Val Con snapped half-erect, cloak billowing over one arm, air-braking and tipping Araceli and Tolanda was fourth, fighting rotation. Shan was laughing.

The hill loomed. Val Con ducked into his coc.o.o.n to preserve speed; snapped out at the crest, catching an over-the-shoulder grin from Shan. They charged downhill neck-and-neck with Tolanda; and left them in the dust as the Terran began braking for the corner.

Again Val Con stood, gripping the rollbar tightly; again the cloak went from a bright orange stream to an inflated airfoil.

Again Araceli picked up ground on the leaders.

Cries of "Foul! Foul!" hit them as they whipped past the pits.

Their opponents, faced with a common enemy, charged harder down the long straights, took more risks, tried-with some success-to emulate Korval's airbrake, using shirts and vests. But Araceli was a clear second, Tolanda third and the former second, fourth.

The lead changed hands several times on the tenth lap."Two more laps to win it!" Shan yelled.

Val Con nearly groaned. His arms ached; he was sweaty; his hands within the gloves were raw; his legs throbbed with strain. Two laps-an eternity!

They crossed the start/finish line, lapping several slower racers, and came even with the first place craft just before the braking zone.

Val Con leapt for the bar and blinked: the other skimmer was still even with them, trying to take the coming corner at exactly the proper angle.

Execution fell short. The other craft shivered; started to spin-Araceli was past, taking the lead by two skimmer-lengths.

They held that minor lead through the eleventh lap, but the second place craft was showing its speed and inching closer.

Korval threw everything into the turns, dove a little further into the corners, waited a little longer on the straights. Val Con concentrated on the pattern of his movements, grooved in after this hard hour, and ignored the ache in his arms and legs.

They skidded into the tree tunnel nearly two full lengths ahead-Shan yelled, but the words were ripped away by the rushing wind, and Val Con saw the green skimmer charging them from inside the corner, a would-be human airbrake frantically trying to regain control.

Shan choked the jets, trying to throw Araceli clear of the charge, fighting spin and time was too short- Val Con leapt to the bar, arms wide: "Left, Shan! Left!"

Araceli snapped left as Val Con's cloak ballooned and the green skimmer missed them by a hair, the pilot struggling with the stick, trying to avoid the second place craft, just coming into the curve...

They were through; out into the straight, and Val Con folded himself into a fairing for the last time.

Araceli roared as Shan opened the throttle for the long run and Val con sweated inside the cloak, hearing sounds-sounds of many people, shouting; and, closer, the sound of another skimmer, gaining; a shout from Shan as they slewed sideways and- "We won! Brother, we won!" Shan was pulling the cloak back from Val Con's head, grinning hugely. "It worked!"

"Of course it worked," said Val Con, somewhat crossly, as they began the victory lap, and sighed. Shan was steering one handed and waving at the crowd as wildly as they waved at Araceli. Val Con's arms felt too heavy to wave at anyone.

"Shan?" He called above the roar.

"Yes, my blueblood?"

"We're not going to make a habit of this, are we?"

Shan laughed. "No, denubia. Why push the luck?"

THE WINNER'S CIRCLE was crowded. Val Con and Shan managed to squeeze to their sisters' side;each accepting a gla.s.s of wine and a kiss.

The Right n.o.ble Lady Kareen yos'Phelium approached and bowed to Shan-the bow of Clanmember to First Speaker.

"Well raced, my Lord," she said, quite audibly. "You and your brother are a credit to the Clan."

Shan blinked, inclined his head, murmuring a civil, "Thank you, Lady Kareen."

The old lady was bowing to Val Con now: Clanmember to Delm.

"You are precipitate, Aunt," he chided softly.

"I think not," she returned. "A ring does not make a Delm. You are Korval, whether you judge yourself ready or no. You will do as you deem wise and necessary. For the Clan. It is as it should be."

"Ah." He smiled. "Let us have peace between us then, Lady."

"Of course," said the Right n.o.ble. "How else?"

Anthora's fairlove leaned over, whispering in her ear. She laughed softly and linked her arm in his; waving at her eldest brother as they moved off toward the pleasure-tents.

Shan raised his gla.s.s in salute; lowered it to drink-snapped his eyes to Val Con's face as he felt the younger man start.

"if the family will excuse me," Val Con murmured, sketching a bow toward all. "I am reminded of a previous appointment." He was gone, slipping through the crowd like an orange wraith.

Shan, watching from his tall vantage, saw a lady start forward-a blur of dark hair and bright eyes; hand outstretched in welcome. Val Con's arm slid around her waist and he began to turn her toward the pleasure-tents-then his cloak swirled suddenly wide, hiding both from Shan's view.

He glanced down to find Nova's eyes on him.

"The reason Lady Kareen heard of Val Con frequenting a tavern in s.p.a.celeathers?" she murmured. "Is he courting a barmaid, brother?"

He sipped. "She seems a very nice barmaid."

"Shan-"

He sighed and tried to break her gaze, without success.

"All right," he said grumpily. "I'll talk to him." He raised his gla.s.s. "Later."

