Trade Secret (eARC) (7 page)

"But that'll be before the ship Festival!"

"Ah, so you too are counting days?"

She smiled, not unkindly then, and rose with a bow indicating that he should consider himself dismissed.

"Be bold, my son. This should not be difficult for you, as you are so often bold, when necessity is right upon you. Be bold for joy, and we shall all be better for it! You will wish to stop at your mailbox, I am sure."

Clan Ixin's Tradeship
Elthoria
, In Jump

From a Student's Guide to the Basics of Relationship Balance

as Elucidated by the Liaden Code of Proper Conduct,

Version Seventeen, Amended

Relationship Balance is an important part of
melant'i
at all times and must by necessity change as a person comes halfling and begins to participate more widely in the independent expression of interpersonal dealings ranging from simple friendships through comradeship up to
cha'leket
and contract marriage and even into the esoterica of so-called Lifemate or Wizard Match situations. All in all potentially hundreds of dozens of varying states of relationships may be diagrammed if required, but the bulk of these fall into the simple ranges we will discuss here. The astute student will understand that a multiplicity of relationships may exist simultaneously with . . .

Impatiently Jethri stabbed the buttons--yes, yes, this much he knew. And he knew that contract marriages were arranged by delms or thodelms for the purpose of producing agreed-on heirs, and that some people had to be contract-wed multiple times if it made a clan good arrangements, but everyone was supposed to be sure there was at least one heir of their own body to replace them in the clan and the delm was responsible for making those arrangements.

He had this letter to figure out, and it was written out formally, and the thing was it was all written in Liaden, because there it was, Gaenor was semiofficially his tutor or mentor in Liaden, and she'd been practicing that . . . and the statement at the top meant something important, because she wrote--"Jethri, I take this time to write to you, both as your friend and your intended
I'gaina Prenada
and would like to have the enjoyment of your company that we might together spend the upcoming off-shift in the guesting suite I have reserved, you and I, in
cher'nuchiada
. This will be great fun, and exercise, and after all, study as well, if you yet need an excellent reason for allowing your brain some respite from trade details and dry words."

He sat back from the task, fiddling idly with the new-to-him chain about his neck, a chain he'd judged to be platinum as soon as he saw it. Linked in back with a fusion clasp of magnetic depleted timonium, the necklet widened in each direction to exactly embrace a twelve-sided cameo--actually not a person's cameo, but a cameo of Ixin's own sigil, the rabbit against full moon. He'd put it on with a touch of trepidation after staring into that full moon for some minutes, still wondering if he was up to this, still wondering if he was going to be tossed for fraud into some Lowport for failing to bow in just the right mode . . .

"My son," had said the note, "in normal circumstances I would have presented this myself, but I had not the measurements from your suit fitting, nor the skill and equipment to adjust the clasp to your own neck. Between them the armorer and our machinist mate have done these things; I hope you will be able to proudly wear this for your interlude as it has graced male necks in our clan for several hundred Standards or more. The full story of it will be yours as time permits, but for now, for the clan, wear it, and be amused as well as entranced this night. One should, at all times, wear the moon-and-hare, and if it lights the way, do not be surprised!"

If nothing else were done, the moon-and-hare was on.

The thing is there were other situations, like a
cha'leket
and that was like being best friend and brother or sister in heart all at once, maybe
heartkin
was the right word there, and there were formal things that needed to be done if someone was insulted, or killed, and there were other arrangements--the long term relationships, almost married, what the heck were they called?

Nubandaria
was what it was--it was like being promised lovers, an official pleasure love who family and friends could expect one to admit to, and one could agree to it and it was almost a legal thing, but then one could get over it without a delm doing a thing, all one had to do was--he'd seen that, there it was, give a
nubiath'a
and that was a parting gift, but there were back-rules to that, that if one gave a
nubiath'a
one wasn't ever expected to go back with that person again. Somehow that seemed rude to him--to just sort of pay a sex-friend off when one had not started out on a cash basis, but then it also said they were appreciated and--

But this word here was related but choppy, as he thought about trying to translate the pieces, since ally or joint effort was implied and so was joy and so was passing, as in short term and--
cher'nuchiada
.

