Trade Secret (eARC) (27 page)

Tradedesk, Gallery 770

"Grandma Ricky." He stopped before her chair and bowed, as a child to a favored elder.

She looked up at him with a tired smile.

"Now, Trader, you're not looking to me for bed-games, I'm thinking."

"I would be honored, if you think you might find me of use," he said, which was the proper response, and he
would
be honored, if she decided so.

She laughed, right out loud.

"Forty Standards! Hell, twenty Standards! But now? And having been crushed? Find somebody who can keep up with you!"

"But I came," he said earnestly, "to thank you."

She eyed him shrewdly. "Thank me for what?"

"For the opportunity to succeed," he said seriously, which was almost exactly what he would have said in Liaden. He dropped to one knee beside her chair.

"May I give a gift?"

"I'm never one to turn down a present. Is it a nice one?"

"You must be the judge," he said, and reached up to detach the modest gold ring that adorned his ear. Leaning forward, he affixed it to hers, and leaned back smiling.

"Like it was made for you," he said.

She lifted her fingers, felt the adornment gently, and shook her head at him.

"You're a fool, boy," she said, precisely as if her eyes hadn't become just a little damp. "A fool, but a pretty-mannered one. You can come find me again at tomorrow's banquet. 'Til then, go away and let an old woman rest!"

"Yes, ma'am. Rest well."

He rose, and took himself off, heading vaguely toward the door, though he was still feeling energy twitching in his fingers and toes. Common sense suggested that it was late, the first seminar on the morrow was early, and a trader might be best served by going back to his cramped berth on
Keravath
and trying to exchange energy for sleep. It did seem as if Gallery 770 had lost a number of partiers, so perhaps he wouldn't be alone in--

"You are very condescending, sir!" he heard Samay say, from very close at hand. She was speaking High Liaden and her voice was even colder than that aloof dialect demanded.

Jethri turned--and found her at once, not half a dozen steps to his right, her back rigid and her head up. He could only see the side of her face, but her expression appeared to be perfectly, politely bland. She was addressing Bar Jan chel'Gaiban, whose face Jethri could see all too clearly: also politely bland, though showing a little color along the cheekbones, his stance suggesting that he was amused by something, as an adult might be amused at a child's tantrum.

"How should I be condescending?" he said, spreading his hands. "I merely speak the truth as we both know it. We two are well-matched in clan and in
melant'i
, and there is then no question but that we may pleasure each other more satisfactorily than any other pairing available to either. Come, I offer bed-sport with a well-trained and well-regarded companion in luxury surely not available in any room on this . . .
station
. Let us go, before the evening becomes too short for pleasure."

He offered his arm.

Jethri hadn't thought Samay could get any stiffer.

"You misunderstand me," she said, her voice steady, and her tone cold enough it was a wonder Bar Jan's hair didn't show icicles. "I mean to say that I have already arranged for company this evening!"

She turned suddenly, and held out her hand to Jethri, her smile rather . . . forced.

"Trader, you find me at last! I hope your business has gone well?"

Clear at once was that Samay wasn't tolerating Bar Jan's advances, and wanted to be rid of him. Well, Jethri thought, he could certainly help her extricate herself from his attentions. He did feel a little pang, that it was a subterfuge, but still--Samay had been a pleasant and gracious companion all evening. She had submitted with good humor to the role of "arbiter" for the ridiculous auction, and had gracefully acted as Doricky's assistant. If she needed his help now to avoid an unwelcome connection, he would be churlish to refuse her.

So, he stepped forward with a slight, intimate bow, and a smile that deliberately excluded Bar Jan chel'Gaibin, offering his arm with a will.

"My business is well concluded," he told her. "Will you forgive me, that it took me from your side?"

She tipped her head, as if considering her options, then slipped her arm through his.

"I think that I might, since it ended well. But, come, shall we retire, before more business finds you?"

"I think that is the course of wisdom," he said. "Let us go, and quickly."

