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TWELVE

Uncle Yuri sighed, and smoothed his coat in a pattern that Jethri recognized as a weapon check. He bowed.

“Pray keep the devices we have been discussing safe for me, Nephew. I will send for them later. Most especially, the veil. And Jethri—”

Jethri held up his hand. “I know—leave the veil alone.”

A brief smile.

“A quick student. So.” He raised his voice slightly, addressing the comm.

“Captain, please convey to Choody that I am on my way out, and—”

“Forgive, Ser Tomas,” Bry Sen interrupted. “I am told that the business Choody carries is best discussed in private, and that…Lord ven’Deelin will also be interested in what he has to say.”

Jethri moved to the screen and brought up the image from the lock cameras.

There was one man standing as close as he might to the main camera, perhaps not having noticed the second and third. Those cameras showed several plain-dressed individuals standing at a distance. He pulled the images closer, confirming that they were none of the usual dock-strollers, and therefore could be assumed to have escorted this…Choody.

Jethri gave his attention to the man at the lock.

He appeared to be Terran, with longish hair by Looper standards, combed straight back. He was not tall by the breed but taller than an average Liaden. His clothing was well-made but not worn well, rings glittered, several to each finger, and the visible wrist displayed several mismatched bracelets. He wore a wide belt, half concealed by his coat. He was carrying weapons, then, Jethri assumed, more than one.

He felt a whisper of movement at his shoulder.

“Who is he?” he asked, without turning around.

“A contractor,” Uncle Yuri replied, sounding somewhere between resigned and sorrowful. “I will deal with him, Jethri. You need not be in it.”

“Assuming Lord ven’Deelin, is meant to be me, I’m already in it.”

He turned his head. His uncle sighed.

“As you say.”

Jethri cleared the screen, locked it, and touched the comm.

“Captain, please allow Choody to know that we will see him directly. First, I will wish Kel Bin to remove the tea service from the conference room. We will not be offering this person refreshment. All crew, save yourself, are to become invisible.”

“Trader, it shall be done as you say.”


Choody shouldered Bry Sen out of the way, and stepped into the conference room with energy, a smile on his face, and his hand extended as if to shake hands.

Neither Jethri nor his uncle offered a return hand, or any bow. Choody shrugged and turned to Bry Sen, who remained in the doorway.

“You can go, big guy,” he said, waving his left hand dismissively. “Not wanted here, get it? No introductions needed. Uncle and me have worked together a long time, and I’m sure he’ll introduce me to his…family.”

Bry Sen’s expression did not change, but his posture did, and Jethri was abruptly looking at a dangerous man, one heartbeat from drawing a weapon.

“Captain, please leave us,” Jethri said, in cool Liaden. “My kinsman and I shall deal with this person appropriately.”

That gained him a sharp look, but his face must have been reassuring. Bry Sen bowed, “Trader,” and left them, the door closing shut behind.

Choody turned back to them, still grinning, and tucked his hands into his belt as he made a show of surveying them.

“Well, now, just look at the pair of you, so much alike you could be brothers! That’s the word I want, isn’t it, Uncle? Brothers?”

“In fact, the word is nephew,” Uncle Yuri said coolly. “What do you want, Ser Wharton?”

Choody raised his hands, palms out, grin still on display.

“Is that so? Well, have it your way. Now that I see the two of you together, a whole lot of things are coming together for me. Famous Jethri ven’Deelin who-was-Gobelyn, eh? And his uncle, too. Collectors of stuff so grey nobody wants to talk about it, or even admit it exists! Us three, we got bidness to do.”

Little man, Jethri thought, though Choody wasn’t short nor small. But large as he was, his air and lack of manner made him small. This, he thought, this is what it means when a Liaden says, “that person has no melant’i.”

“Not gonna introduce me?” Choody asked.

Uncle Yuri raised his eyebrows, and said nothing.

“That’s fine, I’ll do it myself,” Choody said, with unimpaired humor. He turned to Jethri, and put his hand on his chest.

“Choody Wharton. Remember that name, Trader; it’s gonna be real important to you. Uncle and me we been working together, and pretty soon, you and me will be working together, too.

