feel it in my bones!"
She looked at him, saw some glare of concern
and another coolness, perhaps of acceptance. No scents. No scents
now. The man at least did not smell like blood, which was good.
"Will Charleschow do for you, Joshu?
Charleschow at fifteen? Con Rad asks us to be his guests."
He looked at her sharply.
"Will he leave us with the bill after
all?"
"No. I'm sure he won't."
Joshu sighed.
"The lady with the chains would have been
easier," he said.
"The lady with the chains stank of sweet
things she cannot afford. This Liaden, this Con Rad, why as you
say, he may solve it all. Else Management will see us, deport you
penniless, and jail me for my genes, which solves another set of
problems."
She'd meant it flippantly but he just bowed
his head, all the colors of gloom running across his face. He stood
then, and nodded.
"Charleschow it is. I wonder if Con Rad
knows his wine."
*
"No, thank you, it
is Conrad , flowing
together completely," the man said gently, "though I thank you for
your efforts."
They'd arrived at the stroke of five before,
to find the big man towering above staff in the lobby, waiting for
them. Staff was remarkably unaware of them as they moved toward the
quiet rooms one hall inside--and they did not stop there, but found
yet another hall with deeper carpeting and lower lighting, and an
additional interior space that Beba had not known existed.
She heard the briefest of Joshu's near
tuneless whistles, barely louder than a breath. He, too, had no
idea that the sanctums got this inner, and now the large man made
no attempt to hide his grace. While perhaps no match for the Essa
or for Con Rad, he was silent in ways that were surprising, and her
attempted read brought only the vague purple of concentration and
the distant green of well-being.
"Conrad, like the carpets?" she asked
experimentally, and he bowed lightly, in unoffended agreement.
"Indeed. You may make what you will of the
coincidence!"
It was a joke of many layers, for she could
see it on his face as the colors quickly washed by. The
conversation quickly fell to Joshu, who requested Conrad's opinions
on the wines.
Those opinions were
informed and extensive, permitting the ordering of the meal, and a
sampling of wines, to go forth before any hint of business. As host
Conrad had the menu with the prices and Beba was pleased to order
freely, though perhaps not quite as freely as Joshu. The big man,
who she discovered to be Pilot
Cheever , was quite comfortable ordering
large portions, and if Conrad was less large and thus ordered less,
his choices were obviously dictated by desire and not by
price.
"You have an interesting mix of
products,"Conrad said eventually, nodding toward both Joshu and
her, his colors going bland, "and as it would be easier for all
concerned if we might single source our purchase, I am much
inclined to work with you. In fact, it would be good if we might
conclude our business this very shift, if you are able to return to
the hall after dinner."
Beba saw the alert colors rise in Conrad's
associates, but the man himself was still showing cool.
He looked to her, and she looked pointedly
to Joshu, who was showing a true flash of surprise in his colors,
and a scent, a rare scent, of--wine.
Her partner raised his hands from the meal,
palm up.
"The draymen and longshore, the packers,
they are not available so late in the evening, and there will be a
charge to open, and perhaps some . . . issues with Management."
The woman Essa nodded, her alert colors
fading somewhat. Her glance was accepted by Conrad, with whatever
message it held for him, and he brought his attention back to Beba
first, including Joshu with a side-glance.
"I will speak with Management, should they
appear," said Conrad, "and we will proceed. There are two essential
things, however, that we must be clear upon."
Joshu's expression said it all: here was
where he thought things would fail.
The elegant man leaned forward, watching the
pair
She looked at him, saw some glare of concern
and another coolness, perhaps of acceptance. No scents. No scents
now. The man at least did not smell like blood, which was good.
"Will Charleschow do for you, Joshu?
Charleschow at fifteen? Con Rad asks us to be his guests."
He looked at her sharply.
"Will he leave us with the bill after
all?"
"No. I'm sure he won't."
Joshu sighed.
"The lady with the chains would have been
easier," he said.
"The lady with the chains stank of sweet
things she cannot afford. This Liaden, this Con Rad, why as you
say, he may solve it all. Else Management will see us, deport you
penniless, and jail me for my genes, which solves another set of
problems."
She'd meant it flippantly but he just bowed
his head, all the colors of gloom running across his face. He stood
then, and nodded.
"Charleschow it is. I wonder if Con Rad
knows his wine."
*
"No, thank you, it
is Conrad , flowing
together completely," the man said gently, "though I thank you for
your efforts."
They'd arrived at the stroke of five before,
to find the big man towering above staff in the lobby, waiting for
them. Staff was remarkably unaware of them as they moved toward the
quiet rooms one hall inside--and they did not stop there, but found
yet another hall with deeper carpeting and lower lighting, and an
additional interior space that Beba had not known existed.
She heard the briefest of Joshu's near
tuneless whistles, barely louder than a breath. He, too, had no
idea that the sanctums got this inner, and now the large man made
no attempt to hide his grace. While perhaps no match for the Essa
or for Con Rad, he was silent in ways that were surprising, and her
attempted read brought only the vague purple of concentration and
the distant green of well-being.
"Conrad, like the carpets?" she asked
experimentally, and he bowed lightly, in unoffended agreement.
"Indeed. You may make what you will of the
coincidence!"
It was a joke of many layers, for she could
see it on his face as the colors quickly washed by. The
conversation quickly fell to Joshu, who requested Conrad's opinions
on the wines.
Those opinions were
informed and extensive, permitting the ordering of the meal, and a
sampling of wines, to go forth before any hint of business. As host
Conrad had the menu with the prices and Beba was pleased to order
freely, though perhaps not quite as freely as Joshu. The big man,
who she discovered to be Pilot
Cheever , was quite comfortable ordering
large portions, and if Conrad was less large and thus ordered less,
his choices were obviously dictated by desire and not by
price.
"You have an interesting mix of
products,"Conrad said eventually, nodding toward both Joshu and
her, his colors going bland, "and as it would be easier for all
concerned if we might single source our purchase, I am much
inclined to work with you. In fact, it would be good if we might
conclude our business this very shift, if you are able to return to
the hall after dinner."
Beba saw the alert colors rise in Conrad's
associates, but the man himself was still showing cool.
He looked to her, and she looked pointedly
to Joshu, who was showing a true flash of surprise in his colors,
and a scent, a rare scent, of--wine.
Her partner raised his hands from the meal,
palm up.
"The draymen and longshore, the packers,
they are not available so late in the evening, and there will be a
charge to open, and perhaps some . . . issues with Management."
The woman Essa nodded, her alert colors
fading somewhat. Her glance was accepted by Conrad, with whatever
message it held for him, and he brought his attention back to Beba
first, including Joshu with a side-glance.
"I will speak with Management, should they
appear," said Conrad, "and we will proceed. There are two essential
things, however, that we must be clear upon."
Joshu's expression said it all: here was
where he thought things would fail.
The elegant man leaned forward, watching the
pair
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