Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Undated - This House

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2024-11-23 0 0 32.36KB 9 页 5.9玖币

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It was spring again.

Mil Ton Intassi caught the first hint of it as he strolled through his early-morning garden--a bare

flutter of warmth along the chill edge of mountain air, no more than that. Nonetheless, he sighed as he

walked, and tucked his hands into the sleeves of his jacket.

At the end of the garden, he paused, looking out across the toothy horizon, dyed orange by the

rising sun. Mist boiled up from the valley below him, making the trees into wraiths, obscuring the road

and the airport entirely.

Spring, he thought again.

He had come here in the spring, retreating to the house he had built, to the constancy of the

mountains.

Turning his back on the roiling fog, he strolled down the pale stone path, passing between

banked rows of flowers.

At the center of the garden, the path forked--the left fork became a pleasant meander through

the lower gardens, into the perimeter wood. It was cunning, with many delightful vistas, grassy knolls, and

shady groves perfect for tête-á-têtes.

The right-hand path led straight to the house, and it was to the house that Mil Ton returned,

slipping in through the terrace window, sliding it closed behind him.

He left his jacket on its peg and crossed to the stove, where he poured tea into a lopsided

pottery mug before he moved on, his footsteps firm on the scrubbed wooden floor.

At the doorway to the great room, he paused. To his right, the fireplace, the full wall of native

stone, which they had gathered and placed themselves. The grate wanted sweeping and new logs needed

to be laid. He would see to it later.

Opposite the doorway was a wall of windows through which he could see the orange light

unfurling like ribbons through the busy mist, and, nearer, a pleasant lawn, guarded on the far side by a

band of cedar trees, their rough bark showing pink against the glossy green needles. Cedar was plentiful

on this side of the mountain. So plentiful that he had used native cedar wood for beam, post, and floor.

Mil Ton turned his head, looking down the room to the letterbox. The panel light glowed

cheerfully green, which meant there were messages in the bin. It was rare, now, that he received any

messages beyond the commonplace--notices of quartershare payments, the occasional query from the

clan's man of business. His sister--his delm--had at last given over scolding him, and would not command

him; her letters were laconic, non-committal, and increasingly rare. The others--he moved his shoulders

and walked forward to stand at the window, sipping tea from the lopsided mug and staring down into the

thinning orange mist.

The green light tickled the edge of his vision. What could it be? he wondered--and sighed

sharply, irritated with himself. The letterbox existed because his sister--or perhaps it had been his

delm--asked that he not make himself entirely unavailable to the clan. Had she not, he would have had

neither letterbox, nor telephone, nor newsnet access. Two of those he had managed, and missed neither.

Nor would he mourn the letterbox, did it suddenly malfunction and die.

Oh, blast it all--what could it be?

He put the cup on the sill and went down the room, jerking open the drawer and snatching out

two flimsies.

The first was, after all, an inquiry from his man of business on the subject of reinvesting an

unexpected pay-out of dividend. He set it aside.

The second message was from Master Tereza of Solcintra Healer Hall, and it was rather lengthy,

outlining an exceptionally interesting and difficult case currently in the care of the Hall, and wondering if he

might bring himself down to the city for a few days to lend his expertise.

Mil Ton made a sound halfway between a growl and a laugh; his fingers tightened, crumpling the

sheet into an unreadable mess.

Go to Solcintra Hall, take up his role as a Healer once more. Yes, certainly. Tereza, of all of

them, should know that he had no intention of ever--he had told her, quite plainly--and his had never

been a true Healing talent, in any case. It was a farce. A bitter joke made at his expense.

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Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Undated - This House

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