Shadows and Shades (Adventures in the Liaden Universe®) by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

general condition, wear patterns, repairs, stains—that sort of thing. What say you?"
      Seriously, she scrutinized the gauze backing, then turned the rug over, clumsily, to study the face, her hands chastely cupping her knees.
      "Hands," Pat Rin murmured. "Use your hands."
      He demonstrated, elegant fingers—ringless for this work—petting, gripping, pushing—his palms flowing about the top and bindings.
       "Feel the nap. Is there a stiff spot which may be a stain invisible to the eye? Pull on the loops—do they hold or come loose? Smell the carpet—is it musty? Sour? All of these details are important."
      She sent him one startled glance out of vivid purple eyes before bending forward, her right hand stroking and seeking. She bent her face closer—and sneezed.
      "Dusty," she said.
      He inclined his head.
      She continued her inspection with that solemness which was characteristic of her, and at last sat back on her heels and looked at him across the rug.
      "The threads are good, the stitches are firm. There is no staining visible to eye or to hand. The carpet is dusty, but fresh."
      "Very good," he said, and plied the stylus once more.
      When the yellow tag appeared, he handed it across to her.
      "Use the stitch gun to staple the tag to the near corner."
      He helped her wrestle the wrapper on it, and used his chin to point at the waiting carpets.
      "Please choose our next subject and unroll it while I put this in its proper place."
      She rose, a thing of pure, careless grace, and moved lithely to the pile. Pat Rin gritted his teeth and carried the little rug across to the bin.
      Niki was sitting tall on the shelf. She blinked lazy green eyes at him as he stroked her breast.
      Somewhat soothed, Pat Rin turned back to the work area, expecting to find the next specimen unrolled and awaiting inspection.
      Indeed, a rug had been liberated from the pile, and he felt a momentary pang—she had chosen the one he had wanted to study himself. It displayed a promising underside, thick with knots. He sighed, then wondered about the delay.
      Knife at her knee, Nova crouched over the roll, head bent above the single corner she had curled into the light. Her shoulders were rounded in an attitude of misery—or defiance.
      "Unroll it!" he said, perhaps a little sharply, but Nova only knelt there.
      Gods, what ailed the child? Pat Rin thought, irritably, and moved forward.
      "Don't..." Nova moaned, "I know this rug!"
      But that was nothing more than nonsense. Likely the thing had been away rolled in a dusty attic for a dozen dozen Standards....
      He moved down the cylinder, pulling the ribbon ties rapidly.
      "Nova, help me roll this out."
      She crouched lower, fingers gripping her corner...
      Pat Rin delivered a smart kick and the thing unrolled with alacrity, as if the carpet had been yearning for its freedom.
      Beside him, cowering now, head even closer to the floor and the corner of carpet she clung to, Nova gasped.
      He looked down at the top of her bright head, frowning. Nothing he knew of Nova encouraged him to believe that she was a malingerer. Nor was it possible to imagine Cousin Er Thom or his lady wife, Cousin Anne, tolerating this sort of missish behavior for anything longer than a heartbeat.
      "Are you ill?" he asked. "Cousin?"
      She shuddered, and raised her head as if it were a very great weight.
      "No," she said on a rising note, as though she questioned her answer even as she gave it. "I ...beg your pardon, cousin. A passing—a passing stupidity." She rose, slowly and with a quarter of her previous grace. "Pray... do not regard it."
      He considered her. Carpets woven of certain esoteric