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Nimbledrake: Between Planets

"That one," Liz snapped, certainty hitting her system like a jolt of Stim.

Beside her, Nova yos'Galan blinked, then fingered the controls, bringing the image into close-up.

"Look carefully, Angela Lizardi. You are certain?"

"Told you I'd know it if I saw it again," Liz said, shaking off the dregs of her drowse. "That's the one."

It wasn't much to look at, compared with some of the other Liaden clan sigils they'd scanned over the last couple hours, but made its point with a purity of line that Liz at least found—refreshing.

Nova yos'Galan had turned from her study of the screen and was looking at her out of wide violet eyes. "You are certain?"

Liz frowned. "How many times you want me to say so, Goldie?"

She had discovered rather early in their association that Nova yos'Galan did not care to be called "Goldie." She thus reserved the name for times of special aggravation, of which, unfortunately, there were many. The Liaden woman had a gift for setting a body all into angles.

This time, however, the nickname earned neither darkling glance nor frown of disapproval. Instead, Nova turned back to the computer display and fiddled the buttons on her armrest until the sigil was replaced with a screen full of Liaden characters. She fiddled some more and the words dissolved. When the clan badge was back on-screen once more, Nova spoke, calmly and without inflection.

"That is the badge of Clan Erob."

Liz frowned again, trying to read something from the side of her companion's face or the set of her shoulders, which was about as useful as trying to read a meteor shield.

"If your friend held such a thing, she was of Erob, through Line Tiazan. Tee-AY-sahn," Nova breathed and grimaced. "Katalina TAY-zin. Pah!" She turned and looked at Liz once more, eyes shielded now, hard as amethyst.

"Be—very—certain, Angela Lizardi."

"Think I'm playing with your affection? That's the design. I'd know it if I was blind."

"Clan Erob," Nova said again, flat-voiced.

"If you say so. Got a problem, Goldie? What're they, the Capulets?"

Puzzlement flickered in the depths of the violet eyes, and was gone in the next instant. "Indeed, no. Clan Erob is none other than our eldest ally. We were to have shared genes again this generation, as I recall it."

"That so." Liz chewed on it a couple seconds. "Damned if I can see why you're cooked, then. If Redhead and that brother of yours are married—and I ain't believing that 'til I got it from Redhead herself—but if they are, seems to me you oughta be booking the band for the reception and pulling together a guest list."

"Hah." The stiff golden face relaxed into what passed for her smile. "But you see, I, too, entertain some . . . astonishment . . . at this lifemating. My brother Val Con, you understand, is not—biddable. It would require but a word in his ear that he must marry to Erob and we should find him looking in all directions, save that one."

Liz laughed. "Him and Redhead are well-matched, then. And you and the rest of the family better stand back!"

"Well," Nova's smile deepened, actually touching the depths of her eyes before she turned her attention back to the screen. "Our search is made easy," she murmured, plying the buttons and shutting the search program down. "We to Lytaxin, Angela Lizardi, there to put our various questions to my brother and to Miri Robertson." She rose, shaking her golden head at the blank screen before glancing down to Liz, pale lips still curved in her slight smile.

"And to Delm Erob, most naturally."

"Sounds like a plan," Liz said and climbed to her feet, stretching tall. "You know how to get us to Lytaxin, I take it."

Nova bowed slightly. "Simplicity itself."

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