Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden 1394 - Lord of the Dance.pdf - Sharon Lee - margozap

It was snowing, of course.

The gentleman looked out the window as the groundcar moved quietly through the dark streets.

His streets.

And really, he said to himself irritably, you ought to be able to hit upon some affordable way

of lighting them.

"What are you thinking, Pat Pin?" His lady's voice was soft as the snow, her hand light on his

knee. And he was a boor, to ignore her most welcome presence in wor-ries over street lamps.

He leaned back in the seat, placed his hand over hers, and looked into her dark eyes.

"I was thinking how pretty the snow is," he murmured.

She laughed and he smiled as the car turned the cor-ner — and abruptly there was light, spilling

rich and yellow from all of the doors and windows of Audrey's whorehouse, warming the dark sidewalks

and spinning the snowflakes into gold.

"Boss. Ms. Natesa." Villy bowed with grace, if without nuance, and pulled the door wide. "You

honor our house."

Great gods. Pat Rin carefully did not look at his lady as he inclined his head.

"We are of course pleased to accept Ms. Audrey's in-vitation," he murmured. "It has been an age

since I have danced."

The boy smiled brilliantly. "We hoped you'd be pleased, sir." He pointed to the left, blessedly

returning to a more Terran mode. "You can leave your coats in the room, there, then join everybody in

the big parlor."

"'Thank you," Pat Rin said, and moved off as the bell chimed again, Natesa on his arm.

"Who," he murmured, for her ear alone, "do you suppose has been tutoring Villy in the Liaden

mode?"

"Why shouldn't he be teaching himself?" she coun-tered, slanting a quick, subtle look into his

face. "He admires you greatly, master."

"Most assuredly he does," Pat Rin replied, with irony, and paused before the small room which

served as a public closet for the clients of Ms. Audrey's house. Natesa removed her hand from his arm

and turned, allowing him to slip the long fleece coat from her shoulders. The remains of snowflakes

glittered on the dark green fabric like a span-gle of tiny jewels. He shook it out and stepped into the

closet.

The hooks and hangers were crowded with a variety of garments: oiled sweaters, thick woolen

shirts, scarred spaceleather jackets, and two or three evening cloaks in the Liaden style.

Pat Rin removed his own cloak and hung it carefully over Natesa's coat. Shaking out his lace, he

stepped back into the hallway, where his lady waited in her sun-yellow gown.

He paused, his heart suddenly constricted in his chest. Natesa's black eyebrows rose, just

slightly, and he moved a hand in response to the question she did not voice.

"You overwhelm me with your beauty," he said. She laughed softly and stepped forward to take

his arm again.

"And you overwhelm me with yours," she answered in her lightly accented High Liaden. "Come,

let us see if to-gether we may not overwhelm the world."

The doors between the public parlor and the visitors' lounge had been opened and tied back; the

furniture moved out of the public parlor and the serviceable beige rug rolled up, revealing a surprisingly

wide expanse of plas-tic tile in a deep, mostly unscarred brown. A refreshment table was placed along

the back wall, directly beneath--

Pat Rin blinked.

When not pressed into duty as a dance hall, the pub-lic parlor of Ms. Audrey's bordello

displayed certain ...works of art... as might perhaps serve to beguile the mind away from the cares of the

day and toward the mutual enjoyment of pleasure.

This evening, the walls had been--transformed.

The artwork was gone, or mayhap only hidden behind objects, which, had anyone dared

challenge Pat Rin to describe twelve items belonging to Korval that he least expected to find on public

display, he would certainly have placed within the top six.

Nursery rugs, they were--the design based upon a star map. Three rugs together formed the

whole of the map, the original of which he had himself seen, preserved in Korval's log books.

One rug had lain on the floor of the nursery at Jelaza Kazone. The second, in the schoolroom at

Trealla Fantrol. The third--the third had covered the floor in the small private parlor the boy Pat Rin had

shared with his foster-father, Luken bel'Tarda.

And yet on the wall directly across from him--the rug, the very rug, from Trealla Fantrol. And on

the wall to his right, the rug from Jelaza Kazone.

Carefully, Pat Rin turned his head, and--yes, there on the wall behind them was the rug from his

childhood, looking just as it always had, close-looped and unworn, its colors as bright as--

"Pat Rin?" Natesa murmured. "Is something amiss?" l

He shook himself, and turned his head to smile at her.

