14CESCA PERONI

The Roamer yacht maintained its position at the arranged meeting point in empty space. The private yacht bore no markings to indicate that it carried the important Speaker for all Roamer clans, along with her protégée. Playing their political cards close to the chest, Roamers rarely resorted to emblems or trappings of power.

Cesca Peroni sat in the copilot’s seat, monitoring the emptiness, keeping watch on her sensors. Distant stars glowed all around them, partially muffled by thin wisps of nebular gas. “No sign of the other ship yet.” With large eyes, dusky skin, and a sense of humor matched only by her sense of duty, Cesca always kept both her mind and her eyes open.

Beside her the sinewy old woman, Jhy Okiah, stared through the windowport, as if she found every single star worth looking at. “Patience, patience.” The ancient Speaker had vast reserves of inner calm and an intelligence that she never flaunted when speaking to others.

A light blinked on Cesca’s control panel. “Ah, here he comes.”

Jhy Okiah pursed her lips as she studied the starscape to pick out the tiny dot that heralded the diplomatic transport ship bearing the Theron heir, Reynald. For months, the son of Mother Alexa and Father Idriss had worked through intermediaries and scattered messages to arrange this meeting with representatives of the Roamers. His persistence had been admirable.

“He’s finally getting what he requested,” Jhy Okiah said in her raspy voice. “I can’t help but chuckle at how astonished Chairman Wenceslas would be if he knew Reynald had gone to so much trouble just to see a few Roamers.”

Cesca looked at the Speaker. “Perhaps this young man understands more about us than other human governments do.” Both women knew about Reynald’s peregrination, and they respected the young man’s interest in all significant societies of the Spiral Arm, including the oft-dismissed space gypsies.

Jhy Okiah frowned. “Or perhaps we haven’t been keeping our secrets as well as we think.” Though their nomadic society had many ships and a great deal of wealth, the clans kept their operations thoroughly confidential and avoided drawing attention to themselves.

The old woman’s limbs were thin and her bones as brittle as dry bamboo, which required her to spend most of her time at the Roamer asteroid conglomeration of Rendezvous. Jhy Okiah had been married four times and had outlived every one of her husbands. She’d borne several children from each mate, so that she had a total of fourteen sons and daughters, fifty-three grandchildren, and an ever-increasing number of greatgrandchildren. The old Speaker didn’t bother keeping track anymore.

Finally, the Theron diplomatic transport pulled alongside the Roamer yacht, deftly maneuvering with jets and aligning the two vessels. After the airlock connections were attached, Reynald stepped across into the yacht’s receiving area.

The Theron prince’s dark hair was bunched together in a mass of braids. Tattoos stood out at his collar and along his neck. His handsome face broke into a polite smile before he bowed to the two women, eyes flashing at Cesca in obvious admiration. She fought back a flush from his open scrutiny.