Local Custom by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

holding and straightened against the cushions. "Er Thom . . . "

    He bowed, effectively cutting her off. "Anne, only think," he said quickly, his accent more pronounced than she had ever heard it. "You say you will be traveling to Liad, that there is duty owed one who has died. What better than to travel with one who is your friend, to guest in the house of your son's kin for as long as you like? Everything shall be as you wish—" He bit his lip and glanced sharply away, then back.

    "If you do not wish us to wed, why then, there is nothing more to be said. I—certainly I cannot know your necessities. However, you must know that my necessities require our son to show his face to the delm no later than the second day of the next relumma—three Standard weeks, as you had said." He moved his hands, showing her palms, fingers spread wide, concealing nothing.

    "I tell you all," he said, the pace of his words slowing somewhat. "Anne. I do not wish to wound you, or to frighten you, or to steal our son away from you. But he must be brought to the delm. He is yos'Galan! Provision must be made—and yourself! Will you stand alone and without allies, having borne a child to Korval?"

    Anne stared, breathless with hearing him out. "Is that—dangerous?" she asked.

    "Dangerous?" Er Thom repeated, blankly. He moved a hand, a gesture of tossing aside. "Ah, bah! It is games of melant'i. Nothing to alarm one who is prudent." He tipped his head, bit his lip as if unsure how to continue.

    "It is prudent to gather allies," he said at last and Anne heard the exquisite care he took now, lest he offend her. "Korval is not negligible, you understand. And the child is yos'Galan. None can deny basis for alliance. The marriage I—wished for—would have brought you immediately into a case of—of— intended alliance . You would have been seen to be under the Dragon's wing now, rather than waiting upon the trip to Liad and the drawing up of—other—contracts." He took a deep breath, and met her eyes, his own wide and guileless.

    "It distresses me to see you in peril," he said, very softly, "when I have the means and the—desire—to give you protection."

    "I—see," she managed, around the hammering of her heart. She shook her head in a futile effort to clear it and made a grab for common sense. This was University Central, after all: Haven of scholars and students and other servants of odd knowledge and arcane thought.

    "No one's likely to come after my head here," she told him, meaning it for comfort and an ease to the distress he showed her plainly, and added a phrase with a flavor of High Liaden: "Thank you for your care, Er Thom."

    He hesitated, then bowed acceptance of her decision, or so she thought.

    "In three Standard weeks," he said, straightening, "I shall pilot our son and yourself to Solcintra. We shall all three go to the delm and Shan shall be Seen. After, I shall take you to Trealla Fantrol—the house of yos'Galan—where you may guest until your duty to your friend has been completed."

    It made sense, even if it was phrased rather autocratically. It solved her transportation and living problems. It solved Er Thom's pressing need to have the newly-discovered yos'Galan added to clan Korval's internal census.

    It did not solve her disinclination for having the order of her life disrupted for as long as two months while she tried to sort out a colleague's private working notes.

    And it certainly did not solve the fact that she would be staying those two months on Liad—in Solcintra, called "The City of Jewels" for the standard of wealth enjoyed by its citizens. At—Trealla Fantrol—she might well be Er Thom yos'Galan's honored guest and recipient of every grace the House could provide. But in Solcintra she would be a lone Terran in the company of Liadens, with their fierce competitiveness and Liad-centric ways—

     . . .  in a society where the phrase, "Rag-mannered as a Terran," enjoyed current—and