The Dragon Variation (7 page)

"Thank you." He offered the smaller of the two parcels. "I have also brought wine." He paused, violet eyes speculative. "Will you drink with me, Anne?"

She caught her breath against sudden, painful relief. It was going to be all right, she thought, dizzily. To drink with someone was a sign of goodwill. It would be dishonorable to ask a feud-partner to drink with one. And Er Thom was an honorable man.

The smile she gave him this time was real. "Of course I'll drink with you, Er Thom." She took the package. "I'll pour tonight. And provide dinner. Are you hungry?"

He smiled. "I will eat if you will eat."

"A bargain." Her laughed sounded giddy in her own ears, but Er Thom did not seem to notice. He was walking toward Shan.

The boy had succeeded in building a bridge of a rectangle across two cubes. Gracefully, Er Thom went to one knee, facing the child across the bridge, and laying down the large parcel.

"Good evening, Shan-son," he said in soft Liaden. Anne swallowed around the lump of dread in her throat, clutched the wine bottle and said nothing.

"Jiblish," Shan said, glancing up from his task with a smile. "Hi!"

"I've brought you a gift," Er Thom pursued, still in Liaden. "I hope that it will please you."

To Shan's intense interest, he removed the wrapping from the package and held out a stuffed animal. It was a friendly sort of animal, Anne thought, with large round ears and rounder blue eyes and a good-natured smile on its pointy face. Shan gave it thoughtful consideration, uttered a crow of laughter and fell upon its neck.

Er Thom echoed the laugh softly and reached out to touch the small brown face. Shan pulled his new friend closer and caught the man's finger in his free hand, crowing again.

Anne quietly turned and went into the kitchen for glasses and for food.

SHE BUSIED HERSELF
in the kitchen rather longer than was necessary; cutting the cheese to nibble-size, and the fruit, too. She stood for a ridiculous amount of time, trying to decide which crackers to offer.

Throughout it all relief warred with lingering fear. It went against everything she knew to distrust Er Thom. He was her friend, the father of her son. This morning had been a regrettable misunderstanding—a conflict of custom—and she ought to thank all possible gods, that Er Thom had been able to forgive her assault on his
melant'i
. She would need to be very careful not to threaten him again. Even fondness for a lover could not be expected to stay a Liaden's hand twice . . .

When she finally returned to the living room, it was strangely quiet. Er Thom smiled up at her from his seat against the sofa. Shan was spread out across his lap, head on Er Thom's shoulder, one small hand gripping the stuffed animal's round ear. He was fast asleep.

"Oh, no!" Anne laughed, nearly upsetting the wine glasses on the tray. "My poor friend . . ." She sat the tray down and knelt on the floor next to them, holding out her arms. "I'll put him to bed."

The stuffed animal proved a stumbling block. Even in sleep her son's grip was trojan, but Er Thom patiently coaxed the sleeping fingers open, and offered the liberated toy to Anne. She took it and led the way as Er Thom carried Shan into the bedroom and lay him gently on the pull-out bed.

He waited quietly while she settled both friends comfortably and allowed her to proceed him back into the living room, pulling the door half-closed behind him.

The delm shall be face and voice of the clan, guarding the interests of the clan and treating with other delms in matters of wider interest. The delm is held to be responsible for the actions of all members of his clan and likewise holds ultimate authority over these members. The delm shall administer according to the internal laws of his clan, saving only that those laws do not circumvent the Laws agreed upon by all delms and set forth in this document.

—From the Charter of the Council of Clans
 

"GO TO LIAD?"
Anne set her glass carefully aside. "I have no reason to go to Liad, Er Thom."

"Ah." He inclined his head, keeping his manner in all ways gentle. It had been ill-done to show her his anger; he had not missed the wariness in her face when he had asked entrance this evening. Nor did the continued tension in her shoulders and the unaccustomed care with which she addressed him escape notice. He met her eyes, as one did with a valued friend, and brushed the back of her hand with light fingertips.

"Our child must be Seen by the delm."

She took a slow, deep breath. "I believe," she said with that care which was so different from her usual way with him, "that the matter need not concern your delm. I said this morning that I will change Shan's surname to Davis, and I meant it. I have an early day tomorrow. I'll go to Central Admin and file the request through Terran Census. Three days, at the most, and—"

"No." He caught her hand in both of his, keeping his voice soft with an effort. "Anne, is Shan not the—the child of our bodies?"

