Colemenoport
Wayfarer
There had been a few letters for the master trader to deal with—the most notable from Janifer Denobli, informing him that the Carresens-Denobli Syndicate had approved Travelers Aid for Tinsori Light, to assist the light keepers.
It was far more assistance than Shan had supposed would arise from his discussions with Trader Denobli regarding Clan Korval’s newest acquisition—a space station from the Old Universe, in very-most need of upgrades.
Unlooked-for or not, the aid was appreciated, and so Shan wrote to Denobli, thanking him warmly, and wondering after any other adventures the trader would be pleased to share.
He offered a brief overview of the trade mission’s progress since its arrival on Colemeno, the chiefest in the three-planet Redlands system, while neglecting to mention Old Gods embracing their endings on a weird and twilit hill, with witnesses in a circle around them.
He did recommend the history of the Redlands to Denobli’s study, and mentioned that the Small Talents who had arrived so long ago were thriving. Denobli was shrewd; he need say no more than that.
He closed shortly after that recommendation, promising himself the pleasure of writing at more length in the very near future.
Letters dispatched, Shan sat back in his chair and sighed.
He ought, he supposed, to write to his delm, informing them of progress, but really, there had been little quantifiable progress so far, aside from being the first tradeship to arrive at Colemeno after its emergence from Rostov’s Dust.
The delm, in fact, had tasked Master Trader yos’Galan with identifying new avenues of income to replenish Clan Korval’s depleted coffers, and so far Master Trader yos’Galan’s endeavors had been notable for depleting those coffers even more.
Well, no. In Balance, Master Trader yos’Galan’s efforts had not all been expensive and inept. There was the new contract written with the Carresens-Denobli Syndicate. That would turn a profit sooner rather than later. And the partnership he had formed with Janifer Denobli would surely begin producing income in a few Standards.
The Redlands, however . . . so far that column was red.
He was somewhat more confident of being able to turn the trick, now that he had begun to dig into the reality of the market. Certainly, there was short-term money to be made in equipment upgrades, current maps, histories, and other such things.
And there was the fact that Colemeno had not been bereft of trade during its time engulfed. The Iverson Loop, serving other worlds likewise cut off from the wide universe by the Dust, had made Colemeno the terminus of their route. The Isfelm Trade Union, in the person of Trader Isfelm, was a principal in that Loop, and the trader was eager to deal.
Given that the systems further in were still somewhat Dust-bound, there was very little doubt that Colemeno could be brought up to scratch, and made to support a combined Korval/Ixin trade office.
What remained was to bring the Redlands into a sensible and useful route. He had spent time with his charts and his routes-books on the way to the Redlands, but so far, he had not—
The door to the room he shared with Priscilla opened, and here came his lifemate herself, wan, and her pattern not so much glittering with energy as spitting sparks.
“Priscilla.” He rose and went to her, arms out.
She melted into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I am very tired,” she stated.
“I see that you are,” he murmured, as he scanned her more closely. “Does your head hurt?”
“Only a little.”
“Unacceptable,” he said, locating the sullen glow of the headache. “Allow me to mend that for you.”
It scarcely required more than to think about releasing the pain for it to be gone. There was much to like about Colemeno’s effervescent atmosphere, Shan thought; certainly, it made Healing effortless.
In his arms Priscilla sighed, the tension going out of her shoulders. Shan leaned his head against hers.
“I have,” he whispered into her ear, “a marvelous plan.”
“What is it?” Priscilla whispered back.
“We should seek our bed, and go to sleep.”
Priscilla gasped a small laugh.
“I like that plan,” she said.
Æ
Vanz’s had been the last letter in the queue. After a brief struggle, Padi set it aside until she had time to give it the answer it deserved.
In the meanwhile—
She glanced at the clock on the table next to her bed. It was . . . rather late, according to local time, and tomorrow would be strenuous. The path of wisdom led to bed, now rather than later.
So thinking, she closed her screen, and was very shortly thereafter slipping under her blanket.
She turned the room lights off with a word, and settled her head on the pillow, which was scented with something warm and woody. At home, her pillow was scented with lavender, light and sweet, and for a startling moment, she wanted that pillow under her head now, and the house full of her kin all around.
She took a deep, calming breath, drawing the woody scent into her lungs. It was not lavender, but it was soothing in its way.
Padi closed her eyes.
. . . and opened them again, shifting her head, and turning onto her side. She took deep, deliberate breaths; pictured the center of her being as a still silver pool—but it would not do.
The room was too quiet, she thought, and she spoke the command for low-frequency filler sound.
The sound came up to the proper level, and Padi—
Sat up, turned her pillow over, lay down on her opposite side, and waited, rather impatiently, for sleep.
Sleep, however, continued to elude her.
She looked at the clock on the bedside table—and winced.
You might, she told herself carefully, take board rest.
Only, board rest borrowed against future energy, and, while beneficial in the short run, was not as restorative as—
It is a very small thing I give; soft, sweet, and infinitely useful to you, Father whispered in memory. There was a delightful taste on her tongue, and a brief glimpse of a pattern in lambent silver, spinning comfort at the back of her mind in the instant before it, too, dissolved.
Padi sighed, and slipped into sleep.