Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 6 - Scout's Progress

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Scout's Progress by Steve Miller and Sharon

Lee

How to Find a Lifemate in Several Hundred

Not-So-Easy-Steps

Or

How to Find Authors You Really, Really Love on the Very

First Try

by Susan Krinard

I discovered Sharon Lee and Steve Miller's work when their first novel, Agent of Change, appeared

from Del Rey lo, these many years ago.

At the time I was strictly a reader, and had no notion of becoming a published writer in any genre,

SF/fantasy least of all. But I was a professional reader. I lived for the hours when I could immerse myself

in an author's universe, become the characters, leave behind the all-too-real world that didn't always

please me. I was—and remain—an inveterate escape artist. And books were my method of choice.

Good books. Books that stayed with me, long after the last page. Among the authors who fulfilled this

requirement—and my increasingly stringent standards—were (and are) C. J. Cherryh, Lois McMaster

Bujold, and Sharon Lee and Steve Miller.

Each one of these authors writes what I call "intelligent space opera." For some, them's fightin' words;

"space opera" is an insult worthy of the dreaded anti-romance expression "bodice-ripper." But I use the

term with love, awe, and admiration. The above-mentioned authors are masters and mistresses of the

ultimate escape adventure, fully developed characters, complex plots, careful and imaginative world

building. When I read a story by these folks, I feel as I did when I first saw Star Wars on the big

screen—utterly swept away.

As such a devotee of adventurous, dare I say it, romantic science fiction, it would have been natural for

me to write it myself. Instead, I fell, almost by accident, into writing in a genre often scorned by SF

readers: romance. But my love of the fantastic led me to incorporate fantasy elements in my work, and I

devoted a year to writing my own science fiction romance, Star Crossed.

Very few authors of either romance or science fiction have succeeded in "crossing" between genres,

appealing to readers of both SF and romance. Sharon and Steve have done so, with bells on. My

greatest hope is that the Liaden Universe books will be among the seminal, classic works in a growing

genre of romantic science fiction novels.

Scout's Progress will hold a place of honor on this list. It is the latest in the beloved series of books

about the world of Liad and the folk of Clan Korval. In this episode, we witness the courtship of Daav

yos'Phelium and Aelliana Caylon, parents of Val Con yos'Phelium, protagonist in Agent of Change.

The stakes are high for Aelliana, shy mathematical genius, who faces a dismal future unless she can

qualify to become a pilot, and thus escape the rigid caste system of Liaden society and the barbarous

treatment of her scheming brother. In the course of her studies, she meets Scout and Master Pilot Daav,

who just happens to avoid mentioning that he is the Delm of Clan Korval (and one of the most powerful

men on the planet) even as he slowly, subtly finds himself falling in love. The obstacles are many—not

least of which are the rigorous demands of melant'i and Balance—but the potential reward is the winning

of that most prized and rare object in a culture of contracted marriages—the precious bond of lifemates.

The love story in Scout's Progress harkens back, in part, to the hallowed roots of Regency romance and

the work of Jane Austen—it is a comedy, and drama, of manners set on a world bound by ritual

courtesies and the dangerous undercurrents of potential savagery kept in check. One leaves this

book—as with all the others—in love with all the marvelous characters, and with the longing for more

insights into Liaden history and culture.

With any luck, Sharon and Steve will keep 'em coming.

Susan Krinard November, 2000

For the binjali crew: past, present and future

CHAPTER ONE

Typically, the clan which gains the child of a contract-marriage pays a marriage fee to the mating

clan, as well as other material considerations. Upon consummation of contract, the departing

spouse is often paid a bonus.

Contract-marriage is thus not merely a matter of obeying the Law, but an economic necessity to

some of the Lower Houses, where a clanmember might be serially married for most of his or her

adult life.

—From "Marriage Customs of Liad"

"Sinit, must you read at table?"

Voni's voice was clear and carrying. It was counted a good feature, Aelliana had heard, though not so

pleasing as her face.

At the moment, face and voice held a hint of boredom, as befitted an elder sister confronted with the

wearisome necessity of disciplining a younger.

"No, I'm just at a good part," Sinit returned without lifting her head from over the page. She put out a

hand and groped for her teacup.

"Really," Voni drawled as Aelliana chose a muffin from the center platter and broke it open. "Even

Aelliana knows better than to bring a book to table!"

