“You love it. Tell me something, Gryph. Would you really have let me go home to Rendezvous?”
His teeth flashed in the shadows. “What do you think?” She grinned back. “I think we’re both very lucky we won’t have to test the limits of your loving generosity.”
“I think you’re right. How could I have let you go, Sariana? You’re part of me now. But don’t I get some credit for at least trying to do the noble thing?”
“Of course, my love.”
She watched him drag his victim to shore. The bandit sputtered and coughed and then proceeded to lose the contents of his stomach.
“Keenshee guano,” Gryph muttered, yanking his bare foot out of the way. “This is my reward for humoring my wife. I’d like to know what you plan to do with this piece of garbage now that you’ve saved his neck.”
“He should be taken back to Little Chance to stand trial,” Sariana said stoutly.
Gryph just looked at her as if she weren’t very bright. “We already know he’s guilty of everything from dealing with live prima to attempted murder.”
“That’s for a jury to determine.”
“Sariana, have you gone mad? This man is Shield business. My business. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I am his judge and his jury.”
“Well, you’re not going to be his executioner,” she told him forcefully. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I’ve decided that one of your problems is that Shields have kept to themselves too much. They operate too independently of the rest of society. They’re too secretive. There are too many mysteries surrounding them. They deliberately do things that keep people in awe of them. They take pride in their reputations as warriors. But the plain truth is they exist on the fringes of respectable society. That’s a dangerous place to be in the long run. It not only makes you Shields vulnerable as a class, it also stunts your growth.”
“What in the name of the Lightstorm are you talking about now?”
Sariana clambered back on board the sled. “I told you I’ve been doing some thinking about this, Gryph. I’m convinced that you Shields aren’t going to last much longer as an important, respectable class unless you take steps to modernize yourselves. The people of this world are moving fast on both continents. You have to move with the times. You have to stop living solely on the frontiers. What are you going to do when there are no more bandits to fight?”
“There will always be bandits of one kind or another,” Gryph said with certainty.
“Well, perhaps, but the people of the western provinces may decide they can form their own militia to control them, just as they’ve formed their own town guards.”
“Sariana, this isn’t exactly the time or the place to discuss social philosophy.”
But Sariana was in full sail. She had some points to make and now seemed like an excellent time to make them.
“I’ll tell you something else, Gryph. I bet it wouldn’t be nearly as hard for Shields to find wives if they had easier access to the same society and opportunities the other classes have. Oh, sure, according to the Pact, you can look for a wife at any level of society, but as it stands, most respectable families keep their daughters quietly out of sight when they know there’s a Shield in the vicinity. Who would want to lose a daughter to some stranger whose only job skills are throat cutting and working prisma? They know he’ll sweep the poor girl away from home and family and society and take her to live in some remote frontier town. I’ll tell you right now, most mothers will fight that tooth and nail. Most fathers probably will, too. No wonder you Shields have a hard time meeting potential Shieldmates. When was the last time anyone invited one of you to tea?”
“I can’t remember,” Gryph said dryly. He stood on the shore, his nude body poised and powerful above the retching, choking bandit at his feet and he stared at his wife. Gryph’s expression in the reflected glow of the vapor lamp was an interesting mixture of amusement and exasperation.
“I’m telling you, Gryph, Shields have got to take a good look at the future and plan for it. Granted, your original role as a class was an important one, but times are changing. You have to integrate yourselves into mainstream society or you’re going to find your whole class getting smaller and less important as the rest of the world grows. That would be a pity, and perhaps potentially lethal for the rest of us.”
“I’m glad to know we’d be missed, but how do you figure our absence might prove lethal for everyone else?”
“Gryph, someday we’re going to get back into space. With eastern financial wizardry and western technology that day probably isn’t too far off. When we do we might very well find the beings who built those prisma ships waiting for us. Shields might come in very handy again at some point in the future.”
“That’s an easterner for you. Always planning ahead.”
“I think your main problem is that your class is male dominated. Women only become members when they marry into it and there have been no daughters born into the clans. That means the males have made most of the policies and, to be perfectly blunt, males tend to be highly conservative by nature. You’ve stuck with the old ways because you didn’t want to experiment with change. Yet all the other classes on both continents are changing rapidly. It’s time for the Shields to start changing, too.”
“What makes me think you have come up with some master plan for restructuring my entire social class?”
“I’ll assume that’s a rhetorical question. But as it happens, I’ve got some ideas I think you and the other Shields should consider.”
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”
Sariana was totally involved in her budding ideas. Absently she began to pace the deck of the sled. She was so enthralled in what she was planning that she didn’t notice the chill of her wet chemise.
“The fundamental key to changing the Shields’ role in society is to change their financial and business relationships with that society. You have to evolve out of your limited bandit hunting and find new financial niches for yourselves. What you need,” she concluded triumphantly, “Is a good business manager. Someone who can tackle the job of restructuring the economic position of an entire class.”
“And as it happens,” Gryph observed, “a very aggressive business manager has just recently married into my social class.”
