The Dragon Variation by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

shook her head at the parcels that had been delivered from the local grocer. Gods only knew where the man thought she was going to put all the various goodies he'd ordered, which included two tins of fabulously expensive, real-bean coffee.
    "Well, and perhaps some of it will be for himself," she murmured, turning her back on the pile and resolutely picking up the first examination booklet.
    She was very nearly half-way through the lot when the doorbell sounded, startling her into a curse.
    "Ah, there, Annie Davis," she chided herself as she crossed the room, "always losing yourself inside the work . . ."
    "Good evening." Er Thom bowed low as she opened the door—the Bow of Honored Esteem, she thought, frowning slightly. Most usually, he greeted her with the Bow Between Equals. She wondered, uneasily, what the deviation meant.
    "Good evening," she returned, with as much calm as she could muster. She stepped aside, motioning him in with a wave of her hand. "Come in, please."
    He did, offering the wine he carried with another slight bow. "A gift for the House."
    Anne took the bottle, uneasiness growing toward alarm. Er Thom usually brought wine on his visits—a Liaden custom, she understood, which demonstrated the goodwill of the visitor. But he had never before been so formal—so alien —in his manner to her.
    Clutching the symbol of his goodwill, Anne attempted her own bow—Gratitude Toward the Guest. "Thank you. Will you take a glass with me?"
    "It would be welcome," he returned, nothing but stiff formality, with all of her friend and her lover hid down in the depths of his eyes. He moved a graceful hand, showing her the cluttered worktable and piles of exam booklets. "I would not, however, wish to interrupt your work."
    "Oh." She stared at the desk, then at the clock on the shelf above it. "My work will take me another few hours," she said, hesitantly. "A break now, for a few moments, to drink wine with—with my friend . . ." She let it drift off, biting her lip in an agony of uncertainty.
    "Ah." Something moved across his face—a flicker, nothing more. But she knew that he was in some way relieved. Almost, she thought he smiled, though in truth he did nothing more than incline his head.
    "I suggest a compromise," he said softly. "You to your worktable and I to stow the groceries. The wine may wait until—friends—are able."
    "Stow the groceries?" She blinked at him and then at the pile of boxes. "All that stuff won't fit in my kitchen, Er Thom. I'd hoped some was for you."
    Surprisingly, he laughed—sweet, rare sound that it was—and she found herself smiling in response.
    "A cargo-balancing exercise, no more." He reached out and slipped the bottle from her grasp. "I shall contrive. In the meanwhile, you to your examinations, eh?"
    "I to my examinations," she agreed, still smiling like a fool, absurdly, astonishingly relieved. "Thank you, Er Thom."
    "It is nothing," he murmured, moving off toward the pile.
    He paused briefly to take off his jacket and drape it over the back of the easy chair before continuing on to the kitchen.
    Ridiculously light of heart, Anne went back to her desk and opened the next blue book.
     
    TRUE TO HIS WORD , Er Thom found room for every blessed thing in the boxes, then neatly folded the boxes and slid them into the thin space between the coldbox and the washer.
    He used the few extra minutes Anne needed to finish grading her last paper to rustle up some of the freshly-foraged foodstuffs and carry the snack, with wine and glasses, into the great room.
    "That looks wonderful!" Anne said, eyeing the tray of cheese and vegetables and sauce with real appreciation. She smiled at Er Thom and stretched high on her toes to work out the kinks, fingers brushing the ceiling, as always.
    "Blasted low bridge," she muttered, as she always did. "How much could it cost to add an extra two inches of height?"
    "Quite a bit, I should think," Er Thom replied seriously. "Two inches on such a scale of