“So, how it began is that Uncle hears about me from somebody else that I do good work of a kind he needs. So, he asks me to retrieve some things for him, and I do that. He pays me. Then, a while later, comes another commission to find something else, which I do, and he pays me. After a time of this, I start to see what his thing is—these Befores, these things the Scouts don’t like, that do crazy stuff, or else they just blow up in your face.

“I’m innerested, so I find a couple of these things on my own, having gotten a feel for where to look. I let Uncle know they’re available and does he want them? He does, he pays me, and I go on the lookout for more of this stuff.

“Some of the things, he don’t want, but that’s all right, somebody else in my network usually bought those. And all the while Uncle’s giving me lessons in what to look for, what’s good, what’s bad, what’s dangerous.”

“And you start to branch out,” Jethri said, hoping to hurry this along.

Choody brought his palms together sharply, producing an explosive sound that did nothing for Jethri’s head.

“Right you are! I branch out. Had a network already, small, you unnerstand. We all start small. Got a big network now, people working for me, and that’s where you come in, Trader Jethri.”

Jethri shook his head.

“Not interested.”

“Oh, but you will be,” Choody told him. “You gotta listen the thing out to the end. But, hey, it’s late; you’re tired, I can see it. I’ll make the rest of it short, so you can sign on and go to bed.”

Jethri stared at him, wondering how he was going to rid Genchi of Choody, and an image of the inventory list of junk items leapt into memory, with the note destroy this too!

“Real quick, now—there was a downturn in bidness. One of my contracts got in a gun-fight, got dead. Next thing I hear, there’s a new captain, he drops the route, and sells the stuff that was due to be delivered to me, direct to Crystal, and I got no profit.

“Back-checking that ship, I find it at Port Chavvy just in time to loan some Jethri ven’Deelin the tools for a port-scrap he takes straight to a Liaden trader. I’m innerested in the Liaden big-ships, like everybody doing bidness, so I look a little deeper, and here’s Jethri ven’Deelin was ustabe Jethri Gobelyn off Gobelyn’s Market, and he’s involved with this Envidaria, which, looking at it, has some angles for my network.”

Jethri shifted. Choody held up his hand.

“Right, right. Bottom line—here it is. It don’t take much to see Uncle’s got himself a tight network. His—nephew, is it?—right there on Port Chavvy to make contact with the ship who direct-sells my stuff to Uncle, and cutting me right outta the loop.”

He shook his head at Uncle Yuri.

“Won’t do, Uncle, you gotta see that. You got a rep, you gotta tend it, ’cause what do you have if you don’t have honor?”

He glanced at Jethri. “Am I right, Trader?”

“I don’t see a bottom line,” Jethri gritted through clenched teeth.

“All right, here it is. I know who you are. I got Gobelyn’s Market’s route, so I know where they are. It doesn’t matter if they’re part of Uncle’s network, what matters is I can get to them, any time I want. And this is why you’ll come to work for me, Trader, and you’ll be happy to do it.”

Jethri’s hand twitched toward his hideaway in the instant that he felt strong fingers close around his wrist.

“What do you want, Ser Wharton?” Uncle Yuri said wearily. “In short, please.”

The grin vanished, and Choody’s expression turned ugly. He thrust a finger toward Uncle, but didn’t, Jethri noted, connect.

“From you, I want my money. That’s the money you cut me out of when you bought Dulcimer’s cargo, and the money you been underpaying me all along. Going forward, we’re gonna be partners, you and me, Yuri Tomas.”

He spun, finger stabbing toward Jethri.

“And from you, nephew, I want connections on Liaden big ships. I want master traders taking my comm calls, and following my say-so.”

Jethri didn’t laugh.

“And I’ll do this because…?”

Choody shook his head.

“Not as bright as your uncle? You’ll do it because I know Gobelyn’s Market’s route, nephew. I still got my network, and I’ll tell you from experience that it’s no trouble at all to make a ship disappear into the Dust. And if you and your ship folks broke up, like some of the stories go, we know who you talk to now, nephew, and we know who that sweet redhead is, too. Balrog, isn’t it? One ship or two, trouble’s easy enough to deliver when you know the ways of it.”

He stepped back.

“So there you are—bottom line. I’ve told you both what I want. It’s your job to deliver.” He glanced at Jethri.

