The Dragon Variation (38 page)

"It is joy to serve," the Healer replied formally. He had recourse once more to his glass.

"The child," he said then and met Er Thom's gaze. "Your lordship is perhaps not aware that the child is something out of the common way. It would be wisdom, were he to be shown—soon—to a Master Healer, or brought to a Hall."

Again, Er Thom inclined his head. "I shall discuss the matter with my lady."

"Certainly." The Healer finished his wine and rose to make his bow.

Er Thom rose, returned the man's salute with gravity, straightened and held out a hand in which a six-cantra gleamed.

"Please accept tangible evidence of my gratitude for the service you render my lady and our son."

"Your lordship is gracious." The coin disappeared. The Healer inclined his head.

"Good day, sir. Fair fortune to you and yours."

"And to you, Healer."

Er Thom walked the smaller man to the door and let him out into the wide, cruise-ship hallway. He closed the door and locked it—and went back through the parlor to the bedroom, there to keep watch at Anne's bedside until such time as she should wake.

COMING OUT OF SLEEP
was like coming out of heavy cloud, into lighter cloud, to dense fog, to mist—to bright, unencumbered sun.

Anne stretched luxuriously. She felt wonderfully well, without care or grief; lucid and joyful for the first time in days.

She stretched again, knowing that they were booked on the cruise ship
Chelda
, bound for Lytaxin and points outward, scheduled to leave Liad orbit this very afternoon. Her son was safe and happy—deeply asleep at the moment, she knew. Er Thom was traveling with them—she forgot precisely how that had come about, for surely—

The thought slid away, vanishing into a warm glow of happiness.

"Hello, Anne." His voice, in gentle Terran. "Are you well?"

"Well?" She opened her eyes and smiled up into his, extended a languid hand and brushed his cheek with her fingertips, relishing the slow stir of passion. "I'm wonderful. I guess I needed a nap."

"I—guess," Er Thom agreed softly. He traced her eyebrows with a light fingertip. "You are beautiful."

She laughed. "No, laddie, there you're out. I am
not
beautiful."

"You really must allow me to disagree with you," he murmured, fingertips like moon-moths against her lips. He smiled, eyes smoky, fingers running the line of her jaw. "Beautiful Anne. Dar-ling Anne. Sweetheart."

She gasped, as much from surprise as from the tingle of pleasure his caresses evoked.

"You don't—You never say—things . . ." His fingers were tracing a line of fire along the curve of her throat.

"My dreadful manners," he murmured, bending his bright head as his clever fingers worked lose the fastening of her shirt. "Forgive me."

His mouth was hot over the pulse at the base of her throat. His fingers were teasing a nipple to erection.

"Teach me," he whispered, raising his head and kissing her cheek, her eyelids, her chin. "What else should I say, Anne?"

She laughed breathlessly, cupping his face in her two hands and holding him still.

"I don't think you need to say anything more at the moment," she murmured, and kissed him, very thoroughly, indeed.

SHE WOKE AGAIN,
sated and a-tingle in every nerve, opened her eyes and saw him leaning above her, face suffused with tenderness. She shivered and reached for him.

"Er Thom, what's wrong?"

"Ah." He stroked her hair softly back from her forehead. "I shall—miss—my clan."

Coldness leached into her, riding confusion. Why was he here? The plan—hadn't the plan been to take Shan and herself away to New Dublin? Er Thom was to have stayed with his clan, wasn't that the plan? How—She groped after the precise memory. It eluded her, leaving her blinking up into his eyes, feeling half-ill with loneliness, vulnerable as she had never been vulnerable.

"You could—" Gods, she could scarcely breathe. She pushed her voice past the tight spot in her throat. "The ship's still in orbit, isn't it? You could—go home . . ."

"No, how could I?" He smiled gently and lay his finger along her lips. "You and our son are leaving Liad. How can I stay?" He kissed her cheek. "I shall learn, sweetheart. I depend upon you to teach me."

She stared at him, speechless—then blinked, attention diverted.

"Shan's waking up."

"I shall go to him," Er Thom said, slipping out of the wide bed and bending to retrieve his clothes. He smiled at her. "If you like, we three may go up to the observation deck and watch the ship break orbit."

