Part 18 (1/2)

She took a deep breath, her voice rising ever more shrilly over the room at large. ”To think that a Mendoza of Sintia might be a thief-it is an outrage, sir! We of Skansion are trade-partnered with Sintia. I am myself acquainted with the Mendoza family. It is an insult, sir! And one nearly past bearing!

Of all-was there bail set?” she shot at the white-faced and rigid Priscilla.

”A cantra was set as bail,” the judge murmured in a moment, ”and has been paid by Dutiful Pa.s.sage.

Clan Korval guarantees Lady Mendoza's appearance, should the matter go to trial.” He smiled faintly.

”Which I am certain it will not.”

”A Mendoza of Sintia needs no one to guarantee her word!” the amba.s.sador snapped. She reached into the velvet pouch hung at her ample waist, produced a single dully s.h.i.+mmering coin, and slapped it in the judge's hand. ”Skansion doubles the bond! Thus do we stand by our allies!”

Priscilla ran her tongue over dry lips, then opened her mouth to say-what?

Again Mr. dea'Gauss rescued her. He stepped forward and offered the amba.s.sador his arm, smiling coolly. ”Lady Mendoza is fortunate indeed that her home-world has so staunch a trade-partner. Allow me to procure a gla.s.s of wine for you, Amba.s.sador.”

Priscilla inclined her head to Judge Zahre, then raised her eyes to find him smiling in real amus.e.m.e.nt. Her own lips bent in response. ”Now I must beg your pardon!”

His smile widened into a grin. ”Without cause, Lady Mendoza. You were not rude.” He glanced over her shoulder. ”I see that refreshments have arrived. Allow me to escort you.”

”You're kind,” she said breathlessly, ”but I-I must see someone just now. Perhaps we'll talk again later.”

The judge's face turned quizzical. ”Yes, perhaps we will.” Bowing formally, he left her.

Moving with pilot swiftness, pilot grace, she slipped through the press of people and into the corridor.

She strode down the hall, turned a corner, and leaned against the wall, listening to the pounding of her heart.

That dreadful woman! Who had heard? The entire room, most likely. And she claimed acquaintance with Anmary Mendoza! Allmother, what shall I do?

”Good evening, Priscilla? Asleep? It's a terrible crush, isn't it? My Lords.h.i.+p isn't good for much of this kind of thing. I'm a sad trial to my sister-no manners, no address.”

She opened her eyes, breath snagging. ”Captain.”

”Sometimes,” he agreed, light eyes mocking. ”Don't you like the party? Mr. dea'Gauss seems very impressed.”

Her face relaxed a little, her mouth curving toward a smile. ”I didn't have the nerve to tell him I'm not a lady,” she confessed, striving for lightness. ”I'm afraid it would embarra.s.s him.”

Shan laughed. ”Mr. dea'Gauss never errs in these matters. I suggest you accommodate yourself to ladyhood.” He tipped his head. ”That won't be so hard, will it, Priscilla? After all, a Mendoza of Sintia-”

Her face went white, eyes widening, one hand moving up and out, warding him away. ”No.””Priscilla!” He snapped forward, hand outstretched. ”Priscilla, it was a joke! I-I never wanted to distress you!” He took another step as he bit his lip. ”I'm sorry, Priscilla.”

Her hand wavered, fell, and closed about his. ”It's all right,” she said unevenly. Her hand seemed to tremble in his as she took a ragged breath. ”Please, you mustn't ask...”

”I don't ask. I have no right to ask, Priscilla. It was only a joke. You looked as if you needed to laugh so badly.” He smiled ruefully. ”My wretched tongue!”

Her mouth wobbled on the edge of a smile. ”Amba.s.sador Grittle...”

”Makes you stop and wonder, doesn't it? How could she have become an amba.s.sador? Do you think she might have a.s.sa.s.sinated someone?”

”There's a chance, if she did.” The smile was there, finally; nor did she take her hand from his. ”Maybe somebody will a.s.sa.s.sinate her.”

Shan laughed. ”We can hope.” Then he sighed. ”My Lords.h.i.+p is expected to return to the festivities. Will you come with me? Or are you retiring?”

She removed her hand, though the smile remained. ”I'll stay here for a moment or two, I think. Then I'll go back.”

”All right,” he said, moving reluctantly away. At the corner he turned back. ”Priscilla?”

”Yes, Captain?”

A shadow crossed his face but was gone before she could name it. He bowed slightly. ”It was nothing.

I'll see you later, Priscilla.” She was alone.

Leaning against the wall, she closed her eyes and breathed in the way that was taught to every Initiate: breathe in serenity, breathe out confusion. Breathe in strength, breathe out weakness. Breath in hope, breathe out despair.

In a little while she opened her eyes, stood away from the wall, and went back to the reception.

s.h.i.+PYEAR 65.

TRIPDAY 155.

FIRST s.h.i.+FT.

4.00 HOURS.

Shan groaned and rolled over. One long arm swung out, smacking the alarmplate unerringly. Obedient to this prompt, the cabin lights came up and music began to play. Loudly.

”Give me a break,” he muttered, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair. The music abated somewhat, a boon to his pounding head. ”d.a.m.n that stuff! Floats you on a cloud, then hits you over the head with a rock. Why would anybody want to smoke it?”

The room offered no answer.

Well, it had been a profitable week of trading, with the Arsdredi seemingly bent on recouping everycantra of ”loss” the port business paper had kept such careful track of. It was merely a sad pity that profit had not yet been known to cure a headache.

Shan groaned again, and the pounding intensified as memory returned. Mr. dea'Gauss wished to speak with his Lords.h.i.+p this morning on business concerning Clan Korval. Wonderful.

He placed his feet carefully and stood, grimacing. Perhaps it's not too late to resign as a lords.h.i.+p? But there was no conviction in the thought. His brother and sisters needed him, so a lord Shan would be.

”A shower,” he told himself firmly. ”And breakfast. Coffee. Lovely, hot coffee.”

Breakfast had been the right idea. Coffee had been inspired. Armed with a second steaming mugful, Shan moved back toward his office, nodding to and exchanging greetings with the crew members he encountered.

The good news, he reflected, laying his hand against the plate, was that his interview with Korval's man of business must of necessity be brief. The Pa.s.sage had received permission to leave Arsdred orbit in one s.h.i.+p's hour.

The bad news was that Mr. dea'Gauss could pack more well-mannered moralizing into an hour than a Moreleki proselytizer. The phrase ”business of Clan Korval” was especially ominous.

Unless he very much mistook the matter, Shan was in for a masterly rake-down.

It was odd, he thought, setting his cup on the desk and disposing himself comfortably in the captain's chair, how lordhood's vaunted powers and privileges did nothing at all to protect one from the righteous nagging of those who held one's best interests at heart.

The door chimed, and Shan sighed. He toyed briefly with the notion of remaining silent, then regretfully decided that it would not be seemly and picked up his mug. ”Come.”