Free Ghost Ship by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

within the relative safety of the car, rather than repeatedly exposing herself and their child to danger. It would never do, of course, and he overrode the impulse—at the cost of his own fraying nerves.
    A few hours more and the progress would be over. He could be alone, with his lifemate . . .
    “Blair Road coming up,” Cheever McFarland said from the driver’s slot. “Looks like Audrey turned out the whole turf.”
    Val Con stretched to see over Cheever’s shoulder, through the front windscreen. His stomach tightened, and he heard a discord in the melody of Miri that played always inside his head. There were too many people; it was too risky; it . . .
    Pat Rin, perhaps reading something in his face, turned to look, also. His shoulders stiffened, then drooped, as he turned ’round again in his seat.
    “Ms. Audrey,” he said quietly, “is a force of nature.”
    * * *
    They were scarcely out of the car when a pale-haired woman in a bright red jacket stepped forward, flanked by a portly, balding man carrying a basket, and a portlier, ginger-haired woman carrying two vacuum bottles.
    “Ms. Audrey,” Pat Rin said, stepping forward to intercept her, “you have outdone yourself.”
    “Wasn’t any trick to it; most of ’em wanted to see this outworld Boss—is this—”
    She broke off, staring. Her eyes were blue; Val Con met them firmly.
    That earned him a tiny smile, and a soft, “As like him as his brother,” before she turned to Miri.
    “I’m real pleased to meet the Bosses Korval,” she said, and held a firm hand. “My name’s Audrey Breckstone. Folks on the turf just call me Ms. Audrey.”
    Miri took the offered hand.
    “Miri Robertson,” she said. “Boss Conrad told us how much he depends on you. Here—”
    She turned and gave him a smile that leached some of the tension.
    “This,” she said, still keeping Audrey’s hand in hers, “is my partner, and husband, Val Con yos’Phelium.”
    Ms. Audrey bent her head, the motion so formal that it seemed she must have been studying Pat Rin.
    “Val Con yos’Phelium, I’m glad to meet you,” she said, and gave him another tiny smile. “I hope you’ll both come visit me, after you’re settled. Be good for us to talk and get to know each other.”
    “Thank you,” he said, keeping his voice soft and cordial. “We’ll look forward to knowing you better.”
    “That’s pretty-said. Now, I’ll stop plucking your patience and let the Boss show you off.” She smiled and stepped back, clearing the way to Pat Rin’s side.
    - - - - -
    It was dark when Cheever pulled the car up to Jelaza Kazone’s front door.
    Home . The word vibrated in the air, though nobody had spoken, and the sweep of longing she caught from Val Con was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
    Not that it was precisely home—though it surely was the house . Maybe that was enough—familiar space, familiar things. Miri was still getting the whole home concept down.
    “Cousin,” Val Con said to Pat Rin, “will you guest with us tonight?”
    Guest ? she thought, remembering the packed-and-sealed state of the interior. The house was just down on the ground; guesting would most likely be field rations and a comfy spot to sleep on the floor.
    Apparently, Pat Rin thought so, too.
    “If Mr. McFarland is able, I think that I’d best return to my own turf this evening. One does not expect trouble, but—one never does. And it will be quicker, now that there is no need to stop at every tollbooth.”
    “I can drive all night,” Cheever said from the front.
    “I understand,” Val Con answered. “Is there anything we can provide to ease your way?”
    “Indeed,” Pat Rin said, with a wry look at the picnic basket still abundantly supplied with food. “I believe we are well provisioned.”
    “Then we bid you good evening, and thank you, Cousin, for your care. I think this day’s work will prove to be . . . good for business.”
    Pat Rin smiled faintly. “That is the prize for which