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Off-Grid

The Tree House


Ribbon-light danced with the shadowy trees, and the wind blew chilly, damp from the river.

Tekelia was leaning, elbows on the rail, looking out at the night.

Padi had her arms around Tekelia’s waist, her cheek against Tekelia’s shoulder. It seemed to her that she could feel the Ribbons sliding over her skin, warm and cool all at once, with an occasional spark, too brief to be painful, that excited the center of her Gift.

“I spoke to my father,” she said, lazily.

“How does he go on?” asked Tekelia.

“Well enough. The ship’s Healer pronounces him well. The ship’s medic, who is not a woman to trifle with, is insisting on an entire suite of tests before she ventures to have an opinion.”

“And Captain Mendoza?”

“He only said that she was being tested, as well, having given herself over to the Healer so that he could make our call.”

She sighed slightly, and nestled her cheek closer against Tekelia’s shoulder.

“He is trying to quantify our bond,” she murmured, and felt Tekelia stiffen slightly, even as she felt the flicker of a question inside her head.

“No, he does not dislike it—though I own he may not perfectly like it. Only, he wishes to understand it, so that he may know what is—what is due and what is owed, that proper honor is given, whether you will come into our Line, or, indeed, under the Dragon’s wing at all—”

“What if you came into my Line?” Tekelia asked, and Padi tasted a certain sharpness to that query along their link.

“Then you and I will need to talk about what that means, and what we may do to make it possible, pleasurable, and profitable for all.”

Tekelia laughed.

“Too reasonable, Padi yos’Galan!”

“But why would I want to be unreasonable?” she asked. “We dance together. I want us both to be happy with that circumstance. Don’t you?”

“More than I have wanted anything in . . . a very long time.”

Tekelia straightened, and turned inside the circle of Padi’s arms.

“Shall I speak with your father? I don’t know that I can relieve his concern, but I’ll try.”

“We ought both to speak with Father, when he is returned to us.”

“And if the medic decrees that he ought to stay with the ship? I am willing,” Tekelia said, “to go to him, if that’s allowed.”

Padi lifted her eyes to meet one blue eye and one green.

“Can you?” she asked.

“Can I what?”

“Go onto the Passage. The ambient is—not so apparent.”

“I’m not wholly dependent on the ambient,” Tekelia said. “After all, I can manage perfectly well under the Grid.”

“Yes, but there is still an ambient under the Grid,” Padi said. “There may not be any ambient at all, on-ship.”

Tekelia’s eyebrows drew in a frown, then lifted in a laugh.

“Now, you’ve made me curious! I insist on being allowed to go aboard your ship!”

Padi laughed.

“I will let my father know that you take his concern seriously and are eager to speak with him when he returns to Colemeno, or to travel to him aboard the Passage.”

“I leave it all to you,” Tekelia said. “Speaking of travels, I’ll be away for a day or possibly two.”

“Oh? Where will you go?”

“To Visalee, first. Blays has something she would like my help with. After that, to Encharo.”

Padi tipped her head. “These are other Haosa villages?”

“They are, yes. Further out from the Grid. You might, in fact, call them isolated. Since I am Speaker for the Haosa . . . ”

“Certainly. You must speak to them in order to speak for them. Do let me know when you are returned.”

“I will,” Tekelia promised, putting hands on Padi’s shoulders.

“Will you be sleeping here tonight?”

She looked around at the Ribbon-washed forest.

“Do you know,” she said, smiling into Tekelia’s face, “I think I will.”


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