On-Grid
Wayfarer
Shan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Truth said, he was not looking forward to his next interview. A prudent man might very well decide not to engage with the subject at all.
His melant’is—none of his several melant’is allowed him to turn aside. Nor was he a fool; his first sally onto this particular field had left him bruised. To broach it twice was on its face an act of folly.
And yet, the master trader valued his captain; Thodelm yos’Galan valued a skilled and fertile adult of the Line; Shan valued his lifemate beyond all reason.
And that must stand as both his excuse and the melant’i from which he broached this, again, with Priscilla. Oh, the master trader might order, and Thodelm yos’Galan thunder, but any wounds would be dealt to living hearts.
He opened his eyes, pushing the chair back—and paused as the computer chimed. He had mail. Perhaps it would be complicated mail, requiring hours—days!—of research.
He tapped the screen.
Disappointingly, the note was very brief, requiring no research at all. Merely his daughter wished him to know, as the master trader had granted her the rest of the day off, that she was going to visit her friend Tekelia, who had proposed a picnic by the river. She expected to be home for tomorrow morning’s working breakfast.
A picnic by the river, he thought. How agreeable that sounded.
He closed the letter, and sat for a moment longer, considering. He could not provide a river, but a picnic on the rooftop garden was well within his reach. It seemed a well-enough day, outside the window. And surely a pleasant meal in convivial surroundings was the least a man could do for his lifemate before opening the door to strife.
He leaned to his computer again, wrote a brief note, then reached to the comm to call the kitchen.
* * *
“Good afternoon, Priscilla.”
He had spread the rug on the plush grass at the side of the pool. A miniature waterfall provided both music and a pleasantly damp breeze. A bottle of cold tea was set out, and the glasses ready; the rest of the feast yet hidden in the pretty basket provided by Luzant iberFel, who was apparently no stranger to romance.
“Good afternoon,” his lifemate answered, looking wryly at the rug. He stepped forward and helped her down to it before taking his place nearer to the basket.
“Tea?” he asked.
“Tea would be splendid,” she said.
He poured, offering her the first glass, which she held in both hands. Shan tapped it lightly with his.
“To my love,” he said.
Priscilla smiled, and drank, then settled somewhat, leaning lightly against him, and sighed.
“This was a good idea.”
“I wish I might say it was original with me, but I owe all and everything to Padi, who informed me that, released for the rest of the day by the master trader, she has chosen to picnic by the river with her friend Tekelia. It sounded so agreeable that I determined at once that we deserved a similar treat.”
“You’re not wrong,” Priscilla said, reaching to put her glass on the flat stone wall enclosing the tiny pool. “Do you think those little fish are edible?”
“Possibly, they are. However, we do not need to test the theory, or indeed exert ourselves in the slightest. Luzant iberFel has packed enough to feed the entire trade mission.”
“Because,” Priscilla murmured, “no one wants an incident.”
“I daresay that thought might have been in her mind.”
“Speaking of incidents,” Priscilla said. “Padi’s news regarding the known behavior of ambient conditions on those who are Gifted was . . . unsettling.”
Shan caught his breath. He would have rather they had enjoyed the meal first, and an hour of contentment together. But here was the trade on the table, waiting for his answer.
“Extremely unsettling, I would say. So unsettling that, in face of reason, I find myself forced to ask you again, my love—will you withdraw, at least to the ship?”
Silence.
Priscilla took up her glass, and sat holding it against her knee as she gazed out over the pond, and the pretty little waterfall.
Shan retrieved his glass and sipped, waiting.
At last, Priscilla moved. She raised her glass, sipped tea, and turned her head to meet his eye.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll withdraw to the ship. If you come with me.”