He allowed Samay to turn him toward the door, glancing over his shoulder to afford the jilted lover a cordial nod. "Trader. Good fortune to you."

Bar Jan chel'Gaibin turned away without a word and stalked off toward the bar.

*

Samay and her uncle had rooms on the station, an honor reserved for few, since there were, as Jethri understood, not very many hotel rooms yet ready for occupancy. They were still comfortably arm in arm, when they found the proper door. Jethri was pleased to see that Samay had become noticeably less stiff, as they put hallways between her and the Rinork heir, and by the time of their arrival at that door, they were chatting together comfortably, once more on the easy terms they had established in Gallery 770.

"Here," she said, pulling a key card from her sleeve.

Jethri stepped back, releasing her arm with a bow.

"I will leave you to your rest, and seek . . ." he began, but got no further.

She turned to look at him, her eyes. wide.

"But what is this? Come inside, Trader . . . Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Have you made arrangements?"

"No arrangements, but I thought--"

A door closed somewhat down the hall. Samay looked over her shoulder, then caught his hand.

"Come in, Trader, please, where we can discuss this in comfort"

She pushed the door open and bowed him in ahead of her. He could understand that she might not wish to air her business in a public hall, so he inclined his head and stepped inside.

*

"Comfort" was perhaps not the correct word for the room in which he found himself.

It was a nice room, and would one day be elegant, but for the moment it was filled with a temporary mix of furniture and fixtures brought together to permit the half-finished station to present itself at all.

Too, the room was set up for entertaining a crowd--cheeses and
chernubia
, wine and other drinks, and a dozen-plus chairs--

The single couch . . . was large enough that they could have reclined, their booted feet sole to sole at the center, and neither head would have quite touched the armrests. The lighting was also very bright--startling so, after the comfortable low lights of Gallery 770.

Jethri paused and looked around him.

"This will be a room for large events, I believe," Samay said, stepping in behind him and locking the door, "and I believe that the spaces are used differently . . ."

"Not," he agreed, "a place meant for quiet times. And large, if I may say, for one person . . ."

The merest trace of a blush whispered across Samay's face and she bowed lightly, acknowledging a hit. Jethri found much to favor in her forthrightness.

"My delm insisted I was to be treated as her representative here, which is absurd though I'm not to say so. This worked well in the Gallery, at least! So my uncle travels with his two favorites, as he always does, achieving a suite half as large . . . and I have been gifted with a suite sized for a Festival gathering! It is perplexing. By myself, I have not even a stuffed toy to speak to!"

She looked to him earnestly then, and offered lightly, "There are options for us, Trader. We have, off of this room, aside from the usual amenities, not less than three bedchambers, though one is rather small, and--"

"Wait." He raised a hand, and she stopped speaking, her head tipped slightly to one side, and her eyes very wide.

"You must forgive me," he said, "if I offend, but I must be clear regarding the intention of the evening. My understanding was that I assisted a comrade in evading a potentially distasteful situation. I gave that assistance with no expectation of . . . of . . . usurping your company for myself."

Samay's blush this time was more noticeable.

"It is I who must ask forgiveness. Indeed, it had been in my mind to ask if you might be available to celebrate mutual pleasure this evening, but the opportunity. . .then here comes Bar Jan chel'Gaibin, who informs me that I needn't worry that I will be importuned by
Wynhael
's associates; he has already lain his claim, for clearly of all the station, only he and I are a worthy night match!"

Jethri felt his jaw drop, which he ought by this point in his training be proof against, and manfully pressed his lips together. At least, he comforted himself, he hadn't let the gasp loose. The effrontery was, well, breathtaking! Chel'Gaibin was High House; he must have had lessons: in protocol, in bed-sport, in--he
must have
meant the insult!

"I thank you," Samay said, "for your very complete understanding. Please, allow me to offer you refreshment--perhaps some fruit juice?--and we will discuss this matter properly between us."

