her voice, though it wasn’t necessary.
“Hear me, my children, for I tell you of wonder and joy. Come to us only today is Miri Robertson, who is of Erob by Tiazan, this without doubt.” She looked hard at Miri out of stern gray eyes.
“Turn,” she ordered, still loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Miri Robertson Tiazan, that your cousins may see your face and rejoice.”
Sure . She squared her shoulders and turned, looking out over the mob and seeing precious little rejoicing—unless you counted an orange-haired somebody around eight or ten—she wasn’t too good at guessing ages that young—who was grinning fit to split her face.
“See also Val Con yos’Phelium,” Emrith Tiazan continued behind her, “Thodelm and Second Speaker of Clan Korval, our oldest and most honored ally. It is through Korval that we rediscover our kinswoman.” There was something of a stir at that and a bigger one when Val Con turned around to face them.
“It is further told the clan that Miri Robertson Tiazan and Val Con yos’Phelium have each seen the face of the other’s heart and, having seen, joined hands and hearts and lives together.”
Sleep-learning kept Miri from a gulp; years of dicing and playing cards for kynak and money kept her face straight. Damn, she thought , put that way it sounds all mystic and misty and stuff, when it’s just him and me holding together and doing what needs doing . . .
The carrot-top who’d been talking to Emrith Tiazan and tel’Vosti came forward and bowed, thin face earnest.
“Line Tiazan acknowledges Miri Robertson Tiazan and welcomes her with joy.”
Miri returned the bow, hand automatically signing recognition of kinship. “Lady Tiazan, I am honored.”
tel’Vosti stepped up next, bowing all courtly over his cane. “Line tel’Vosti sees Miri Robertson Tiazan with delight, welcomes her with honesty and acknowledges her with anticipation.”
She almost grinned at him, but sleep-learning kicked in, and pattern recognition with it, adding up all the things the Code didn’t say, like that Liaden society was controlled, yeah, and formal, sure, and all those pretty words and modes and gestures were the weapons you used to survive in an unending, cut-throat competition. Melant’i and Balance. Face or no face. And here was tel’Vosti, who had lived a long lifetime immersed in well-bred in-fighting, giving her a non-standard greeting, there in front of delm and everybody. Tweaking her, he was. Trying her, to see what she’d do.
She bowed, timing it to centimeter and millisecond. “My Lord tel’Vosti.” High Tongue Equal, that was the mode; it leaned on Val Con’s melant’i, but that was fine, since he was thodelm just like tel’Vosti, and the whole room had just heard the delm say she was a thodelm’s lifemate. “I see you with appreciation, hear you with understanding, and acknowledge you with trepidation.”
The brown eyes gleamed; the rest of his face remained merely polite. No way to tell if she’d scored points. She didn’t think she had. But she didn’t think she’d lost any either. Even was OK; tel’Vosti’d said it himself, when he’d been talking about Val Con’s uncle. Inside her head Val Con’s pattern held steady, inscrutable as a mandala.
The delm stepped forward, indicating Thodelm Tiazan with a backhanded wave. “Your cousin Bendara, daughter of your late cousin Cel Met Tiazan.”
The carrot-top gave a little bow, barely more than a heavy nod of the head. “Cousin Miri.”
Miri gave the bow back, “Cousin Bendara,” straightened and felt Val Con shift, oh-so-slightly, at her side. She directed Bendara’s attention his way with a copy of the delm’s backhanded gesture. “One’s lifemate, Val Con yos’Phelium.”
Bendara bowed again, a shade deeper than equality of rank demanded, as if maybe Val Con had more time in grade. “My Lord yos’Phelium.”
“My Lady Tiazan.” His voice was soft as always. She couldn’t see his
“Hear me, my children, for I tell you of wonder and joy. Come to us only today is Miri Robertson, who is of Erob by Tiazan, this without doubt.” She looked hard at Miri out of stern gray eyes.
“Turn,” she ordered, still loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Miri Robertson Tiazan, that your cousins may see your face and rejoice.”
Sure . She squared her shoulders and turned, looking out over the mob and seeing precious little rejoicing—unless you counted an orange-haired somebody around eight or ten—she wasn’t too good at guessing ages that young—who was grinning fit to split her face.
“See also Val Con yos’Phelium,” Emrith Tiazan continued behind her, “Thodelm and Second Speaker of Clan Korval, our oldest and most honored ally. It is through Korval that we rediscover our kinswoman.” There was something of a stir at that and a bigger one when Val Con turned around to face them.
“It is further told the clan that Miri Robertson Tiazan and Val Con yos’Phelium have each seen the face of the other’s heart and, having seen, joined hands and hearts and lives together.”
Sleep-learning kept Miri from a gulp; years of dicing and playing cards for kynak and money kept her face straight. Damn, she thought , put that way it sounds all mystic and misty and stuff, when it’s just him and me holding together and doing what needs doing . . .
The carrot-top who’d been talking to Emrith Tiazan and tel’Vosti came forward and bowed, thin face earnest.
“Line Tiazan acknowledges Miri Robertson Tiazan and welcomes her with joy.”
Miri returned the bow, hand automatically signing recognition of kinship. “Lady Tiazan, I am honored.”
tel’Vosti stepped up next, bowing all courtly over his cane. “Line tel’Vosti sees Miri Robertson Tiazan with delight, welcomes her with honesty and acknowledges her with anticipation.”
She almost grinned at him, but sleep-learning kicked in, and pattern recognition with it, adding up all the things the Code didn’t say, like that Liaden society was controlled, yeah, and formal, sure, and all those pretty words and modes and gestures were the weapons you used to survive in an unending, cut-throat competition. Melant’i and Balance. Face or no face. And here was tel’Vosti, who had lived a long lifetime immersed in well-bred in-fighting, giving her a non-standard greeting, there in front of delm and everybody. Tweaking her, he was. Trying her, to see what she’d do.
She bowed, timing it to centimeter and millisecond. “My Lord tel’Vosti.” High Tongue Equal, that was the mode; it leaned on Val Con’s melant’i, but that was fine, since he was thodelm just like tel’Vosti, and the whole room had just heard the delm say she was a thodelm’s lifemate. “I see you with appreciation, hear you with understanding, and acknowledge you with trepidation.”
The brown eyes gleamed; the rest of his face remained merely polite. No way to tell if she’d scored points. She didn’t think she had. But she didn’t think she’d lost any either. Even was OK; tel’Vosti’d said it himself, when he’d been talking about Val Con’s uncle. Inside her head Val Con’s pattern held steady, inscrutable as a mandala.
The delm stepped forward, indicating Thodelm Tiazan with a backhanded wave. “Your cousin Bendara, daughter of your late cousin Cel Met Tiazan.”
The carrot-top gave a little bow, barely more than a heavy nod of the head. “Cousin Miri.”
Miri gave the bow back, “Cousin Bendara,” straightened and felt Val Con shift, oh-so-slightly, at her side. She directed Bendara’s attention his way with a copy of the delm’s backhanded gesture. “One’s lifemate, Val Con yos’Phelium.”
Bendara bowed again, a shade deeper than equality of rank demanded, as if maybe Val Con had more time in grade. “My Lord yos’Phelium.”
“My Lady Tiazan.” His voice was soft as always. She couldn’t see his
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