Back | Next
Contents

CHAPTER 16

The Leewit had spent a fair part of the ten hours successfully convincing her bodyguard that she was asleep, and instead sitting and talking to Me’a, learning a lot more about Na’kalauf, the clans, the honor code, the oaths, and just how everything worked on Ta’zara’s homeworld.

She’d clarified a small misunderstanding right at the start. Me’a had suggested she needed a translator, and the Leewit had been able to explain this was not the case, with a fine display of bad words that had Me’a’s two bodyguards struggling to keep straight faces.

“Do you know what you just said to me?” asked Me’a.

“Yes,” said the Leewit, smiling in a way that would have made the captain careful—but Me’a was not yet quite so experienced. “And I can say some more, if you like.” And did.

Me’a sat very still in her chair. And then started to smile. “Do you know how long it is since anyone last called me rude names, at least to my face?” she said in the language of Na’kalauf.

The Leewit sat down and answered in the same language. “A long time, I guess. They didn’t want to upset you, because you were crippled, and then, later, because they were too scared to.”

“I preferred the latter,” said Me’a, the smile vanishing.

“Yeah. I figured. But you don’t get either from me.”

“I am still adjusting to that. I am…not used to it.”

“Yeah. You’re kind of used to being the cleverest, most dangerous and frightening person around,” said the Leewit. “But I didn’t come to talk about you. I need know about the Tide of the Dead, and what I gotta do for Ta’zara. Because it needs doing right.”

“I would be glad to help.” She looked at the two guards. “In fact, I think we would be honored to help. If you two can stop laughing.”

That actually made them worse. But they both bowed, and when the first of the two managed to control himself, said that they too would be honored. So the Leewit acquired a lot of background about how the clans of the sea peoples worked, and just what she had to do.

* * *

The Leewit went along with Ta’zara to greet his clan elders in the Nuii, to be introduced as the one to whom he had sworn his highest oath, committing himself—and them, if he failed—to defend her. She greeted them—as only the Leewit with her klatha gift of languages could—as if she came from Na’kalauf. That was something of a surprise, plainly, a welcome one, but… The clan had known of the deaths of the squad, but it had been made fresh and raw by Ta’zara’s returning alone. So after the politenesses had been done, she stood up, and turned to Ta’zara.

“Warrior. I give you leave to remain and speak with your kin. I am honored to have met your clan.”

One of the old women got up. “You will honor us by joining us at the feast of the living and the dead?”

The Leewit had had this explained to her. “Yes,” she said. “My warrior has no comrades to recount his deed and battles. As his Ta’taimi, even though I am not of the sea people, I claim the right to do so.”

There was a collective “ah!” at that, and two of the other elders got up and escorted her back to the Venture.

“That went very well,” said Me’a.

“How did you know?” asked the Leewit.

“Your escort. If it had gone badly you would not have had one; if it had been so-so, one young man or woman. Good, one elder. Very well, another. You got three: the war counsel, and the old war chief and his brother. Anyway, you said the right things. I am more practiced at reading their faces than you are.”

“How do you know?” asked the Leewit. “You were back here. I could have called them tree-bollems with unhappy rumbly tummies for all you know.”

“Spy ray,” Me’a said cheerfully.

“Huh. You’ve got a fat cheek. So: Can we see what’s going on with Ta’zara and the clan?”

Me’a raised an eyebrow, but flipped out a screen from the arm of the wheelchair.

* * *

In the twilight the same three elders came to fetch the Leewit, along with Ta’zara. The captain thought he looked tired and strained, but that was not really surprising. The rest of them had to remain back on the beach away from where piles of dry branches were being piled for the feast fires. “When they have recounted the deeds of their living and the dead, someone will be sent to call us to the feast,” explained Me’a. She sniffed loftily. “The food won’t be as good as that of my Nuii, of course.”

Darkness fell on the atoll. Na’kalauf’s sun sank into the sea, and the last redness of it faded behind the dark bulk of the island. The white sand was dim in the starlight. By strict instruction there was not as much as an atomic lamp burning in the ships. The only sound was the distant surf breaking on the outer reef.

And then, somewhere, a lonely trumpetlike sound started. It was enough, the captain found, to start the hair on the back of his neck standing up. The horn call got faster and louder.

“The war call. They call the spirits of dead warriors back across the reef,” explained one of Me’a’s bodyguards, quietly.