Sariana smiled her brilliant smile. “As it happens, you’re right. This could be a lucky day for you and your entire class, Gryph”
He grinned. “Tell me something. Just how do you plan to change a whole class of frontier warriors into respectable craftsmen and business people?”
“That’s easy,” Sariana said smoothly. “All you need is a solid financial base and some shrewd investment advice. By a strange and interesting coincidence, you have recently come into possession of a cavern full of financial capital. In the past you Shields have obviously not handled the sale of your prisma with any great skill. There’s a vast difference between selling your capital and investing it so that it continues to earn for you.”
“And you’re going to show us the difference, right?” “As I said, this could be your lucky day.”
Before Gryph could think of an appropriate response there was a crackle of underbrush behind him. Sariana jumped in startled surprise as Etion Rakken, looking quite tattered and unkempt, made his way slowly down to the shoreline. But Gryph greeted the banker’s arrival with resignation.
“Hello, Rakken. I wondered how long it would take before you stumbled out into the open. When I realized you’d gotten past the traps back at the caverns, I figured you’d probably joined forces with Miscroft to escape. You have a nasty habit of working with inferior craftsmen.” Gryph indicated the gasping bandit at his feet.
Rakken tried to straighten his clothing. Then he held up his hand in a placating gesture. “Sorry about that little scene on the sled just now. It was Miscroft’s idea. He th
ought he could take you in your sleep and thus ensure that the Shields never find out about all that prisma. I told him it would never work, but who can reason with a bandit?” He turned to Sariana. “I’ve been listening to what you’ve been saying, Sariana. Do you think you could use some expert banking advice?”
Gryph swore softly as he watched the other two regard each other with intent interest. He scowled at his wife and then at Rakken. “I’ll say one thing for you easterners, you never stop dealing.”
The next day Gryph and his small party arrived in Little Chance to find a contingent of Shields waiting for them at Delek’s house. Delek himself limped happily out to welcome his friend.
“I just got back with the others,” he explained. “We were making preparations to set out after you.”
Gryph displayed his teeth in a fierce, elated grin. “I’m very glad to see you, Delek. I have much to tell you. But I think that first I had better introduce you to my wife. She has a few suggestions to make on the subject of dealing prisma.”
Delek cocked an eyebrow. “Do we have a lot of it to deal?”
Gryph slapped his friend on the back and reached for his wife’s hand. “Let’s go inside,” he said to Delek. “I want to tell you the revised, updated version of the legend of Targyn the Bandit Hunter.”
“You know me,” Delek said easily, “I love a good story.”
Seven months later Sariana looked up from a pile of papers on her desk and smiled brightly as her husband strode into her office. He had her winter cloak over his arm. Her warm, laughing, loving smile had no impact whatsoever on his forbidding expression. Gryph glanced pointedly at the timepiece on her desk.
“I thought we agreed that you would only work half days from now until the baby arrives, Sariana. Damn it, I have to watch you every minute. This pregnancy has been twice as much work for me as it has for you. I’m the one who has to remind you to take your tonic in the mornings. I’m the one who has to be responsible for getting you to your monthly checkups with the medic. I’m the one who had to make the appointment with the dressmaker so you’d have something to wear during these last few months. And I’m the one who has to make certain you don’t work too hard.”
“It’s all right, Gryph, you’re doing an excellent job on all accounts. You are very good at handling responsibility. You thrive on it, in fact.” The lizard perched on her shoulder showed its teeth to Gryph in a taunting grin.
Gryph ignored Lucky. An understandable reaction as the lizard invariably sided with Sariana. Instead, he slung Sariana’s cloak into a chair and walked across the chamber to plant both hands on the circular desk. “None of your sass, lady. It’s lunchtime and you’re supposed to stop work for the day. I’m taking you out to a meal.”
Sariana surrendered to the inevitable and stood up. Her rounded stomach was elegantly draped in the folds of a yellow velvet business dress. At least, Gryph had told her it was a business gown. Sariana still had her doubts. The lace trimmings at the collar and on the cuffs of the gown were subdued by western standards, but still seemed quite decorative to Sariana’s eyes, especially for an office setting.
But she could hardly complain. When the dressmaker had arrived for the fittings of the maternity gowns, Sariana had been too busy to take much time for making decisions about clothing. As a result, Gryph had ended up making most of the decisions. Sariana’s new wardrobe was a great deal more colorful than her old one.
Gryph took her arm as she came out from behind the desk. His eyes strayed possessively over her pregnant figure. “How are you feeling?” he demanded tenderly as he wrapped her carefully in her winter cloak. Lucky scrambled to find a pocket. They left Sariana’s office and headed toward the front door of the villa they had recently purchased.
“Just fine.”
“How about your breasts? Still tender?”
Sariana blushed and glanced around quickly to see if any of the household attendants had overheard. “For the sake of the Ship, Gryph, keep your voice down.”
He paid no attention. “I was worried after what happened last night. You should have told me they were tender.”