"Merely--unexpected, let us say.” He waved a lan-guorous hand. "What a crush, to be sure!"

This was not strictly the case. Still, the big parlor was comfortably crowded, the conversation

level somewhat louder than one might perhaps have expected at a similar gathering in Solcintra. Bosses

of several of the nearer terri-tories were present, including Penn Calhoon, as well as the Portmaster, and

a good mix of local merchants.

Across the room, white hair gleaming in the abun-dant light, his cousin Shan stood in deep

conversation with Narly Jempkins, chairman of the nascent Surebleak Mercan-tile Union.

"We arrive among the last, as suits our station," Natesa said softly, which bait he ignored in favor

of inclin-ing his head to their hostess, who was approaching in a rus-tle of synthsilk, her pale hair

intricately dressed, and an easy smile on her face.

"Boss. Natesa. I'm real glad you could come."

"Audrey." Natesa smiled and extended a hand, which the older woman clasped between both of

hers.

"Winter has been too long," Natesa said. "How clever of you to think of a dance!"

Audrey laughed. "Wish I could say it was all my idea! Miri was the one put the seed in my head,

if you want the truth. Said she had too much energy and no place to spend it, which I'll say between the

three of us ain't the usual com-plaint of new-birthed mothers."

"Miri is an example to us all," Pat Rin murmured, which pleasantry Audrey greeted with another

laugh.

"Ain't she just--and your brother's another one! When I invite a man to a dance and I don't

expect him to bring his keyboard and set up with the band. That's just what he's done, though--take a

look!" She pointed down the room, where was collected a fiddle, a guitar, a drum set, a portable

omnichora — and several musicians wearing what passed for stage finery on Surebleak, clustered about

a slender man in a ruffled white shirt and formal slacks that would have been unexceptional at any evening

gather in Solcintra.

It had been ...disconcerting... to find that Audrey, with the rest of Pat Rin's acquaintance on

Surebleak, as-sumed that Val Con, his cousin and his Delm, was in fact his younger brother, brought in

to care for the transplanted family business while the Boss undertook the important task of putting the

streets in order.

As the misapprehension only amused Miri, and Val Con's sole comment on the matter was a

slightly elevated eyebrow, Pat Rin gave over attempting to explain their actual relationship and resigned

himself to having at his ad-vanced age acquired a sibling.

"For a time, he and Miri sang for their suppers," he said now to Audrey. "Perhaps he misses the

work."

"Could be," she answered, as the sound of footsteps and voices grew louder in the hall behind

them. She sent a look over his shoulder, extended a hand and patted his sleeve lightly.

"The two of you go on in and circulate. Dancing ought to be starting up soon."

Thus dismissed, Pat Rin followed Natesa deeper into the parlor.

Ms. Audrey's big parlor, already crowded, grew more so. Deep in a discussion with Etienne

Borden and Andy Mack, which involved free-standing solar batteries, and the benefits of light level

meters over mechanical timers, Pat Rin still registered an abrupt lowering of the ambient noise and looked

around, thinking that the promised music was at last about to begin. But no.

It was his mother entering the room, on the arm of no one less than Scout Commander

ter'Meulen, dressed for the occasion in High House best, his face oh-so-politely bland, and his mustache

positively noncommittal.

Pat Rin, who had all his life known Scout ter'Meulen, could only wonder at the reasons behind

such a display--not to mention the why and wherefore of Lady Kareen accepting his arm for anything at

all. They were neither one a friend of the other, though it had always seemed to Pat Rin that the greater

amusement was on Clonak's side and the greater dislike on his mother's. Surely--

Audrey bustled forward to welcome these newest arrivals, her high, sweet voice easily rising

above the other conversations in the room.

"I knew you'd turn the trick, Mister Clonak!" she said gaily, patting him kindly on the shoulder.

This was appar-ently a dismissal, as Clonak adroitly disengaged himself from the lady's arm, took two

steps into the parlor and was lost in the general crush.

Audrey turned to face Kareen squarely, and Pat Rin's stomach tightened, as he contemplated

disaster. Even had he not counted Audrey a friend, he thought, it was surely no more than his duty to

stand between her and Lady Ka-reen yos'Phelium, in the same way that it was his duty as Boss to stand

between the residents of his streets and mayhem.

He murmured something quick and doubtless unin-telligible to the Colonel and the assistant

portmaster, and slipped through the press of bodies, moving as quickly as he was able.