He was going to stay with them, loneliness and vulnerability be damned. She felt his determination echo at the core of her. He was turning his back on his clan, on wealth and position; throwing his lot in with Linguistics Professor Anne Davis, untenured.

"Er Thom—"

"Hush." He bent quickly over her, stopping her protests with his lips. "I love you, Anne Davis, with all of my heart. If you will not have Liad, then you must lead me to another place, and teach me new customs. Only do not put me aside . . ." His voice broke, eyes bright. "Anne?"

"You lied," she said uncertainly, for that had suddenly come crystal clear. "You said you weren't a thief—"

"Nor am I." He sat on the edge of the bed and caught her hands in his. "Anne, listen. If there were a child who was Davis, and I caused him to brought into Korval, that is thievery. But a child named yos'Galan, brought into Korval—how may yos'Galan steal a yos'Galan?" His fingers were tight on hers; she felt the truth in him, like a flame, melting away old fears.

"I erred. That, yes. I mistook local custom and thought I had explained enough. I thought, having done honor in name, you now passed the full joy of another yos'Galan to the clan, as was right and proper. Liaden. I plead stupidity. I plead pride. But you must acquit me of lying to you, Anne. That, I never undertook."

"You'll come with us?" she said, wonderingly. "To New Dublin?"

"Is that where you are bound?" Er Thom moved his shoulders. "I shall stand at your side. It is what I wish." He tipped his head. "We may need to tarry upon Lytaxin. Our son should be seen in the Healer's Hall—unless there is such on New Dublin?"

She shook her head. "We'll need to talk," she said, and heard a vague, fog-shrouded echo. She let it fade away, uncurious.

Er Thom inclined his head. "So we shall. I will go to our son now."

"I'll sort out my clothes," Anne said, with wry humor, "and meet the two of you in the parlor very soon."

SHAN PRONOUNCED HIMSELF
both hungry and thirsty. He submitted with a certain ill-grace to having his hair combed and a wet cloth passed over his face, but took Er Thom's hand willingly enough and went with him into the parlor.

One step into the room, Er Thom froze, staring at the man in the black leather jacket who lounged at his ease on the low-slung sofa, long legs thrust out before him and crossed neatly at the ankle. He lifted a glass of blood-red wine in salute and sipped, room lights running liquid off the enamel-work of his single ring.

"Daav!" Shan cried joyously.

"Hello, nephew," the man replied gently. His black eyes went to Er Thom. "Brother. I perceive I am in time."

Take the course opposite to custom and you will almost always do well.

—Jean Jacques Rousseau
 

SHAN WAS SETTLED
at a low table in the corner, a crystal glass of juice and some tidbits of cheese to hand. Er Thom came back to the center of the room and stood staring down at the man on the sofa.

"My family and I," he said eventually, and in Terran, "are bound for New Dublin."

Daav raised his glass, lips pursed in consideration.

"A pastoral location," he allowed in the same language. "Do you plan a long stay?"

"I believe Anne means us to settle there."

"Really?" Daav lifted an eyebrow. "I don't see you as a farmer,
denubia
."

"That has very little to say to the matter," Er Thom informed him flatly.

"Ah. Well, that is lowering, to be sure." He flourished the glass, switching to Low Liaden. "Drink with me, brother."

"I regret to inform you," Er Thom said, keeping stubbornly to Terran, "that your brother is dead."

"Oh, dear. But you are misinformed, you know," Daav said kindly, pursuing his end of the conversation now in Low Liaden. "My brother was seen not very many hours ago, booking passage for three upon
Chelda
. Unless the line's service has gone entirely awry, I believe we may assume he is enjoying his customary robust health."

"
Mirada!
" Shan called from across the room. "More juice. Please!"

"You will have to teach him to call you otherwise," Daav murmured, and lifted an eyebrow at Er Thom's start.

"Father," he suggested in soft Terran, meeting the determined violet eyes. "Papa. Da. Something of that nature."

"
Mirada
?" Shan called.

Er Thom went to him, refilled the glass and ruffled his frost-colored hair. Then he came back to stand and stare. Daav sipped wine, unperturbed.

"I repudiate the clan," Er Thom said, the High Tongue cold as hyperspace.