“Before somebody gets hurt.”

Jethri took a breath—

“I understand your wishes, Ser Wharton,” Uncle Yuri said smoothly. “Let us go now, and leave my nephew to his rest.”

Choody shook his head.

“Yuri, I’m worried. I’m worried you think you got nothing to lose. So, I’m just going to mention that I know Elsvair’s on port—I’ve already been and talked to that Minsha.”

Uncle inclined his head.

Choody sighed.

“So, yeah, it’s late. I know where your ship’s docked, too. You’ll hear from me tomorrow, and we’ll work out the partnership terms after you pay me what’s in arrears.”

He turned.

“I’m gone, now. Sleep sound, nephew.”

The door snatched open, and there was Bry Sen, grim, and a weapon in full view on his belt.

Choody grinned at him.

“Sure, big guy, show me out.”

The door closed.

Uncle Yuri let go of Jethri’s wrist.

“That person cannot be allowed to continue,” Jethri said in cold Liaden.

“I agree,” his Uncle said in the same language. “I have created this problem and I will solve it. This, I swear to you.”

“Choody has left the ship,” Bry Sen’s voice came over the comm. “He and his escort have departed our dock.”

Uncle Yuri sighed.

“I, too, will take my leave. Elsvair will want me, I think.”

“I’ll see you out,” Jethri said.

“Do you want an escort?” he asked when they had reached the hatch.

Uncle Yuri shook his head.

“I’m safe so long as it is understood that I have secrets,” he said, and put a hand on Jethri’s shoulder, the firegem sparkling on his finger.

“Be careful, young Jethri, and, also—be bold! Understand that your actions will bring change. I would also ask you to understand that we are not in opposition, no matter what you may hear. Do not worry that you are acting against me, but act as you must.”

His fingers tightened, and then he was gone, out the hatch, and away.

Jethri went down the hall to the bridge, where Bry Sen sat in the pilot’s chair, watching the screens.

“We need to warn Balrog,” Jethri said. “Choody Wharton threatens ship, crew, and in particular Freza.”

Bry Sen spun the chair around, his face absolutely without expression, and used his chin to point at the open intercom.

“I took the liberty of listening to Ser Wharton’s conversation,” he said, his voice cold in Liaden. “I have alerted Balrog and Elsvair. Will you wish to send a pinbeam to Gobelyn’s Market, Trader?”

Jethri stepped further into the bridge and collapsed into the second chair, spinning it to face Bry Sen.

“And tell them what, I wonder?” he said, accepting the pilot’s choice of language. After Choody’s “conversation,” Liaden was downright soothing. “Shall I say that the universe is dangerous? They are aware, I believe. I might send the name, I suppose, but are they put more at risk for knowing it?”

Balrog knew the name,” Bry Sen said, his tone thawing somewhat. “Perhaps a mention that the name is presently exercising malice, and mentioned the ship in passing?”

“That’s prudent,” Jethri allowed. “And a recommendation that they contact DeNobli for updated information.”

He spun the chair, reaching to the board.

“I’ll send that now.”


Some while later, Jethri stepped out of the shower and put on his dressing gown, taking pleasure in the sheen of the silk, and the embroidery flowing down the front placket and then ’round the hem. To a Looper’s eye, it was a ridiculous garment, overdone and picky, but tonight it soothed and brought back welcome memories.

Maybe, he thought, I’m homesick.

He sighed and looked around his quarters. It was late, he thought, and he ought to go to bed. Which he would, except that he expected he wouldn’t sleep.

Well. Might as well put waiting to work, as Master ven’Deelin had it. Take another look at his speech, or—

A sharp buzz interrupted his thought—Balrog’s comm.

His heart squeezed in his chest. Choody and his threats leapt to mind, and Freza!

He snatched up the comm.

“ven’Deelin.”

“Jeth,” Freza’s voice was soft. “I’m at the hatch. Come let me in so Chiv can go back to bed?”

Relief made him dizzy even as he smiled.

“Sure,” he said. “Won’t be a sec.”


Jethri carefully poured the wine into a pair of crystal glasses. He handed Freza one with a bow before taking a seat next to her welcome warmth on the bed.

“So,” he said, raising the glass, “tell me.”