Then there was silence again. And then a single drum beating. Then a second, and then more, and more, and more, as the fires on the dry sands of the lagoon were kindled. “Each family beats the drum for their own dead, answering the call. When a Nuii has no one to answer…then its dead are forgotten. Lost. Now, they are home. Now the warriors will sing, and the honor feast will be prepared. Ta’zara must sing for his lost brothers. He will give what tokens he has of them to the lagoon, so they may watch over it. It is hard because he has little from their last battles, and he did not see them fall.”

“Well, at least he doesn’t have to tell them about them getting eaten,” said Goth.

Me’a laughed. “That wouldn’t worry them. The sea people used to eat their enemies too, you see. These days it doesn’t happen much. But it was only cowardly enemies who were not fit to eat. In case you caught the taint from the meat,” explained Me’a.

“No wonder he dealt with the Megair Cannibals so well,” said Goth darkly.

“Hush. Your little sister has just stood up and claimed the right to speak for the living.”

* * *

In the circle of firelight the Leewit felt very alone, standing up in front of all these people she didn’t know. She wasn’t used to making pretty speeches. Giving them a nice collection of insults in bad language was more what she was used to. Then she realized that Ta’zara had gotten to his feet too, and was standing there, still her bodyguard for life, still the man who had reached through his own breaking to try to defend her. This was as needed as fixing broken bones or bleeding wounds, which was what she did. She was a healer. She could do that well. She could do this well. She had to.

So without embellishment she told some of the adventures in dealing with the Megair Cannibals. She told of his fight with the Melchin’s mind-controlled thugs and how he fought, although he was injured and wounded and saved her and her sister. She described in great detail his fight and conquest of Gwarrr the great eater, the Megair Cannibal chief, and his taking control and leadership of the Megair fleet, where he expected to die.

She turned to Ta’zara: “It is said that a brave man knows no fear of the great shark. But a truly brave man is the man who has been savaged by the shark and barely lived, and goes back to the water to face it again. Ta’zara, you faced the shark not once but again and again. For yourself, for your brothers-in-arms, and for me. It is a great honor for my family to have me served by such a warrior. Now: It is customary for the Ta’taimi to reward a warrior for his service.” She whistled, and Me’a’s two bodyguards came dogtrotting across the sand carrying a small but plainly heavy box, and set it down at her feet.

The Leewit opened it, revealing layers of gold coins. She looked at Ta’zara. Looked at the elders. She realized she’d learned quite a lot in the circus—and not just about fanderbags and circus tricks and the plays Richard Cravan and Dame Ethy produced, but about playing the crowds. She waited for approving grunts to fade to silence. Then, regal as any empress, she said, “Not enough. Not nearly enough. Fetch more.”

The two men trotted off, and returned with another box. She repeated the performance. Three more times, she did it. Then she bent down and took a double handful of the coins and put them into his hands. “From my own hands to yours, the gift is given. Use it as you see fit.” She could see, both by Ta’zara’s astounded face and the approving faces of the clan, that Me’a had instructed her very well on this. She could see the relief in Ta’zara’s face. He could not bring his squad home, but he would be able to see his dead squad brothers’ families and the clan provided for. She hadn’t realized how that must have weighed on him.

He bowed very low, stood up and said, “Thank you, mistress. It is an honor to serve. Not only did you give me my freedom from captivity, you gave me healing, and you allowed me to avenge my clan’s dead. That was gift enough. But for this, for my clan brothers and their families, I thank you.”

“It is my gift. And it is still not enough. But it is what is in my ability to give,” she said formally.

Several of the elders of the clan got up and came over to them. “What’s going on?” asked the Leewit, quietly.

“They come to escort you to sit with them,” said Ta’zara with the broadest smile she’d ever seen on his face. “It is a great honor. I must sing my brothers home now.”

“Ah. Well, you can tell them that Goth can get the stones of the arena to tell the whole story. So there are witnesses,” she said.

“That too is a great gift, mistress.”

* * *

Pausert didn’t understand what the Leewit had been saying, or the singing that followed. He got the pride and sadness, but the words themselves meant nothing to him. After the first “shush” from the intent Me’a, who was watching both the distant spectacle and had it on screen of her spy ray, which had her two guards’ eyes also glued to it, he left the words to mean whatever they meant. Judging by the three that did understand, it was pretty gripping.

