Accepting the Lance Page 13

  …It would be refreshing, though, to know exactly why she was here.

  “The path is overgrown,” she said, as they rounded the second bend where the plants had really taken over. “I will go ahead and open the way.”

  Emissary Twelve didn’t answer; she seemed to be…humming.

  Fine, then, thought Miri, and didn’t bother talking anymore until the path ended and she led the way across the root-stitched grass to the base of Korval’s enormous, meddling, sentient Tree.

  Though the sky was cloudless, the Tree Court was what might be called comfortably dim, the air calm and slightly damp. A picture of peace and decorum.

  That was because all the action was going on inside Miri’s head, where the Tree was jumping up and down like Lizzie when she saw one of the cats in the garden outside the window.

  “Behave yourself,” she said, which only got her a private little breeze of her own, playfully tugging on her braid.

  Brat.

  She paused about six paces out from the Tree’s mammoth trunk. Emissary Twelve joined her, and she made the introductions.

  “Jelaza Kazone, here is Emissary Twelve, who bears a message for you from Edger. Emissary Twelve, Jelaza Kazone, Clan Korval’s ancient ally and friend.”

  That was the formal thing to say on those rare occasions when somebody was introduced to the Tree. She’d once asked Val Con how they knew, and he’d admitted that they didn’t, but that one must say something.

  “And, after all,” he’d added, “it hasn’t tried to kill us—yet.”

  “No, it’s still having too much fun,” she’d answered.

  “Exactly. I believe we are safe, so long as we remain amusing.”

  Right now, in the dim garden, Emissary Twelve accepted the formula and made one of her swift, sweeping bows.

  “I am honored to stand before such age,” she said, and looked to Miri. “If you would leave us? The message is of a…personal nature.”

  Miri blinked, torn between laughter and outrage. Thrown out of her own garden, was it?

  Another breeze tugged her braid; the Tree offered an image of the apartment she shared with Val Con, and she reluctantly decided on the side of laughter.

  Right, this was the Tree Court, wasn’t it?

  She gave Emissary Twelve a nod.

  “I will leave the two of you together,” she said. “When you wish to return to the house or to your ship, only speak. Jeeves will hear and guide you back.”

  “Thank you; your care warms my heart.”

  And that was a stock formal phrase right out of Liaden. She was dismissed, Miri thought, and there being nothing else to say, she turned and left the Tree Court.

  • • • ✴ • • •

  The telling was done, and the nuncheon, too. The two of them sat in thoughtful silence, nursing a second glass of wine.

  It was Pat Rin who stirred first, putting his glass aside with a sigh.

  “I believe that we must divide the most pressing tasks. Theo having negotiated her own fortune, it would seem that sorting out our honored emissary of the Clutch must fall to you and to Miri.”

  “She calls upon the delm in fullness,” Val Con said with a sigh and a nod. “Duty is seldom more plain.”

  “Which leaves the survey team for me,” Pat Rin continued, with a sour look. “One might almost be brought to believe that the survey team arrived with the intention of denying an upgraded rating to this port.”

  “Appearances are often difficult to unravel,” Val Con said seriously, “most especially across cultures. They may only be maladroit.”

  “As you say,” Pat Rin said politely and sighed. “It may be that this sudden Clutch is a trump to our hand. I had judged it best not to intrude myself into the survey, but if their quarrel is with Korval Entire, then I may, with the delm’s permission, step closer to them while the Road Boss is granted leave in order to pursue the preservation of the planet.”

  “The delm’s permission is in your pocket, Cousin. You have my condolences.”

  “Yes, well. What shall you do now?”

  “I believe that I will go home and open negotiations with Emissary Twelve. I will, I think, have Nelirikk at his post while the Road Boss is away, in order to take messages and also to call us, if there should be an emergency.”

  “A good plan. Please assure your lady of my continued good regard.”

  Val Con smiled.

  “I will indeed, and you will please carry my admiration to Natesa.”

  “Admiration, is it?” Pat Rin said, with mock severity. “Mind how you go.”

  “That is, I believe, my cue,” Val Con answered—and left him.

  Jelaza Kazone

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  “Greetings from the Elders to the delm of Korval in fullness. I, Emissary Twelve, am empowered to speak with the voice of the Elders and to act in their behalf. We offer aid.”

  Val Con considered her.

  “The delm is interested to learn what the Elders would aid us in accomplishing.”

  “Yes. The planet Surebleak, which the delm of Korval has chosen for the residence of the Elder Tree, as well as the many humans affiliated with the delm of Korval, is not stable, and will soon fail, catastrophically, if repairs are not taken up. It is in the matter of repairs to the planet that the Elders offer aid.”

  Miri felt a thrill of dread. The Clutch, though. The Clutch lived staggeringly long lives, like the Tree. They simply didn’t look at time the way “short-lived” humans did, and “soon” depended on outlook. It wasn’t likely that the world would come to an end next week. But in a century? Or two? That would be “soon” enough to get a young and mobile Clutch in a lather, never mind an impossibly ancient Elder. So…

  “How…soon,” she asked carefully, “will the planet…fail?”