"Lady Kareen," Audrey said clearly. "Be welcome in my house."

It was the proper sentiment, properly expressed, thought Pat Rin, working his way forward.

Though what--and from whom--his mother might exact as Balance for be-ing made welcome at a

whorehouse--

"Well met, cousin!" Val Con murmured, astonish-ingly slipping his arm through Pat Rin's. "Where

to in such a rush?"

"If you would not see a murder done--or worse--" Pat Rin hissed into the frigid silence that

followed Audrey's greeting--"let me tend to this!"

"Nay I think you wrong both our host and your lady mother," Val Con said tranquilly, his grip on

Pat Rin's arm tightening. "Besides, the hand is dealt."

"You know what my mother is capable--"

"Peace," his cousin interrupted. "My aunt is about to play her first card."

"Who speaks?" Lady Kareen's Terran was heavily accented, but perfectly intelligible; her tone as

frigid as the wind in high winter.

It was of course quite mad to even consider that he might extricate himself from the brotherly

embrace of one who was both a pilot and a Scout. Nonetheless, Pat Rin took a careful breath to

camouflage his shift of weight--and felt warm fingers around his unencumbered hand. He looked down,

equally dismayed and unsurprised to see Miri grinning up at him, grey eyes glinting.

"Take it easy, Boss," she whispered. "Audrey's good for this."

He began to answer, then closed his mouth tightly. The fact that this had been planned--that

Audrey had been coached on form and manner...

"That's right," their host was saying equitably to his mother. "You won't know that. I'm Audrey

Breckstone, boss of this house. I'm happy to see you."

Not for nothing did Lady Kareen stand foremost among the scholars of the Liaden Code of

Proper Conduct. She not only knew her Code, but she practiced it, meticulously Rather too meticulously,

as some might think. But there was perhaps, Pat Rin thought now, an advantage--to Audrey, to the

house, and to Kareen herself--in an extremely nice reading of Code in regard to this particular

circumstance.

It was not for a mere son to say what weights and measures were called into consideration as his

mother stood there, head tipped politely to one side, face smooth and emotionless, but surely the

unworthy scholar who had studied Code at her feet might make certain shrewd and informed guesses.

Whether Audrey possessed the native genius to have added that guileless, "I'm happy to see

you," to her intro-duction, or whether she had been coached in what she was to say mattered not at all.

That she had uttered the phrase in apparent sincerity placed her melant'i somewhat in re-gard to the

melant'i of Kareen yos'Phelium. Here was, in fact, a delm--at most--or a head of Line--at least--so

secure in her own worth and the worth of her house that she not only welcomed, but was happy to

receive, the burden of a visit from a high stickler who might ruin her and hers with a word.

Or, to phrase the matter in the parlance of Sunbleak, Audrey had in essence said to Kareen: I

see that you're armed, and I'm your equal.

"I am pleased to accept the greeting of the house," Lady Kareen stated, and bowed--Expert to

Expert--which allowed a certain limited equality between herself and her host, and placed a finer

measuring into the future, after more data had been gathered and weighed.

To her credit--or that of her tutor--Audrey did not attempt to answer the bow. Instead, she

smiled, and of-fered her arm.

"There's going to be music and dancing for the youngers in just a bit, now," she said. "But I'm

betting that a woman of good sense would like to have a glass of wine in her hand."

There was a slight hesitation as Kareen performed the mental gymnastics necessary to untangle

this, then she stepped forward and placed her hand lightly on Audrey's sleeve.

"Thank you," she said austerely. "A glass of wine would be most welcome."

The two ladies moved off toward the refreshment ta-ble as the rest of the guests shook

themselves and returned to interrupted conversations.

Pat Rin remembered to breathe.

"See?" Miri gave his hand a companionable squeeze before releasing him, and sending another

grin up into his face. "Piece o'cake."

"As an author of the joke you might well say so," he replied, with feeling. "But consider how it

might seem to those who had no--

"Indeed, it was ill-done of us," Val Con murmured, slipping his arm away. "We had not taken

into account that your duty would place you between the two ladies."

Pat Rin turned to stare, and Val Con inclined his head, for all the worlds like a proper Liaden,

and mur-mured the phrase in high Liaden--"Forgive us, cousin. We do not intend to distress you, but to

attain clarity."

Sighing, Pat Rin also inclined his head, "It is forgotten," rising reflexively to his lips.

