Changeling by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

deciphering the man's fluid,
idiomatic Terran. "I am ... required ... to, to demonstrate my
worth to the hall."
    "Close enough," the boss allowed, crossing
his arms atop his computer. "The other thing you gotta do, after
you pass muster, is post a bond."
    Ren Zel frowned. "Forgive me, I do
not--'bond'?"
    "Right." The boss looked out into nothing for
a moment, feeling over concepts, or so Ren Zel thought. "A bond
is--a contract. You and me sign a paper that basically says you'll
follow the company rules and keep your face clean for a Standard,
and to prove you're serious about it, you give me a cantra to keep.
At the end of the year, if you kept your side of the contract, I
give you your money back." Again, he held up his hand, as if he
expected Ren Zel's protest.
    "I know your word binds you, you being all
honorable and Liaden and like that, but it's Gromit Company policy,
OK? You don't post bond, you don't fly."
    "O...K," Ren Zel said slowly, buying himself
a thimbleful of time while he worked the explanation out. He
gathered, painfully, that the hall required him to post earnest
money, against any misfortune that might befall a client's goods
while they were under his care. In light of what had happened to
the last item entrusted to him in flight, it seemed that the hall
was merely prudent in this. However...
    "If the ... Gromit Company? ... does not
fulfill its side of the contract?"
    The boss gave a short laugh. "Liadens! If the
company don't fulfill its side of the contract, kid, we'll all be
lookin' for work."
    That didn't quite scan, but he was tired, and
his head ached, and his leg did, and if he did not fly out of the
Terran hall, who else on all of Casiaport would hire him? He
inclined his head.
    "I accept the terms," he said, as formally as
one could, in Terran.
    "Do you?" The boss seemed inclined to find
that humorous as well. "OK, then. Report back here tomorrow
Port-noon and we'll have you take the tests. Oh--one more
thing."
    "Yes."
    The man's voice was stern. "No politics. I
mean that. I don't want any Liaden Balances or vendettas or
whateverthehell you do for fun coming into my hall. You bring any
of that here and you're out, no matter how good a pilot you are.
Scan that?"
    Very nearly, Ren Zel laughed. Balance. Who
would seek Balance with a dead man?
    He took a shaky breath. "I understand. There
is no one who ... owes ... me. Anything."
    The boss held his eyes for a long moment,
then nodded. "Right. Keep it that way." He paused, then sighed.
    "You got a place to sleep?"
    Ren Zel pushed away from the counter. "I ...
not..." He sighed in his turn, sharply, frustrated with his
ineptitude. "Forgive me. I mean to say--not this evening. Sir."
    "Huh." The boss extended a long arm and
hooked a key off the board by his computer. "This ain't a guild
hall. All we got here is a cot for the willfly. Happens the willfly
is already in the air, so you can use the cot." He threw the key
and Ren Zel caught it between both palms. "You pass the entry
tests, you find your own place, got it?"
    Not entirely, no. But comprehension could
wait upon the morrow.
    "Yes, sir," Ren Zel said respectfully, then
spent two long seconds groping for the proper Terran phrase. "Thank
you, sir."
    The man's eyebrows rose in apparent surprise.
"You're welcome," he said, then jerked his head to the left.
"Second door down that hall. Get some sleep, kid. You're out on
your feet."
    "Yes," Ren Zel whispered, and managed a
ragged approximation of a bow of gratitude before turning and
limping down the hall. He slid the key into the slot and the second
door whisked open.
    The room beyond was no larger than it needed
to be to hold a Terran-sized cot. Ren Zel half-fell across it, his
head hitting the pillow more by accident than design. He managed to
struggle to a sitting position and pulled off his boots, setting
them by long habit where he would find them instantly, should he be
called to fly. After sober thought, he removed his jacket and
folded it under