She blinked, slipping her hand free. "Of course he is. I told you."

Irritation there, and rightly so. Who was Er Thom yos'Galan to question the word of an equal adult? He bowed his head.

"Forgive me, friend. Most certainly you did tell me. It is thus that the delm's concern is engaged. You have said that the child of our pleasure is yos'Galan. It is the delm's honor to keep the tale of yos'Galans and ensure that the clan—" here he stumbled, sorting among a myriad of words of Terran possibility, all the wrong size or shape to describe the clan's obligations in this matter.

"I've said," Anne stepped into the space his hesitation had created, "that his name will be changed to Davis. In three days, Er Thom, there will be no new yos'Galans for your delm to count."

"You have said he is yos'Galan. Will you unsay it and forswear yourself?" It was not his place to rebuke her, nor any of his concern, should she choose to tarnish her
melant'i
. But his heart ached, for he had taught her to fear him, and now fear forced her to dishonor. "Anne?"

She sighed. "Er Thom, he's the same child, whether his name is Davis or yos'Galan!"

"Yes!" Joy flooded him, so that he caught her hands, laughing with sheer relief, for she did not after all turn her face from honor. "Precisely so! And thus the delm must certainly See him—soon, as you will understand. I shall pilot—you need not be concerned—and the ship is entirely able. To Liad is—"

"Hold it." Her face held an odd mix of emotion—a frown twisted curiously about a smile—and she shook her head, a pet gesture that did not always signal negative, but sometimes also wonder, or impatience, or sadness. She took one of her hands from his and raised it to his face, running her knuckles whisper-soft down his right cheek. Once more, wonderingly, it seemed to him, she shook her head.

"It's really important for your delm to see Shan now?"

Important? It was vital. To be outside the clan was to be outside of life.

"Yes," he told her.

"All right. Then let your delm come here."

"Hah." She was within her right to ask it, though there were few so secure in their
melant'i
as to bid Korval come to them. Er Thom inclined his head.

"It is, you see, that—until his own children are of an age—I am the delm's designated heir. Wisdom dictates that we both not be off-planet at the same time. Your grace would be the clan's delight, could you instead go to Korval."

"You're the delm's heir?" Anne was frowning slightly. "I didn't know that."

There was no reason for her to know; such information was not commonly shared with pleasure-loves. Yet Anne knew much else about him, he realized suddenly. It was possible that only Daav knew more.

"Forgive me. I am a'thodelm—heir to my mother, who is thodelm of yos'Galan. And I am nadelm—named to take the place of the delm, should—necessity—dictate." He paused, biting his lip, and then made her a gift: "The delm is Daav yos'Phelium, who is also my
cha'leket
—you would say, my foster-brother."

"And master trader, and master pilot," Anne murmured, naming the two facets of his
melant'i
she had cause to know well. "That's quite a hat-rack."

His brows twitched together. "Your pardon?"

"I'm sorry," she said, laughing lightly. "An old Terran joke had to do with the number of duties a single person was assigned to perform. Each of the duties was referred to as a 'hat,' and the traditional question was: 'What hat are you wearing today?'"

He stared at her. A joke? But—

"That is
melant'i
," he said, around a sense of wondering bafflement.

"More or less," Anne agreed with a shrug. "It's pretty old—a scholar's joke, you know." She changed the subject abruptly. "If your delm needs to see Shannie
now
, the solution is for you to go home so he can come to University. I certainly can't leave
now
—exam week is just beginning—and I don't have any other reason to go to Liad, Er Thom. Though I'm certain," she added, with a return of that unnatural caution, "that I would
want
to accommodate your delm."

"Of course you would." True enough. Who sane deliberately thwarted Korval? Er Thom reached for his wine, eyes sweeping down the column of her throat, to where her breasts pushed tight against the fabric of her shirt.

"When," he asked softly, dragging his eyes away with an effort and trying to ignore his hammering pulse. "When might you be able to leave University, were you interested in a visit to—to Liad?"

Anne shook her head, sharply, he thought, and seemed to shift her eyes from his face all a-sudden. "I—three weeks. About that, with getting in final grades, and—" She took a hard breath. "Er Thom."

