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EPILOGUE:
XENOS

_Barnes and Dasi, hired to bring Adele's personal gear from Har-
bor Three, walked ahead of her like a noble's retainers. They were joking with one another and whistling, either man able to carry both duffle bags without noticing the weight. Civilians watched them curiously: this wasn't a district that saw many of their sort.

Woetjans and Pasternak both had offered Adele a real escort, as many spacers as she wanted from the crew of Frigate 204—renamed Little Sis while in RCN service. She'd refused. Adele had an increasing disdain for empty state, and to appear with forty or more servants would be making a boast to her neighbors that the reality of her purse couldn't live up to.

"I was a fool to ask for this house back," Adele said to Tovera beside her. "I can't afford basic maintenance, let alone the kind of staff it requires to be run properly."

Tovera shrugged noncommittally. She might not have responded even if she'd been asked a real question. Money simply wasn't something that Tovera cared about.

Adele smiled faintly. Tovera was quiet, self-effacing, and abstemious. Viewed from the correct angle, she was a saint.

"The one with the guy in blue out front, ma'am?" Dasi asked. He gestured with his free hand, an underhanded motion as though he were lobbing a ball.

Adele leaned to look past the two burly spacers. There shouldn't be—

But there was, a well-set-up man in a tunic of blue with silver piping. Adele hadn't hired servants to replace those who'd left with the Rolfes. The deed to Chatsworth Minor had been waiting for Adele in a message locker at Harbor Three, along with the—expected and unnecessary—summons to see Mistress Sand at her earliest convenience, day or night.

"Yes, that's the house," Adele said.

The doorman, seeing Adele coming up the street, stepped back and rapped on the panel. "The mistress has arrived!" he said in a voice that could be heard from one end of the block to the other. Doormen who'd sneeringly ignored the passing entourage now focused on the RCN warrant officer and her companions.

The door panel was now plain beewood, sandblasted to emphasize the distinctive grain. It opened from the inside; a blue-liveried footman bowed Deirdre Leary out.

"Perhaps it's not my place to welcome you to your own home, Mistress Mundy," Deirdre said with a sweep of her hand. "But welcome anyway. I'm delighted to be here when you arrive; I'd been held up by business and was afraid I wouldn't be able to greet you."

"I also had business to take care of," Adele said without emphasis. Chances were that Corder Leary's daughter knew Adele was connected with Mistress Sand, but if so that was an even better reason not to discuss it. "With that out of the way, I decided to visit the house; though I wasn't sure what I'd find when I arrived."

"Ma'am?" Barnes said, bouncing the laden duffle bag in the palm of his hand to call attention to it.

"Hoskins, show Mistress Mundy's servants where to put her things, if you will," Deirdre said. The words and even the tone were polite, but Deirdre's manner brooked no more discussion than her brother would when snapping out orders in a crisis.

Smiling, another person as Barnes and Dasi followed the footman into the townhouse, Deirdre went on, "May we be Adele and Deirdre, mistress? I prefer terms of friendship with those for whom I act."

Adele stopped on the threshold. The hideous mosaic was gone and the ancient flooring shone with a high gloss. She didn't even want to think about what that must have cost.

But she didn't grudge the expense, not even if it meant she had to miss meals again. A Mundy stood again in Chatsworth Minor. What did money matter in comparison with that?

"I'm not used to informality," Adele said. "Still, your brother's been training me into an appreciation of it, and I dare say I'll be able to extend the process to you. Deirdre."

Adele was finding it hard to speak through the lump in her throat. Things don't matter! But at one time not so far in the past, she'd thought people didn't matter either, only knowledge. People did matter. And it seemed that Chatsworth Minor mattered as well, at least to Adele Mundy.

She stood in the entrance hall, entranced by the rich familiarity of the beewood underfoot. It wasn't home any more, but it was as surely a part of her as the skills and knowledge she'd gained in the years she'd lived here.

That thought led to another. Adele said, "Ah, I don't know how much you've heard—" how much Deirdre understood was the real question; she certainly had access to the bare facts "—about your brother's situation. The ship he commands, the Princess Cecile, was seriously damaged in action and is being repaired by the Tanais shipyards. Daniel accepted a temporary appointment to bring Commodore Pettin's dispatches to Cinnabar aboard a Strymonian vessel commandeered for the purpose."

Adele could see furniture through the doors opening off the hallway; not the Rolfes' furnishings. These were tastefully chosen antiques and extremely expensive. She cleared her throat and added, "The dispatches credit Lieutenant Leary with a major part of the victory our forces won over an Alliance squadron. Well-deserved credit, I'm happy to say."

"His father will be pleased," Deirdre said. "As am I."

She too cleared her throat before she continued, "I've prepared accounts for you—"

Deirdre made a slight gesture toward the upper floors. A lifetime ago Adele had sat in one of the rooms up there and scribbled a note to Deirdre Leary.