She raised her glass to match his, took an appreciative sip, and sighed.

“Long or short?”

He thought a moment, having her beside him making him contemplative, and allowed, “Give the day its due, I s’pose. Don’t skip anything I should know, but leave the numbers and their decimals for tomorrow.”

She smiled, took another sip, leaned back so her arm was brushing his.

“I can do that—an’ you’ll share, too, right, same terms? Fair trade?”

He sipped, added weight to their touch and sighed.

“Fair trade,” he agreed.

Freza sipped and sighed.

“Bory’s still workin’ against us, that was part of the day. He’s tried to schedule us against each other on a couple of things tomorrow. Been fine-tuning the agenda for the congress, while he’s at it. Trying to bring allocations and funding up before new bidness. Envidaria’s new bidness, o’course, so any approvals would have to be in principle only—funding held over for when there’s money to allocate.”

She sighed, and sipped her wine.

“This is good, Jeth.”

“It is,” he admitted. “Want something to go with it?”

“Could enjoy that,” she said.

He got up to call the kitchen. The door chimed before he’d turned away.

“Thank you, Kel Bin,” he said, as the tray was placed on the table. “That was—remarkably quick.”

Kel Bin bowed. “Will there be anything else, Trader?”

Jethri inclined his head. “This is sufficient, I thank you. Rest yourself, please.”

“Trader.”

The door shut after him.

Freza got up and walked over to the tray.

“Expecting a call, was he?”

“He’s been trying to be make sure I have access to those healthful foods the two of you want me to be eating,” he said, joining her, and eyeing the tray.

He supposed the chernubia, wine biscuits, candied fruits, and cheese weren’t unhealthful. He met Freza’s eyes.

“He was expecting a call.”

She grinned, and helped herself to cheese.

“So, Bory’s still trying to stall the Envidaria,” Jethri said, choosing a biscuit. “Can we stop him changing the agenda?”

“Not us, particularly,” Freza said. “But the seated commissioners can object to last minute changes. Brabham’s on that. Agenda’s finalized in advance for a reason—not every commissioner and every ship can stay the whole congress. They ’range it to come in on the items they’re needed for. Even the Combine folk rotated in an’ out. So, the last minute agenda changes’re gonna be tough for Bory to get through.”

She looked thoughtful.

“Guess it says something ’bout how desperate he is, that he’s even tryin’ that.”

“So,” Jethri said. “Good news: Bory’s scared of us.”

She laughed.

“’Bout time, I guess.”

She choose a chernubia, and Jethri another, neither one speaking as they enjoyed the treat.


“What else?” he asked when he had refreshed their wine, and they were side-by-side on the bed again.

“Well, we’d talked about Brabham handing off his commissioner’s seat to you, if it got to being tight,” Freza said. “Only, with all this maneuverin’ Bory’s doing, Brabham’s gotta stay right where he is. He knows everybody. Everybody knows him. I could maybe call, and maybe most of ’em would give me a listen, on account of I’ve been Brabham’s assistant since forever. So, we’re gonna hafta to get the Ambassador for the Envidaria through, which means getting the whole business through, right now. And that’s gonna be harder. We were wantin’ to get the infrastructure set up this congress, show we’re reasonable folks, and we can work with people. Can’t risk it now.”

She swallowed some wine.

“A commissioner can name his own successor, right?” Jethri asked.

“Right. But—tellin’ the truth, now, Jeth—what we need isn’t another person in Brabham’s chair. We need more chairs filled with commissioners who’re with us. And, we need somebody out there for the Envidaria—that’s you. Gotta be you. Balrog’s been carrying the flag, but the routes’re set. You already had more flexibility, and now you’re trade lead on your own ship—”

“Which doesn’t presently have a route, so I can go pretty much where I’m needed,” Jethri finished. “Got that. Agree with it. Getting more chairs, though—that would be good, too.”

“Got cousins who want to do the work,” Freza said. “Just gotta get ’em in place.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that, so Jethri sipped his wine, and Freza sipped hers, leaning comfortably against each other.

“So,” she said eventually. “You sent me out to talk to Dulcimer, remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. How’d that go? Easy meeting between cousins?”

Freza laughed.

