Colemenoport
Wayfarer
Her bedroom snapped into being around her, bittersweet, and Padi sighed, casting a thought to Tekelia, as, on Liad, one might throw a flower to a favorite.
Something warm returned along the line of that thought—a sense that Tekelia was pleased to accept her token, and wished her a merry day.
Padi laughed, and spun toward Lady Selph’s residence. The norbear was curled tightly into a pile of grass, a scrap of soft fabric tucked protectively against her belly.
Father must have made her a doll, Padi thought, with mingled worry and amusement.
She retreated without waking the elderly lady, and entered the ’fresher, emerging very shortly to pull on proper trade clothes. Leaving her jacket on the end of the bed, she leaned over her computer, tapping it awake to check her messages—and abruptly sat down.
There was an urgent message from her father at the top of the queue; and an urgent message from the master trader just below it.
Both? Padi stared. What could possibly have happened, that both her father and the master trader deemed it urgent? Something at home, she thought, breath caught, and throat tight, the faces of her kin flickering before her mind’s eye. Had the Department of the Interior made a strike? Surebleak was little more than a backworld, defenseless against—
A wave of half-humorous commonsense washed through her, and Padi shook her head.
“Yes, of course,” she murmured. “No need to panic until we read what’s been written.”
Shaking her head, she opened the first letter.
Her father desired her to ping him when she had returned home; and to meet him on the roof.
The master trader desired the same.
Well. That was puzzling, but not necessarily alarming.
Padi sent the pings and glanced down the message queue, finding no urgent business—nor anything from Vanz or Gordy. Which just meant that they were busy—as she was.
She closed her eyes for a moment to better see the Ribbons dancing across the night sky—and felt a breath of quiet joy like warm lips pressed against her cheek.
Smiling, she returned the salute, and rose to put her jacket on.
* * *
She found him at the far end of the garden, one booted foot on the parapet, elbow across thigh, gazing out over the port.
He was also dressed for trade, though his jacket was folded atop a basket sitting on the nearby stone table. The breeze was running fingers through his hair, and his face, with its strong nose and decided chin, was in profile quite forbidding. Around him—Padi frowned, squinting somewhat—yes, there was a small, color-shot tumult surrounding him, as if they were Ribbons, dancing.
“Good morning, Father,” she said gently.
The pensive figure at the wall drew a breath and sighed it out before straightening and turning toward her with a smile.
“Good morning, Daughter. Allow me to congratulate you on an early return.”
“I wanted to be in time to check my mail before the team’s breakfast meeting.”
“Ah, the breakfast meeting! That has been put back to a luncheon meeting. I hope you are not too cast down to have only myself as a companion in breaking your fast.”
“I’m always happy to be with you, Father,” Padi said, her eye drawn to the roil of color outlining him.
“Perhaps not always,” he said, moving toward the table. “I seem to recall a few occasions when neither of us was particularly happy with the other.”
“Well, but that must be so, mustn’t it?” Padi answered. “In any association as long as ours, there will be times of differing opinions. Given our lineage, I think we can agree that we’ve fallen in much more often than we’ve fallen out.”
“I think you may be correct,” Father said, shifting his jacket and opening the basket. He rummaged briefly and turned, holding two vacuum cups.
“I hope you will find the local morning wake-up brew acceptable,” he said, handing her a cup.
“More than acceptable,” Padi assured him. “I fear I’m developing a fondness.”
“It’s pleasant to have favorites on this world or that,” Father said, raising his cup. “It makes a return that much more delightful.”
He set his cup down and began to unload the basket.
“You ought to know that your proposed picnic with Tekelia-dramliza resonated so deeply that Priscilla and I had one of our own, up here by the waterfall. These”—he flourished a bowl before setting it down on the table—“are left over. Luzant iberFel treasures heroic notions of what constitutes a romantic meal for two.”
Padi thought of the quantities of food she had consumed yesterday, and smiled.
“She doesn’t want an incident,” she said, taking a covered bowl from Father’s hand, and setting it on the table.
“I daresay that’s it,” he said, removing another bowl. Padi took that, as well, and he dove back into the basket, emerging with plates, and two sets of utensils wrapped in napkins.
“Well, there. Serve yourself, Daughter.”
She did so, even taking a slice of cake onto her plate before sitting down. Father was still choosing his meal, and again her eye was drawn to the dancing outline—
“Am I casting an unusual shadow?”
Padi blinked, and met a quizzical silver gaze.
