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Day 140
Standard Year 1118
Tarnia's Clanhouse
Irikwae

"SO, THEN, YOUNG Jethri," asked Stafeli Maarilex, "how do you find the view from the north wing?"

He paused with his teacup halfway to his lips and favored her with a straight look over the rim. She returned his gaze, her face so entirely empty of expression that the lack might have been said to be an expression of its own. Glancing aside, for Liadens counted a too-long stare at the face as rudeness, he sipped his tea and put the cup gently back in its saucer.

"I found the view astonishing, ma'am," he said, and was proud to hear his voice steady on.

"I am gratified to hear you say it. Honor me with your thoughts regarding our moons."

Moons? He tried not to look befuddled, and supposed he failed completely.

"I saw only one moon, ma'am—pale blue and rising behind the mountain."

"So?" She paused, one hand on her cup, then threw her free hand slightly up and to the side, fingers flicking out. "You must forgive an old woman's memory. Of course, we are in single phase anytime this six-day! Never mind, you will soon have the pleasure of beholding all three riding the skies. Indeed, I will ask Ren Lar to form an excursion for the house's children later in your stay, when the nights will be warmer. I am sure you will find it most amusing. Local legend is that good luck comes to those who sleep beneath the full moons."

He inclined his head, which was polite, and put away for later wondering—or asking of the twins—the notion of a special excursion to look at moons. It might be, he thought, that Tarnia owned a starhouse and an optical scope for—

"There are certain matters of a personal nature which we must discuss," Lady Maarilex said, interrupting his thought. "Pray forgive me if my questions seem impertinent. I assure you that I would not ask these things did necessity not exist."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair. He was speaking in the mercantile mode, by special permission of the lady. She was speaking in a mode that was not mercantile, but perfectly intelligible, so long as he kept his ear on it.

"We will need to know certain things. Your family, for instance. Norn tells me that Terrans do not form into Houses and Clans, which I must say seems very peculiar to me. However, I suppose you must have some other method for tracking lineage." She inclined her head.

"Enlighten me, then, young Jethri. Who are you?"

He took a little time to think about it, lifting his cup and taking a leisurely sip while he did, so as not to seem rude.

"I am of the mainline Gobelyns," he said slowly. "Off of the tradeship Gobelyn's Market."

"I see." She lifted her cup, buying time herself, Jethri thought, and wasn't particularly encouraged by thinking it.

"May I know more, young Jethri?" she murmured, putting her cup down and apparently giving most of her attention to choosing a piece of fruit from the bowl in the center of the table. "Despite all Norn's efforts, I am woefully ignorant of shiplore."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, mortified to hear his voice break on the second word. "My mother is Iza, captain; my father was Arin, senior trader. My elder siblings are Cris, first mate, and Seeli, administrative mate. My mother's brother is now senior trader, brought on board when my father died." He took a deep breath, and met her eyes firmly, rudeness be spaced.

"The Gobelyns have been shipfolk since before space took ships. Arin Tomas, as he was before he married, his line was scholars and explorers; he served his turn as a Combine commissioner before he was senior trader."

He didn't expect her to value that—to know how to value it—and so he was surprised when she bent her head solemnly, and murmured, "A worthy lineage, Jethri Gobelyn. It could not, of course, be otherwise."

That might've just been the polite—she couldn't very well disapprove of Master ven'Deelin's choice of a fosterson, after all—but he was warmed anyway.

"I wonder," she said gently, "if I might know your age."

"Seventeen Standard Years, ma'am."

"Hah. And your name day?"

He blinked, then remembered that Liadens celebrated the anniversary of a baby's being named, which might, as Vil Tor told it, be done within seconds of the birth, or as long as twelve days past. Near as he knew, he'd been named simultaneous with being born. He inclined his head slightly.

"Day two-thirteen, ma'am."

"Delightful! We shall have the felicity of ushering you into your eighteenth year. The house is honored."

He didn't exactly scan why that should be such an honor, 'specially when stood against the fact that his birthday was more often forgot than not. When he'd been a kid, Seeli'd made sure there was some special favorite eatable in his dinner, and Cris would give him a little something by way of a present—a booktape, maybe, or an odd-bit he'd found during the trade rounds. His fourteenth birthday, there wasn't any special tasty in his dinner, though the occasion of his birth had been marked by Cris, who had given him the grown-up wrench set he still wore on his belt. After that—well, he was too old for wanting after special tidbits and gee-gaws.

Carefully, he inclined his head. "I am grateful, but the House need not exert itself on my account."

Lady Maarilex raised an eyebrow. "Norn is correct. Far too much sensibility. Hear me, Jethri Gobelyn: The house exerts itself on your behalf because it is what the house demands of itself. Your part is to strive to be worthy of our care. Am I plain?"

He swallowed and looked down into his teacup. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, lift up your face like the bold young man I know you to be and tell me how you came to meet Norn."

Of the questions he might have expected from her, this one might have been dead last. Master ven'Deelin must have told her—

"Your pardon, young Jethri," the sharp old voice cut across his thoughts. "May I expect the felicity of an answer soon?"

It was near enough in tone to Master tel'Ondor to jerk him upright and meeting her eye before he took a deep breath and began his tale.

"We met in Ynsolt'i Port, which is located in what the Terrans call the far-outside and Master ven'Deelin calls the Edge. There was a . . .  man. . .  who had a deal with a four-on-one payout, guaranteed with a master trader's card. . . "

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Framed