"You'll want to review them at leisure, of course," Deirdre said. "But if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a moment now to go over the main heads of my actions as your agent."

"Yes," said Adele crisply. She hadn't intended to hand over general control over her assets, but she didn't doubt that Deirdre's lawyers would be able to show that she had. Did she have any money at all left? "I think that would be best."

Deirdre paused for a moment, perhaps wondering if Adele wanted to adjourn to one of the drawing rooms. All Adele wanted was to learn her present financial condition in the quickest, baldest fashion possible.

"Realizing that your present household doesn't require all the available space," Deirdre said, "I leased the second floor to a bank. It will use the rooms for confidential meetings and may sometimes house clients who desire complete privacy while staying in Xenos."

She gestured around her, then continued, "Under terms of the lease, the bank is responsible for renovating the building. It also provides both ordinary staff and security."

At the word "security," Tovera's mouth bent in what Adele had learned to call a smile. There was humor of a sort in the expression.

Deirdre started minutely, as though she'd touched something that gave her a static spark. Her voice remained firm as she resumed, "If you object to the bank's choice of decor—"

"I do not," Adele said. The words came out like the wards of a lock falling.

"Very good," said Deirdre. "You retain power of veto, however, whether or not you choose to exercise it."

"When you say `bank,' " Adele said, "you mean the Shippers' and Merchants' Treasury, do you not? Your bank."

"I'm an officer of the Shippers' and Merchants', yes," Deirdre said with a cool smile. "In the present case, however, I was acting solely as your agent when I dealt with the president and majority shareholder."

"That would be Corder Leary," Adele said. She hadn't thought to look up the bank's ownership, but realistically she had no need to do so. "Your father."

"Yes," said Deirdre. "It would."

Men were coming down the street. One of them bawled out the house numbers as they passed in a voice better suited to calling cattle home.

"The bank's use of the premises will be infrequent," Deirdre said. "I understand they've employed a blind agent to sublet their portion to a young naval officer who needs rooms while he's in Xenos. Most of the time he'll be away on naval business. RCN business, I believe you'd call it?"

"Yes," said Adele. "That's what we call it. And if I'm not mistaken, Deirdre, here comes that young naval officer right now."

She turned to look down the street.

"Why look, Hogg!" cried Daniel Leary. "There's Adele! What are you doing here, Adele? And by heaven, isn't that my sister Deirdre?"

Back | Next
Framed

Back | Next
Contents

EPILOGUE:
XENOS

_Barnes and Dasi, hired to bring Adele's personal gear from Har-
bor Three, walked ahead of her like a noble's retainers. They were joking with one another and whistling, either man able to carry both duffle bags without noticing the weight. Civilians watched them curiously: this wasn't a district that saw many of their sort.

Woetjans and Pasternak both had offered Adele a real escort, as many spacers as she wanted from the crew of Frigate 204—renamed Little Sis while in RCN service. She'd refused. Adele had an increasing disdain for empty state, and to appear with forty or more servants would be making a boast to her neighbors that the reality of her purse couldn't live up to.

"I was a fool to ask for this house back," Adele said to Tovera beside her. "I can't afford basic maintenance, let alone the kind of staff it requires to be run properly."

Tovera shrugged noncommittally. She might not have responded even if she'd been asked a real question. Money simply wasn't something that Tovera cared about.

Adele smiled faintly. Tovera was quiet, self-effacing, and abstemious. Viewed from the correct angle, she was a saint.

"The one with the guy in blue out front, ma'am?" Dasi asked. He gestured with his free hand, an underhanded motion as though he were lobbing a ball.

Adele leaned to look past the two burly spacers. There shouldn't be—

But there was, a well-set-up man in a tunic of blue with silver piping. Adele hadn't hired servants to replace those who'd left with the Rolfes. The deed to Chatsworth Minor had been waiting for Adele in a message locker at Harbor Three, along with the—expected and unnecessary—summons to see Mistress Sand at her earliest convenience, day or night.

"Yes, that's the house," Adele said.

The doorman, seeing Adele coming up the street, stepped back and rapped on the panel. "The mistress has arrived!" he said in a voice that could be heard from one end of the block to the other. Doormen who'd sneeringly ignored the passing entourage now focused on the RCN warrant officer and her companions.

The door panel was now plain beewood, sandblasted to emphasize the distinctive grain. It opened from the inside; a blue-liveried footman bowed Deirdre Leary out.

"Perhaps it's not my place to welcome you to your own home, Mistress Mundy," Deirdre said with a sweep of her hand. "But welcome anyway. I'm delighted to be here when you arrive; I'd been held up by business and was afraid I wouldn't be able to greet you."

"I also had business to take care of," Adele said without emphasis. Chances were that Corder Leary's daughter knew Adele was connected with Mistress Sand, but if so that was an even better reason not to discuss it. "With that out of the way, I decided to visit the house; though I wasn't sure what I'd find when I arrived."

