Necessary Evils (Adventures in the Liaden Universe®?) by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller Page B
Authors: Sharon Lee, Steve Miller
Tags: Science-Fiction
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Daav's feelings regarding the matter of his recent ascent to nadelm, the heir in fact to the delm. His mother advised him that he would, in time, grow accustomed to his rank and, when duty required it of him, to a life lived primarily on Liad.
Daav took leave, privately, to doubt it.
"I wonder, my son," his mother said, selecting a fruit from the bowl between them, "if you might dispatch a small errand for me at the Low Port."
Daav blinked, and sent her a look, half-expecting to meet more mischief in her face, though her voice had been serious enough.
The glance he met was likewise serious.
"At the Low Port, ma'am?" he repeated, neutrally.
His mother considered him blandly. "Quite a small thing, really, Daav. If you would be so good."
"Of course you know I can deny you nothing," he replied. "I shall be . . . perhaps
delighted
is not precisely the word which expresses my state of mind, but don't have a care for that! What may I be honored to bring you from the Low Port, mother?"
"The answer to a riddle," she said composedly, and Daav felt his interest prick, despite himself. Riddles at the Low Port were often . . . compelling. And, sad to own, the Low Port itself was rather more to his liking than almost any other location on Liad, saving his clanhouse or at his brother's side.
"And the riddle?" he inquired, feigning boredom, which he was fairly certain deceived his parent not at all.
"Where do the pilots who visit Ilgay's Hell and Janif's Game Palace go after they depart the pleasures of the house?"
Daav considered her. "Surely, to their rightful berths, or to their clanhouses, the guildhall, or to the arms of a lover. Come, ma'am, this is not worthy of you! Hardly a riddle at all!"
"But if they do not arrive at their clanhouses, if their captains fill their berths from the will-call list, their lovers weep for their absence, and the guild assesses a fine against their licenses, and still they do not reappear? Does the riddle seem less tame then?"
Daav frowned. "Less tame and all but terrifying," he said slowly, considering the plural. "How many?"
"Eight, over the last two relumma," she replied. "The full particulars are on the computer in the study, if you find yourself interested."
"Interested," he allowed. "But is this not a matter, perhaps, for your acquaintance at mid-Port?"
"It would seem to be so. Alas, several relumma past, my acquaintance was kind enough to inform me that she was removing herself from her position--having achieved what she was pleased to term 'sufficient time in grade to make it stick'--and the last two replacements have not lasted even long enough for one to request a meeting upon neutral ground."
Daav frowned again. "If the balance is not firm at that juncture . . ." he murmured.
"Precisely!" his mother said, with a wide smile. "The thing wants examination from a number of angles, my child." She rose, waving a languid hand in the general direction of the study.
"Please, make yourself familiar with the particulars. I repose all faith in your ability to unravel this for me." Another brilliant smile and she was gone, dropping a light touch on his shoulder as she passed.
Daav sighed, and finished his tea, wishing he had as much confidence in his abilities as his parent pretended to. Still, he owned, it was an appealing problem--and not only for its locale. And pilots . . . pilots were the proper care of Korval, after all.
*
The start of it was easy enough, needing only a choice, and it was at Ilgay's Hell that he chose to begin his investigations.
Ilgay's was fortunately located hard by a port employment kiosk, at the center of a narrow street bracketed by food stalls and tea stands. There were folk enough about, and of various sort, so that the presence of an additional, and slightly ragged, pilot was nothing to turn heads.
First, he betook himself to the hiring kiosk, patiently waiting his turn in line for a chance at one of the three available terminals. He scrolled down the
Daav took leave, privately, to doubt it.
"I wonder, my son," his mother said, selecting a fruit from the bowl between them, "if you might dispatch a small errand for me at the Low Port."
Daav blinked, and sent her a look, half-expecting to meet more mischief in her face, though her voice had been serious enough.
The glance he met was likewise serious.
"At the Low Port, ma'am?" he repeated, neutrally.
His mother considered him blandly. "Quite a small thing, really, Daav. If you would be so good."
"Of course you know I can deny you nothing," he replied. "I shall be . . . perhaps
delighted
is not precisely the word which expresses my state of mind, but don't have a care for that! What may I be honored to bring you from the Low Port, mother?"
"The answer to a riddle," she said composedly, and Daav felt his interest prick, despite himself. Riddles at the Low Port were often . . . compelling. And, sad to own, the Low Port itself was rather more to his liking than almost any other location on Liad, saving his clanhouse or at his brother's side.
"And the riddle?" he inquired, feigning boredom, which he was fairly certain deceived his parent not at all.
"Where do the pilots who visit Ilgay's Hell and Janif's Game Palace go after they depart the pleasures of the house?"
Daav considered her. "Surely, to their rightful berths, or to their clanhouses, the guildhall, or to the arms of a lover. Come, ma'am, this is not worthy of you! Hardly a riddle at all!"
"But if they do not arrive at their clanhouses, if their captains fill their berths from the will-call list, their lovers weep for their absence, and the guild assesses a fine against their licenses, and still they do not reappear? Does the riddle seem less tame then?"
Daav frowned. "Less tame and all but terrifying," he said slowly, considering the plural. "How many?"
"Eight, over the last two relumma," she replied. "The full particulars are on the computer in the study, if you find yourself interested."
"Interested," he allowed. "But is this not a matter, perhaps, for your acquaintance at mid-Port?"
"It would seem to be so. Alas, several relumma past, my acquaintance was kind enough to inform me that she was removing herself from her position--having achieved what she was pleased to term 'sufficient time in grade to make it stick'--and the last two replacements have not lasted even long enough for one to request a meeting upon neutral ground."
Daav frowned again. "If the balance is not firm at that juncture . . ." he murmured.
"Precisely!" his mother said, with a wide smile. "The thing wants examination from a number of angles, my child." She rose, waving a languid hand in the general direction of the study.
"Please, make yourself familiar with the particulars. I repose all faith in your ability to unravel this for me." Another brilliant smile and she was gone, dropping a light touch on his shoulder as she passed.
Daav sighed, and finished his tea, wishing he had as much confidence in his abilities as his parent pretended to. Still, he owned, it was an appealing problem--and not only for its locale. And pilots . . . pilots were the proper care of Korval, after all.
*
The start of it was easy enough, needing only a choice, and it was at Ilgay's Hell that he chose to begin his investigations.
Ilgay's was fortunately located hard by a port employment kiosk, at the center of a narrow street bracketed by food stalls and tea stands. There were folk enough about, and of various sort, so that the presence of an additional, and slightly ragged, pilot was nothing to turn heads.
First, he betook himself to the hiring kiosk, patiently waiting his turn in line for a chance at one of the three available terminals. He scrolled down the
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