But, watching the Leewit, standing there, he felt a kind of sadness as well as satisfaction. The little blond waif he used to have to tell to wash behind her ears was growing up. Oh, she’d be back to being the Leewit as soon as she got back on the ship. But soon she wouldn’t need him or Goth. She’d probably go adventuring on her own. And then he’d have her to worry about too. A teaching pattern was all very well, and yes, it let the children of Karres grow up and get an education in ways the Nikkeldepain Academy for the Sons and Daughters of Gentlemen and Officers hadn’t. But he was still very protective about the youngest of the witches. He was pretty protective of the middle one too, of course. Goth had been happy to be back on the Venture, seemingly very happy to see him. He could tell that something was troubling her, but he knew by now she’d only tell him what it was when she was ready to.

After the feasting—and it was a great feast, no matter what Me’a said—they’d all returned to the Venture. There’d be two more days of small tides before the huge tide that would make the landing beach vanish, and they’d agreed to spend that time sitting on their tubes and letting Ta’zara have some time with his extended family. There was no telling when the Venture might be back this way again.

Ta’zara’s face always gave little away, but when they returned to the ship in the small hours of the morning he just looked more at ease. He—not the captain—had carried the fast-asleep full-bellied Leewit back to the ship and up to her cabin.

Once they had put her in her bunk and covered her up and closed the door on her, Ta’zara put his hand on Pausert’s shoulder. “My thanks, Captain. That was a great gift, and given with a great kindness and understanding.”

“It’s more or less the Leewit’s share. Besides, you did a lot for us,” said Pausert. “She did well tonight, didn’t she?”

Ta’zara beamed. “She did very well. Indeed, I think what she said about the shark will become part of the Aiwi’s legend. My clan thought I had placed them under an obligation and now they want to adopt her into the clan. She spoke very well.” He laughed. “And then she ate very well, which is also important to us. And I too have some peace. Tomorrow, when she wakes, I will take her to meet and talk with my family. My sister, her children, some of my friends from the clan. The elders will want to be visited too. You will not mind waiting on us?”

“We haven’t exactly got a deadline for Karoda, and the next leg is beyond the borders,” said Pausert with a smile. “Goth says that after all these years there’s not really a reason to drop everything and run. I don’t know that I agree. I have some unpleasant plans for whoever that dart came from. But Goth doesn’t agree with me on that, either.”

“Fortunately, bodyguards merely have to defend,” said Ta’zara.

* * *

Goth was actually having a terrible time. Firstly, she just still felt as weak as a newborn. To someone who had spent her whole life full of energy, it was horrible. All she wanted to do was sleep and cry and she did not approve of either. And secondly… Well, secondly was sort of her own fault. She had said it, and didn’t know how to unsay it. When she failed to ’port the water glass, she realized she’d pushed her klatha ability too far. She’d gotten home, but home wasn’t Karres anymore. It was the Venture, with the captain. It had been a stupid thing to say; but she’d been trying to find a way to tell him. She hadn’t even been able to tell the Leewit. The Leewit could fix her body, but she couldn’t do anything for Goth’s klatha ability. And she’d had that, ever since she could remember. It had gotten stronger with age, and then her ability to read objects had developed—and now she couldn’t even ’port a glass. So she’d said, sort of fishing, sort of looking for reassurance, and sort of looking for a way to tell him, “Could you ever marry someone who wasn’t a witch of Karres?”

And the captain had told her, in no uncertain terms, that the answer was no. That he was as good as promised not only to a witch of Karres, but to a specific witch. After all, who else could cope with his own erratic klatha powers and help him with the Sheewash Drive in their ship?

Which, under almost any other circumstances, would have been music to Goth’s ears.

* * *

Later the same day, the Leewit went bouncing off with Ta’zara. It hadn’t occurred to the captain that the littlest witch of Karres could have been worried, but watching her doing cartwheels—and falling over on the beach—he realized she had been carrying the weight of dealing with Ta’zara’s problems. Now, she plainly felt them lifted from her shoulders, to judge by the shrieks of laughter from the beach, echoing up through the open gangway. Ta’zara was grinning broadly too—and then showed her how cartwheels should be done.

