Free Changeling by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller

get the sim, too, but the Guild won't lend
it."
    The slanted white brows pulled together.
"Won't lend it? Yet you are, as you point out, a pilot on this
port."
    "Jabun." The voice was faint and none too
steady. Both Shan and Suzan jumped before staring down at the
wounded pilot. His eyes were open, a dilated and glittering black,
the brown hair stuck to his forehead in wet, straggling locks.
    "Jabun," he repeated, the Liaden words
running rapidly and not altogether in mode. "Not enough that they
had me cast out. I must die the true death, if he must hire a wolf
pack to the task. Dishonor. Danger! They must not find--" He
struggled, trying to get his good arm around.
    Shan put his hands firmly on the boy's
shoulders. "Pilot. Be at ease."
    The unseeing black eyes met his. "When will
they have done?" he demanded. "When will they--"
    Shan pushed, exerting force
as well as force of will. "Lie down ," he said firmly, in a mode
perilously close to that he would use with a feverish child. "You
are wounded and will do yourself further injury."
    "Wound--" Sense flickered. "Gods." He
twisted, weakly; Shan held him flat with no trouble.
    "Suzan!"
    She snapped forward, touching his unwounded
shoulder. "Here, Pilot. I'm OK, see?"
    Apparently, he did. The tension left him and
he lay back, understanding in his eyes now. Shan frowned.
    "You accuse Clan Jabun seriously," he said,
in the Liaden mode of Comrade, and thinking of his own discoveries
of the evening before. "Have you proof?"
    "The pack leader..."
    He glanced at Suzan, who jerked her head to
the left, where two Port Proctors were talking to sullen man in a
scarred leather jacket.
    "All right," he said, in
Terran, for Suzan Fillips' benefit. "I will speak to the pack
leader. Pilot dea'Judan, you will remain here quietly with your
co-pilot."
    The glittering eyes stabbed his. "Yes."
    One of the Proctors looked up as he
approached and came forward to intercept him. "Master Trader?" he
inquired courteously.
    Shan considered him. "One hears," he said,
delicately, "that yon brigand was hired by a House to deal death to
a dead man."
    The Proctor sighed. "It produces the name of
Jabun--but this is not unusual you know, sir. They grasp at
anything they hope will win them free of the present
difficulty."
    "Just so," Shan murmured, and drifted back
toward Suzan Fillips and Ren Zel dea'Judan.
    "I believe you," he said to the wounded
pilot's hot eyes, and looked thoughtfully at the Terran.
    From the entrance came the sounds of some
slight agitation among the guards, who parted to admit a pilot of
middle years, his pale hair going to gray, his leather gleaming as
if new-made.
    "It's him!" shouted the man who had been the
wolf pack leader, and was silenced by his guards.
    A Proctor moved forward, holding his hands up
to halt the newcomer.
    "Sir, this is the scene of a death by
misadventure; I must ask you to leave unless you--"
    "Ah, is it a death?" The man's face displayed
such joy that Shan swallowed, revolted. "I must see for
myself!"
    The Proctor moved his hand as if to deny, but
another signed assent and the three of them strode across the room
to the covered form.
    "Your Lordship is to understand that this is
... unpleasant," the first Proctor said. "The nose has been
forcibly crushed into the brain by a blow..."
    "That is of no matter," the newcomer snapped,
"show me!"
    The Proctors exchanged glances, then bent and
lifted the covering back. Shan rose to his feet, eyes on His
Lordship's proud, eager face, glowing with an anticipation so--
    "What nonsense is this?" the man shouted.
"This is not he!"
    "I am here ... Suzan, help me stand. Jabun, I
am here!"
    The voice was barely a croak, nearly
inaudible. The bloodied figure gained his feet, more than
half-supported by his grim-faced co-pilot.
    "The dead man you want ... the dead man you
want is here!" Ren Zel gritted out, and Shan stepped back, giving
Jabun clear sight of his victim.
    "You!" Jabun flung forward one step, hatred
plain in his