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her bow and exited Korval's office, making for the next dispatching station on her carefully-researched
list.
Is this your idea of a joke?" Jon demanded, holding a gaily-painted tin high on one broad palm.
Daav gave the tin a moment of earnest perusal before turning a grave face to the older man.
"Alas. Master Jon, try as I will, I find nothing amusing within the object. It seems quite an ordinary
tea-tin."
"Ordinary!" Jon roared, at such volume that Trilla leaned over the edge of the catwalk and Syri came out
from behind the toolbox, head cocked inquisitively.
Jon thrust the tin in her direction. "Identify this."
"Joyful Sunrise morning blend," she returned promptly.
"In a stasis-sealed tin," Jon amended, and fixed Daav in an awful glare. "Do you know the price of this tin
on the Port?"
Daav opened his black eyes wide. "No, how could I?"
"Puppy. A cantra on a glut-day, for your interest."
"Ah, then I appreciate your concern!" Daav cried, much enlightened. "Such a leaf will do no justice to
your teapot, Master! Best return it to the merchant who sold it to you, and ask for less of something
more noble."
High on the catwalk, Trilla laughed. Syri raised a hand to hide her smile and Patch the cat wandered over
to strop against Daav's legs.
Jon's lips were seen to twitch. "I suppose it's nothing to do with you, that the yos'Galan chooses to send
this particular gift?"
"The yos'Galan?" Daav repeated, with a fine show of bewilderment.
"Oho, you wish me to believe that the yos'Galan's lady conceived this, do you? It may be her hand,
young Captain, but I know better than to suppose it her thought." Jon raised his face to shout.
"Trilla, bring your hammer!"
"Aye, Master Jon!" She snagged a guy-rope and rode it briskly down, alighting with a snappy salute.
"Come along," Jon directed, and turned toward the crew lounge, Trilla at his heels.
Syri sent Daav a wide stare. "He never means to break the seal with a hammer!"
"Perhaps he merely intends to deliver the coup to the teapot," Daav said, bending to scoop Patch to his
shoulder before moving off in Jon's wake.
"Never," Syri returned, falling in beside him. "That teapot's like a child to him. He'd sooner use a hammer
on Patch."
"Hah. In that wise, we had best put speculation aside, and consider the evidence of our senses."
She laughed, that being one of the basic precepts of Scouthood, and they continued like two shadows
down the bay, Patch riding tall on the man's leather-clad shoulder.
"We'll have a shelf here," Jon was telling Trilla, tapping his finger on the wall next to the teapot. "Good,
sturdy work, mind. We'll need a locking case, and a place to display the lady's card. You," he turned to
glare at Daav. "Get 'round to Min Del's and tell him I need a case, so " he shaped it roughly in the air,
one hand still holding the tin "quicktime. Mind you tell him it's to lock to my print and none other! I'm
damned if I'll have you bunch of hooligans breaking into my tin and replacing this leaf with sage!"
"But, Master Jon," Syri protested, "don't you mean to drink it?"
"Drink it?" Jon stared. "Have you run mad? Drink Joyful Sunrise? Why, I'd as soon "
The crew door cycled noisily and Patch leapt from Daav's shoulder, running tail-high and spring-footed
to greet the new entry.
Aelliana Caylon bent and stroked the cat's back where it curved against her knee in exuberant hello.
Straightening, she tried to walk on, but found herself forthwith entangled in cat. She paused once more,
bent and stroked; straightened and nearly fell as her feline admirer wove joyfully between her legs.
She hesitated a heartbeat two before bending again and inexpertly gathering the cat into her arms.
Patch settled against her shapeless chest, eyes slitted in ecstasy, front paws kneading the sleeve of the
thick shirt. Aelliana came forward.
"Afternoon, math teacher!" Jon called, raising the tin in salutation.
"Good afternoon, Master dea'Cort," she replied solemnly. She paused, Patch purring like a cat besotted
in the basket of her arms. One-by-one she surveyed Trilla, busy with her measurements, Syri's
open-faced concern, Jon's hand and the tea-tin. The question, when it came, was addressed to Daav.
"Forgive me. I wonder if there is something gone awry." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]