The captain came to realize he wasn’t alone, watching them. Goth was still asleep, but Me’a had silently wheeled herself into the bridge. She too was watching the Leewit. “The stuff of legends, Captain. My men will be taking their leave shortly. I have paid them off and they are free to return to their homes. They are eager to do so too, with stories to tell, as well as their pay. They will find trading vessels with the tide.” She paused. “Do you mind if I delay my own departure? I wish to speak to the Leewit. I would also be interested in hiring the Venture to transport a cargo of young rochats from Cinderby’s World—or from Iradalia or Karoda. They also exist there. I have arranged this with certain of my associates of my own clan.”

“I’ll talk to Goth, when she wakes up. She does the cargoes and the bookings…” The captain looked at the ex–smuggler boss. Well, she knew that they weren’t exactly just a tramp merchant ship carrying high-value cargoes on less-traveled routes. “Unless we get other instructions.”

“Understood. I know very little of the Wisdoms and their business. Sedmon told me I would be very wise to keep it that way.”

Pausert had to laugh. “You’re not alone. Half the time they don’t even tell me what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m not all that sure they know, or at least not too far in advance.”

“But they have placed you at some considerable risk at times, Captain, or so I have gathered from things you and your crew have let slip. They plainly think you can cope.”

“Karres’ way is to learn or to die, Me’a. If you can’t cope you don’t belong. They do back us up, but they leave us to it, a lot of the time. We’ve got…skills, each of us.”

“And you operate as a team?” she asked.

“Yes. Well, the younger witches tend to travel in groups. And, um, select or take along a guardian. They don’t raise their children the way most Empire worlds do. Many of the older witches do operate alone.” Having said that, the captain looked at her suspiciously. “You’re fishing again, Me’a.”

Me’a nodded. “It is my skill. Or at least one of them. I have been told that I do it well. However, Captain, you need have no fear. I wish the Wisdoms no ill. In fact, I have been considering my own future in the light of the debt I owe. We of Na’kalauf always pay our debts.” She made a face. “It’s why the sea people have so many feuds. You have given me much to think about, Captain. My men will want to come and pay their respects before they leave, but I will go back to my cabin for now.”

* * *

The Leewit knew, no matter what anyone else might think, that what she had done to help Ta’zara was just a step. One of many needed. But she couldn’t explain that to people. Clumping idiots. She didn’t even really understand it too well herself. But her teaching pattern did. And that step had been hard and was behind her now. She was going to have a good time today…

In Ta’zara’s Nuii, the Leewit found that whatever else she and Ta’zara thought they were doing today, having an easy fun day stopped with the cartwheels on the beach. They knew now that she was a healer. And it seemed all of them thought they were sick, even the ones who definitely weren’t. Being a healer meant you wanted to help, but how much help could she give without burning herself out? Fortunately, Ta’zara figured that one out. With the help of some of the elders, he reduced that to just a lot instead of a flood.

But there were people here who needed healing. And some who needed more healing than others, and more time and strength than she had to give.

It was incredibly hard. But the worst came toward the end of the day, when a young couple brought their crying baby to her. In their eyes she could see desperation and fear. On touching the child, she stilled its pain…and she understood why it was sore. The baby had the start of the same disease as Me’a.

The Leewit was already exhausted. Fixing that…

Tippi stuck her nose out of the Leewit’s collar, and it struck the Leewit like a bolt of lightning… She pulled Tippi out and held her next to the baby’s face. The little girl sneezed, and Tippi wriggled over and sniffed it. She sneezed again. “Phew. All right!” said the Leewit, putting her fingers onto the baby’s neck. Down in the cells she could feel the reaction. She held up Tippi. “She needs one of these in the house. Now and always. Look, I think you both suspected she might have Iberra. Living with a few sneezes…will stop it developing. She can have a normal growing up and life.”

“But nothing cures Iberra,” said the father, his face grim. The mother cradled her baby and started to weep, which started the little one up again.

“Do I need to whistle at you to stop that?” said the Leewit crossly. She’d whistled at a few people already that day. Word got around. “It doesn’t cure it. It stops it.”

“Like a shield,” said Ta’zara. “I have seen it. It is true.”

“Really?” There was desperate hope in the mother’s voice.

“I swear it by the spirit of our forefather Ke’taka,” said Ta’zara.