"It's for anthropology," Sinit mumbled, fingers still seeking her cup. "Truly, I am nearly done, if only you'll

stop plaguing me—"

"If you keep on like that," Aelliana murmured, eyes on her plate, "your teacup will be overset, and Ran

Eld will ring down a terrific scold. Put the book aside, Sinit, do. If you hurry your breakfast you can still

finish reading before your tutor comes."

The youngest of them sighed gustily, and closed the book with rather more force than necessary.

"I suppose," she said reluctantly. "It is the sort of thing Ran Eld likes to go on about, isn't it? And all the

worse if I had spilt my tea. Still, it's a monstrous interesting book—I had no idea what queer folk Terrans

are! Well," she amended, prudently sliding the book onto her lap, "I knew they were queer, of

course—but only imagine marrying who you like, without even a word from your delm and—and kissing

those who are not kin! And—"

"Sinit! " Voni put a half-eaten slice of toast hastily back onto her plate, her pretty face pale. She

swallowed. "That's disgusting."

"No," Sinit said eagerly, leaning over her plate, to the imminent peril of her shirt-ribbons. "No, it's not

disgusting at all, Voni. It's only that they're Terran and don't know any better. How can they behave

properly when there are no delms to discipline and no Council of Clans to keep order? And as for

marrying whomever one pleases—why that's exactly the same, isn't it? If one lives clanless, with each

individual needing to make whatever alliance seems best for oneself—without Code or Book of Clans to

guide them, how else—"

"Sinit." Aelliana thought it best to stem this impassioned explanation before Voni's sensibilities moved her

to banish their younger sister from the dining hall altogether. "You were going to eat quickly—were you

not?—and go into the parlor to finish reading."

"Oh." Recalled to the plan, she picked up a muffin-half and coated it liberally with jam. "I think it would

be very interesting to be married," she said, which for Sinit passed as a change of topic.

"Well, I hardly think you shall find out soon," Voni said, with a return of her usual asperity. "Especially if

you persist in discussing such—perverse—subjects at table."

"Oh, pooh," Sinit replied elegantly, cramming jam-smeared muffin into her mouth. "It's only that you've

been married an hundred times, and so find the whole matter a dead bore."

Voni's eyes glittered dangerously. "Not—quite—an hundred, dear sister. I flatter myself that the profit the

clan has made from my contract-marriages is not despicable."

Nor was it, Aelliana acknowledged, worrying her muffin into shreds. At thirty-one, Voni had been

married five times— each to Mizel's clear benefit. She was pretty, nice-mannered in company and knew

her Code to a full-stop—a valuable daughter of the clan. Just yesterday, she had let drop that there was

a sixth marriage in the delm's eye, to young Lord pel'Rula—and that would be a coup, indeed, and send

Voni's quarter-share to dizzying height.

"Aelliana's been married," Sinit announced somewhat stickily. "Was it interesting and delightful?"

Aelliana stared fixedly at her plate, grateful for the shielding curtain of her hair. "No," she whispered.

Voni laughed. "Aelliana," she said, reaching into the High Tongue for the Mode of Instruction, "was

pleased to allow the delm to know that she would never again accept contract."

Round-eyed, Sinit turned to Aelliana, sitting still and stricken over her shredded breakfast. "But the—the

parties, and all the new clothes, and—"

"Good-morning, daughters!" Birin Caylon, Delm Mizel, swept into the dining room on the regal arm of

her son Ran Eld, the nadelm. She allowed him to seat her and fetch her a cup of tea as she surveyed the

table.

"Sinit, you have jam on your face. Aelliana, I wish you will either eat or not, and in anywise leave over

torturing your food. Voni, my dear, Lady pel'Rula calls tomorrow midday. I shall wish to have you by

me."

Voni simpered. "Yes, mother."

Mizel turned to her son, who had taken his accustomed place beside her. "You and I are to meet in an

hour, are we not? Be on your mettle, sir: I expect to be shown the benefits of keeping the bulk of our

capital in Yerlind Shares."

"There are none," Aelliana told her plate, very quietly.

Alas, not quietly enough. Ran Eld paused with a glass of morning-wine half-way to his lips, eyebrows

high in disbelief.

"I beg your pardon?"