*

Both of them deeming the formal parlor too . . . big, they had carried a tray of light snacks and another, with pitcher and glasses, to the room Samay described as the "small parlor." Though there was a bunk bed in the room, it was easily ignored in favor of the grouping at the front of the space. Here was adjustable lighting, and a couch piled with pillows, and two comfortable chairs that friends might arrange to accommodate soft voice and subtle gesture.

The chairs placed, then, and the lights softened, they each settled, fruit juice in hand, smiled, and lifted their glasses in a toast.

"To enjoyable connections," Samay murmured, and Jethri did not demur.

"Now, Trader, I must tell you--it would please me very much if you will stay. I know too well that the manner of your coming here is not, entirely, to Code. I say now that it was not my intent to . . . to coerce you. Please, you must not feel compelled to stay here, and I will beg you to inform me, if we have become . . . out of Balance."

She stopped, her eyes bright, leaning slightly forward in her chair.

Seated as he was, Jethri bowed slightly. "As I count, we are in perfect Balance. If my arrival was irregular, I am still happy to be here."

Tension left her shoulders; she leaned back in her chair, her slight, enchanting smile on display.

"Good, that is good." She sipped her juice, then gave him one of her clear, straight looks.

"You must understand that I am not yet . . . fully in the habit of--which is to say . . . I have not previously invited a night friend into my own bedchamber! Doubtless had I more experience, I might have found opportunity to speak earlier in the evening, and thus prevented . . . the slight disorder which we have together overcome. However, you need not be concerned that I have no skills. Certainly, I have been properly, and thoroughly, tutored in the art. More, I have been to several Festivals. Surely, I should say that, if it pleases you, you may call me this evening by my small name, my friend name of Maya, or even, if you like--I offer you this for quietest moments, which my nanny and my aunt both called me--Nera, after the small birds. I find it soothing, but it is not a public name!"

Jethri felt his throat catch, for he knew that such a name was indeed a gift.

Carefully, he smiled. "I hope I shall earn such good names for my tongue," he murmured. "I do hope you will call me Jethri, and the short form is simply 'Jeth' if you like. I am not so lucky as to be short-named for a bird or a cloud or a jewel!"

He sipped his juice, recalling the rest of what he ought, in respect of shared pleasure, to likewise reveal to his partner.

"I fear that I bring rather less to the evening than might be assumed. Indeed, at the time you were being tutored in the arts and graces, I would scarcely have been bundling. My own
I'gaina Prenada
has given me what is said to be a thorough introduction, and was kind enough to pronounce me an apt and energetic scholar. However, this was well within the
relumma
. I have no Festival gleanings to increase our delight, nor even, I fear, very much skill."

"Appreciation and energy are very welcome in a bed-friend," Samay said firmly. "I expect that we will deal well; certainly, we must between us produce a unique pleasure. But you must tell me, Jeth, what is this
bundling
? A Terran art?"

He laughed.

"Say, rather, a Terran work-around." He said the last word in Terran, saw her puzzled glance, and held up his hand for a moment while he made a translation, "A circumvention," he achieved, in Liaden.

"I understand the word," she said after a moment, "but what would the problem be, that bundling . . .
works-around
?"

"That . . ." He discovered that his glass was empty, and reached for the pitcher. "May I refresh your glass?"

"Please."

That done, he sat back again, and looked to her face, seeing interest.

"You must understand, that I grew up on a Terran family ship. Such ships are not to compare with Liaden tradeships. They are typically very small, and privacy is . . . not very easy to achieve.

"That being so, when two ships or more came together, and bed-friends were chosen, the adults--those experienced in the arts--were given rooms and formal privacy. Those of us who were not yet experienced, but who knew the pangs. . .we bundled.

"We would find a corner in the kitchen, or back in a storeroom, or down in 'ponics, make it all nice and soft with shipping cushions all around, drape blankets over all, make the lights dim, and . . . cuddle. There is, you will appreciate, not much room in such an arrangement, though it is, I will say, comfortable, and comforting. Typically, there was insufficient room to undress and, as the bundle was within public space, there was the possibility of being interrupted at any moment, so clothes . . . may have become disordered, but were rarely discarded."