“It’ll make her sneeze a little at first. But it…it gives the disease a small enemy to fight, so it doesn’t attack her. She is little enough that the damage that it has already done will recover and heal.”

The father looked at Tippi, at his wife, at the baby and then back at the Leewit. “Great lady,” he said. “How long do we have? I cannot get one of these animals soon. They are expensive and rare.”

Ta’zara, for the first time since the Leewit had met him, started to laugh. Eventually he managed to get the words out. “There is a price on everything, Je’tara. You will have to stay with my sister. I will arrange, and she will tell me she was right about the smelly little things. And she will tell you how to raise your child, and a great deal more she knows nothing about, but your little girl will be fine. It is high price, cousin, but that is what it will cost you.” And then he started laughing again. Maybe it really was that funny, thought the Leewit. But maybe he just had a lot of laughing to catch up on.

It was infectious. The young warrior began to laugh too, holding tightly to his wife. Finally, they got control of themselves. He bowed to Ta’zara. “It is a high price. But my little one is worth it.” And then there was doubt. “You are sure it will work?”

“Absolutely certain,” said the Leewit. “And Me’a’s planning on shipping rochats in. I’ll tell her you need one.”

“Me’a?” asked the young warrior.

“She calls herself that,” explained Ta’zara. “Li’jani of the Katipi Nuii. The daughter of the war chief there, the one who developed Iberra later in life. You see—she grew up with one of these pests. And then it died.” He gestured at the Leewit. “My Ta’taimi found out and stopped the disease. It is too late for her legs, but it stopped the pain.”

The warrior nodded, belief and acceptance finally getting home to him. Then he drew himself up. “I have very little to gift you with, great lady. But I would offer my service.”

The Leewit was starting to get used to the way the sea people thought. She’d not really known what to do with the gifts the people had brought. They were generous, if sometimes not really what one wanted on a spaceship—like the smelly ropes of dried fish that Tippi had found very attractive. The Leewit had been about to say no, thank you to the first gift when Ta’zara had caught her eye, and shook his head almost imperceptibly. When they left he’d explained: “It would be an insult. And it is a way of showing that they value what you do, and that they respect you. Something which is given for nothing has no value and is abused.”

But now she was faced with someone who plainly didn’t have much and was giving her what he had and was willing to give up life with his wife and baby for it. And it was something she didn’t want or need. Yet… Ta’zara had explained: that to be offered something and refuse was an insult. The difference between the bodyguarding work most of the Na’kalauf people did and what Ta’zara did was simple: It came in the difference between offering and asking. You could ask a warrior, and he would agree and a contract would be drawn up. That was simple business. But if someone offered…it was different, entirely.

So she took his hands. “You are mine, now, to command.”

He bowed his head. “Yes, Ta’taimi.”

The Leewit couldn’t help but notice that his wife had started to cry again, softly. “And mine to take care of. The respect of the clan comes from how well I do that, correct, Ta’zara?”

Ta’zara nodded. “Your standing with the clan depends on that, yes.”

“So I can show off by how well I do it?”

Ta’zara managed to keep his laughter to a slight shaking of the shoulders. “I don’t think we would quite put it like that, but yes, mistress.”

“Good!” said the Leewit cheerfully. “Then to look after you, Je’tara, I must see to the health and welfare of your child, who is sick. Until she is of an age to look after herself, you will stay to care for her. Then you can come and spell Ta’zara. Or if I send for you.”

“But great lady, I am willing…”

“I know you are. But I have responsibilities. To you. And Ta’zara. His sister worries him.”

Ta’zara couldn’t stop himself laughing at this point. His sister worried him all right. She had a very big mouth, the Leewit had decided. But the young warrior’s wife’s tears were at least also divided by laughter.

Later, as they walked back to the Venture, she asked Ta’zara if she’d done right.

“I am your warrior, not your war counsel,” he said. “It is not my place to advise, just to defend and fight for you, at your order.”

“Well, I’m telling you to tell me. It’s a kind of fight, and a kind of defense,” said the Leewit.

“Then I think you did very well indeed. You will have to call him for work, but he has just returned from his last contract. It is customary for men to take some time between contracts, and the Nuii needs some men here. The loss of my clan brothers is felt. Even by my sister…one of those was her younger son.”

“Oh!” That did sort of explain things.