  “If no intervention is attempted, the Elders see that Surebleak will succumb to the insults done to its core in approximately twelve thousand Standard Years.”

  Miri bit her lip harder and didn’t laugh.

  “Ah,” said Val Con seriously. “And if the Elders produce their aid in our behalf?”

  “In that case, we see a gratifying extension of the planet’s life to approximately one hundred twenty million Standard Years.”

  This time Val Con didn’t laugh, loudly. Miri said nothing, since she still didn’t trust her own voice. Emissary Twelve may have taken their silence for dismay.

  “It is very possible that, with the Elders’ aid and careful planning, the life and usefulness of the planet may be extended beyond one hundred twenty million Standards. Until repairs are under way and the extent of the trauma is known, we cannot predict with accuracy.”

  “Of course,” Val Con murmured. “One wonders if the Elders will be coming to us themselves.”

  Emissary Twelve tipped her head.

  “In one sense, yes, and in another, equal sense, no. The Elders travel far in their minds. Several lately journeyed in the manner of Elders to the planet Surebleak, the better to know this new arrangement that has been taken up by the delm of Korval, for the benefit of the Elder Tree.

  “During this journey of exploration, they discovered faults in the planet’s core which, left uncorrected, would bring the world to an early end. They brought this information back to the council entire, where it was decided to extend the assistance of the Elders to the delm of Korval on behalf of the Elder Tree.”

  She paused, then summed up: “The Elders will not be physically present on Surebleak, but they will be very much involved in the healing process.”

  “I understand,” Val Con said, which as far as Miri could tell was the unpainted truth.

  “As the voice of the Elders, empowered to speak and act on their behalf, I will require certain things,” Emissary Twelve continued.

  Miri closed her eyes.

  “We are of course eager to assist the Elders and the representative of the Elders,” Val Con said properly. “You will under
stand that the delm of Korval cannot promise all and everything, as our resources have contracted since our removal to Surebleak. However, we honor the Elders, and even more so our brother Edger, and will give what we may with a glad heart.”

  Emissary Twelve bowed very slightly.

  “I require very little at present,” she said. “Merely a comfortable cavern, where I might set up an office and communication center.

  “Also, I will require local transportation. One might adapt the vessel one arrived in, but it is in my mind that this might disconcert the local population as they go about their lives. The Elders do not wish to disrupt the delm of Korval, nor any of the people of Surebleak.”

  “Local transport can be provided. Also, Korval can house your vessel until such time as you require it.”

  “It would be a kindness,” Emissary Twelve said, “if you may provide space in the grassy area beyond the Elder Tree.”

  Miri felt a flutter of resigned humor from Val Con, who inclined his head.

  “We will be pleased to provide a suitable location for your ship in the back field,” he said. “The matter of an appropriate cavern—I believe that we may provide something that will serve you well. However, we must negotiate with an ally, and it is come late while we sat and reasoned here together. May we offer you guesting this night in the house, or perhaps in the Tree Court? Tomorrow, the two of us will call upon our ally together.”

  “You are gracious. It is not yet my time to sleep. I will be pleased to sit in company with the Elder Tree during your hours of rest, and watch the stars at their dancing.”

  “That is well then,” Val Con said and stood, Miri with him. They bowed, and Emissary Twelve did the same.

  “Have you any other needs or desires that the House might fulfill?” Miri asked, which was only polite.

  Emissary Twelve raised her three-fingered hands.

  “I have all that I require. Please, seek your rest. I anticipate tomorrow’s negotiation with your ally.”

  * * *

  “You think Yulie’s got a spare growing room?” Miri asked Val Con when they reached their apartment.

  “He may, though there were plans to put everything into production. What I recall is that the location was thought to be promising for the establishment of the growing rooms because there was an extensive cave system already extant. The installation took advantage of that feature.”

  “So, there may actually be an empty cave?”

  “Perhaps. Mr. Shaper will know—or there will be a section in one of his binders to guide us. Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “You know, I would.”

  She curled into the corner of the couch and closed her eyes while he continued across the room to the compact kitchen.

  “Jeeves?” she said, without opening her eyes.

  “Yes, Miri.”

  “Would you please ask Mr. pel’Kana to bring up a tray of cold dinner?”

  “Mr. pel’Kana has retired for the night,” Jeeves said. “I will bring a tray, if that is acceptable.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Absolutely acceptable.”

  The couch moved. She opened her eyes as Val Con settled next to her. He offered her a glass of deep red wine.

  “Thanks.”

  “You are very welcome.” He raised his glass. “To saving the world.”

  Miri choked with the wine glass halfway to her lips. “It’s good they take an interest.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  Miri sipped her wine, sighed, and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “How do you think Yulie’s going to take Emissary Twelve?”

  “Tomorrow will tell. Myself, I’m interested in what Emissary Twelve will make of Yulie.”

  He sipped. “And also, what Nathan will make of Emissary Twelve.”

  “Rys’s brother, that is.”

  “Yes. An interesting man. Well, we shall—”

  The door chime sounded. Val Con put his glass on the table before them, and rose to fetch their dinner.

  Surebleak Port

  Office of the Road Boss

  • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

  There was a line in front of the office door when Miri and Nelirikk arrived.

