Part 23 (1/2)
Hating necessity, he tapped in a new sequence and turned to issue instructions to the tower.
s.h.i.+PYEAR 65.
TRIPDAY 171.
FOURTH s.h.i.+FT.
16.00 HOURS.
”Priscilla?” Gordy interrupted apologetically. ”Morning, Rusty. Priscilla, I was thinking. Could you teach me to be a dragon?”
Rusty glowered; she caught the flicker of his irritation and let it pa.s.s.
”Dragons are possible,” she admitted, considering the radiance of the boy's antic.i.p.ation, ”but very difficult. Some people work for years and never achieve the Dragon. It requires study and discipline.”
And the soul of a saint? Lina had been at pains these last busy weeks to demonstrate how empaths conducted themselves in the wide universe. Melant'i figured prominently in these lessons. Souls did not.
At her elbow, Gordy sighed. ”But you know how, don't you?”
Did she? The Dragon was a spell of the Inmost Circle-but Moonhawk's soul was an old one. She had known the way...
Before her mind's eye the pattern rolled forth; the Inner Ear caught the first rasp of leather wings against the air. She took a breath and reversed the pattern.
”Yes,” she said, around her own wonder, ”I know how. If you truly want to learn, I can begin to teachyou. But there's a lot of study between the Tree and the Dragon, Gordy, and no guarantee that you'll be able to master it.”
”Could Rusty be a dragon?” Gordy asked, trying perhaps to establish a range.
”I don't want to be a dragon,” that person announced with spirit. ”I like being a radio tech just fine. Don't you have someplace you need to be, kid?”
”Not right now. I've gotta help Ken Rik in twenty minutes. Priscilla, how come not everybody can learn this dragon thing? The Tree's easy.”
”So it is.” The Tree, the Room Serenity-anyone might learn these. The larger magics? Lina claimed no soul but her own. ”The Tree is a very simple spell, Gordy. Only a good thing. The Dragon is both-a weapon and a s.h.i.+eld. It's not to be used lightly. You could live a whole life without knowing need great enough to call the Dragon.”
He frowned. ”You mean the dragon is a good thing and a bad thing? That's as goofy as Pallin's river.”
”Paradox is powerful magic. The River of Strength is a basic paradox. The Dragon is immensely complex, Gordy. You must learn to balance the good against the evil, the strength that preserves against the fire that consumes. You must be careful that the fire does not consume your will, or sheer strength override your... heart. You must not-soar-too close to the sun.”
Rusty's uneasiness pierced the wordnet. She pushed away from the table and smiled at them both. ”Or be late for your piloting lesson with the captain. Talk with me more later, Gordy. If you're still interested.
Rusty, thank you, my friend. I won't see you at prime, I'm afraid. My schedule's blocked out for the next two s.h.i.+fts.”
He whistled. 'That's some piloting lesson.”
”No time with Kayzin Ne'Zame today.” She grinned. ”A vacation.”
Rusty's laughter escorted her to the door.
She reached the shuttlebay before him. Just.
”Good morning, Priscilla! On time, as usual.”
”Good morning, Captain.”
He stopped in his tracks, swept a bow that the carryall slung over his shoulder should have made impossible. ”Second Mate. Good things find you this day. I perceive that I am in disgrace.”
”As if it would matter to you if you were!” she retorted, receiving the first rays of his pattern with something akin to thirst. Two weeks ago she would have wondered at such temerity. It was incredible how quickly she had come to depend on a sense that could not be hers.
”It would matter a great deal,” he said, waving her into the bay before him. ”Nice day for a shuttle trip, don't you think?”
It was at least reasonable. The Pa.s.sage was currently in normal s.p.a.ce, ponderously approaching Day an in the Irrobi System.
”If, in the judgment of the master pilot, one requires more board-time in shuttle” she said.”High in the boughs today, aren't you? Practice makes perfect, as Uncle d.i.c.k is wont to say. Roll in, Priscilla. Won't do to be late.”
He dropped the carryall by the copilot's chair and slid in, his eyes on the board as he adjusted the webbing. Priscilla strapped herself into the pilot's seat, feeling his excitement as if it were her own: sheer schoolboy glee at finagling a day without tutors or overseers, the thrill of some further antic.i.p.ation riding above his usual pervasive delight. And a glimmer of something else, which she had first taken for his well-leashed nervous energy but now perceived as an edge, almost like worry.
”Board to me, please,” he murmured, hands busy over the keys.
Obedient, she shunted control of the s.h.i.+p to the copilot's board and leaned back, watching.
Lights glowed and darkened; chimes, beeps, and buzzes sounded as he ran the checks with a rapidity that would have dizzied any but another pilot. Air was evacuated from the bay; the hatch in the Pa.s.sage's outer hull slid down, and they were tumbling away. Shan laughed softly, executed a swift series of maneuvers, cleared screens and instruments with the same flourish, and rea.s.signed the board to her.
”Screen, please.”
She provided it, wary now that it was too late.
The Dutiful Pa.s.sage was ridiculously far away, big as a moon in the bottom left grid. Irrobi's four little worlds hung placidly beneath her.
Shan pointed at the second planet. ”I want to be there, please. In-” He paused for a swift silver glance at the boardclock. ”-eight hours, I wish to be docking at Swunaket Port. See to it.” He spun the chair, snapped the webbing back, and reached for the carryall. At his touch it became a portable screen and desk. Radiating unconcern, he began to work.
Priscilla clamped her jaw on a caustic remark and began the dreary task of determining where exactly they were in relation to where the captain wished them to be.
DATAN.
FIRST SUNRISE.
”Swunaket Port, Captain. The pilot regrets that we have landed five Standard Minutes beforetime.”
He looked up, blinking absently. Since his pattern for the past two hours had been the steady buzz of concentration-as perhaps when one played chess-this ploy failed to deceive her.
”Still steamed, Priscilla?” The absent look faded into a grin.
She willed her lips into a straight line. ”It was a rotten trick.”
”I remember thinking so when my father pulled it on me,” he said sympathetically. ”Other things, too.
Most of them sadly unfilial. You did quite well, by the way, especially when we hit that bit of turbulence-all the lovely hailstones! Really, the local weather has cooperated beautifully!”
The laughter caught her unaware, filling her belly and chest, heart and head, and, finally, the cabin. ”You are a dreadful person!”
Shan sighed and began to rea.s.semble the portable desk. ”My brother's aunt, my eldest sister-now you.