Dutiful Passage
Colemeno Orbit
Tekelia had seen images of the Council’s formal reception area in the Sakuriji: mosaic walls, vaulted ceiling, ornate furnishings, and floors that had been cut from living rock.
The room they entered from the shuttle bay was a variation of the type. There was plush carpet underfoot, rather than stone, but the ceiling did, indeed, vault, showing a glittering pattern of dots against a deep blue ground.
To the left, the wall displayed a large and detailed rendering of the badge the trade mission wore on their jackets, and Tekelia gave a smile for the familiar tree-and-dragon. In this room, the tree was mighty, branches strong, leaves glistening green. Above, the guardian dragon hovered, emerald eyes reflecting the leaves, bronze wings extended protectively.
“Has the dragon a name?” Tekelia asked.
“Megelaar, so we have it,” answered a voice that was familiar for all it was not Padi who replied.
Tekelia turned to face the person who was Padi’s father, Master Trader yos’Galan, and, rarely, Thodelm yos’Galan. There was, so far as Tekelia could see, no visible hint as to this gentleman’s current melant’i. As always, the white hair was crisp, eyebrows thin and slightly slanted over eyes of so light a blue they seemed silver; strong nose, wide mouth. True, he was not on this occasion wearing the usual uniform—what Padi called “trade clothes”—which included the jacket with the tree-and-dragon badge on the breast. Instead, he wore a deep red shirt with a collar that rose to frame his face, wide sleeves buttoned tight at the wrist, and a pair of soft grey trousers. His hands were positioned in a formal-seeming manner, and he was not, Tekelia noted, wearing his ring set with the purple stone, but another, on the second finger of his right hand—a wide band rich with enamel work. And that was perhaps a hint, after all.
The face was another, Tekelia thought. The master trader’s habitual expression was one of gentle good nature, while Padi’s father allowed a range of expression to be seen.
At the moment, however, there was no expression at all on the austere brown face; and the light eyes might have been mirrors.
“The name of the Tree is Jelaza Kazone,” Padi added from Tekelia’s side. “Father, it’s good to see you.”
The straight mouth twitched toward a smile, and one stern eyebrow lifted slightly.
“An admirable attempt, Daughter. However, we must allow the thodelm his moment.”
“Must we?” Padi murmured, and without waiting for an answer folded into a bow as intricate as a courting dance.
“Thodelm yos’Galan, I bring to your attention Tekelia vesterGranz, Speaker for the Haosa of Colemeno and the Redlands System.”
She turned to face Tekelia and moved her hands in a soft, deliberate pattern apparently meant to direct attention to the thodelm’s person.
“Speaker vesterGranz, I bring before you Thodelm yos’Galan, Head of my Line, standing staunch in support of the delm and Korval.”
Thodelm yos’Galan inclined his head, his gaze skimming past Tekelia’s right ear.
“Speaker vesterGranz,” he said, his voice cool, but not…specifically unwelcoming.
Tekelia took a breath.
There was no chance of reproducing the bow Padi had performed. Still, respect was owed, if not to Thodelm yos’Galan, then surely to the master trader and Padi’s father, both of whom Tekelia liked and admired.
So, then, a bow of respect for the office, such as the Warden of Civilization ought to command, if the Speaker for the Haosa were not of the opinion that the current holder of that office needed to be pricked in the self-importance, often.
“Thodelm yos’Galan,” Tekelia said, straightening. “I am honored.”
“Gently said, and cannily navigated, Tekelia-dramliza. If it does not offend, I congratulate you.”
Tekelia met the master trader’s eyes, and smiled.
“No offense, sir. Only, I feel you should know that I can’t go on in that style for very long.”
“Nor can I, so we’re well-matched.” The master trader turned to Padi.
“Well, Trader Padi?”
“Well enough, Master Trader,” she answered, dryly.
“You relieve me, but I wonder—wasn’t Dil Nem to accompany you?”
“He did. However, as we were making ready to debark, he announced his intention to stay with the shuttle and move her to a more appropriate mooring.”
“Surely someone else could have done so.”
“I suggested it, sir, but he said that he had no reason to speak with Thodelm yos’Galan.”
The master trader laughed.
“Valor, of its kind. And now I may ask it—Tekelia-dramliza, how do you go on?”
It was kindly meant, but it did rather focus one on those things that one was trying to—ignore.
The absence of things…
“It is,” Tekelia said to the Master Trader, “very quiet here.”
“Is it so noisy off-Grid?”
Padi stirred, but said nothing, so Tekelia made answer.
“The ambient sings, sir, beyond being ever-present—like a friend at one’s elbow, that you might lean on at need—”
Meaning to illustrate the point, Tekelia leaned, exactly as one might do after a particularly trying encounter, taking a moment’s rest by leaning into the ambient—
Which wasn’t there.
Boots tangling in the unaccustomed nap of the rug, Tekelia staggered, reaching again for that absent support. The master trader flowed forward, hand extended—
Tekelia flung backward, into the dis-balance, and was abruptly and ignominiously sprawled on the rug.
Padi dropped to her knees.
“Are you hurt?” she asked, hands on Tekelia’s shoulders.
“Merely wounded in my pride,” Tekelia said, equally wry and foolish. Dismay washed across—not across the ambient, though the source was perfectly discernible: The master trader was distressed that his help had been refused.
Tekelia looked up and met serious silver eyes.
“You might have taken my hand,” the master trader said, gently. “There would have been no—offense against protocol.”
“No, sir,” Tekelia said, “only think how ill it would look if I discorporated you within the first five minutes of being on-board.”
“We don’t know if that effect is in force,” Padi said.
“That’s correct, and I don’t care to risk your father!” Tekelia replied, with some heat. “You’re fond of him, I think?”
“Yes, very,” Padi said gently. “Thank you for thinking of that. Here.”
She stood, holding her hands down. Tekelia took the offered aid, and rose.
“Padi doesn’t seem to have discorporated,” the master trader said, as one noting an interesting fact.
“Yes, sir. That’s the action of Padi’s Gift on mine. My Aunt Asta has proved that I am not a danger while Padi is touching me, but, that not having been the case—”
“I recall you said something similar, the first time we met,” the master trader murmured. “I thought that the location was the danger, not yourself.”
“The location made me more dangerous,” Tekelia said. “I am never not dangerous, sir.”
“I see. Well. Thank you for your vigilance, Tekelia-dramliza. I feel that I would not have cared in the least for discorporation.
“Now, if you will both come with me, we may retire to my office, where Captain Mendoza will be joining us. I’ve arranged for refreshments.”