She glared at him. “I enjoyed what happened last night. Now stop worrying about it.”
“I hurt you.”
“No you didn’t.”
Gryph rounded on her, his voice rising in volume. “Ha! Don’t try to tell me I didn’t hurt you when I kissed your breasts last night. I was there, remember? I felt it.”
“You wouldn’t have felt it if I’d had some warning,” Sariana muttered. “You took me by surprise, that’s all.” It was the truth. She hadn’t been prepared for the unexpected discomfort of her swollen breasts and had therefore been unable to stop herself from projecting it to Gryph along with everything else she was feeling at the time. Then she hid a small grin as she remembered the exquisitely tender lovemaking of the night.
She had been deliciously aroused, thoroughly involved in the emotional, mental and physical exchange of passion. Gryph had been trying very hard to be very gentle as he always was of late. When he had lowered his head to kiss her breasts, he had intended only the lightest of caresses.
But Sariana’s taut, full breasts had proven almost unbearably sensitive. Gryph had lightly set his teeth around one tight nipple and Sariana had nearly gone through the roof.
And, of course, because they were intimately, passionately linked at the time, she had nearly taken Gryph with her.
Gryph’s startled reaction had been much greater than her own as the sweet pain had translated itself into his mind. He’d yelped and leaped off the bed, sending it into a wide swing. Then he’d started making plans to call a medic in the middle of the night. Sariana had been laughing so hard she had nearly fallen out of the swinging bed. Gryph had not seen the humor in the situation.
When he’d finally climbed back into bed, his body still heavy with his arousal, he had made her pay for the earlier incident. He’d grinned wickedly and sprawled on his back, arms folded behind his head.
“We won’t take any chances this time,” he’d stated in a low, sexy voice. “You can do all the work. I’ll just lie back and enjoy it.”
Sariana had obliged with a willing, loving heart. Within minutes the lightstorm that always flared between them had reignited itself. Together they had hunted wild, flaming prisma, chasing colors and shades of light that had no names.
“What about your back?” Gryph asked as he opened the front door for her and guided her out onto the street. “Any aches? The medic warned me you might have some discomfort there.”
“If I do you’ll be the first to know,” Sariana said with a teasing grin. “Just as you were the first to know when I started having morning sickness.”
He winced. “Don’t remind me. At least we’re long past the morning sickness stage.”
Sariana chuckled, remembering that unpleasant string of days just after she had realized she was pregnant. She had been miserable and on a few occasions she had been so ill she had unconsciously projected the queasiness to Gryph, who had borne it stoically. Sariana smiled at the memory and patted her tummy. “Junior is doing just fine, thank you. And so am I.”
Gryph shook his head as he steered her toward a neighborhood cafe. There was still some snow on the ground, but not on the sidewalks. Last year one of the construction clans had developed a new device for keeping the pathways clear. The town council had adopted it at once. One of the eastern clans was negotiating to buy the invention.
“You’ve got to start taking it easy, Sariana. You’ve been working much too hard these past few months. I can see I’m going to have to be firmer with you. There will be plenty of time after the boy is born for you to implement your grand plans and schemes.”
“It’s just that they’re all coming along so nicely and I’m so excited by them.”
Gryph’s mouth curved wryly. “You’ve turned the whole Shi
eld class upside down. Not to mention what that process has done to the rest of the western classes.”
“The wonderful thing about working with westerners is that they’re so adaptable,” Sariana said with satisfaction.
When she had made it known that the Shield class had recently discovered a sizable cache of prisma and would be putting it on the market in controlled amounts, the representatives of virtually all the jewelers’ clans had shown up on her doorstep the following day. The Avylyns had, of course, been first in line.
Since then, Sariana had been systematically investing the profits on behalf of the entire Shield class. The members of the class had been highly skeptical about turning their business affairs over to a woman, and an easterner at that. No one remembered any Shield ever having done any sophisticated investing. Selling prisma had always been a simple, straightforward process, rather like killing bandits.
But the Shields had paid attention to Sariana. Her position as Gryph’s wife guaranteed her a hearing and she had found plenty of support among the other wives. Most of them remembered well the pleasures of town living. Even the most devoted among them could see the advantages of increased contact with the more sophisticated world they had left behind. The wives were also very open to the notion of providing more career options for their sons than their husbands had had. Women married to warriors tended to worry a lot.
When Gryph and Sariana reached the cafe they hurried into the cherry warmth. The proprietor recognized them and greeted them enthusiastically.
“This way, my lord and lady. I have your usual table waiting. A bit chilly today, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Gryph agreed. “My wife will have some of the kalala fish stew, Myrig. The medic says it’s very good for pregnant ladies. I’ll have my usual.”
Sariana, who had been thinking of having a salad and baked fish for a change, wrinkled her nose but made no protest. When it came to having babies, Gryph had decided he was an authority.
“How’s business?” Sariana asked cheerfully as the cafe proprietor scurried off to place the orders with his cook.