Conflict Of Honors by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

allowed access to all portions of the ship?"

    "Yes, Captain."

    "Yes, Captain," he repeated, his eyes holding hers effortlessly. "Priscilla Mendoza is a member of the crew, Kayzin. I can't think how you came to forget it, but please strive to bear it in mind in the future. Also, it is just possible that you owe an apology."

    She drew a deep, deep breath. "Say that you trust her!"

    "I trust her," he said flatly, giving her the grace due an old friend.

    "You are besotted!"

    "Quite sober, I assure you," he said in icy Terran. Then he switched to the High Tongue, that of lord instructing oathsworn. "I act, having given consideration to laws of necessity."

    Kayzin bowed low, pride of him glowing through her mortification. There were those who said that Er Thom yos'Galan's lady had foisted a full-blooded Terran upon him as his eldest. If those could but see him, standing there, with the eyes spitting ice and the face just so! Who could behold him thus and say he was not Korval, blood and bone?

    "Forgive me, Captain," she murmured. "It shall be as you have said."

    "I am glad to hear it," he replied in Terran.

Arsdred Port City
Local Year 728
Midday Bazaar

    Arsdred Port roared. It pushed, yodeled, shoved, sang, shimmied, stripped gleaming naked, and swathed itself head to toe in bright colors and glittering gems. Much of the noise—and most of the color—was contributed by the people behind stalls, before storefronts, and beside carts piled high with Goddess knew what. These were Arsdredi, dark-skinned Terrans, doe-eyed, hook-nosed, and voluble. They wore layer upon layer of gauzy, brilliant cloth and hawked their wares, sweatless, in the glare of the midday suns.

    Some of the clamor, to be sure, was generated by those for whom the wares were displayed. Thronging the narrow streets were members of half a dozen races: Terrans of all description; graceful Liadens, dark-lensed Peladins, hairless Trimuvat, silent Uhlvore. Priscilla started, catching a gigantic figure out of the corner of an eye, wondering if even the Yxtrang stopped here—but it was only a towering Aus, golden-haired and full-bearded, head bent as he addressed a booming remark to the tiny woman skipping at his side.

    "Firegems, pretty lady? The finest here—for you—so pale your skin, so black your hair! For you, beautiful lady, what else but azure? A mere twentybit—sacrificed on the altar of your beauty! Only try and see how it becomes you."

    "Cloth, noble lady? Scarves? Crimson, gold, serpentine, xanthin, indigo! Wear them about your head, twist them 'round your waist—a fair price, noble."

    "Porcelains, lady? Guidebooks . . . Ices . . . Incense . . . Gemstones. . ."

    Peace.

    Priscilla rounded a corner into a less traveled thoroughfare, breathing a sigh of relief. The roster had granted her leave this first day in port. Rusty and Lina had drawn time together on the third, a circumstance that brought a frown to the Liaden woman's face while Rusty shrugged. "Maybe next time."

    Secretly, Priscilla was relieved. A leave-companion would have quickly discovered the state of her finances. She was pleased not to burden her friends with that particular information and perhaps be forced to endure kindhearted offers of a loan or, worse, an outright gift.

    It was better this way, she thought, strolling along the hot little street. A day of rest before a trying tomorrow. For the roster's other news had been that she was to assist Cargo Master yo'Lanna with the worldside unloading next shift-worked.

    She had come to the first cross street when a familiar voice intruded upon her.

    "Hi, Ms. Mendoza! Is this your day, too? Want to partner?"

    She turned, smiling down into Gordy Arbuthnot's round—and exquisitely clean—face. "I'm afraid I'd hold you down," she said carefully. Then she added more briskly, "You aren't here by yourself, are you, Gordy?"

    He grimaced. "Well, sort of. Cap'n says he knows I got enough sense not to get in trouble,