"Yes, but you see," Daav returned earnestly in the Low Tongue, "the clan doesn't repudiate you. If things were otherwise, I might very well wave you away. An off-shoot of the clan on New Dublin might be amusing. But things are not otherwise, darling. The clan needs you—you, yourself, not simply your genes. I cannot allow you to leave us. Necessity." He used his chin to point at Shan, engrossed in his snack.

"And if you think I shall allow that child beyond range of a Healer Hall any time before he has completed formal training, I beg that you think again." He cocked a whimsical eyebrow. "Come home, darling, do."

Er Thom's mouth tightened, his eyes wounded.

"My family and I," he repeated steadfastly, though his Terran had gone rather blurry, "are bound for New Dublin. The ship leaves within the hour."

Daav sighed. "No," he corrected gently. "It does not."

Er Thom drew a careful breath. "The schedule—"

"I see I have failed of making myself plain." He swirled what was left of his wine and glanced up, black eyes glinting.

"This ship goes nowhere until I leave it. And I shall not leave it without yourself and your son in my company." He raised his glass and finished the last of the wine.

"There is an important package due from Korval," he said, somewhat more gently. "The ship is being held for its arrival. It will make rather a hash out of traffic, of course, but that's the port master's problem, not mine." He put the glass aside.

"When I leave the ship, the package will be delivered and
Chelda
may be on its way." He moved his hand as if he cast dice. "It is now your throw, brother. How long shall we hang in orbit?"

There was a long silence.

"Anne and I are—tied together," Er Thom said eventually, and in, his brother heard with relief, the Low Tongue. "Understand me. I heard her call—from across the Port. I followed her thought to a place—" He moved his shoulders. "There is a dead man named Fil Tor Kinrae in the back room of a warehouse in Mid-Port."

"How delightful. Your work?"

"Anne's. In rescue of our son." He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. "The Healer has been to both."

"Very good. I hesitate to mention that Master Healer Kestra awaits you at Trealla Fantrol."

Er Thom stiffened. "Anne and I are tied. I had just told you."

"My dreadful memory," Daav murmured. "I do however seem to recall that the lady swore she would have none of you. This leads me to the unfortunate conclusion that any—bonding—that exists is on your side alone."

Er Thom bowed with exquisite irony. "As you will. One-sided or not, it exists. I go with Anne, since choice is necessary. I cannot do otherwise."

"Ah, can you not?" Daav frowned; turned his head.

The door to the bedroom slid open and Anne came into the room. She advanced to Er Thom's side and looked down, her face tranquil, as the faces of those newly Healed tended to be. Daav inclined his head.

"Good-day, Anne."

"Daav," she returned gravely. "Have you come to take Shan away?"

"Worse than that," he said, watching her face with all a Scout's care. "I've come to take your son and your lover away."

Something moved in her eyes; he read it as anger.

"Er Thom makes his own choices," she said flatly. "My son comes with me."

"To New Dublin?" Daav asked, keeping his voice gentle, his posture unthreatening. "Anne, your child bodes to be a Healer of some note, if he does not come to halfling as one of
dramliz
. How shall New Dublin train him to use these abilities? Will you wait until he harms someone through ignorance—or until he begins to go mad—before you send him back to Liad to be taught?" He showed her his empty palms.

"How do I serve my
cha'leket
by denying his son the training he must have to survive? How does flinging talent into exile serve Korval?" He lowered his hands and gave her a rueful smile.

"For good or ill, Shan is of Korval. We are in Liaden space, subject to the law and customs of Liad. Shan's delm commands him to bide at home. The law will find no different."

She licked her lips. "Terran law—"

Daav inclined his head. "You are free to chart that course. However, for the years such litigation will doubtless encompass, the child bides with Clan Korval, his family of record." He shifted; came to his feet in one fluid move, hand out in a gesture of supplication.

"Anne, hear me. The luck was in it, that you brought your child to Liad. There is nowhere else in the galaxy where his talents are understood so well. I am not your enemy in this, but your friend. Only think and you will see that it is so!"

Her mouth was tight, fine eyes flashing. "You seem to have me over a barrel," she commented. "What do you propose I do, hang on as Clan Korval's guest until my son is come of age?"

Daav tipped his head, watching Er Thom's face out of the side of an eye.