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Colemenoport

Wayfarer


“Good evening, Priscilla.”

Shan draped his jacket over the back of the chair in the entry hall, and left his case on the seat.

Priscilla was sitting on the U-shaped sofa, working on a tablet. She glanced up with a smile.

“Good evening,” she said. “Sit, and I will fetch wine.”

“I am already standing, and in any case would welcome a glass of cold tea. Shall I freshen your glass?”

“Yes, thank you.”

She had put the tablet aside by the time he returned and sat down next to her.

He raised his glass toward her with a smile, and drank.

“No toast at all this evening, or is the tea not worthy?”

“The tea is everything that is worthy, and if I were able, I would give it such a toast as might transform it into wine. Alas, I have been buffeted from meeting to meeting since I left you this morning. My wit is at low ebb.”

“You might toast to less buffeting,” she suggested, raising her own glass.

Shan tipped his head, as if considering the merits of her suggestion.

“I might,” he said. “However, I feel strongly that a certain amount of buffeting—even consternation!—works in our favor. We are something new and unlooked-for, arriving at the door of an existing, not to say stagnant, system. It might not have been entirely comfortable, but it was familiar. Our very arrival has thrown order into disarray, widened the horizon of possibility, and kindled, so I hope, the spirit of adventure in the hearts of merchants and council. Really, it’s a wonder that any of us can sleep at night.”

He put his glass aside, and slid down to let his head rest on the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes, and for a moment merely sat, allowing himself to melt out of the stance, the mindset, the melant’i of master trader and into only—Shan.

Eyes closed, he could See Priscilla’s familiar and beloved pattern clearly. Even, one might say, with unusual clarity. That was Colemeno’s particular charged atmosphere at work. It fizzed along his Healer senses, exhilarating and . . . perhaps dangerous. At least risky. Probably. It might be wise to close his shields entirely, though they were open only the barest amount.

He had never felt less wise.

“Shall I bring you a blanket?” Priscilla asked.

He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her.

“Will you share it with me?”

“That could be arranged.”

“Temptress.”

Priscilla considered him, black eyes bright, each ebon curl flashing with energy. Her pattern sparkled—again, the influence of the ambient energies.

“Colemeno agrees with you,” he said.

“Colemeno acts upon me,” she corrected.

“As you say. Tell me how you enjoyed the lecture.”

Priscilla raised her eyebrows.

“What do I get in return?”

“An apt question. I offer a précis of my meeting with Trader Isfelm in the latter part of the day.”

“Done,” Priscilla said. She put her glass on the table, and curled ’round, drawing her legs up onto the cushion as she faced him.

“The lecture was in fact a dialogue between two scholars very well known to each other. They are doing a series, so Portmaster krogerSlyte tells me, and have received good reviews. Scholar sereWai is a historian, and Scholar rodaMildin a sociologist. I feel as though I learned quite a bit, and was entertained as well.”

She sighed.

“We attended the reception afterward, and Portmaster krogerSlyte introduced me to the scholars. I’m . . . afraid I have promised to let Scholar rodaMildin interview me, as a representative of the first group of unknowns to have raised the Redlands since the Dust’s arrival.”

“You have been busy. And the portmaster?”

“The portmaster is greatly encouraged to hear that the master trader is opening a whole port inventory. She is assigning additional rooms around our center here, for Jes and Dil Nem. She’s also opening an office suite adjacent to the trade mission office for Jes.”

“Well. If only everyone was so easy to please.”

Priscilla laughed softly.

“How fares Trader Isfelm?”

“Much in her usual style. She made me known to a number of useful persons, and promises more, in the fullness of time. In addition, she advised me to set up my own base, once we become regular here.”

“That’s good advice,” Priscilla said after a moment.

“It is, isn’t it?” He sat up and reached for his glass.

“Further on the topic of becoming regular here, Trader Isfelm states that she would favor going forward with a partnership, we providing goods not only for Colemeno, but to the Isfelm Trade Union and the Iverson Loop, which they will take on, and deliver to that portion of their Loop still entangled with the Dust.”

“Isn’t that rather . . . soon?”

“It may be. On the other hand, it’s also canny. The good trader feels she can trust us, because we are Dust Cousins.” He gave her a particularly earnest look.

Priscilla inclined her head gravely. “Of course,” she murmured.

“Yes, well. If we go to contract, she will have an existing arrangement in place, which she may then use as a baseline when other traders begin to arrive at Colemeno. In addition, she will have been among the first to contract with Tree-and-Dragon, which she will play to her advantage, or she’s not the trader I believe her to be.”

“And our benefit?”

“We will have an introduction to trade beyond Colemeno, with the wisdom of an established entity to guide us. Wherein lies the rub.”

He gazed down into his glass.

“I have been directed by Korval Themselves to establish profitable routes,” he said wryly. “Which means that, Dust-kin or merely pleasant fellow travelers, I must insist upon a trade audit.”

Priscilla frowned.

“The ship’s qe’andra—” she began.

Shan shook his head.

Qe’andra dea’Tolin is needed here, and will very soon discover herself with a sufficiency of work. I will this evening send to the delm and ask that Mr. dea’Gauss come to us in our hour of need.”

“Mr. dea’Gauss? The elder Mr. dea’Gauss?”

“Unless his health does not allow, in which case I believe I may depend upon the delm to find another dea’Gauss who is both brilliant, thoroughgoing, and willing to address an adventure.”

“When the qe’andra arrives, will you accompany them along Trader Isfelm’s Loop?”

He smiled at her kindly.

“Priscilla, you must be exhausted; your wits have gone wandering. The master trader will be continuing his proper work in opening this port, and establishing Tree-and-Dragon as the premier and preferred trade partner.”

He sipped his tea.

“Trader yos’Galan will accompany the qe’andra on the audit tour.”

“Which is why you want the elder Mr. dea’Gauss. Experience balancing enthusiasm.”

“Exactly.”

“Speaking of Padi,” Priscilla said. “Does she plan to share the meal with us this evening?”

Shan sighed, again seeing his daughter frowning at the air before snapping crisply out of sight, appearing to follow Tekelia-dramliza. One hesitated to interfere in the private matters of adults. On the other hand, there were expectable standards of courtesy. Such as sending a note to one’s parent, acknowledging receipt of an invitation to dine, and regretfully pleading a pressing prior engagement.

“Shan?” Priscilla murmured. He shook himself.

“I am behind in checking my messages. However, it may be that she is promised elsewhere.”

It was never wise to try to conceal things from Priscilla who, aside the familiarity granted lifemates, was perfectly able to See his unruly emotions.

“What’s happened?” she asked, sharply.

The door to Padi’s room snapped open and she strode out, her pattern fairly crackling with energy, and an expression of wide delight on her face.

“It worked!” she said exuberantly. “Oh, this is excellent!”


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