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Colemenoport

Skywise Provianto


Port Security had left after asking only a very few additional questions, for which Bell suspected she should thank Majel ziaGorn. He had stayed with her, picking up chairs and tables, while she called the lockmaker and the security firm. Coming back from her calls, she found him cleaning the newly righted display cases, his vest hung on a peg by the door, and his sleeves rolled. She brought out a broom and began sweeping up the ruined pastries, the two of them working in companionable silence, until her family arrived, and respected him into superfluity.

She was in the midst of a discussion with Aunt Jaynis regarding whether they should offer an abbreviated menu for the evening trade, or buy ready-made meals from the market to resell, when Bell saw a movement from the side of her eye.

Turning her head, she saw Majel ziaGorn, his red curls disordered, take his vest down from the peg and slip it on as he stepped toward the door.

“A moment,” Bell said hastily to Aunt Jaynis, and rushed to see him out.

“Councilor, again, thank you for your assistance,” she said.

He laughed lightly.

“And, again, it was not a pleasure, but certainly my duty, to be certain that you were not left alone in the aftermath of violence, and to do what I might to reorder chaos.”

She sighed, wanting to deny “violence.” But, there—cases had been overturned, goods had been destroyed, and—far worse—someone had managed to come into the shop while it was locked and warded against intruders.

He raised his arm for a jitney, and sent a glance to her face.

“If you need further assistance, please don’t hesitate to call me,” he said. “If I’m not at my office, I’ll be at the casino. A message left in either place will find me.”

“You’re too good,” Bell began, but here was the jitney and he was stepping forward to claim his ride, though he paused a moment to look back to her.

“Not at all. Be well, Surda erVinton.” He stepped into the jitney, and said, “The train station, please.”

Bell watched him out of sight, turned to go back inside, and nearly fell over the elder standing there.

“Luzant nirAmit!” she said on a gasp. “I did not see you, sir!”

“Yes, it was obvious that your thoughts were elsewhere,” he said, with a strong frown. “Surda, I have just come from giving testimony at the guard house. The officer in charge assured me that you will be given a copy of my affidavit and the Truthseer’s Guarantee. I regret that I saw nothing that will be of use in finding those who authored this attack against your business. I opened my security cameras to the investigation. They may be more helpful.”

“Thank you,” Bell said, wondering at this outburst of civility. “Our own cameras were depowered.”

Luzant nirAmit blew out a hard breath.

“Rascals,” he muttered. “I must ask, Surda, were there any injuries?”

“No, none. We close at night port, of course.” And the damage had been done before she had arrived in the early hours of day port, to start the bread.

Briefly, she wondered how near she had come to interrupting the making of mischief, and shivered.

Luzant nirAmit gave her a knowing look.

“It’s distressing in the extreme to find that one’s space has been violated,” he said solemnly, “and to think how matters might have fallen out differently, but for an accident of timing . . . ”

His voice drifted off, face closing into the hard, angry mask—and softening again.

“Surda erVinton, I know that I have not been of much use to you, or your business. I have, in fact, allowed the past to poison the present. I am old, and I have lost much. But those truths do not excuse me from doing my duty to life and to the common good. Therefore, Surda, I ask to be allowed to serve you in this matter.”

Bell went back a step. Was he suggesting—what was he suggesting?

The old man lifted both hands.

“Understand me, not in the way that your mother knew. There were abuses, I am aware, and more than enough anger on both sides. I mean to honor the code by which I was raised—that obliges me to offer my Gifts where they will be of use, and to not be shy of accepting an offer in kind. Our Gifts are not the same, by which we learn that we were meant to support each other.”

He blew out a hard breath and bowed, creakily.

“So my grandmother taught me, and I am ashamed that I allowed myself to set that teaching aside for so long.”

Bell drew a deep breath. It was, she told herself, an honorable offer of assistance. Only—

“Truly, sir, I don’t know what you might do for us. We’ve had Port Security, and the specialists and a Sensitive. You’ve given your statement to the Truthseer, and allowed access to your cameras. It seems to me that you have been more than generous.”

“Generous—no. I’ve done what duty demanded, as I do now when I offer to examine your locks.” He glanced at the undamaged door. “Am I correct in supposing that they were able to unlock the door?”

“Yes,” Bell admitted. “We’ve called the lockmaker.”

“Of course. I don’t propose to manipulate the lock, only to Look at it. It may be that I can identify a flaw in the current making. At the very least, I may give you a description of what is there so that you may compare it to the lockmaker’s account.”

Bell glanced past his shoulder and saw Aunt Jaynis in the window, hands raised and a faint look of alarm on her face.

An honorable offer of assistance, Bell told herself again. And, besides, it seemed clear that the old gentleman would not be easy until he had done something that satisfied his need to be of use.

“Thank you, sir. If you would examine the lock, and tell me what you See—that would be most helpful.”

His face eased, and he bowed again.

“Excellent,” he said. “Thank you, Surda.”


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Framed