Unknown - Sharon Lee And Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 10 - Fledgling-ARC

Unhappily, there was instead of either solitude or a friend, Orkan Hafley.

Kamele placed her cup gently onto the saucer and met the Chair's hard blue gaze. She could plead ignorance, but there was nothing to gain, really, from pretending not to understand the question.

"It was time," she said calmly, "to come back."

"Oh, it was time!" Hafley's laugh was harsh. "What I don't understand, Kamele, is why you waited so long. The Liaden bed-toy performed his function well. You had years ago gotten your introductions to the high scholars and ingratiated yourself into their regard. A well-enough plan, aptly executed, and nothing more than a canny scholar with an eye to her future – and her daughter's! – might put in motion. Though the Liaden wasn't quite well-placed enough to get you into the Tower, was he?"

"I believe that Professor Kiladi is well-thought-of at the Administrative levels," Kamele said, carefully now.

"I'm certain that he is," Hafley said, with heavy sarcasm, "but are you?" She plucked a pink sponge cake flower from the pastry tray on the table between them and disposed of it in one bite.

"You are not thought of by Admin at all!" she said, answering her own question somewhat stickily. "And that was not very forward-looking. If you wish to solidify your position, you'll need Admin behind you. Unless," she continued, giving Kamele a speculative look, "unless that is the reason you've come back? The Liaden is getting long in the tooth, and I daresay he isn't as... satisfactory... as he might once have been. A rising young Administrator, however... Parlay the position you gained from the old man, and, of course, your own worth as a full professor and a woman at the height of her powers. Yes, that might well open the Tower to you. A young man warms the bed nicely, if I may offer the benefit of my experience – and so eager to be led! It will be quite a change for you."

Kamele thought about her coffee, but did not reach for it. Her anger was gaining on her puzzlement – and Hafley must not see her hand shake.

"It's kind of you to say, Chair," she said, keeping her voice calm. "One does like to know that one's planning is appropriate."

"Appropriate," Hafley agreed, reaching for the pot and pouring herself more coffee. She did not offer to warm Kamele's cup.

"Appropriate," she said again, as if the word had savor, "but so time-consuming. Had you not lingered so long outside the Wall, this plan might have served you better. As it is, I believe I may save you some time – and perhaps some effort."

"You... intrigue me," Kamele said honestly.

"Of course I do; you are a woman of ambition. Now, how if I were to offer you entree to highest levels of the Tower, immediately upon our return to Delgado? Of course you may still wish to secure that warm and eager-to-please ornament to your sagacity. But! Your choice need not then be constrained by a job title."

She didn't care if her hands shook or not, Kamele thought; she needed coffee.

The cup was tepid now; she drank it anyway. A memory rose: Jen Sar's first polite sip of the coffee she had made for the two of them to share: a special blend, purchased for the occasion. By the measuring glance he'd given the satiny dark beverage, he'd been braced for staff-room coffee, and it had been liquid bliss to see his eyebrows rise in surprise, and his lips soften into a smile when he lowered the cup.

"I wonder, Chair," Kamele said, putting her cup down and reaching for the pot. Her hands were quite steady, after all. What a surprise. "I wonder what you mean to say?"

Hafley laughed and chose another sweet cake from the tray. "Why, only that I can forward your ambition, Scholar. All you need do is ally yourself with me, and to support my purpose."

* * * *

Phobai took off her jacket and tossed it into a far corner.

"It might be tall enough," she said, tilting a measuring eye toward the ceiling; "if we're careful!"

"Oh, we'll be careful, we will," Cordrey said, stripping out of his jacket and dropping it casually next to hers.

Theo looked up, and shook her head. "I don't think I can jump that high, even if the gravity shifts and I dance real hard!"

Cordrey laughed, and leapt straight up, arm over head, fingers extended. He might, Theo thought, have been trying to touch the ceiling. If so, he missed by several hand-lengths, and dropped lightly to the floor.

"See?" he said to Phobai. "Careful."

He went off to the side and began tapping at the walls, his ear close. At a little distance, Win Ton was paying serious attention to the floor, scuffing at some spots, tapping at others.

Curious, Theo looked down, surprised to find that the surface was like the Scavage court – elastic and slick. She bounced experimentally on her toes, pleased at the give. Maybe she could touch the ceiling, after all.

"Hey, Theo."

She turned to face Phobai, who had taken off her jersey, to reveal a sleeveless stretchy shirt that looked like a dance top. She lifted her arms, swept her hair up, gave it a twist and pinned it into a smooth knot at the back of her neck. Theo felt a pang, lost when the pilot smiled at her.

"You might want to take off that sweater. Things are likely to get warm."

"Oh!" Theo looked down at herself, disconcerted by the long sleeves, so comfortable for most of the ship's tourist areas – and not comfortable at all for dancing.

She sighed and looked back to Phobai. "I'm afraid I didn't bring any dance clothes."

"You're among friends," Phobai said, smiling. She leaned forward and brushed Theo's hair off her forehead. "If you need to get comfortable, we'll understand."

"Phobai!" Cordrey called from across the room. "Listen to this, will you?"

No one had asked her to do anything, so Theo walked out into the center of the floor, and began Stretch Sequence Three from dance class. The sequence ended with a jump, and she surprised herself – maybe she could touch the ceiling after all!

She landed light, gasping a laugh, and glanced around her. Phobai and Cordrey were down-room, their heads together over a section of wall.

Well. She danced a step, another; heard Professor Noni's high voice chanting the time in her head – "One, two, three; one, two three; one, two, three, four!" – swayed, her arms moving in pattern across her chest and belly, the steps unrolling, as her hands came up, pushing air...

As she spun into the last sentence, and there was Win Ton, moving with her, his steps a flowing reflection of hers. They came to rest on the final four, and she heard him say, softly. "Again, one, two..."

She stepped into the dance again, delighted as they moved, each the perfect reflection of the other. The module flowing around them like water.

Four.

Theo came to rest, hands folded before her.

Win Ton spun to the left, hands describing the dimensions of an invisible ball – and stopped, flat-footed and abruptly graceless, as he realized that he danced alone.

"Shall we not continue?" His voice was wistful.

"I... don't know any more," she said, feeling more than a little wistful herself. "Professor Noni was going to teach us the next module, but my mother took me out of school to travel with her." Funny, she thought, how she wasn't so sure that was a bad thing, anymore. "I – could you teach me the next part? Bek says I catch new steps quicker than anyone he's seen, and he's been dancing since he was a littlie."

Win Ton was seen to take a breath.

"I can and I will teach you the next part, Theo Waitley," he said, sounding stern, and much older. "Your instructor should be – to leave a student with only the first four moves of the most basic self-defense? How can this – "