“I hardly know,” she said truthfully. “I’ve not seen it before, but, right now—there are colors all about you, like—like an aura. Or as if the ambient is . . . excited in your presence.”
Father lifted an eyebrow, and turned to his plate.
“When I was quite a boy,” he murmured, “I had used to see ‘sparkles’ around people. Disconcerting to my elders, of course, at least until I learned that not all such beauty could be clasped in the hand.”
Padi blinked, recalling Ribbons dancing overhead, and how she was able to extend her own particular lavender ribbon, and receive Tekelia’s crimson in return.
“Did you have a pleasant day off, Daughter?”
“It was extremely pleasant. I may have to make a habit. In the evening, we went to the Ribbon Dance, which was—exceptional. I met a great many people and—I can fly.”
He glanced at her.
“Can you, indeed? Will that be your preferred mode, going forward?”
Padi frowned, and brought her attention within, seeking the surety of the night before—and finding it sadly absent.
“I think it may have been an . . . effect of the ambient, on the Hill, you know, with the Ribbons risen.”
“Perhaps you will show me, someday,” Father said, and returned to his meal.
Padi did the same, accounting for everything she had taken, including the cake, and picked up her cup.
Father pushed his empty plate away, raised his cup and shook it lightly.
“I fear we have outpaced our resources. There is bottled water in the basket, if you’re thirsty.”
“I’m well enough for now,” Padi said, and hesitated.
“Do not hold shy, Child,” Father murmured. “What would you say?”
“The master trader also sent that he wished to speak with me,” Padi said slowly.
“And you were naturally wondering what the tiresome fellow has to say for himself. I ask a few minutes indulgence, yet, before the master trader. I would first like you to know that Priscilla has agreed to return to the Passage—”
Padi jerked upright.
“She has?”
“Well you might be astonished. But, yes, she has agreed that it is prudent to have a wellness examination done by our Healer and our medic. Once we know how matters stand with her and the child, we will see what further decisions must be made.”
He paused, one eyebrow lifting somewhat.
“Now, I believe we must have the master trader. For you see, Trader Padi, Captain Mendoza’s capitulation came with a price. She—rightly!—pointed out that her lifemate had taken severe wounds which had not healed by the time we raised Colemeno. She also pointed out that, upon discovering the exhilarating effects of the ambient, her lifemate—unwisely, perhaps, but understandably—chose to operate with his shields open, at the same time the master trader embarked on an ambitious course of preliminary market evaluation.”
He paused. Padi became aware that she had been holding her breath, and filled her lungs.
The master trader extended his hand, palm down, and rocked it back and forth.
“These facts, combined with the information that Colemeno’s ambient conditions act as a constant systemic stress, has made Captain Mendoza anxious regarding her lifemate’s health. As she put it—very succinctly, so I thought at the time!—‘We do not know if the ambient heals.’”
Padi stared at him.
“But—are we giving up on Colemeno? The inventory—”
“Tut, tut, Trader yos’Galan, where are your wits? Of course we’re not giving up on Colemeno. The inventory, as you point out, has only just begun, and I assure you that it was not invoked in a spirit of play.”
“No, sir, of course not,” Padi said, “but—”
He raised his hand, the master trader’s amethyst glinting.
“I anticipate you, I think. I did pledge myself to assist Qe’andra dea’Tolin. I have discussed the situation with her, and she assures me that she will have help aplenty, and has released me from my promise.”
“Oh,” Padi said inelegantly. Her heart was racing, but her brain was curiously bemired, as if it could not quite draw a conclusion, when it was perfectly obvious that Father and Priscilla were going back to the Passage and the master trader was—
“You can’t be leaving me in charge of the trade mission!” she exclaimed.
The master trader looked abashed.
“Your pardon, Trader. I ought to have first inquired if you are ill or incapacitated. I ask you to forgive my lapse, and put these questions now before you. Please do honor me with your usual frankness.”
Padi glared at him.
“I am perfectly well—more than perfectly well, sir! But you must recall that I have only very recently come to wear the garnet. Colemeno is my first experience of trade missions and opening a new port. A whole port inventory is, is—a textbook exercise to me!”
“As it once was to me,” the master trader said soothingly. “I learned the particulars in the field, when Master Trader Er Thom was moved to explore Jitsu as a potential hub.”
Padi blinked.
“Jitsu? Jitsu isn’t a hub.”
“No, it’s not,” the master trader agreed. “Its inadequacies were revealed by the whole port inventory.”
“Was Master Er Thom very put out?”
