Free Restoree by Anne McCaffrey Page B

stranger with whom I was not at ease.
    The four men rose gravely in turn as Harlan introduced us, bowing formally, each bow as different as the character of the man. Gartly gave me a peremptory bow, his mind obviously on the business interrupted by my appearance. His blueing eyes passed over my face with the light dismissal of an older man for any younger person.
    Jokan, and I remembered he was Harlan’s brother, was nondescript in appearance, totally different from his brother. But his eyes, a sparklingly clear blue in his rough tanned face, had a vitality that detracted from the commonplaceness of his features. His bow was leisurely as he measured my face, my body, my legs and looking again into my eyes, his lips echoed the greeting in his brilliant eyes.
    Jessl, a stocky, chesty man in his late thirties, was less courtly, checking me off in his mental catalogue as woman; intelligence unknown; and unnecessary. But it was he who held out my chair.
    Cire smiled warmly at me. He resembled his father in face and outstripped him in size by half a foot but with undeveloped breadth. His bow was jerky, unpracticed, and he flushed boyishly, yanked out of the fascinating world of men to which he had so recently been admitted, by the arrival of a woman his senior in years.
    “How’s your leg this morning?” he asked considerately.
    “I didn’t even remember,” I laughed, kicking my leg from the full robe.
    “That’s because you’ve slept nearly two days,” Harlan laughed. “Cire, I appoint you chief server to the exiled court of Harlan and hope I left enough in the pot to fill a very generous plate for Sara. I’ve had five servings, my dear lady,” and I heard Jokan draw his breath in sharply and Jessl turned around to look at me queerly, but Harlan continued briskly, “so I’m the guilty one if there isn’t enough. You should, by rights, be even hungrier than I,” and his lighthearted grin included an intimate reference to my abstinence for his sake.
    Cire showed no reluctance to assume his honorary rank and went to get me food. Harlan took up the conversation he had left to refill his plate.
    “Hindsight, my friends, is of no use to us. We could sit here until the Mil come again before that would solve our problem. Don’t think for a minute I haven’t run from the caves of Jurasse to the Barren Plains for believing myself inviolate just because I was Regent. I’ve succeeded in making an absolute fool of myself and unless I’m careful about the next move, I shall compound that impression and lose any chance whatever of regaining the Regency.
    “I’ve had a lot of good luck, lately,” his hand touched mine in illustration, “and we’ll hope it holds until Stannall can reinforce it. You’re sure, Jokan, no one knows of your trip to Astolla?”
    “I made the decision myself on the way to Jurasse and circled the Finger Sea,” Jokan reassured him. He kept looking at me, however, not his brother.
    Harlan regarded the meat on his fork speculatively, then carefully set the piece aside, leaning back in his chair.
    “Now, Jessl has not been closely connected with me. Gartly and I had that quarrel about sector assignments,” and Harlan’s eyes twinkled at Gartly who harrumphed righteously. “They won’t think of checking on any of you first. We’ve got to get Council in session to revoke Gorlot’s temporary Regency. Ferrill can do it if we can reach him.”
    Jokan and Gartly immediately jumped in to elaborate on the young Warlord’s rapid physical decline. No one had been allowed to see him recently, even such old friends as Gartly and his uncle, Jokan. Gorlot intercepted every attempt.
    “I did get a few words with Maxil,” Jokan added, “before that Milbait Samoth came breathing down my neck. I shall take great delight in kicking that fattail into so tight an orbit he’s eating . . .”
    “Jo,” snapped Harlan, indicating me. Jokan glared at me for the curtailment of his invective.
    I hadn’t