myself.”
“I can handle her fine now that Temar’s made it clear that I’m in charge,” Naite said. Clearly he didn’t like the idea of Lilian running to his rescue.
“Then I’ll back you up,” Lilian said without taking offense. “So, we all have work to do. I know it’s too late to go back to the relay today. You can stay in town if you like.”
Shan looked over to Temar to see what he wanted to do.
“We can get out to my place,” Temar said, and there was only a trace of trepidation in the smile he gave Lilian. Going back out to Ben’s old place meant facing Cyla. Sometimes Shan wondered if siblings were the Lord’s way of testing a person’s patience.
“Okay, then you’re free to leave. The rest of us have to decide how to approach the other councils.” And with that, Lilian dismissed them. Temar stood up to leave, but Shan hesitated.
“Don’t you want to discuss what you want out of negotiations, what we’re willing to offer?”
Lilian looked at him and smiled, and for the first time Shan was truly aware of her age. Her face was heavily lined and her hair thinning. And she looked more insubstantial than she had just months ago. “You know what we need, Shan, and you know what we have to offer. Do the best you can to negotiate with sandrats that would abandon our grandparents. That’s all we ask.”
“Some new copper piping might be nice,” Naite added.
“And computer pads,” Bari added.
“I really could use that high-capacity smelter,” Dee’eta offered.
“You people,” Lilian interrupted with a disgusted voice. “Why don’t you just write a shopping list, like he’s your spouse heading to market? You two,” she said, pointing at Shan and Temar, “get out. This is council work now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Shan said, standing up and following Temar out of the council room. The Lord might move in mysterious ways, but Shan never had expected those ways to lead him up into space. As they headed outside, Shan squinted up at the blue sky. It had a pink tinge to it as the sun sank down toward the horizon, so there was a sandstorm out there somewhere, throwing up grains of sand to glow as the sun reflected off it.
Temar stopped so close to him that their shoulders brushed. For a time they stood silently. When Shan finally looked down, his eyes stinging from the light, he could see people gathering in the street. An unannounced full council meeting in the middle of the week was sure to catch people’s attention. He wondered how long it would be before rumors started to spread. Wistia leaned against the side of a carpet-maker’s stall, watching. Her dark hair blew in the breeze and her harp was strapped to her back.
“Well, crap,” Shan muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
Shan nodded toward the woman. “I forgot to file a complaint.”
Temar looked over, studying the street until he spotted Wistia, and then he laughed. Frowning at him, Shan demanded, “What?”
Lowering his voice, Temar leaned closer. “We’re about to try and talk evil alien worlds into water to keep our planet alive, and you’re worried about a song.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Shan defended himself.
“Uh-huh,” Temar said as he went to Naite’s hauler and climbed up into the back. They’d figured that Naite would have to stay for a council meeting, so they’d loaded the sand bike into the back. Now Temar started pulling off the straps that held it in place.
“It is,” Shan said as he got up into the hauler and started helping.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It did yesterday.”
Temar stopped and leaned against the bike as he carefully studied Shan. Shan wasn’t sure what Temar meant by the gesture, and he shifted uncomfortably. “What?” he asked again.
“Yesterday it mattered, today it doesn’t,” Temar said with a shrug. Shan couldn’t argue with logic like that, since it wasn’t logical, so he helped Temar unload the bike. It’d be close to dark before they got
“I can handle her fine now that Temar’s made it clear that I’m in charge,” Naite said. Clearly he didn’t like the idea of Lilian running to his rescue.
“Then I’ll back you up,” Lilian said without taking offense. “So, we all have work to do. I know it’s too late to go back to the relay today. You can stay in town if you like.”
Shan looked over to Temar to see what he wanted to do.
“We can get out to my place,” Temar said, and there was only a trace of trepidation in the smile he gave Lilian. Going back out to Ben’s old place meant facing Cyla. Sometimes Shan wondered if siblings were the Lord’s way of testing a person’s patience.
“Okay, then you’re free to leave. The rest of us have to decide how to approach the other councils.” And with that, Lilian dismissed them. Temar stood up to leave, but Shan hesitated.
“Don’t you want to discuss what you want out of negotiations, what we’re willing to offer?”
Lilian looked at him and smiled, and for the first time Shan was truly aware of her age. Her face was heavily lined and her hair thinning. And she looked more insubstantial than she had just months ago. “You know what we need, Shan, and you know what we have to offer. Do the best you can to negotiate with sandrats that would abandon our grandparents. That’s all we ask.”
“Some new copper piping might be nice,” Naite added.
“And computer pads,” Bari added.
“I really could use that high-capacity smelter,” Dee’eta offered.
“You people,” Lilian interrupted with a disgusted voice. “Why don’t you just write a shopping list, like he’s your spouse heading to market? You two,” she said, pointing at Shan and Temar, “get out. This is council work now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Shan said, standing up and following Temar out of the council room. The Lord might move in mysterious ways, but Shan never had expected those ways to lead him up into space. As they headed outside, Shan squinted up at the blue sky. It had a pink tinge to it as the sun sank down toward the horizon, so there was a sandstorm out there somewhere, throwing up grains of sand to glow as the sun reflected off it.
Temar stopped so close to him that their shoulders brushed. For a time they stood silently. When Shan finally looked down, his eyes stinging from the light, he could see people gathering in the street. An unannounced full council meeting in the middle of the week was sure to catch people’s attention. He wondered how long it would be before rumors started to spread. Wistia leaned against the side of a carpet-maker’s stall, watching. Her dark hair blew in the breeze and her harp was strapped to her back.
“Well, crap,” Shan muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
Shan nodded toward the woman. “I forgot to file a complaint.”
Temar looked over, studying the street until he spotted Wistia, and then he laughed. Frowning at him, Shan demanded, “What?”
Lowering his voice, Temar leaned closer. “We’re about to try and talk evil alien worlds into water to keep our planet alive, and you’re worried about a song.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” Shan defended himself.
“Uh-huh,” Temar said as he went to Naite’s hauler and climbed up into the back. They’d figured that Naite would have to stay for a council meeting, so they’d loaded the sand bike into the back. Now Temar started pulling off the straps that held it in place.
“It is,” Shan said as he got up into the hauler and started helping.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It did yesterday.”
Temar stopped and leaned against the bike as he carefully studied Shan. Shan wasn’t sure what Temar meant by the gesture, and he shifted uncomfortably. “What?” he asked again.
“Yesterday it mattered, today it doesn’t,” Temar said with a shrug. Shan couldn’t argue with logic like that, since it wasn’t logical, so he helped Temar unload the bike. It’d be close to dark before they got
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