"Next time, we'll send you a clue ahead of time," Miri said.

He eyed her. "Must there be a next time?"

"Bound to be," she answered, not without a certain amount of sympathy. Her eyes moved,

tracking something beyond his shoulder.

"Band's settin' up," she said to Val Con.

"Ah," he returned, and lifted an eyebrow "Cousin, I am wanted at my 'chora."

"By all means, go," Pat Rin told him. "Perhaps Ms. Audrey will induce my mother to stand up

with Andy Mack."

The band played surprisingly well, and in a rather wider range than Pat Rin had expected, fiddle

and guitar at the fore, Val Con's omnichora weaving a light, almost insub-stantial, background.

At Ms. Audrey's insistence, he and Natesa had stood up for the first dance--a lively circle dance

not dissimilar to the nescolantz, which had been a staple at young people's balls when he had been

considerably younger. He spied Ms. Audrey, with Lady Kareen and Luken bel'Tarda at her side,

observing the pattern of the dance from the edge of the rug. Further on, Clonak ter'Meulen was in

animated conversation with Uncle Daav and Cheever McFarland.

At the end of the first dance, he relinquished Natesa to Priscilla with a bow, and started for the

refreshment table. He'd scarcely gone three steps before his hand was caught.

"Come," said his cousin Nova. “I claim you for the next dance!"

"Ah, do you?" He laughed, and allowed himself to be led back onto the floor. "'Then let us hope

the band pities me and produces a less spirited number!"

Alas, his wish had not reached the ears of the band leader, for the next dance was something

akin to a jig, re-quiring intricate footwork which he learned from step to step by the simple expedient of

observing Nova and repro-ducing her movement.

He'd done the same thing many times in the past, of course--a person of melant'i would naturally

take care to acquire the movements of a variety of dances, so that he might do his proper duty as a guest;

however, no one but a scholar of the form could hope to know the intricacies of all possible dances. A

quick eye and a flair for mimicry were therefore skills that a young person who wished to move without

offense through Solcintra's party season would do well to acquire.

Having survived the jig unbloodied, Pat Rin bowed to his fair partner, handed her off to his Uncle

Daav, and turned, setting his sights on a glass of wine and perhaps more discussion of solar arrays with

Andy Mack, who he could see speaking with Clonak to the left of the refreshment table.

This time, he was claimed by a smiling Villy who led him back out onto the floor with something

very like a skip in his step. At least, Pat Rin thought, the gods were at last kind: It was a square dance,

with he and Villy facing off as sides one and two, with Shan and Priscilla taking up the third side and the

fourth.

The slower pace was more than balanced by a complex, cumulative pattern of exchanges with

one's partner, thus: step forward, touch right hands, step back/step forward, touch right hands, then left,

step back--and so on, until the tune turned on itself and one began to subtract a gesture at the exchange,

and each dancer was at last back in their place, having regained all that had been given.

The music stopped the instant the second partner pair fell back into place. There was a moment

of tension, as if the dancers awaited another phrase from the musicians--then laughter, and light applause.

Their little square evapo-rated, Pat Rin moving with determination toward the re-freshment table, Shan

and Priscilla amiably keeping pace. He was sincerely thirsty now, and thinking in terms of a cool glass of

juice.

"Do you find the party agreeable?" he asked Priscilla.

"Perfectly agreeable," she said, with a seriousness that was belied by the glimmer of a smile in her

eyes. "Ms. Aud-rey said that she meant to host the dance of the winter."

"Which we thought would be no great challenge." Shan continued. "There being so few dances

held in the winter. Or the summer. Or the spring, come to belabor it."

Pat Rin considered him. "If you find a lack, cousin, you might host a ball or two yourself."

"Well, I might," Shan allowed. "If it weren't for the fact that the Delm has some foolish notion in

his head about bringing Surebleak up to a mid-tier spaceport, with a timetable of roughly right now.

Perhaps he's spoken to you on the subject?"

"He has," Pat Rin said, "and I must say that the Delm and I are as one on the matter."

"Well, then, what choice have I--a mere master trader!--commanded as I am by both the Delm

of Korval and the Boss of Surebleak? Duty, as always, must bow before pleasure, and so it is that

tomorrow I regretfully shake the snow of Surebleak from my boots and betake myself to Terran Trade

Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden 1394 - Lord of the Dance.pdf

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