I've gone mad, Aelliana thought, staring at the crumbled ruin of her untasted breakfast. Only a

madwoman would call Ran Eld's judgment thus into question, the nadelm being— disinclined—to

support insolence from any of the long list of his inferiors. Woe for Aelliana that her name was written at

the top of that list.

Beg his pardon, she told herself urgently, cold hands fisted on her lap. Bend the neck, take the jibe, be

meek, be too poor a thing to provoke attack.

It was a strategy that had served a thousand times in the past. Yet this morning her head remained in its

usual half-bowed attitude, face hidden by the silken shield of her hair, eyes fixed to her plate as if she

intended to memorize the detail of each painted flower fading into the yellowing china.

"Aelliana." Ran Eld's voice was a purr of pure malice. Too late for begging pardons now, she thought,

and clenched her hands the tighter.

"I believe you had an—opinion," Ran Eld murmured, "in the matter of the clan's investments. Come, I beg

you not be backward in hinting us toward the proper mode. The good of the clan must carry all before

it."

Yes, certainly. Excepting only that the good of the clan had long ago come to mean the enlargement of

Ran Eld Caylon's hoard of power. Aelliana touched her tongue to her lips, unsurprised to find that she

was trembling.

"Yerlind Shares," she said, quite calmly, and in the Mode of Instruction, as if he were a recalcitrant

student she was bound to put right, "pay two percent, which must be acknowledged a paltry return, when

the other Funds offer from three to four-point-one. Neither is its liquidity superior, since Yerlind requires

three full days to forward cantra equal to shares. Several of the other, higher-yield options require as little

as twenty-eight hours for conversion."

There was a small pause, then her mother's voice, shockingly matter-of-fact: "I wish you will raise your

head when you speak, Aelliana, and show attention to the person with whom you are conversing. One

would suppose you to have less melant'i than a Terran, the way you are forever hiding your face. I can't

think how you came to be so rag-mannered."

Voni tittered, which was expectable. From Ran Eld came only stony silence, in which Aelliana heard her

ruin. Nothing would save her now—neither meekness nor apology would buy Ran Eld's mercy when she

had shamed him before his delm and his juniors.

Aelliana brought her head up with a smooth toss that cast her hair behind her shoulders and met her

brother's eyes.

Brilliantly blue, bright as first-water sapphires, they considered her blandly from beneath arched golden

brows. Ran Eld Caylon was a pretty man. Alas, he was also vain, and dressed more splendidly than his

station, using a heavy hand in the matter of jewels.

Now, he set his wine glass aside and took a moment to adjust one of his many finger-rings.

"Naturally," he murmured to the room at large, "Aelliana's discourse holds me fascinated. I am astonished

to find her so diligent a scholar of economics."

"And yet," Mizel Herself countered unexpectedly, "she makes a valid point. Why should we keep our

capital at two percent when we might place it at four?"

"The Yerlind Shares are tested by time and found to be sound," Ran Eld replied. "These—other

options—my honored sister displays have been less rigorously tested."

"Ormit is the youngest of the Funds I consider," Aelliana heard herself state, still in the Mode of

Instruction. "Surely fifty years is time enough to prove a flaw, should it exist?"

"And what do I know of the Ormit Fund?" Ran Eld actually frowned and there was a look at the back of

his eyes that boded not so well for one Aelliana, once the delm was out of hearing.

She met his glare with a little thrill of terror, but answered calmly, nonetheless.

"A study of the Exchange for as little as a twelve-day will show you Ormit's mettle upon the trading

floor," she replied, "Information on their investments and holdings can be had anytime through the

data-net."

The frown deepened, but his voice remained dulcet, as ever. "Enlighten me, sister—do you aspire to

become the clan's financial advisor?"

"She might do better," Mizel commented, sipping her tea, "than the present one."

Ran Eld turned his head so sharply his earrings jangled. "Mother—"

She held up a hand. "Peace. It seems Aelliana has given the subject thought. A test of her consideration

against your own may be in order." She looked across the table.

"What say you, daughter, to taking charge of your own quarter-share and seeing what you can make of

it?"

Take charge of her own quarter-share? Four entire cantra to invest as she would? Aelliana clenched her

fists until the nails scored her palms.

"Turn Aelliana loose upon the world with four cantra in her hand?" Ran Eld lifted an elegant shoulder.

"And when the quarter is done and she has lost it?"

"I scarcely think she will be so inept as to lose her seed," Mizel said with some asperity. "The worst that

may happen, in my view, is that she will return us four cantra—at the end of a year."

