FIVE
It had been two days since Jethri and Tan Sim had been in the same space. Despite the grand plans of the masters of trade, there was mundane business to accomplish, as well. Jethri still being, on this port, Elthoria’s second trader, had all his usual duties to handle, including attending two soirees given by Norn ven’Deelin for what seemed to be Frenol’s entire population, or at least the two-thirds of it which partook of trade.
He had taken tea with Samay once, a hurried affair by Liaden standards, at a chanced-by pastry shop, but most of his time and energy had been consumed by business until it was, suddenly, and seemingly without warning, time for Barskalee to depart, taking Tan Sim and Samay with it, and Elthoria due to leave dock not many hours after.
That they might part without a proper leave-taking was something that Jethri found himself unable to support.
He sent out his invitations; the time was rather earlier than Liaden fashion approved, but this was not, so he told himself, a Liaden gathering. It was a gathering of friends, comrades, kin, and fellow conspirators, hosted by a man who was both Liaden and Terran—or neither.
By the time he had contacted his venue of choice, arranged for a private room, ordered several of the house’s specialties, as well as a tray to be brought in, he had heard back from his guests, each professing themselves pleased to attend.
There only remained the matter of gifts, and there his imagination almost failed him, until he recalled the sto’Helit.
* * *
Practical Al’s was—not empty, nor quiet. Say rather, the crowd was less pressing, and the ambient noise somewhat decreased.
Jethri had of course arrived earlier than his guests, though not by so very much. He had scarcely satisfied himself regarding the refreshments, especially the tray from Balent’i Chernubianda, when the door was opened, and the server bowed in Masters ven’Deelin and pin’Aker, looking very grand and very Liaden in their best trade coats.
“Traders,” Jethri said, stepping forward, and sweeping the bow of host to honored guests. “Welcome to my small gathering. It is my very great pleasure to see you this morning.”
“Trader, it is an honor to be invited,” Master Trader ven’Deelin murmured, while Master pin’Aker gazed around the room in frank curiosity.
“So this is the place! Samay waxes poetic. Though, I confess to you, Trader, I had expected something more…persuasive, shall we say? In terms of sound.”
“It is early, sir, as the station keeps time.”
“So it is, so it is! Well. I shall make it a point, when next we are at Frenol, to come here at the loudest hour, in order to sample the full effect.”
The door opened again, admitting Samay and Tan Sim. Jethri smiled.
“Welcome, both,” he said, beginning the bow—only to be snatched out of it by Tan Sim’s hand on his arm, pulling him upright and into a hug, like a Looper born.
“Jethri, that you thought of this!” he exclaimed in Terran. “I should have done, and yet—” He turned once about, and arrived at his starting point, smiling broadly. “I could not have achieved anything so grand!”
“You haven’t seen the trays, yet!” Jethri protested.
“I don’t need to see the trays!” Tan Sim declared.
Jethri turned to Samay, who held up a hand.
“Please do not bow, Jethri. We are friends, are we not? In the Terran way?”
Friends in the Terran way? Jethri managed not to blink, and instead showed her a Terran smile.
“We are friends, yes. I’m glad you that you came, so that we can share one more memory, and properly say volent’a serapeyz.”
“Indeed, indeed,” said Master pin’Aker from the wine tray. “Let us drink together, friends, if our host will allow me to serve, and recall that we will meet again, as the trade allows.”
* * *
“A splendid gather! My felicitations to the host!”
Master pin’Aker stood, his wine glass raised, and the rest of the table followed, leaving Jethri seated alone and feeling slightly foolish.
“To the host!” Master ven’Deelin echoed.
“To my partner, and my friend!” Tan Sim said, smiling down at Jethri with open fondness.
“To my friend, Jethri, who taught me much,” Samay smiled too, and Jethri felt his ears heat, even as he came to his feet and lifted his own glass.
“To all of us,” he proposed.
“To all of us!” came the affirmation, and they drank together.
“Now,” said Master pin’Aker, putting his glass aside. “We have some unfinished business, Trader Jethri. Your ring, please.”
He held out his hand.
Jethri blinked, set his glass aside, and drew his trade ring off, placing it in the outstretched palm.
Master pin’Aker considered it, and sighed.
“No,” he said, “it will not do. It is, you understand, a perfectly good ring of its kind. It informs, but it does not serve notice. Very nearly, it misleads.”
He slipped the ring away into his pocket.
“Now, this,” he continued, bringing his hand forward again, “serves notice that the trader who wears it is something out of the common way.”
He opened his fingers.
Three fine, faceted amethysts adorned a gleaming shaft of—
“Is that Triluxian?” Jethri cried, reaching for the ring, and holding it up to the light.
“What else?” asked Master pin’Aker. “We must remember our triumphs, Trader.”
Jethri gasped a laugh, slid the ring onto his finger. It fit—well, of course it fit! It had been made for him, after all.
“Master Trader,” he bowed, simple gratitude.
“It is my pleasure to give it,” Master pin’Aker said, and reached out to grip Jethri’s arm. “Wear it well, Trader Jethri. And now, I regret, but duty calls.”
“Yes, of course.”
Jethri became the host again, seeing his guests to the door, bestowing on each a bottle of Blusharie, “So that we will have something worthy to share our adventures over, the next time we meet.”
Three of his guests gone, Jethri turned back to Master ven’Deelin, who was standing, seemingly at a loss, gazing at the remains of the small feast.
“Mother?” he asked, moving to her side. “Is all well?”
She looked up at him, her eyes bright, and put her hand on his arm. The great amethyst in her master trader’s ring gave the room’s lights back in flashes of deep purple.
“All is well and more than well, my son. Come, bring your great self down here, so that I may give you a proper leave-taking.”
He dropped lightly to one knee, which put them on more equal terms.
“Hah,” his mother said softly, and leaned close to kiss his cheek.