Free Agent of Change by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee

person which seems very strong, yet is not touched upon by the person's official name." He paused and poured himself a glass of the canary before sliding into the seat between Edger and Miri. "For reasons best known to herself, Miri names me 'Tough Guy.'"

    "I understand," Edger said, accepting in his turn a beaker of milky beverage from Sheather. "It pleases me that Terrans continue to adjust their names. It is not a tendency I have heretofore observed in them. But it is good to know of it." He quaffed his drink with apparent relish.

    "I would be pleased," he continued, "if you and Miri would play and sing when the meal is done."

    Val Con inclined his head and, after a slight hesitation, Miri copied the gesture.

    The talk shifted to the mission of the four Clutch members. Miri let the conversation slide over and around her, not really listening to the words, but letting the slow voices, the grandiose phrasing and rolling periods, soothe her.

    She broke a piece of bread from the loaf and buttered it leisurely. Edger's okay, she thought lazily. And Handler's sweet. And Selector—she grinned. As an ex-sergeant, she had a special feeling for Selector.

    She became aware that shy, little—in a relative way, of course—Sheather was staring at her out of eyes the size of her salad plate, and smiled at him. He ducked his head and was suddenly very busy with his meal.

    Miri ate her bread, luxuriating in the feeling of—safety? She sipped wine and decided that she liked the turtles.

    "You will be pleased to know," Edger was booming to her partner, "that when you again come to us you will be able to eat of food and partake of drink designed for those of your kind. It was a source of shame to me that our Clan could provide you with naught but soups of which you must be unsure and which did not provide all the nutrients your body demands; and only water to drink, as our beer was too potent.

    "To mitigate this shame, I have procured along our route foodstuffs prepared by your kind for your kind. And I am assured that these things are preserved for more than two hundreds of these standard years."

    He paused, then, as delicately as the big voice could manage, asked, "Do you think you will return to us, as you promised, within two hundreds of years?"

    Next to her, Val Con hesitated, and the glance Miri slanted at his face surprised an expression she recognized as sadness.

    "Certainly before two hundred years," he said with strained lightness. "Liadens are not so long-lived as you." He lifted his glass and took a healthy swig of wine. "But how may I come to you at all, when you are adventuring around the galaxy?"

    "Ah," Edger said, "but the expedition is nearly complete! We will be back in the caverns of Middle River in less than seven Standard Years."

    Val Con laughed. "I had no idea you were so close to the end," he said, and the talk passed on to other things.
    * * *

    PRESENTLY, IT WAS judged time for entertainment. Bowing to their hosts, Miri and Val Con moved to the 'chora. He ghosted his fingers down the keys, releasing a shower of sound, and glanced at her from under long lashes. "What song, oh, Traveler?"

    She ignored that, frowning in concentration. "You know 'Jim Dooley Blues'?"

    His brows twitched together. "I am not certain."

    She came around his side and leaned over to pick out the schmaltzy melody line. He listened for a bar or two, then his right hand began to pick up the rhythm; his left hand shifted further down the keyboard, grabbed her lagging melody, shook it firmly, and set it upon its feet.

    Miri straightened. "Show-off."

    Grinning, he flipped stops, adjusted frequencies, and slowed the lines she had shown him until they were obviously an introduction.

    Miri turned toward the audience and begun to sing.

    She sang well, he conceded, adjusting the 'chora to fill the spaces her voice left within the song. She did not have remarkable range, it was true, but she knew the limits of her voice, and the