Local Custom by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

soothing the air between them. "It was seen that food was in shortage. I mean no offense, Anne."

    "No, of course not," she whispered, and cleared her throat. She took Shan's hand and rose, looking down into her friend's beautiful, troubled face. "Er Thom—"

    His fingers flickered again—indicating more information forthcoming.

    "It is also necessary that I engage a—a room . This has not yet been done. If you desire to keep our son by you, I will complete this task." He hesitated, slanting a glance at her face from beneath thick golden lashes.

    "I ask—may I visit you this evening? After supper?" He inclined his head. "It will be entirely as you wish, Anne, and nothing else. My word upon it."

    "A room?" she repeated, looking at him in astonishment. She took a breath. "Er Thom, how long are you staying here?"

    He glanced aside, then back to her face.

    "Three weeks, you had said, until you might come to Liad."

    "I said no such thing!" she protested, and felt Shan's hand tense in hers. She took another breath, deep and calming. "Er Thom, I am not going—" Then she remembered the letter in her sleeve and the unknown scholar's plea.

    "Anne?"

    She bit her lip. "I—perhaps—I will—need to go to Liad," she said, suddenly aware that it was cool on the Quad and that she had dashed out without snatching up a jacket. "A friend of mine—a colleague—has died, very suddenly, and I am asked to—" She shook her head sharply. "I haven't decided. The news just came this morning."

    "Ah." He inclined his head and murmured the formal phrase of sorrow for a death outside one's own clan: "Al'bresh venat'i."

    "Thank you," Anne said and hesitated. "You can stay with us, you know," she heard herself say. "I know that the couch isn't what you're used to . . . " She let the words die out, even as Er Thom's fingers flickered negative.

    "I do not think that—would be wise," he said softly, though the glance he spared her was anything but soft. "May I visit you, Anne? This evening?"

    "All right," she said, around a surprising tightening of her heart. "For a little while. I have—examinations to grade."

    "Thank you." He bowed to her, touched his fingertips to Shan's cheek.

    "This evening," he murmured and turned, boot heels clicking on the Quad-stones as he walked back toward the surrey station.

    "'Bye, Mirada!" Shan called, waving energetically.

    Er Thom glanced back over his shoulder and raised a hand, briefly.

    "C'mon, Shannie," Anne murmured, looking at her son so she wouldn't have to watch her lover out of sight, as she had done once before. "Let's go home."

Chapter Ten
 
The most dangerous phrase in High Liaden is coab minshak'a: "Necessity exists".

    —From "A Terran's Guide to Liad"

     

    " . . . GUIDE THE DELM'S attention to the appended gene-profile for Shan yos'Galan, who has twenty-eight Standard Months.

    "The mother of this child is Anne Davis, native of New Dublin, professor of comparative linguistics, Northern Campus, University Central, Terran Sector Paladin.

    "One regrets that a profile for Professor Davis is not at this time available. Although professional necessities have denied her the opportunity to pursue her own license, she is descended of a line of pilots. Her elder brother, Richard, holds first-class-pending-master; her mother, Elizabeth Murphy, had held first-class, light transport to trade class AAA. The records of these pilots is likewise appended, for the delm's information.

    "It is one's intention to bring the child with his mother before the delm's eyes on the second day of the next relumma, the earliest moment Professor Davis may be released from the necessities of her work. One implores the delm to See the child welcomed among Korval, to the present joy and future profit of the clan.

    "One also begs the delm's goodwill for Professor Davis. She is a person of melant'i who is owed balance of Korval through the error of the clan's son Er Thom.

    "In respect to the delm,

    "Er