Sharon Lee: Adventures in the Liaden Universe. Collaterial Adventures

“I will speak with your cousin on the matter, for it comes to me that such a rug, gotten at such cost, ought not to be destroyed, no matter the pain it has unwittingly brought to a daughter of the House.” The Healer cocked his head. “Keep it by, do.”

Pat Rin bowed.

“Very well,” the other said, with a sigh. “I leave you now, sir. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Wait—” Pat Rin put out a hand as if he would physically restrain the man.

The Healer paused. “Yes?”

“My cousin Nova—what ailed her? Will she mend? How shall—?”

“Peace, peace,” the Healer laughed. “The Masters must have their chance at diagnosis, but it seems to me that your cousin has a very rare talent in the dramliz spectrum.”

Dramliza. Pat Rin closed his eyes. “What talent?” he asked, ’round the pain in his heart.

“Why, she remembers,” the Healer said, as Pat Rin opened his eyes. “That’s all.” He gave the carpet one more long glance. “I really must—ah, a moment, of your kindness!” He leaned forward, and before Pat Rin knew what he intended, had cupped the injured cheek in a warm and slightly moist palm. There was a small tingle—and the pain flowed away, leaving only warmth.

The Healer stepped back, placed his hand over his heart and bowed. “Peace unto you, Pat Rin yos’Phelium. Long life and fair profit.”

“Healer—” Pat Rin began.

But the Healer was gone.

PIN’WELTIR HAD GONE some hours ahead of the rest, pleading another appointment, which seemed odd at that hour of the morning—but who was Pat Rin yos’Phelium to comment upon the arrangements of a mere acquaintance? He did note, privately, that pin’Weltir had not recalled this second appointment until Luken had roundly trounced him at piket, lightening his brash lordship’s purse by a considerable number of coins.

Still, and excusing the early departure of a guest not much missed in his absence, Pat Rin counted this first party in his own establishment a success. He was quite sincerely exhausted by his hostly duties, yet exhilarated.

The last, late-staying guest bowed out, and the door locked, Pat Rin moved down the hall to the room he had made his study. There, as he expected, he found his foster father, seated in Pat Rin’s reading chair, thoughtfully gazing at the ivory-and-green carpet.

Pat Rin hesitated in the doorway. Luken looked up, face roguish in the soft yellow light.

“Well, boy-dear! Well, indeed. A most glorious crush, hosted with grace and style! I daresay you will sleep the day through, now.”

“Not quite now,” Pat Rin murmured.

Luken smiled. “A bit in the upper key, is it? Never mind it—very shortly Lord Pat Rin will find hosting a party three times this to be a mere nothing!”

Pat Rin laughed. “Verily, Lord Pat Rin shall be nothing more nor less than a fidget-about-town. I wonder how you might bear with so slight a fellow.”

“Now, there,” Luken said, with sudden seriousness, “you touch near to a topic I wished to bring before you. I wonder—have you thought of entering the lists at Tey Dor’s?”

Pat Rin blinked, and drifted into the room, across the Tantara, to prop a hip against the desk and looked down into his foster father’s face.

“I had never thought of competing at Tey Dor’s,” he said then. “Should I have?”

“You might find that you will wish to do so,” Luken said, “as you consider the… affect you wish to sustain. For I do not think, boy-dear, that you would do very well in a long-term role either as fidget or as mushroom.”

“Ah.” Pat Rin smiled. “Lord Pat Rin shall be flamboyant, shall he?”

Luken raised a finger. “Lord Pat Rin, if you will permit me, boy-dear, shall be accomplished .”

“I’ll grant that’s a happier thought,” his son said after a moment. He inclined his head. “Allow me to consider the matter, when my head is done spinning.”

“Surely, surely.” Luken paused before murmuring. “I wonder if you have heard that young Nova takes lessons at the dramliz school now—and has passed the preliminary for third-class pilot.”

Pat Rin inclined his head. “She was by a three-day gone, with a gift for the house. We drank tea and she caught me up with her news.”

“Ah?” Luken said. “And how do you find yourselves aligned, if an old man might ask it.”

“We are—comfortable,” Pat Rin said after a moment. “She—I do not know how such a thing might be, but—she remembers both sides of the… incident, and we have, thereby, an understanding.”

There was a small silence. “Good,” Luken said, simply, and pushed himself out of the chair. Pat Rin leapt forward to offer him an arm.

“Must you leave?” he asked, and Luken laughed.

“I daresay the two of us might now repair to the Port for a game or six, were I thirty years younger!” He said, patting Pat Rin’s hand. “But you must have pity on an old man and allow me to seek my bed.”

“Certainly,” Pat Rin replied, walking with him toward the hallway. “I will summon a cab.”

“Assuredly you will, sir!” Luken turned suddenly, face serious. “Lord Pat Rin will have servants to attend to these small matters for him.”

“I daresay he might,” Pat Rin retorted, with spirit, “for those who are merely guests. But if Lord Pat Rin should ever fail of attending the father of his heart personally, I shall know him for a worthless dog, no matter his accomplishments .”

Luken paused, then extended a hand to cup Pat Rin’s cheek. “Sweet lad.” He let the hand fall away and smiled, softly. “Call for the cab, then, and be welcome.”

Quickly, Pat Rin stepped back into his study and made the call. Turning back, he saw Luken framed in the doorway, his eyes dreaming once more upon the Tantara.

“Father?” he said, abruptly.

Luken looked up, face mild. “Child?”

Pat Rin cleared his throat. “I—do you mind?” he blurted. “The carpet—it is yours; the treasure of your Line. It should—”

Luken held up a hand. “Peace.” He glanced down at the ivory-and-green design, smiling slightly as he once again met Pat Rin’s eyes.

“I allow it to be a gem, and everything that is graceful. Even, I allow it to be a family heirloom. Who best to have the keeping of such a treasure, than my son?”

Pat Rin’s eyes filled. “Father—”

“Nay, I’ll brook no argument, willful creature! Hark! Is that the cab?”

It was. Luken fastened his cloak and together they went down the steps to the walk. Pat Rin opened the door and saw his father comfortably disposed. That done, he handed the driver a coin.

“Good-night, boy-dear,” Luken said from the back. “Sweet dreams to you.”

“Good-night, father,” he returned, stepping back from the curb. “Sweet dreaming.”

The cab pulled away, accelerating smoothly down the long, dark street.

Including novels through Plan B. From Trading in Futures.

A’nadelm — Heir to the nadelm

A’thodelm — Head-of-Line-to-Be

A’trezla — Lifemates

Al’bresh venat’i — Formal phrase of sorrow for another Clan’s loss, as when someone dies.

Al’kin chernard’i — The Day without Delight

Balent’i Kalandon — Our local galaxy

Balent’i tru’vad — The starweb of all creation

Cha’leket — Heartkin (heartbrother, heartsister)

Cha’trez — Heartsong

Chernubia — Confected delicacy

Chiat’a bei kruzon — Dream sweetly.

Ckrakec (derived from Approximately ‘Master Hunter’ the Yxtrang) coab minshak’a — ‘Necessity exits’