"Ma'am?" Barnes said, bouncing the laden duffle bag in the palm of his hand to call attention to it.

"Hoskins, show Mistress Mundy's servants where to put her things, if you will," Deirdre said. The words and even the tone were polite, but Deirdre's manner brooked no more discussion than her brother would when snapping out orders in a crisis.

Smiling, another person as Barnes and Dasi followed the footman into the townhouse, Deirdre went on, "May we be Adele and Deirdre, mistress? I prefer terms of friendship with those for whom I act."

Adele stopped on the threshold. The hideous mosaic was gone and the ancient flooring shone with a high gloss. She didn't even want to think about what that must have cost.

But she didn't grudge the expense, not even if it meant she had to miss meals again. A Mundy stood again in Chatsworth Minor. What did money matter in comparison with that?

"I'm not used to informality," Adele said. "Still, your brother's been training me into an appreciation of it, and I dare say I'll be able to extend the process to you. Deirdre."

Adele was finding it hard to speak through the lump in her throat. Things don't matter! But at one time not so far in the past, she'd thought people didn't matter either, only knowledge. People did matter. And it seemed that Chatsworth Minor mattered as well, at least to Adele Mundy.

She stood in the entrance hall, entranced by the rich familiarity of the beewood underfoot. It wasn't home any more, but it was as surely a part of her as the skills and knowledge she'd gained in the years she'd lived here.

That thought led to another. Adele said, "Ah, I don't know how much you've heard—" how much Deirdre understood was the real question; she certainly had access to the bare facts "—about your brother's situation. The ship he commands, the Princess Cecile, was seriously damaged in action and is being repaired by the Tanais shipyards. Daniel accepted a temporary appointment to bring Commodore Pettin's dispatches to Cinnabar aboard a Strymonian vessel commandeered for the purpose."

Adele could see furniture through the doors opening off the hallway; not the Rolfes' furnishings. These were tastefully chosen antiques and extremely expensive. She cleared her throat and added, "The dispatches credit Lieutenant Leary with a major part of the victory our forces won over an Alliance squadron. Well-deserved credit, I'm happy to say."

"His father will be pleased," Deirdre said. "As am I."

She too cleared her throat before she continued, "I've prepared accounts for you—"

Deirdre made a slight gesture toward the upper floors. A lifetime ago Adele had sat in one of the rooms up there and scribbled a note to Deirdre Leary.

"You'll want to review them at leisure, of course," Deirdre said. "But if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a moment now to go over the main heads of my actions as your agent."

"Yes," said Adele crisply. She hadn't intended to hand over general control over her assets, but she didn't doubt that Deirdre's lawyers would be able to show that she had. Did she have any money at all left? "I think that would be best."

Deirdre paused for a moment, perhaps wondering if Adele wanted to adjourn to one of the drawing rooms. All Adele wanted was to learn her present financial condition in the quickest, baldest fashion possible.

"Realizing that your present household doesn't require all the available space," Deirdre said, "I leased the second floor to a bank. It will use the rooms for confidential meetings and may sometimes house clients who desire complete privacy while staying in Xenos."

She gestured around her, then continued, "Under terms of the lease, the bank is responsible for renovating the building. It also provides both ordinary staff and security."

At the word "security," Tovera's mouth bent in what Adele had learned to call a smile. There was humor of a sort in the expression.

Deirdre started minutely, as though she'd touched something that gave her a static spark. Her voice remained firm as she resumed, "If you object to the bank's choice of decor—"

"I do not," Adele said. The words came out like the wards of a lock falling.

"Very good," said Deirdre. "You retain power of veto, however, whether or not you choose to exercise it."

"When you say `bank,' " Adele said, "you mean the Shippers' and Merchants' Treasury, do you not? Your bank."

"I'm an officer of the Shippers' and Merchants', yes," Deirdre said with a cool smile. "In the present case, however, I was acting solely as your agent when I dealt with the president and majority shareholder."

"That would be Corder Leary," Adele said. She hadn't thought to look up the bank's ownership, but realistically she had no need to do so. "Your father."

"Yes," said Deirdre. "It would."

Men were coming down the street. One of them bawled out the house numbers as they passed in a voice better suited to calling cattle home.

"The bank's use of the premises will be infrequent," Deirdre said. "I understand they've employed a blind agent to sublet their portion to a young naval officer who needs rooms while he's in Xenos. Most of the time he'll be away on naval business. RCN business, I believe you'd call it?"

"Yes," said Adele. "That's what we call it. And if I'm not mistaken, Deirdre, here comes that young naval officer right now."

She turned to look down the street.

"Why look, Hogg!" cried Daniel Leary. "There's Adele! What are you doing here, Adele? And by heaven, isn't that my sister Deirdre?"

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Framed