With Stars Underfoot (Adventures in the Liaden Universe®) by Sharon Lee, Steve Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

times, six—
      "Establish orbit!"
      As one, they dropped hands, each spinning away from every, two-four-six revolutions, and came to rest, facing—the entranced spectators.
      At the fore of them all stood his mother, considering him with a sort of distant interest, as one might inspect an insect.
      "Check your board!" Cheever directed, and Pat Rin executed the required glide and change, aware of the weight of his limbs. It was hot, and his head ached, and, really, he had every reason to be tire—
      The omnichora shouted, notes streaming like lift beacons, and there was Miri next to his mother, and Priscilla approaching—
      "Lay in coords!"
      There was no map this time. Pat Rin closed his eyes.
      Cheever chanted the coordinates—a short set of three. Forward, back, turn left—
      "Sign your co-pilot!"
      Pat Rin extended a hand—and his eyes snapped open in astonishment as it was caught in a warm grip.
      "Well done!" Uncle Daav whispered, under cover of the music, and—
      "Clear your board!"
      The two of them crossed, separated, and came back together.
      "Lock it down!"
      Natesa's fingers wove comfortably with his. Shan, on her other side, extended his hand and caught Daav's free hand.
      "Dim the lights," Cheever said softly, and the four of them walked sedately widdershins, three times, the 'chora slowing, slowing, almost down to a proper round...
      "Open hatch."
      Obediently, they dropped hands.
      "Go to town," Cheever all-but-whispered, and the four of them turned to face the rug and those watching, as the 'chora finished with a flurry and a flare—and the shouts and whistles began.
    * * *
    PAT RIN SHOOK HIS lace out and reached for his glass. With Natesa's connivance, he'd slipped through the crowd to the back room that had been set aside for the band's use. Finding a bottle of autumn wine before him, he poured and sipped, and sipped once again before making the attempt to make himself seemly.
      The dance—the dance had been an odd thing, to be sure; in memory not nearly so harrowing as in actuality. Had it gone on much longer, he had no doubt but that he would have joined Luken, Miri, and Priscilla at his mother's side.
      He paused, frowning, recalling the moment when he had met his mother's eyes...
      "Ah, here he is, keeping the wine to himself!" Clonak ter'Meulen's voice overfilled the little room. Pat Rin sighed, and turned to face not only the portly Scout, but Luken and Daav, and Shan, Priscilla, Natesa, Andy Mack, Nova, Cheever, Miri—and Val Con, green eyes sparkling, the renegade lock of hair sticking damply to his forehead.
      "Well met, cousin," he murmured, and Pat Rin held out his glass.
      "I thought the 'chora was overextended," he said. "Drink."
      "My thanks." Val Con took the glass and sipped; sighed. Pat Rin considered him, doing a different sort of calculation.
      "More clarity?" he asked, but it was Miri who answered.
      "No complaints, Boss. Sent you a clue, fair and square," she said.
      He eyed her. "Hardly in advance."
      "But in advance, nonetheless," Val Con said, with a note of finality in his quiet voice. "Come, let us not bicker. There is business to be done—and quickly, so that Clonak is not long kept from the wine."
       "That's a touching regard for my well-being," Clonak said, and suddenly pulled himself up straight, looking not so pudgy, nor foolish at all.
      "Pat Rin yos'Phelium Clan Korval," he intoned, the syllables of the High Tongue falling cool and sharp from his lips, "has stated in the hearing of pilots and of master pilots not once but several times that he holds a first class limited license under false pretenses. The pilot's solo rating flight was conducted in a Korval