“She will find relief in Je’tara’s little one. Of course she will constantly tell them what to do. But she has a good heart under it all. It is a gift to me, Ta’taimi. And yes, a good way to show off your status. My clan, who are the best, will now claim they are even better.”

The next day wasn’t a whole lot easier.

There were queues. And most of them didn’t look sick.

“You are now quite famous, and they think you will become more so. Each of them wants to be able to say that they or their child was seen by you,” explained her new warrior, Je’tara. “That is partly my wife’s fault. She has spent much of the night boasting to everyone about her man’s new Ta’taimi. She is determined that if you need to show off, she will help as much as she can.”

“Umph. I think I’ll whistle at all of them. Those that don’t run are really sick,” said the Leewit crossly. “I thought I could go fishing or something. Goth and the captain are going fishing. It’s not fair.”

“I can tell them to go away.”

“No,” said the Leewit, regretfully. “Tell them I’m going to be especially rude to the ones who are faking.”

Unfortunately, as she later discovered, the Na’kalaufer still considered that a treat, and a story to tell.

* * *

It was a long and tiring day for the Leewit. The tides dictated that they’d be leaving by the next afternoon. And when she got back to the ship, she’d barely had time to sit down and drink caram juice and wonder when Goth and the captain would get back from fishing, when Me’a came in.

“I thought you were going to catch a boat home. We’re going to have to charge you rent,” said the Leewit grumpily.

“I was,” said Me’a, “but I have thought about it for a long time, and waited to ask you something. You have never been anything but rude to me since you met me. Others you are sometimes polite to. But me, never. Why?”

The Leewit looked at Me’a in her wheelchair. “Because I felt you needed it.”

Me’a nodded slowly. “It took me some time to work out what you were doing, but I am in your debt. I was about your age when the disease struck me. I think that was the last time anyone treated me as you have. It is a great gift, Your Wisdom. I have thought at great length about what I needed to do to adequately reward you for what you have done for me, and for others who would have suffered my disease.”

“I didn’t ask for any reward,” said the Leewit. “I have lots of dried fish.”

“No,” said Me’a with a slight smile. “You did not. Instead you gave me more healing. You called me a silly cow. I did not understand immediately. But I think I do now. You showed me neither pity nor fear. Not showing pity…that I understood. It took me a little while longer to work out how powerful you were, that you need not show fear because you could kill if you wished to. If you can reach into people to heal, you can reach into them to kill.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I just did what I always do.”

“I know. It is as much part of you as breathing. You showed yourself to be someone whom it would be an honor to serve, to be my Ta’taimi, if you will accept my service. It is fitting that you should be rewarded with what I have. I am Me’a, and I pledge myself to your service. You may not see that you need me yet, but you will. Ta’zara is a great warrior. I am a great organizer. A tactician, of some repute, it is said.”

“Can you play poker?” asked the Leewit.

Me’a nodded. “Not very well. It’s been a long time. I am sure you will explain the rules to me.”

The Leewit looked darkly at her. “Huh. With an answer like that I’m gonna have to stick to playing for points, not money. That takes the fun out of it.”

“Chicken stakes,” said Me’a, cheerfully. “Never more than a tenth of a mael.”

“Why do feel I’m being suckered?” said the Leewit.

“Because you are. It adds up remarkably quickly, and is much easier to lead someone into debt with just little bets. It will, of course, be my privilege to instruct my Ta’taimi into certain skills.”

“And,” rumbled Ta’zara, “to recall that as her hearthman what you win is the property of the Ta’taimi.”

The Leewit turned to him. “So…what do you think?”

Ta’zara smiled. He seemed to find that so much easier now. “She is a very bad woman. She cheats at cards, and she is good at that. Her bond-guards told me so. But my work is not to think for you or decide for you. I am your warrior, not your war counsel.”

“If I were your war counsel, which I am not,” said Me’a, “I would point out that the captain and your sister plainly intend to marry. And in the fashion of marrying people, they may well settle down for some years and have children. It is my thought that the Leewit does not plan to settle down just yet.”

“No,” said the Leewit gruffly. “You got something there. Goth’s going just like Maleen. All soppy. I still want to go back to the circus.”

“I could assist. Arrange. Do some of the tasks the captain does, while Ta’zara provides the rest, and I have some skills that could get us out of trouble,” said Me’a, persuasively. “You are, of course, the Ta’taimi. You decide and you order. But as far as many of the worlds of the Empire are concerned—they will treat you as a child. I can act as your proxy. Fool them that I give the orders.”