"A year?" That was Voni, as ever Ran Eld's confederate. "To allow Aelliana such liberty for an entire

year may not be to the best good, ma'am."

"Oh?" Mizel put her cup down with a clatter, eyes seeking the face of her middle daughter. "Well, girl?

Have you an opinion regarding the length of time the experiment shall encompass?"

"A quarter is too short," Aelliana said composedly. "Two quarters might begin to show a significant

deviation. However, it is my understanding that the delm desires proof of a trend to set against facts

established and in-house. A year is not too long for such a proof."

"A year it is then," the delm announced and flicked a glance to her heir. "You will advance your sister her

quarter-share no later than this evening. We shall see this tested on the floor of the Exchange itself."

Sinit laughed at that, and Ran Eld looked black. Voni poured herself a fresh cup of tea.

Aelliana pushed carefully back from the table, rose and bowed to the delm.

"If I may be excused," she murmured, scarcely attending what she said; "I must prepare for a class."

Mizel waved a careless hand and Aelliana made her escape.

"But this is precisely the manner in which Terrans handle affairs of investment!" Sinit said excitedly. "Each

person is responsible for his or her own fortune. I think such a system is very exciting, don't you?"

"I think," Voni's clear voice followed Aelliana into the hallway, "that anthropology is not at all good for

you, sister."

CHAPTER TWO

Each person shall provide his clan of origin with a child of his blood, who will be raised by the

clan and belong to the clan, despite whatever may later occur to place the parent beyond the

clan's authority. And this shall be Law for every person of every clan.

—From the Charter of the Council of Clans

Made in the Sixth Year After Planetfall

City of Solcintra, Liad

"Lady yos'Galan," the butler announced from the doorway.

The man at the desk looked up from his screen, rose and came forward, hands outstretched in welcome.

"Anne. You're up early." His Terran bore a Liaden accent, lighter than a year ago, and he smiled with

genuine pleasure. "Are you well? My brother, your lifemate—and my most excellent nephew!—they

enjoy their usual robust health?"

Tall Anne Davis grinned down at him, squeezing his hands affectionately before releasing him.

"You only saw us two days ago," she said. "What could go wrong so quickly?"

"Any number of things!" he assured her, striking a tragic pose that won a ripple of her ready laughter.

"Only see how it comes about: This morning I am a free man—this evening, I am affianced!"

Trouble crossed her mobile face, as well it might, she being Terran and holding little patience with

contract-marriage. Intellectually, she allowed the efficiency of custom; emotionally, she turned her face

aside and would far rather speak of other matters.

"Is it going to be very dreadful for you, Daav?" There was sisterly sympathy in her voice, acceptable from

the lifemate of his foster-brother. And indeed, Daav thought wryly, rather more than he had received

from his own sister, who, upon hearing the news of his impending contract, had allowed herself an ironic

congratulation on duty embraced—at long last.

"Ah, well. One must obey the Law, after all." He moved his shoulders, dismissing the subject, and moved

toward the wine table.

"What may I give you to drink?"

"Is there tea?"

"As a matter of fact, there is," he said, and drew a cup for each from the silver urn. He carried both to the

desk and resumed his seat, waving her to the chair at the corner.

"Now, tell me what takes you abroad so early in the day."

Anne sipped and set her cup aside with a tiny click, leveling a pair of very serious brown eyes.

"I am in need of Delm's Instruction," she stated in the High Tongue, in the very proper mode of Respect

to the Delm.

Daav blinked. "Dear me."

Anne's mouth twitched along one corner, but she otherwise preserved her countenance.

Sighing lightly, he glanced down at his hands—long, clever hands, blunt-nailed, calloused along palms

and fingertips. He did not care overmuch for ornamentation and wore but a single ring: A band that

covered the third finger of his left hand from knuckle to knuckle, the lush enamel work depicting a tree in

full leaf over which a dragon hovered on half-furled wings. Clan Korval's Ring, which marked him delm.

"Daav?" Anne's voice was carefully neutral.

He shook himself and looked back to her face, one eyebrow quirking in self-mockery.

"Perhaps you had best make me acquainted with the details of your requirement," he said, in the blessed

casualness of Terran. "The delm may not be necessary, tiresome fellow that he is."

Once again, the mere twitch of a smile.

