- Prologue

ready and we'll get your piloting career under way. For the safety of all, please, no bowli balls in this room!'

There was an undercurrent of laughter as the Commander pointed out the tables piled with plates and food being being uncovered and set to serve.

The next signed but unspoken command was clearly all eat.

The buffet was surprisingly lavish, especially after the stifling sameness of Vestrin's menus. There was a mix of what Theo considered to be morning food and day food, to accommodate different personal times and preferences. Theo grabbed what looked like a cheese sandwich on dark bread, and a salad plate. Real, green vegetables! Carrots! And whole slices of tomato! She hadn't seen anything so good in weeks.

She located a vacant seat at a table for four, sent a nod and quick seat taken? to the sole occupant, a kid who was already deeply involved with a slice of pie. His unoccupied hand sent back a laconic help yourself.

'Thanks,' Theo said, and parked her eatables before going off in search of a beverage.

The real tea was filed on a small table away from the coffee urns, fruit juice dispensers and carafes of water. Theo flipped open the keeper and flicked through the packets on offer. Again unlike Vestrin, which had offered Terran grades of so-called 'tea,' here were more familiar—and vastly more welcome!—packets interleaved with the Terran leaf.

Her hopes rose. Maybe they'd have—Yes! She grinned and plucked the packet of day tea from its cubby, turned—and all but fell into a man hardly any taller than she was. She danced sideways and made a recovery, the precious packet between her fingers.

The man smiled, and gave her a brief, pretty bow, murmuring something quick and lilting. The sound was so liquid that it took her a moment to realize that it was neither Terran—the official language of the academy—nor Trade, but Liaden.

She gave back a nod, found her hands had already asked Say again? while she blurted out in what she was sure was the wrong mode and probably the wrong tense, too, 'Pardon, I have very small Liaden.'

The man—the tag on his jacket read 'Flight Instructor Orn Ald yos'Senchul,' and the right sleeve of his crisp, tailored school jacket was empty—inclined his head.

'I'm sorry,' she gasped, feeling her face heat. Using hand-talk to somebody with only one hand. Way to be advertent, Theo!

Flight Instructor yos'Senchul's fingers formed an elegant sign she read as expectations betray, while he smiled and murmured in accented Terran, 'My pardon, as well. I was speaking a small Liaden jest, of two with exquisite taste who search for the same treasure.' The fingers moved again, shaping the air effortlessly, Apology unnecessary.

'Oh, the tea!' Theo showed her packet. 'This is the kind we drink at home.'

'Is it, indeed? And you have so little Liaden?'

'Sleep learned, mostly,' she confessed. 'I know my accent's terrible. We speak Terran at home on Delgado, but the tea, I learned from my father.'

His focus went distant a moment and the single hand signed a word she read as wifechoice. 'Yes, of course. Delgado is quite cosmopolitan in its beverage choices, is it not, quite unlike . . . Melchiza.'

She snorted, hands signing squashed fruitwater very nearly on their own, and he laughed.

'An excellent description, and their wines are not much better. Still, they do appreciate pilots . . . and I deduce, from rumor, that you must be Theo Waitley. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. You will be in my classes starting in two days. Enjoy your meal, and your tea!'

'Thank you, sir,' she said, but he had already turned to the tea chest to make his own choice. She caught up a brew-cup and moved off to her table, now full except for her place, and felt her face heat again as she went over the encounter.

Squashed fruitwater, she thought, and sighed. There must be a better sign that that!

'Erkes!' the van driver called out. 'All excellent exopilots exit energetically . . .'

Theo went down the ramp on the heels of the tall girl in the green jacket from the baggage claim. The two of them pulled their bags from the rack, Theo wordlessly helping the other girl move her ridiculous pile out of the path of vehicular traffic.

'Thank you,' the girl said as the van pulled away. She looked down at Theo and nodded. 'I am Asu diamon Dayez,' she said, pronouncing it like she expected Theo to recognize it, which she didn't. 'And you are?'

'Theo Waitley.' She hefted her bag, glad all over again to have only the one to deal with. 'I'm in suite three- oh-two,' she said, watching Asu diamon Dayez tether her bags together.

The taller girl looked up, shaking tumbled black curls out of her eyes. 'So am I.' She straightened, handle in one hand, and the all-important box tucked into the crook of her left arm. 'Well! Let us be off, then, to discover this suite. If you will be so good as to open the door?'

* * *

Suite 302 was no bigger, Theo thought, than the apartment she and Kamele had in the Wall back on Delgado, but it was a lot better arranged. The door opened into a common room, with chairs, table, vid-screen, and a built-in counter already sporting a coffeepot and a minioven.

At the far end of the room, to the right, was another room, door open to reveal two bunks, two desks and lots of built-in storage space. To the left was a room slightly larger than the bunk room with a single bed and its own vid-screen.

She turned as the door to the hall opened to admit Asu, who was already sliding her key away into a pocket. 'It works, and a good idea to test both at once,' she said, giving an approving nod, which she probably meant to be friendly, but which for some reason irritated Theo.