Rissa and Tregare Read Free

two-separated for so long-have found much to discuss and compare." Sparline laughed. "Oh, yes! And it's so good- after al the grim stories we'd heard-to find that the ogre Tregare is stil my brother Bran!" His finger pushed the tip of her nose. "Hey-remember how I used to do that when you got stubborn, to make you laugh? You were four, maybe," Then he sobered. "But the ogre's not al make-believe. I've done things you wouldn't like to hear."
    "Haven't we all?" She spoke quietly. "Life here-it's no maypole dance. But to be harsh when you don't need to-that's not only cruel, but foolish. So we don't-and I bet you don't, either."
    After a pause, he said, "Funny thing about need-it's what you think it is. I've been rougher at times than might have been strictly necessary, to impress some folks who thought Tregare was maybe a soft touch. Wel, Tregare wasn't."
    "I would imagine," said Rissa, "that you averted much trouble. As to whether your harshness was justified, I was not present."
    "Yeah. Well, UET taught me the iron-fist trick; it took a while to learn that easier ways work, too. I'm stil learning." Rissa touched his hand. "So are we al-to stop learning is to stop living. I am not at al prepared for that, so soon."
    "You're telling me something," he said, "but I'm not sure what."
    "Neither am I-except that this afternoon I spoke in anger, and I wish to retract what I said. If you would like, again, the unrewarding role of simply helping me to keep warm .."
    Sparline's laugh rang. "Now that's a polite way to say you're still too sore to spread for pleasure! Your answer, Bran?"
    He scowled. "You know our history. Husband or no, it's fitting that bed games, now, wait on her decision." He slanted an eyebrow. "Of course, if she takes too long, I can help myself elsewhere."
    Sidelong, he looked at Rissa. She said, "What you do out-side our bed is your concern-as what I do is mine. Need we belabor the point?" Sparline, hands to face, shook with laughter. Then, "Bran -if you haven't learned yet not to bait this one, you're slow." She looked at Tregare; he smiled. "Given time enough, I think we'l make a good match." Liesel and Hawkman entered from one door, food-laden servitors from another. Between seating and greetings and serving, a new conversation began-skipping, as they ate, from one subject to another. Tregare recapitulated the Sleeker interview; Hawkman, laughing, slapped the table hard enough to upset his wine. Rissa only partially understood the talk of how to consolidate the Windy Lakes situation after Fenner-abilis' withdrawal. Even less could she folow Tregare's cryp-tic mentions of other Escaped Ships. "I'l know in a few weeks what's realistic to plan for, and what isn't," he said. Before Rissa could frame a question, Liesel spoke to her. "I've got a figure on your share from dal Nardo-nearly thirty milion. With the rest, it's as I said; you're wel up in the middle'oligarchal ranks. If you don't mind discussing it now, I've got some ideas to sel you-how to invest as much as you choose, here, to benefit the whole family interest. Al right?"
    "Of course. Liesel, you need not be a salesperson to me. Tell me your wishes, and I will see how'far I can agree with you."
    Liesel rubbed her forehead. "Black eye and al, you look so baby-face young I keep forgetting you trained with Erika. Al right-Bleeker's warehouse complex that he tried to fob off as part of the bet. The way he runs it, he's losing money. But look-" With stylus on paper she sketched rapidly. "Here's the way he has it set up. You see?"
    "Yes. His routings. Here-and here-blockages, and much time wasted." She pointed. "Is this building of importance?"
    "No-a catchall for things he buys and can't sell."
    "Then remove it, contents and all, at salvage prices." She took the stylus and sketched new routings. Brow wrinkled, muttering, she corrected her first efforts. " . . . smooth flow. . separate access in and out from dockside . . . a gate here, to do the same for the