against the soft hair, raising his free hand to toy with a delicate earlobe, eyes on the readout. When the needle hit the red line, he used his nails, quickly, deftly, to pinch Shan's ear, eliciting a surprised yelp.
"Mirada!"
The unit chimed completion of the routine; the readout estimated three minutes for analysis and match. Er Thom came up off the floor in a surge, sweeping Shan from the stool and whirling him around.
"Well done, bold-heart!" he cried in exuberant Low Liaden and heard his son squeal with laughter. He set him down on his feet and offered a hand, remembering to speak Terran. "Shall I show you a thing?"
"Yes!" his son said happily and took the offered hand for the short walk back to the piloting chamber.
BRONZE WINGS SPREAD wide, the mighty dragon hovered protectively above the Tree, head up and alert, emerald-bright eyes seeming to look directly into one's soul. Shan took a sharp breath and hung slightly back.
"It is Korval's shield," Er Thom murmured, though of course the child was too young to understand all that meant. He ran his palm down the image. "A picture, you see?"
The boy stepped forward and Er Thom lifted him, bringing him close enough to run his own hand down the smooth enameled surface. He touched the dragon's nose.
"Name?"
"Ah." Er Thom smiled and cuddled the small body closer. "Megelaar."
"Meg'lar," Shan mispronounced and touched the Tree. "Pretty."
"Jelaza Kazone," his father told him softly. "You may touch it in truth—soon. And when you are older, you may climb in it, as your uncle and I did, when we were boys."
Shan yawned and Er Thom felt a stab of remorse. A long and busy morning for a child, in truth!
"Would you like a nap?" he murmured, already starting down the hall toward the sleeping quarters.
"Umm," he son replied, body relaxing even as he was carried along.
He was more asleep than awake by the time Er Thom laid him down in the bed meant for the delm's use and covered him with a quilt smelling of sweetspice and mint.
"'night, Mirada," he muttered, hand fisting in the rich fabric.
"Sleep well, my child," Er Thom returned softly, and bent to kiss the stark brown cheek.
On consideration, and recalling his own boyhood, he opened the intercom and locked the door behind him before going back to the autodoc.
"yos'Galan, indeed," he murmured a few moments later, carrying the 'doc's gene-map with him into the piloting chamber.
He sat in the pilot's chair, eyes tracing the intricate pattern revealed in the printout. yos'Galan, indeed. He glanced at the board, fingered the gene-map and looked, with distaste, down at his shirt. He was not accustomed to sleeping in his clothing, and then rousting about, rumpled and unshowered, for half-a-day afterwards.
The board beckoned. Duty was clear. Er Thom sighed sharply and lay the gene-map atop the prime piloting board.
He wanted a shower, clean clothes. What better time than now, with the child, for the moment, asleep?
A shower and clean clothes, he thought, removing his jacket and laying it across the chair's back. Duty could wait half-an-hour.
"ER THOM? . . . Shannie!"
Anne let her briefcase fall as she darted forward, flashing through the tiny apartment: Empty bedroom, dark bathroom, silent kitchen.
"Gone."
Pain hit in a hammer blow, driving the breath out of her in a keen that might have been his name.
Er Thom! Er Thom, you promised . . .
But what were promises, she thought dizzily, where there was melant'i to keep? Anne swallowed air, shook her head sharply.
Shan was well, of that she was absolutely certain. Er Thom would not harm a child. She knew it.
But he would take his child to Liad. Must take his child to Liad. He had asked her to go with him on that urgent mission—and she—she had thought there was an option of saying no.
"Annie Davis, it's a rare, foolish gel ye are," she muttered, and was suddenly moving.
Three of her long strides took her across
"Mirada!"
The unit chimed completion of the routine; the readout estimated three minutes for analysis and match. Er Thom came up off the floor in a surge, sweeping Shan from the stool and whirling him around.
"Well done, bold-heart!" he cried in exuberant Low Liaden and heard his son squeal with laughter. He set him down on his feet and offered a hand, remembering to speak Terran. "Shall I show you a thing?"
"Yes!" his son said happily and took the offered hand for the short walk back to the piloting chamber.
BRONZE WINGS SPREAD wide, the mighty dragon hovered protectively above the Tree, head up and alert, emerald-bright eyes seeming to look directly into one's soul. Shan took a sharp breath and hung slightly back.
"It is Korval's shield," Er Thom murmured, though of course the child was too young to understand all that meant. He ran his palm down the image. "A picture, you see?"
The boy stepped forward and Er Thom lifted him, bringing him close enough to run his own hand down the smooth enameled surface. He touched the dragon's nose.
"Name?"
"Ah." Er Thom smiled and cuddled the small body closer. "Megelaar."
"Meg'lar," Shan mispronounced and touched the Tree. "Pretty."
"Jelaza Kazone," his father told him softly. "You may touch it in truth—soon. And when you are older, you may climb in it, as your uncle and I did, when we were boys."
Shan yawned and Er Thom felt a stab of remorse. A long and busy morning for a child, in truth!
"Would you like a nap?" he murmured, already starting down the hall toward the sleeping quarters.
"Umm," he son replied, body relaxing even as he was carried along.
He was more asleep than awake by the time Er Thom laid him down in the bed meant for the delm's use and covered him with a quilt smelling of sweetspice and mint.
"'night, Mirada," he muttered, hand fisting in the rich fabric.
"Sleep well, my child," Er Thom returned softly, and bent to kiss the stark brown cheek.
On consideration, and recalling his own boyhood, he opened the intercom and locked the door behind him before going back to the autodoc.
"yos'Galan, indeed," he murmured a few moments later, carrying the 'doc's gene-map with him into the piloting chamber.
He sat in the pilot's chair, eyes tracing the intricate pattern revealed in the printout. yos'Galan, indeed. He glanced at the board, fingered the gene-map and looked, with distaste, down at his shirt. He was not accustomed to sleeping in his clothing, and then rousting about, rumpled and unshowered, for half-a-day afterwards.
The board beckoned. Duty was clear. Er Thom sighed sharply and lay the gene-map atop the prime piloting board.
He wanted a shower, clean clothes. What better time than now, with the child, for the moment, asleep?
A shower and clean clothes, he thought, removing his jacket and laying it across the chair's back. Duty could wait half-an-hour.
"ER THOM? . . . Shannie!"
Anne let her briefcase fall as she darted forward, flashing through the tiny apartment: Empty bedroom, dark bathroom, silent kitchen.
"Gone."
Pain hit in a hammer blow, driving the breath out of her in a keen that might have been his name.
Er Thom! Er Thom, you promised . . .
But what were promises, she thought dizzily, where there was melant'i to keep? Anne swallowed air, shook her head sharply.
Shan was well, of that she was absolutely certain. Er Thom would not harm a child. She knew it.
But he would take his child to Liad. Must take his child to Liad. He had asked her to go with him on that urgent mission—and she—she had thought there was an option of saying no.
"Annie Davis, it's a rare, foolish gel ye are," she muttered, and was suddenly moving.
Three of her long strides took her across
Similar Books
Northern Light
Annette O'Hare
Self-Made Scoundrel
Tristan J. Tarwater
Winged Warfare
William Avery Bishop
The Case of Comrade Tulayev
Susan Sontag, Victor Serge, Willard R. Trask
Transparent
Natalie Whipple
The Good Girl's Guide to Murder
Susan McBride
Fifth Grave Past the Light
Darynda Jones
The Gathering Storm
Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson
Three Secrets
Opal Carew
Wishing for Someday Soon
Tiffany King