Free Eidolon by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Page B

Shadow neither flinched nor wept, though one well-marked brow
slid slightly upward.
    "I see,"he said; "and has she left you to
mind the house by yourself?"
    Ceola blinked at him. "Well . . . yes. But
that doesn't signify! I often run singleton."
    "Do you?" He frowned, more, Ceola thought,
like an elder brother annoyed with a flutterheaded youngling than a
shattered lover. "I hadn't . . . observed that."
    "Oh!" She moved a hand. "That was because
you waited for her to finish here before--before . . . " She
cleared her throat and added, somewhat inadequately, "Others are
not so patient."
    Both eyebrows were high now, and Ceola began
to worry that she had not acquitted herself as well as she might
have done on her sister's business.
    "I-- Min is heedless, sometimes, Shadow.
But, truly--"
    "If you would have me understand that her
heart is good, I will undertake it, for your peace," he
interrupted. The street door opened, admitting a group of three,
talking loudly, and more coming in behind them.
    "It would seem that the next wave is upon
us," Shadow said lightly. He thumbed off his handheld and slid away
it into some inner pocket of his jacket, rising as he did so.
    "Come, I shall stand your second."
    She gaped up at him. "You, wait bar?"
    One eyebrow rose, whimsical. "I know the
difference between wine and ale," he said mildly.
    "But--you're a Scout!" she protested.
    He looked suddenly forlorn,
shoulders drooping and fingers limp. Green eyes sought hers from
beneath absurdly long lashes. "I had made sure that you would not care about
that, Ceola!"
    In spite of herself, she laughed. "Scouts
are welcome here, sir, and well you know it!"
    "Barkeep!" Someone called from the counter
and Ceola turned, measuring the room with a practiced eye.
Half-full already, and still more coming in the door. It was a tall
crew-- taller, even, than lanky Shadow. A Terran freighter just in,
then. It would hardly be the first time Terrans had drunk at The
Friendly Glass. Situated as they were on the tenuous border between
Mid-Port and Low, they were grateful for what custom they got,
rough as it ofttimes was.
    "Ale, over here!" a woman shouted in Trade
from one of the tables. From the corner of her eye, Ceola saw
Shadow move toward her, shoulders squared and step firm.
    The woman looked up at him from her chair,
then 'round at her mates. "Ale, 'tender,"she said, in more moderate
tones. "My team an' me 're parched."
    Shadow nodded, and it came to Ceola as she
slipped behind the counter that he would know the difference, too,
between good coin and bad; and between exuberance and mischief.
    The door opened and more tall, rough bodies
pushed in, calling greetings to comrades already in place.
    She worked her way down the bar, taking
orders, then worked her way up, filling each. Shadow came and went,
drawing ale, pouring wine, dropping coins and occasionally port
scrip into the till.
    Their throats slaked, the freight-crews took
themselves off in clumps and clusters, in search of food or other
entertainment. Some lingered, while a few of the regulars came in,
drank their dram and left. Ceola sighed and stepped into the little
space behind the casks. She wiped her face with a sleeve, and
looked up suddenly, warned perhaps, by a movement in the air.
    "All's well?" Shadow asked. If he was weary,
it colored neither his voice nor his face.
    "All's well," she confirmed and inclined her
head. "Thank you, for staying."
    "No need to thank me," he answered lightly.
"I like to be busy."
    "Well, I hope you can find some rest before
duty calls you," she said frankly. She scraped her hair back off of
her face. "I can finish up here. It can't be long until--"
    A long yodel cut her off. Already? She spun
out of her alcove to check the clock over the bar.
    The yodel came again, signaling the end of
Night Port and the beginning of Day.
    Closing time.
    *
    The alarm sounded. Ceola came up onto a
reluctant elbow and groped in the general direction of the tea
maker. Her fingers