He didn't want to agree to something that was going to make him stay away from Gaenor just because they messed around of a night, but no,
cher'nuchiada
was just a fun thing, like Dyk might call a flash-fling, well, except
they
were usually with someone one faunched for at first sight portside, as he had it, so not a flash-fling but still--

"And for our assignation you must but needs arrive. We shall consider it Festival and thus we shall meet as if at a Festival pavilion; directions follow to a room which is reserved to me, that none other need know--or should know--who it is shared with. Do not be concerned of food or drink, for I shall provide a meal and delicacies for us. Arrive on time and I shall be but a few moments behind you."

*

Be bold for joy
, his mother had told him. Be bold indeed! Who expected mysterious travel instructions on one's own ship, in halls he'd thought well known to him? Who expected that the woman he'd been faunching after for many days would offer to be
I'gaina Prenada
--his body mentor?

He passed other crew members, wondering if his face was yet as flushed as he'd felt it before leaving his room, for the excitement was in him now, anticipation. He recalled the blouse Gaenor was wearing the last time he'd seen her, and hurried up the 'tween deck-ladder rather than waiting for a lift.

He carried in one hand the flimsy swipe-key and his brief letter that had enclosed it--as found at the mail drop, the Master Trader having been more informed than prescient, was his guess. The letter had inspired his research, as well as his shower, his careful inspection to be sure that his mustache and beard were yet under control, Liadens being odd about face hair, he knew.

The directions, he realized, were part of the game of this, and they reflected Gaenor's quiet idea of fun. She enjoyed puzzles and enlivened their walking language lessons with word games and trivia; at times she gave him jokes that were double or triple deep--well worth the time of a trader. But the fun she was promising this time . . . He hurried, knowing that no spot in the ship should be very far from any other, and that certainly ten minutes would be more than he'd need, but if the goal was to tease and excite, her instructions were managing that.

*

Jethri stood in the back corridor on
Elthoria
's second level. In his mind he traced the ship's plan as far as he knew it and saw that he was in the section occupied largely by pilots and technical crew--but in the long corridor with a short jogging turn giving good access to the onboard trade deck and conference rooms and perhaps, but yes, the guest suites; ahead was a corner, giving way to a short connecting corridor to an access walk to the outer rim. There was a suite entrance there, too, he knew, but the numbers escaped him momentarily.

Coincidentally the room was next to one of the combined lift and stair shafts, an excellent location for quick and quiet access.

And there, GS 3A it was--he recognized it now--for like the three other guest suites there was a multitoned occupancy marker as well as the key swipe at the door. It seemed a silly thing to do on a ship that otherwise read his hands or eyes for admittance anywhere, but he swiped the key and entered, curiosity not the only thing behind the advanced beating of his heart, for if Gaenor waited . . .

The suite opened almost silently, and he entered, to discover a room like none other he'd seen on
Elthoria
, hearing the door seal behind him. While the low lighting might be simple energy conservation the rest of the room was rich-looking; there was a small couch of fine leather, and a meal table of carved wood, and a bunk--well, no, a bed!

The bed was triple or more the size of a bunk, he thought, with pillows piled high and piled about, and both headboard and footboard of wood that matched the table and--well, the whole room. There were low-lit alcoves, and viewing screens on several sides of the bed, and a well-equipped work area with multiple chairs and a desk and work screens.

The walls were covered in a finely decorated cloth, and there were vents, and more vents, shades of a workroom, high and low--his time with stinks runs on the
Market
left him no doubt that he could dump a half tub of beer and not one bit of the odor would go beyond the room, unless he spilled it on himself.

The colors of the room were hard to define since the lighting varied from spot to spot, with some areas shading green and some blue, though it was clear that the bed itself was more lit than the couch or the table, though the pillowed top was near as dark as any portion of the room. He blinked: the light
was
slowly changing in the room, cycling in a way he couldn't measure, the colors and intensities from each source altering moment to moment. Those changes changed the shadows--now the pillows at the top of the bed were in more light, and the center was mellowed . . .