“Now, see, I figured it’d be quick ’n easy, too. Right up ’til when Choody Wharton showed up to try to extort the ship out from under existing crew.”

He sat up straighter.

“Busy man, that Choody.”

“Been that way from a boy, is how I heard it.”

“What was his bidness with Dulcimer?”

“’Parently he needs a ship. Was using an ejected crew member with a grudge to make Dulcimer his. Told the captain to sign over the ship so this not-a-pilot kid could be named captain. That’s why you got all that grey-stuff. The kid with the grudge’d seeded the ship with it before he was turned off, an’ Choody was threatening to get the proctors in it, if they didn’t cooperate.”

“They didn’t cooperate,” Jethri guessed. Freza snorted.

“Well, would you? Second move was going to the Port Authority claiming Dulcimer was carrying ‘diseased animals.’ Figured that’d pull the proctors right out, see?”

Jethri choked, and Freza patted him on the back, grinning.

Recovering, he waved his hand around, encompassing the station. “With all this going on?” he asked.

“Yeah, not long on thought. Still, something had to be done. Pulled cousins from all over, ’cluding a law-jaw third cousin! Dulcimer filed harassment against the ex-crew and the cousins moved that junk I sent you, and Balrog’s got the…the…”

She sighed, staring hard into her glass, as if ordering her thoughts.

“Right,” she said. “Balrog’s got this guy Klay—he’s second pilot on Dulcimer—and he’s officially studying Dust-lore and piloting with us right now. Good guy, good guy…”

She raised her glass and sipped.

“Brought some duffel with him, so he can spend part of the next couple days right where he is…”

Jethri looked up, feeling a pressure in his chest.

“Good guy?” he repeated, soft.

She laughed, patted his knee.

“He might be, but near as I can tell he’s only got eyes for his Squithy. See, it isn’t a straight story. I’ll tell the main line right now and fill you in on the curves, later. Klay came to us with the so-called ‘diseased animals,’ who’re called Mitsy and Ditsy. They had to be somewhere else if and when the proctors showed up. Klay brought ’em and he’s gotta stay as long as they do, to translate.”

“Translate? For animals?”

Freza shrugged.

“Not animals. Thinkers. Not human, though, and when you see ’em, you do think ‘animals.’ It’s the fur, I ’spect.”

Freza peered into the ether, or so it looked like to Jethri, because she was looking so hard at some spot on the wall where there wasn’t much to see but a well-sealed seam.

She turned suddenly to look hard at Jethri.

“Have you ever had pictures put in your head? Like someone was able to reach in and put this picture or idea right here into your head?”

“Very recently!” he said, with feeling, but she was talking on, paying as much attention to her own thoughts as to him it seemed.

She put her glass on the side table and touched her fingers to her temples.

“Like right here. Choody and the ex-crew say animals and for all I know the ex-crew believes. Choody wouldn’t care one way or ’nother, s’long as he could use them to get what he wanted. But I met ’em—they know who you are, and who Dulsey is. Your Scout’s a favorite, and Squithy and Klay are special family to them, really crew and alt-crew.”

“If they can make that much sense, why animals? How could they know me? Have they met me?”

“See, that’s the thing. You’ve gotta meet them yourself. It’s like they collect people and connections. So they saw you on the vid on Port Chavvy, or maybe they could read your mind, I don’t know. They don’t talk like you and me, but they do a good job of following talk, and they know what a joke is. They’re people, I’d say, but they look like…creatures, furry creatures with four legs and paws that are pretty much hands.”

“Like a cat?”

“Nothing like a cat, not the ones I’ve met, but they’re pretty much people anyway.”

“So, when do I meet them?”

“I was thinking tomorrow morning you could walk me back to Balrog and meet ’em then. But if Choody’s widening his circle o’trouble, maybe best not.”

“Maybe best not,” Jethri agreed. “You tell me when. Meantime, give ’em my regards.”

Freza grinned, “I’ll do that.”

She nudged his arm with hers.

“Looks to me like that bottle’s not empty yet, Trader, but the night’s moving on and I have plans—”

“Ah, lady, forgive me.”

He bowed where he sat, rubbed his hand down her leg from thigh to knee, and rose to retrieve the bottle.


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