  Not much of a line, granted, but six ’bleakers in their mild winter day clothes, standing not in a clump or a crowd, but an actual and orderly queue.

  Miri was stunned.

  “These people are excited,” Nelirikk said, in a rumble that was for her ears only.

  “They are,” agreed Miri, having seen the tells. “But I’m not seeing overexcited, if you understand me.”

  “Captain, I do. As your aide, I will go forward to unlock and hold the door clear until you have entered.”

  That was common sense; Nelirikk was good at common sense.

  “Sure,” she said, and stopped, letting him get ahead of her.

  “Make way,” he said just loud enough to give somebody a bad start. In fact, the second person in line did jump, his hand going to his chest, as if his heart had missed a beat.

  “The Road Boss comes,” Nelirikk said, not any less loud, but they knew he was there now. “Make way.”

  They shuffled back away from the door and to the side, looking sheepish and shy, like any batch of new recruits who hadn’t quite been in step with their formation.

  Nelirikk applied himself to the lock, and Miri strolled forward, giving each of her customers an easy nod as she passed.

  “Boss,” they said, nodding back.

  “’Mornin’, Boss,” said the one nearest the door, who didn’t exactly look familiar.

  “’Mornin’,” she answered.

  Nelirikk was holding the door open for her, so she stepped inside, giving him a nod, too, and passed through the entry room to her own office at the back. She closed the door, shucked off her coat, and hung it on the peg.

  In the interoffice screen, Beautiful was admitting the streeters one by one, taking their names and what they wanted to talk to the Road Boss about…

  …which it turned out was—Clutch Turtles.

  All of them wanted to talk about Clutch Turtles.

  Miri frowned.

  They weren’t ready to talk about Clutch Turtles yet. Pat Rin, and therefore the Council of Bosses, knew there was a Clutch Turtle on Surebleak. But they hadn’t been told the nature of the imminent disaster—or even that there was an imminent disaster. At least from the viewpoint of the Clutch Elders.

  The sixth petitioner gave her name as Mitsee Runion and stated that she wanted to speak to the Road Boss about Clutch Turtles.

  Miri sighed—and made a Boss decision.

  They weren’t ready to talk about Clutch Turtles, but people—at least some people—were ready to worry about Clutch Turtles. The Council of Bosses had made it a part of their operating policies to tell the truth and, if all of the truth couldn’t be told straight out, to tell as much of the truth as possible and say that more information would be forthcoming, as the Bosses studied the situation.

  Miri nodded to herself.

  She could work with that. Her hand moved to the switch.

  “Nelirikk, please open the door between the offices and set chairs so everybody can see and hear. When we’re set up here, please put yourself outside, in case any more people’re coming in. Explain that the Road Boss is giving a group talk, and as soon as the first group is over, you’ll be admitting the second.”

  He didn’t like the notion of leaving her alone with six strangers, a significant portion of whom were armed just as part of being dressed. On the other hand, they couldn’t have the place much more crowded than it was. Surprised people with worry on their minds might draw first and think later.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t have some minor ability to take care of herself, so…“Yes, Captain,” said Nelirikk.

  In the screen, she saw him turn to the group cluttering up his waiting room, and explain that the Road Boss would speak to all at once as, between them,
they had one topic in hand.

  “We will open the doors between the rooms and place chairs,” he said.

  “Right you are,” said the guy who had given his name as Torje Gullard, and each of them turned to find a chair to pick up and move.

  Nelirikk opened the door and came into her office, looking an inquiry.

  “Set up in a double semicircle,” she said, “with your desk in the center. I’ll stand behind—crowd ain’t big enough to have to stand on top—and give out the no-frills edition of what we know about Clutch Turtles to date. You take the portcomm with you, and keep an ear on me. You hear anything worrisome, come on back in, fast.”

  “Yes, Captain,” Nelirikk said, picking up a chair in each hand. He waded into the crowd, growling orders about placement.

  Miri closed her eyes, reviewed her facts, nodded, and went out into the waiting room.

  “’Mornin’,” she said, leaning against Nelirikk’s desk. “Since you all have Clutch Turtles on your minds, I thought I’d save some o’everybody’s time and talk about Clutch Turtles all together. Anybody here not good with that?”

  She waited for the count of twenty-four; then, having gotten no objection, she nodded.

  “So how I think this’ll go best is that I’ll tell you what I know, and then take specific questions. Understand, we don’t know a lot yet. Clutch Turtles like to be thorough, and it takes some time to get to the central point. This one—Emissary Twelve she calls herself—is more on point than some other Clutch Turtles that I’ve known, so I’m hopeful we’ll have a full and complete answer within a week.”

  She paused to consider the six hopeful faces before her.

  “Now, what I just told you is that I’ve got previous experience of Clutch Turtles. You all know that before me and my partner landed here to help keep the road in order, that we roamed around a bit. Before even I met him, my partner’d fetched up against some Clutch Turtles and, in the way of things, he’d become brothers with one of ’em. Some of you remember the Big Rock that brought the Road Boss’s house down to the planet surface. That rock was on loan from that particular Clutch Turtle—Edger, his name is.