Too, there was an undersound, not of a regular ventilation but something else he couldn't quite place. It rose quietly, then swelled to a hiss that almost became a slap, and then receded; in its midst were other sounds he couldn't place, not unpleasant, but not ship sounds, and not music of a kind that he knew. Certainly the rising and falling of the swelling sounds were orderly and cyclical while the others were not, but sounded purposeful nonetheless, and sounded familiar.

He wondered if the lights and the sound were coordinated, but his eyes were drawn to a portion of the room with steady illumination, and his name writ large.

Standing on the small bar were several fancy cases as well as a tea set, glasses of a number of sizes, and a box, all fancied up with glowing striped ribbons, and a sign on top that with hand-drawn letters that were hand tall spelling out jethri.

Drawn there, he saw the note under the sign, and opening the fragrant sheet tied to the package he discovered, handwritten in Terran--

To Be Opened on Sight by Jethri! Wear if you dare! Wear for joy!

The seal was the ribbon itself, a single ribbon which was a knotted puzzle, too, and he studied the knot before working it, wishing to keep the ribbon intact if he might. There was a way to do a quick pull, but he'd felt that would be cheating if he could . . . yes! His fingers fumbled now that this goal was in sight, and he wondered if he really was vibrating or not. There was a slip, there, a small spot where he'd relieve all the tension and still be able to free the box, and he did that, an inordinate sense of accomplishment making him smile.

"For Jethri for our own first Festival, a gift, for this trip or for lift. Wear and share with joy."

Out of the mysterious box, then, from within a fine and worthy keepsake silky sack, came layers of a soft and wonderful cloth, all in shades of blue. He'd hardly touched such, for it was meant to be a personal kind of a thing, the like of which he'd seen before on specialty tables, and once, heart-stoppingly, on Khat as she'd left the
Market
for an assignation, her unsealed overcloak revealing the shimmer and cut of it, though thankfully not the full measure of the things.

It was what he could only think of as "an outfit" or a "getup"--both labels used among the traders he knew to mean clothes for quiet get-togethers or rowdy parties where the parties were meant to end up in bed or other handy place with the object being to be spend as much time twisted up in each other as they could, with the clothes being a transition phase not meant to last on a person much beyond getting to and from the athletics.

And there--he'd dressed himself up in what were quality onboard clothes, thinking of the admonition that this was a private party, and that none need know--and now she'd provided these clothes, recalling her promise to be with him shortly after he arrived.

He felt an adrenal, hormonal surge, wondering just what clothes Gaenor might bring . . .

"Wear if you dare"was certainly a challenge; he retired immediately to the sanitary facilities and dressing areas on the left--seeing one on the right as well--and closed himself quietly into the well-mirrored room.

*

The clothes were amazing: a brief lower undergarment of a fine foggy blue, silky smooth, shimmering and near transparent, and slightly stretchy. There was a shirt, of the same color and fineness, and there were trousers of a sort, with a drawstring, and then an overrobe of the same foggy blue . . .

He laid them out on the slick counter top, looking at himself in the mirror.

His thoughts were all a-tumble, visions of Gaenor running into odd thoughts of distant Khat and then the twins Miandra and Meicha and--

He wasn't any of those other places, he was here, on this ship. He'd willfully left
Gobelyn's Market
to come here; he willfully told his mother, Captain Iza, "I've found my ship!"

The choice now was straightforward, and he stripped, the straight-white light from the mirror making his skin even paler against the small tangles of dark underarm and pubic hair. He thought he heard a sound on the other side of the door, and moved quickly now, with ever more confidence, pulling on the wonderfully soft and caressing underdrawers, marveling at their touch and their fit, the way they showed his shape, both supporting and bringing him forward. He blushed briefly, seeing himself thus in the mirror, and said under his breath, "Be bold, Jeth!"

The rest of the clothes slid over his skin gently, like the touch of a loving lady, and when he peered into the mirror again, gently brushing his unruly head of hair into what perfection he might, he could see through the outer layers to the smoky shadowy transparency of the inner clothes, his pale skin giving an extra radiance to the blue.