“I think I am going to talk to the captain about it,” announced the Leewit, and went off to do so. She found him and Goth in the control room, having just gotten in from their fishing expedition. Holding hands. It did make a sharp point out of what Me’a had said. Both he and Goth looked…very happy. Like they were sort of part of each other.

Abruptly, the Leewit realized that they were, or would be soon. Goth was of marriageable age now. She and the captain had always had a tight bond, but the nature of it was changing. The Leewit swallowed hard. She didn’t like changes, as a rule—and this one was going to be especially hard on her.

“Come to talk to you two,” she announced. Goth didn’t take her hand away from the captain’s, she noticed. That had changed too.

“We’re listening,” said the captain.

“Yeah. Well, you two are going to get married, aren’t you?” asked the Leewit.

“I told the captain about that long ago,” said Goth. “When we get back to Karres. If this trip takes too long, I’ll be on the shelf,” she said with a laugh.

The Leewit didn’t find it funny. “Yeah. Well, I figured. So I better do some planning. ’Cause I’m not going back to Karres yet.”

The captain looked startled. “But…” he paused, looked at Goth, inquiringly.

Goth shrugged. “She was too little to go off on her own when we went to Porlumma. But she wanted to come. And the prognosticators told Toll and Threbus you’d be along. I guess they have plans now too. Usually younger ones get paired or grouped. We’re kind of free agents…sort of.”

“I’m busy making plans all by myself,” said the Leewit. “Well, with Me’a. And Ta’zara.”

Goth grinned. “You know, I was just saying to the captain that I’d bet that Me’a had made some kind of plan to come along.”

“So…you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think she would be hard to stop,” said the captain. “Or at least hard to stop her following us. And it’ll be easier to watch her from close by than when she is following us in her own ship.”

“She’s got her own ship?” asked the Leewit.

“It set down yesterday.” Goth pointed to a ship visible on the viewer. “She came up to the bridge and asked us if she might contact her. Maybe she doesn’t want us to know she’s gotten her own communicator. Maybe she was just being clever, figuring out not telling us would make us mad when we found out. I reckon she is pretty smart. She’s the kind who likes to think a few steps ahead all the time.”

“Which is fine until the steps don’t go the direction you thought they would,” said the captain.

“We could stop her,” said the Leewit. “I mean she’s rich and sneaky, but we’ve got klatha.”

“Yep. But do you want to?” asked Goth. “She’s even got a ship for you to use.”

The Leewit turned away hurriedly, because she hadn’t wanted to think about that. When the captain married Goth…the Venture 7333 was his ship, not hers.

The captain seemed to know what she was thinking. “This is your ship too. There’ll always be space on her for you.” He paused. “Unless you put another stink bomb in the air recycler.”

That made her laugh. “Going to clumping well have to think of something worse now!” And she went off to find Me’a and Ta’zara.

* * *

“I think that they think it’s a good idea. Why didn’t you tell me you have your own ship?” she asked Me’a.

“Because it is never good to show all your cards. That is something the Wisdoms of Karres know, don’t they?” She rolled her chair forward and held out both hands, palms up. “Will you accept my service?”

The Leewit looked at her. “So what am I supposed to say? If you were being my advisor.” She spoke Na’kalauf, because of her klatha skill, and she knew the word didn’t quite mean advisor. More like war counselor.

“Put your hands on mine and say, ‘Yes, I accept you. You are mine,’” said Me’a.

“Is that all?” asked the Leewit.

“Yes. It doesn’t really matter quite what is said. That is where the Na’kalauf’s people differ from the Empire. Binding is easy. The more serious it is the easier it is because there are fewer conditions. For La’gaiff, there are no conditions at all. It is the unbinding that is hard. So you do not bind yourself lightly. I have considered this and reached my decision.” There was a calm certainty in Me’a’s voice.

“And what is my side of this?” asked the Leewit. “I haven’t got much gold. And I have to leave some with young Je’tara.”

“Such gifts are the traditional reward for great service,” said Me’a. “Which I would still have to do. And I have a lot, and as my property is now yours to use, it will not be a problem. You can make it my task to see to it.”

“All right then,” said the Leewit. “Do it.”


Back | Next
Framed