Fellow Travelers

Adventures in the Liaden Universe #2 Sharon Lee and Steve Miller

Where the G.o.ddess Sends

TIME AGO ONE went out from Circle, sent by the Mother's Own Word. The one was called Moonhawk, and she knew neither the face nor the name of what she went seeking.

The course of Seeking wound through the land and through the seasons and brought Moonhawk to a place that stank of Evil.

It is told that she hesitated at the edge of this place and thought she would not go in. This is the first of the things told here which must without fail be said: Moonhawk thought she would not go in.

At the moment of thinking so she heard the voice of the G.o.ddess, and the words were 'Enter, thou.'

Obedient, Moonhawk went forward.

The second thing that must without fail be said is this: Moonhawk was afraid.

"THAT'S MINE.".

Lute flashed a grin sideways and upward, chidingly.

"Apologies, n.o.ble lady. The bag is mine. It contains the necessities of my trade. The repository of magics, you might say. Dangerous in untutored hands." He gripped the disputed item and straightened, smiling with urbane Idiocy.

"You will understand my reluctance to place so beauteous a lady as yourself in the slightest peril."

The lady took a breath that brought the princ.i.p.als of her beauty into high display, and thrust out her lower lip.

"It's mine."

"n.o.ble-"

"She said," the walking mountain at her side interrupted, "that the bag's hers, tricksman. Are you calling Lady Drudae a liar?"

Lute sighed inwardly. The intervention of the mountain was as unwelcome as it was inevitable. He made a mental note to curse himself roundly for visiting this G.o.ddess-blasted place at all, and smiled more widely.

"It would give me nothing but joy to surrender my bag into the care of the n.o.ble Lady if I did not know that it contains instruments of dread magic. Even now, I might place it in her hands safely, for I should be here to hold her protected. But think, sir, what if I were to leave the bag with the very n.o.ble Lady and withdraw myself and my protection over the boundary of your delightful village, as we all know I must.

What then?" He affected a shudder. "I cannot complete the thought."

It was doubtful that the mountain had ever completed a thought in his life. The lady was more facile.

"You say only you can keep me safe from these dangers?""I say it, n.o.ble, and it is veriest truth."

She frowned, then smiled with pretty malice. "Why, then, it is simple! Since the bag is mine-and only you may control it-you must be mine, too!"

She laughed and clapped her hands.

"Take him to the pit, Arto. And leave the bag here."

MOONHAWK CAME INTO the place of darkness and she was afraid. Still, she held her head high and made her step firm, as befits a Witch-in-Circle, and gazed upon those that crept out from between the thatch-bald hovels with calm eyes and compa.s.sion.

"G.o.ddess give you good even," she said softly to the one who ventured nearest, though the taste of its emotions sickened her. Terror lanced the creature and it scuttled back to its fellows. The boldest lifted a hand, showing rock.

Moonhawk stopped, anger heating fear. "For shame! Is this how you treat a traveler, most blessed of the Mother! I claim travel-right, and mean you no harm."

"Travel-right?" That was the boldest, rock yet steady. "You claim travel-right in Relzda?"

"If this be Relzda, then I do."

The rock-bearer laughed like another woman's weeping. "If you claim travel-right, you must go to Lady Drudae. I can show the way.'

Moonhawk bowed her head. "It is a kindness, sister. My thanks."

"No kindness. Your cloak is fine." With no further words, she scrabbled between two lean-together huts.

Listening in vain for the G.o.ddess, Moonhawk followed.

Lady Drudae sat upon a wooden throne in the center of a drafty hall. The floor was dirt and the wall-rugs threadbare. Smoky oil-lamps gave uncertain light. There was a musk of rotting wood.

"Come forward." Petulance rather than command. Moonhawk and her guide obeyed.

"Well?"

"This one claims travel-right, n.o.ble Lady," gabbled the bold one, not so bold now. "I brought her. Her cloak, n.o.ble Lady. My bounty, my-"

"Shut your horrid mouth!"

The rock-bearer did so, bending until her unkempt hair brushed the dirt floor. Moonhawk stood forward, sharpening her eyes in the gloom.

The woman on the throne was beautiful: red-gold hair above a face the uninitiated would claim for the G.o.ddess. The robe of doubtful crimson revealed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, in the manner of Circle robes. But this one was not of Circle.

At the woman's side a man-hulking and muscle-gripped-stood stoic. There was a gash below oneeye and a purpling bruise along the line of his jaw.

"Well," said the woman again. "Travel-right, is it? You are bold."

"I am in need," Moonhawk replied levelly. "Night comes and I ask the boon of a roof."

"Do you? But this is a hard land from which to scratch a living,, traveler. We have little to give. Even the favor of a place to sleep must be balanced by a valuable of your own."

Moonhawk bowed her head. "I will work for the House with gladness. I sing the Teaching Tales, give news, heal..."

Lady Drudae was laughing. "Hear her, Arto? She can sing! She does not fear labor!" The laughter stopped. "You misunderstand, traveler. The boon of a roof demands the balance of a-personal-favor." A snap of shapely fingers. "Arto!"

The man's sluggish face lit and his l.u.s.t was a thrust of jagged ice.

For a second time Moonhawk feared, and stepped back, gathering her mantle close.

"I do not choose to give that gift," she said, flinging the words like stones to stop him.