"All right," she said, following him obligingly into her own tongue.

Daav relaxed. It was not entirely clear how much this very unLiaden member of his Clan understood of

melant'i. He had never known her to make a blunder in society, but that might well be put to the account

of her lifemate, who would certainly never allow her to place herself in a position of jeopardy. Whether

now moved by understanding or intuition, she was willing to allow him to put off for the moment the

burden of his delmhood, and that suited Daav very well.

"In obedience to the Delm's Word," Anne said, after another sip of tea, "I've been studying the diaries of

the past delms of Korval, as well as the log books kept by Cantra yos'Phelium, the—inceptor—of the

clan."

Daav inclined his head. It was necessary for every member of the Line Direct to master the knowledge

contained in Diaries and Log. Terran though she was, Anne stood but two lives from the Ring

herself—another subject of which she held shy. Much of the Diaries had to do with politics—doubtless

she had come across the record of an ancient Balancing and found herself—understandably!—fuddled.

Daav smiled, for here was no case for Delm's Instruction, but only that teaching which elder kin might

gladly offer junior.

"There is a passage in the Diaries which is not perfectly plain?" He grinned. "You amaze me."

She returned the grin full measure, then sobered, eyes darkening, though she did not speak.

"So tell me," Daav invited, since it became clear that such prompting was required, "what have you found

in Korval's lamentable history to disturb you?"

"Hardly—entirely—lamentable," Anne said softly, then, firmer: "The Contract"

"So?" He allowed both brows to rise. "You doubt the authenticity of Cantra's Contract with the Houses

of Solcintra?"

"Oh, no," she said, with the blitheness of the scholar-expert she was, "it's authentic enough. What I doubt

is Korval's assumption of continuance."

"Assumption. And it seems to me so plain-written a document! Quite refreshingly stark, in fact. But I

must ask why my cha'leket has not been able to resolve this difficulty for you. We have had much the

same instruction in these matters, as he stands the delm's heir."

She looked at him solemnly. "I didn't ask him. He's got quite enough to explain about the Tree."

"You question Jelaza Kazone? That is bold." He waved toward the windowed wall behind him, where

the Tree's monumental trunk could be glimpsed through a tangle of flowers and shrubbery. "I would have

been tempted to begin with something a bit less definite, I confess."

Anne chuckled. "Pig-headed," she agreed and moved on immediately, leaving him no time to contemplate

the startling picture conjured by this metaphor. "Er Thom says the Tree— talks."

Well, and it did, Daav acknowledged, though he would not perhaps have phrased it so—or even yet—to

her. However, the Tree did—communicate—to those of the Line Direct. Er Thom, that most unfanciful

of men, knew this for fact and had thus informed his lifemate, against whom his heart held no secret.

"I see that he has his work cut out for him," Daav said gravely. "Balance therefore dictates my defense of

the Contract. It is fitting. I make a clean breast at once: The Contract does not speak, other than what

sense the written words convey."

"Entirely sufficient to the discussion," Anne returned. "The written words convey, in paragraph eight,

that—" She paused, flashing him a conscious look. "Maybe you'd like to call a copy up on the screen, so

you can see what I'm talking about?"

"No need; the Contract is one of—several—documents my delm required I commit to memory during

training." He sipped tea, set the cup aside and raised his eyes to hers. "I understand your trouble has root

in the provision regarding the continuing duties of the Captain and her heirs. That seems the plainest-writ

of all. Show me where I am wrong."

"It's very plainly written," Anne said calmly. "Of course it would be—they were making such a desperate

gamble. The Captain's responsibilities are very carefully delineated, as is the chain of command. In a

situation where assumption might kill people, nothing is assumed. I have no problem with the original

intent of the document. My problem stems from the assumption held by Clan Korval that the Contract is

still in force."

Oh, dear. But how delightfully Terran, after all. Daav inclined his head.

"There is no period of expiration put forth," he pointed out calmly. "Nor has the Council of Clans yet

relieved Korval of its contractual duty. The Delm of Korval is, by the precise wording of that eighth

paragraph, acknowledged to be Captain and sworn to act for the best benefit of the passengers." He

smiled.

"Which has come to mean all Liadens—and I do acknowledge the elasticity of that interpretation.

