Changeling Read Free

shops under Obrelt's
care. And he was himself the better for a shower, a nap and a
change of clothes, though it was still not easy to consider the
reason he had been summoned home.
    Home.
    Ren Zel turned and looked up the walk, to the
fence and the gate and the tall town house beyond them. He had
grown up in this House, among the noisy gaggle of his sibs and
cousins; it was to this House that he had returned on his brief
holidays from school. Granted, he had come back less often after he
had finished with his lessons, but there had been flight time to
acquire, techniques to master and the first class to win.
    Once he held first class, of course, there
had been contracts to fulfill, the debt to reduce. Between
contracts, he had routinely kept his status on "on call," which
required him to lodge at the Guildhall. The debt shrunk, but so,
too, did his contact with his family.
    He looked at the gate, and took a deep
breath, steeling himself as if for some dreaded ordeal. Which was
nonsense. Beyond the gate were only his kin--his Clan, which
existed to shelter him and to care for him and to shield him from
harm.
    He took a step up the walkway.
    The gate in the wall surrounding Obrelt's
house sprang open and a woman emerged from the fastness beyond,
walking briskly in her neat, shopkeeper's uniform and her sensible
boots, a manager's clipboard cuddled against her breast.
    She saw him and checked, eyes widening for
the leather-jacketed stranger on Obrelt's very walk. Ren Zel held
out his hands, palms showing empty.
    "Eba," he said softly to his next eldest
sister, "it is I."
    "Ren Zel?" Her gaze moved over his face,
finding enough of Obrelt there to soothe her into a smile and a
step forward, hand extended. "Brother, I scarcely knew you!"
    He smiled in his turn and went to take her
hand.
    "The jacket disarmed you, doubtless."
    She laughed, kin-warm. "Doubtless.
Jump-pilot, eh? It suits you extremely."
    Eba had been his favorite sister--young
enough not to entirely despise the childish projects of a younger
brother, yet old enough to stand as sometimes ally against the more
boisterous of the cousins. Ren Zel pressed her fingers.
    "I find you well?"
    "Well," she conceded, and then, playfully,
"And well you find me at all, rogue! How many relumma have passed
since you last came to us? I suppose it's nothing to you that I am
tomorrow sent to Morjan for a twelve-day? I was to have left today,
but necessity calls me to the shop. Say at least you will be at
Prime!"
    "I believe I shall," he said. "The Delm calls
me home, on business."
    "Ah!" She looked wise. "One had heard
something of that. You will be pleased, I think." She dropped his
hand and patted the leather sleeve of his jacket. "Go on inside. I
must to the shop."
    "Yes, of course." She read his hesitation,
though, and laughed softly, shaking her glossy dark hair back.
    "You cannot stand out on the walk all day,
you know! Until Prime, Ren Zel!"
    "Until Prime, Eba," he replied, and watched
her down the walk. She turned at the corner without looking back.
Ren Zel squared his shoulders, walked up to the gate and lay his
palm against the plate.
    A heartbeat later, he was within Obrelt's
walls. Directly thereafter, the front door accepted his palmprint
and he stepped into the house.
    His nose led him to the
dining room, and he stood on the threshold several minutes before
one of the cousins caught sight of him, touched the arm of the
cousin next to him, who turned, then spoke quickly--quietly--to the
cousin next to her until in no time the whole busy, bustling room was still, all
eyes on the man under the archway.
    "Well." One stirred, stood up from her place
at the table.
    "Don't dawdle in the doorway, child," said
Aunt Chane, for all the stars as if he were ten again. "Come in and
break your fast."
    "Yes, Aunt," he said meekly and walked
forward. The cousins shook themselves, took up the threads of their
conversations, poured tea and chose slices of sweet toast. Ren Zel
came to the