead or out of commission."

"And they'll send an army right here to Lytaxin," Miri finished, because they'd hammered all this out 'round the conference table. "Which is why we gotta grab their interest and keep them busy. I got all that. What about Edger?"

"An excellent question," Val Con allowed. "I wonder if our father might be willing to undertake an ambassadorial mission on behalf of his clan?"

Daav glanced at him, one eyebrow up. "I will of course undertake any task my delm requires of me. Am I allowed to know what it is that the Clutch might bring to the effort, in light of the need for haste?"

"You are sent at a tangent, if you will, on behalf of an ally which may require . . . alternative quarters."

There was a slight silence. "You speak of Jelaza Kazone."

"I do. You know our case is desperate—not only does the Department target Korval, it targets all of Korval's works. If we lose this throw—which is all too possible—the Department will not rest until we are eradicated. Even should some of us survive, it would be chancy in the extreme to attempt to remove the Tree."

"I would call an attempt to remove the Tree from Liad in times of peace and placid harmony chancy in the extreme," Daav commented drily.

Val Con smiled. "Which is why you go as our emissary to the Clutch. I believe that the Elders will find the project appeals—and falls within their ability to accomplish." He paused, one eyebrow up. "There must be a scout in it, you know."

"And so there must be," Daav agreed Silence, and a sense, Miri'd swear, of him consulting with an advisor. Or a lifemate.

"We are able to negotiate on behalf of the clan's ancient ally, Jelaza Kazone, with the Elders of the Clutch," Daav said eventually. "My lifemate wishes it known as her heart-wish that any arrangements for the removal of the Tree from Liad will be found—unnecessary."

"Yah, we do, too," Miri said, as they passed through the door into Erob's inner garden. "But hope don't win the war."

 

"SOLDIER LORE."

They were in the captain's office, wine to hand and a ravished tray of eatables on the side table. Shan had told the story of Weapon Hall, and his meeting there with his other self.

"The most dangerous thing in the Hall," Priscilla said now. "What possessed you to take it?"

"Lute gave it me—he said I'd need it, and that it wouldn't weigh very much." He sipped wine. "I believe my reasoning may have run along the lines of, 'Well, am I likely to lie to myself except for a very good reason?'"

Priscilla closed her eyes, and it was fear he saw, in her face and in her pattern—fear of the man he had allowed himself to become.

"I can put it back," he said, tentatively.

She shook her head. "No," she said, her sorrow tugging at his own heart. "You can't."

It was rare you saw two creatures so completely asleep, Miri thought, considering the somnolent bulk of them, tucked all tidy and peaceful into a pretty little cave that was 'way too small for them.

"They can sleep for months," she said, as if Val Con maybe didn't know that.

"Yes."

"Do you know how to wake them up?"

"No."

"Great," she said, and stared at them some more, a certifiably dumb idea tickling at the back of her brain.

Well, she thought, can't hurt anything. And then it'll be outta your system.

So thinking, she took one step forward, cleared her throat and said, clear, but not particularly loud.

"Edger, wake up. We need you."

Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, Robertson, she scolded herself. You didn't think anything would happen, remember?

She was just turning to Val Con to let him know that she'd taken her shot and it was his turn now, when a shudder rippled Edger's skin—and then another one, more pronounced.

The green eyelids flickered—and drew back, disclosing eyes as round and as yellow as moons.

"Sister," Edger said, at about a quarter of his usual boom. "How may I serve you?"

Back | Next
Framed