However, one could hardly limit oneself to merely overlooking the well-being of the descendants of the

original Houses of Solcintra. Entirely aside from the fact that Grandmother Cantra would never have

accepted a contract that delineated a lower class of passenger and a higher, the Council of Clans has

become the administering body. And the Council of Clans, so it states in the Charter, speaks for all

clans." He moved his shoulders, offering another smile.

"Thus, the Captain's duty increases."

"Daav, that Contract is a thousand years old!"

"Near enough," he allowed, nodding in the Terran way.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, perhaps to calm herself. Eyes still closed, she said, flatly,

"Paragraph eight makes you the king of the world."

"No, only recall those very painstaking lists of duty! I'm very little more than a tightly-channeled—what is

the phrase?—feral trump?"

"Wild card." She opened her eyes. "You do acknowledge the—the Captain's melant'i? You consider

yourself the overseer of the whole world—of all the passengers?"

"I must," he said quietly. "The Contract is in force."

She expelled air in a pouf, half laugh, half exasperation. "A completely Liaden point of view!"

Daav lifted a brow. "My dear child, I'm no more Liaden than you are."

Her eyes came swiftly up, face tensing—and relaxing into a smile. "You mean that you've been a Scout. I

grant you have more experience of the universe than I ever will. Which is why I find it so particularly

odd—the Council of Clans must have forgotten the Contract even exists! A thousand years? Surely

you're putting yourself—the clan—at risk by taking on such a duty now?"

"Argued very like a Liaden," Daav said with a grin, and raised a hand to touch the rough twist of silver

hanging in his right ear. "It does not fall within the scope of Korval's melant'i to suppose what the Council

may or may not have forgotten. The second copy of the Contract was seen in open Council three

hundred years ago—at the time of the last call upon Captain's Justice."

"Three hundred years?"

He nodded, offering her the slip of a smile. "Not a very arduous duty, you see. I oversee the passengers'

well-being as I was taught by my delm, guided by Diaries and Log—and anticipate no opportunity to

take on the melant'i of king."

Silence. Anne's eyes were fixed on a point somewhat beyond his shoulder. A frown marred the

smoothness of her brow.

"I have not satisfied you," Daav said gently. "And the pity is, you know, that the delm can do no better."

She fixed on his face, mouth curving ruefully. "I'll work on it," she said, sounding somewhat wistful.

"Though I'm not sure I'm cut out for talking Trees and thousand-year Captains."

"It's an odd clan," Daav conceded with mock gravity. "Mad as moonbeams. Anyone will say so."

"Misspeak the High House of Korval? I think not." Anne grinned and stood, holding out her hand.

"Thank you for your time. I'm sorry to be such a poor student."

"Nothing poor at all, in the scholar who asks why." He rose and took her hand. "Allow me to walk you

to your car. Your lifemate still intends to bear me company tonight, does he not? I won't know how to go

on if he denies me his support."

"As if he would," Anne said with a shake of her head. "And you'd go on exactly as you always do,

whether he's with you or not."

"Ah, no, you wrong me! Er Thom is my entree into the High Houses. His manners open all doors."

"Whereas Korval Himself finds all doors barred against him," she said ironically.

"That must be the case, if there were more students of history among us. But, there, scholarship is a dying

art! No one memorizes the great events anymore—gossip and triviality is all."

Halfway across the sun-washed patio, Anne paused, looking down at him from abruptly serious brown

eyes.

"How many is 'several'?"

He lifted a brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"You said you'd had to memorize 'several' documents, besides the Contract. I wondered—"

"Ah." He bowed slightly. "I once calculated—in an idle moment, you know!—that it would require

three-point-three relumma to transcribe the material I have memorized. You must understand that I have

committed to memory only the most vital information, in case the resources of Jelaza Kazone's library

should be—unavailable—to me."

"Three-point-three…" Anne shook her head sharply. "Are you—all right?"

"I am Korval," Daav said, with an austerity that surprised him quite as much as her. "Sanity is a

secondary consideration."

"And Er Thom—Er Thom has had the same training."

So that was what distressed her of a sudden. Daav smiled. "Much of the same training, yes. But you must

remember that Er Thom memorizes entire manifests for the pleasure of it."

She laughed. "Too true!" She bent in a swoop and kissed his cheek—a gesture of sisterly affection that

warmed him profoundly. "Take care, Daav."

"Take care, Anne. Until soon."

Sharon Lee - Steve Miller - Liaden Universe 6 - Scout's Progress

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