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agreed blandly. "Well I also know that any clan wishing to ally itself with Korval may easily accommodate half-a-relumma's delay. However, I suggest you begin inquiry among our cousins and affiliates, in order to identify others who may be available to wed the lady and cement the alliance with Clan Nexon."

    "For that matter," Petrella said spitefully, "it happens that the delm is yet without issue."

    Daav inclined his head. "I shall be honored to review the lady's file. But ask among the cousins, do." He smiled, sudden and charming. "Come, Aunt Petrella, every trader knows the value of a secondary plan!"

    "And why should I have a secondary when the prime plan is all-important? You are meddling in matters of Line, my Delm, as I have already stated. Chapter six, paragraph twenty-seven of the Code clearly outlines—"

    Daav held up a hand. "If you wish to quote chapter and page to me, Aunt, recall that I have the longest memory in the clan."

    She grinned. "Could that be a threat, nephew?"

    "Now, Aunt Petrella, would I threaten you?"

    "Yes," she said with a certain grim relish, "you would."

    "Hah." His eyes gleamed with appreciation, then he inclined his head. "In that wise, aunt, and all else being in balance—ask among the cousins—feel free to contact Mr. dea'Gauss, should the enterprise put you out of pocket. In the meanwhile, the delm is confident of the return of Er Thom yos'Galan by relumma's end. As you should be."

    Petrella said nothing, though she wisely refrained from snorting.

    Daav smiled. "Good-night, Aunt Petrella. Rest well."

    "Good-night, child," she returned and cut the connection.

Chapter Three
 
"Of course you are my friend—my most dear, my beloved . . . " Shan el'Thrasin leaned close and cupped her face in his two hands, as if they were kin, or lifemates.

"I will love you always," he whispered, and saw the fear fade from her beautiful eyes. Achingly tender, he bent and kissed her.

"I will never forget . . . " she sighed, nestling her face into his shoulder.

    "Nor will I," he promised, holding her close as he slipped the knife clear. No whisper of blade against sheath must warn her, he told himself sternly. No quiver of his own pain must reach her; she was his love, though she had killed his partner. He would rather die than cause her an instant's distress.

The knife was very sharp. She stirred a little as it slid between her ribs, and sighed, very softly, when it found her heart.

    —From "The Trickster Across the Galaxy: A Retrospect"

     

    "JERZY, YOU'RE A doll," Anne said gratefully.

    Her friend grinned from the depths of the comm-screen and shook his head. "Wrongo. He's the doll. I love this kid. Name the price; I gotta have him."

    Anne laughed. "Not for sale. But I'll let you watch him tonight. Purely as a favor to you, understand." She sobered. "How about letting me do a favor in return? We're getting a little top-heavy, here."

    "What're you, Liaden? Take some advice and skip that meeting. Go home, eat something sexy, glass of wine, play yourself a lullaby and go to sleep. Tomorrow's your study day, right? Jerzy will deliver kid latish in the a.m. If I don't decide to steal him, instead."

    "Jerzy—"

    "Enough, already! Seeya tomorrow." The screen went blank.

    Anne sighed, closed the line at her end and sat looking at the screen long after the glow had faded into dead gray.

    There had to be a better way, she thought, not for the first time. Certainly, there were worse ways than the path she was pursuing—the Central University creche leapt forcibly to mind, with its sign-in sheets and its sign-out sheets and its tidy rows of tidy cribs and its tidy, meek babies all dressed in tidy, identical rompers. Horrible, antiseptic, unloving place—just like the other one had been.

    She was doing all right, she assured herself, given the help of friends like Jerzy. But she hated to impose on her friends, good-natured as they were. Even more she hated the hours she was of