“Disappointed, certainly. Jitsu did look likely from a moderate distance, and it would have solved several knotty transshipping problems. He went on to open Vanilette as a hub, and solved the freight-transfer difficulties by buying into one of the bounce stations at Ebra’s Pearls, for the cost of upgrades.”
He moved a big hand.
“I, the garnet new on my finger, learned from Jitsu, as did Master Er Thom. It is my expectation that you will learn from Colemeno. I do allow that we are somewhat shorter on staff than we were on Jitsu, but the concepts and the protocols remain the same. Now, as then, we are fortunate in our team, and I anticipate . . . ”
He paused, casting a glance upward, as if searching for storm clouds in the bright sky.
“I anticipate that there is no more chance than usual of something going amiss,” he said, meeting her eyes.
Padi took a breath.
“That is not,” she said, “very comforting.”
“It was meant for honesty. You seem alarmed, Trader. I wonder—ah! I see what it is! You are concerned that you will be flying alone! Nothing could be further from my intent. You must know that, while I repose the greatest confidence in you, and know you to be the equal of any challenge, I will not leave you bereft of both my person and my advice. It would be quite unlike me to withhold my advice, would you say?”
Padi met his eyes.
“In fact, it would be wholly unlike you,” she agreed, beginning to feel more settled in herself.
The master trader smiled.
“I think it only fair to warn you that I will want detailed reports, according to a schedule that we will have in place before the luncheon meeting. Understand me, Trader Padi—I will expect you to discuss your actions and the reasons for those actions in depth. In return, I promise I will not hold shy of sharing my experience, my opinions, and my necessities with you.”
Padi closed her eyes, quickly reviewing a piloting exercise meant to impart calm in stressful situations.
Opening her eyes, she said, “That is somewhat more comforting.”
“I exist to solace you, Trader Padi.”
“Yes, certainly, but—”
“Do you wish to give up Colemeno, Trader?”
“No, sir, I do not!”
“It pleases me to hear you say so. Whom do you propose to stand as Trader-in-Charge in the absence of the master trader, if not yourself?”
And that was the question, wasn’t it? Padi thought. Put thus, it, too, was rather comforting.
“There is only me,” she admitted.
“Why, yes. How perceptive of you. Have we an accord?”
Padi sighed, and extended her hand, palm up.
“Master Trader, we do.”
“Excellent,” he said, and placed his palm against hers.
“I propose that we remove to your office to formulate a detailed plan, so that we may present an orderly transfer at the luncheon meeting.”
The master trader sat back.
“Priscilla and I will be going up to the Passage this evening, which I do realize is rather soon,” Father said. “However, neither the captain nor the master trader is in much demand at the moment. Lady Selph will return to the Passage with us.”
“No,” Padi said. “No, please leave her.”
“She does miss her cuddle, you know, which she might have seen as a fair trade, had there been new contacts available to her. To be confined to a cage, no matter how splendid, and all alone—it must be dreadfully flat for her.”
“Yes, I see, but—there is someone who may be in need of her counsel.” She took a breath. “Ribbon Dance Village has come to stand guardian over two children, orphaned. The kin that remain to them are more interested in gaining their property than caring for them. They have all their lives been attended by a norbear, and the village wishes to—honor his rights. Lady Selph may be able to assist norbear, village, and the children, too. I would like to put the problem to her, and see if she has an interest. If she would rather return to the ship, then of course, she should go.”
“I see. By all means, place the matter before her.”
“Also, I have undertaken to build a search regarding norbear sentience for Tekelia,” Padi continued. “Tekelia will sort the results.”
“ . . . and will come to stand as an elder before the sorting is through. Norbears are a . . . complicated subject.”
“I had feared as much,” Padi admitted, and looked up into the tame and Ribbonless sky.
“It is very pleasant out here,” she said. “However, if you are leaving tonight—”
“Yes. There is work before us.”
* * *
They had repacked the basket, and were turning toward the door before Padi recalled one other piece of business.
“Father, I have something for you,” she said, pulling the blue-and-green stone coaster out of her pocket.
He received it with both brows well up.
“Truth told, I never thought to see this again,” he said. “Where did you find it?”
“I sent it to Tekelia,” Padi said, and moved her shoulders. “Tekelia says that they must have been close in my thoughts, and offers that the ambient very often operates in such a way.”
“The ambient,” he murmured, slipping the coaster away into his pocket.
“Had Tekelia any insight regarding how the ambient might have invaded the Passage while it was yet some distance from Colemeno?”
“No, sir.”
“Well,” said Father. “That’s encouraging.”