"Yes." He slid nearer to her on the sofa, setting his leg against hers, and raised a hand to stroke one delightful breast through her shirt—deliberately teasing—and felt the quiver of her desire.

Lightly, he smoothed his fingertips across her nipple, feeling it harden as his own passion mounted, hard and demanding. He shifted closer, urgent fingers at the fastening of her shirt.

"Shan—" she began.

"Is asleep," he whispered, and brought his gaze up to her face. "Isn't he?"

Her eyes seem to lose focus—an instant only and he half-swooning with a desire that seemed only to build, and build, until he must—"Anne?"

"Asleep." She was back with him fully, fingers busy with his own clothing. "Er Thom, I need you. Quickly."

"Quickly," he agreed, and the passion built to a wave, hesitated in a pain that became ecstasy as it crashed, engulfing them entirely.

* * *

"THE RIGHT HONORABLE
Lady Kareen yos'Phelium," Mr. pel'Kana announced with unnerving formality, and bowed low.

The lady's brother bit back a curse, spun his chair to face the door and swept his hand across the computer keypad, banishing the files he had been reviewing. The last move was sheer instinct: Kareen never hesitated to busy herself about any bit of business within the clan, a right she claimed as Eldest of Line. That Daav did not agree with this assessment of her
melant'i
barely slowed her and had never, so far as he knew, stopped her.

"Young brother." Kareen paused on the threshold long enough to incline her head—Elder to Younger—and allowed Mr. pel'Kana to seat her.

Inwardly, Daav sighed. True enough, Kareen could give him ten years, but it wearied one that she must always be playing that point. A variation, he thought, would add piquancy to a game of spite and dislike that had become all too predictable. Alas, that Kareen was not imaginative. He moved his hand, catching the servant's attention.

"Wine for Lady Kareen," he murmured.

This done, Mr. pel'Kana quit the room, with, Daav thought, marked relief. The Council of Clans rated Kareen expert in the field of proper action and called upon her often to unravel this or that sticky point of Code. It was to be regretted that she demanded expert's understanding of all she met.

Expert's understanding required that he rise and make his bow, honoring the eldest of Line yos'Phelium, and bidding her graceful welcome.

Daav thrust his legs out before him and crossed them at the ankle. Lacing his fingers over his belt buckle, he grinned at her in counterfeit good-humor.

"Good-day, Kareen. Whatever can you want from me now?"

She allowed the merest twitch of a brow to convey her displeasure at being addressed in the Low Tongue, and lifted her glass, pointedly tasting the wine.

Setting the glass aside, she met his eyes.

"I have lately been," she murmured, still in the mode of Elder Sibling to Younger, "at the house of Luken bel'Tarda, in the cause of visiting my heir."

Kareen's heir was six-year-old Pat Rin, recently fostered into the house of bel'Tarda by the delm's command. An imperfect solution, as the delm had admitted to his
cha'leket
, and one that had enraged Kareen unseemly.

Daav inclined his head. "And how do you find our cousin Luken?"

"Shatterbrained to a fault," his sister replied with regrettable accuracy. "As I had said to you on another occasion, sirrah, Luken bel'Tarda is hardly fit guardian for one of the Line Direct. However," she said, interrupting herself, "that is a different bolt of cloth." She fixed him with a stern eye.

"Cousin bel'Tarda informs me that yos'Galan searches for one of the Clan to enter into contract-alliance with Clan Nexon, in the person of its daughter Syntebra el'Kemin."

"yos'Galan has the delm's leave for this search," Daav said lazily, moving his hand in a gesture of disinterest. Kareen's mouth tightened.

"Then perhaps the delm is also aware that Thodelm yos'Galan had intended Syntebra el'Kemin as contract-wife for the a'thodelm." It cut very near disrespect, phrased as it yet was in Elder-to-Younger. But Kareen was expert in mode, as well, and kept her tongue nimbly in place.

"The delm is aware of the thodelm's intentions in that regard, yes." He lifted an eyebrow. "Is there some point to this, Kareen?"

"A small one," she said, "but sharp enough to prick interest." She leaned forward slightly in her chair. "The a'thodelm is gone off-planet, not to return before the end of the
relumma
, fleeing, one must conclude, the proposed alliance. Think of the insult to Nexon, that one intended for the contract-room at Trealla Fantrol should be shunted off to make do with—forgive me!—the like of Luken bel'Tarda."