Val Con sighed. "I know that duty comes first," he said softly. "It was only . . ." He hesitated.

"It was only," Shan finished for him, as softly, "that you were hungry for news of home."

"Yes. You don't think that will be against me, do you Shan, when I go for Scout?"

"I think that Scouts, like traders, grow hungry for news from home. And that they remember to open the roster first."

They walked a dozen steps in silence.

"Well," Shan asked. "What had Nova to say?"

Val Con took a breath of warm, slightly oily air. "She said that people with nothing better to do are making Mother the subject of gossip in shops," he said as evenly as possible. "And that there is a general rejoicing that Clan Ranvit is no longer tainted by pak'Ora's contract with yos'Galan."

"I see," Shan said. "I hope Nova was able to keep her temper."

"She confessed it was hard, and that Cousin Luken was no help."

"Well, what was he to do? Have after them with a carpet knife?"

"He might have—he might have asked them to leave," Val Con said.

"Oh, very good. How if they wished to buy a rug? Should he refuse to take their money?"

Even Val Con had to admit that wouldn't be good for business—and certainly not at all like Cousin Luken. Though—

"Perhaps he charged them more?" he said hopefully.

Shan closed one eye. "He might have done," he said slowly. "Or he may have noticed. For later, you know."

That was likely, Val Con thought. Cousin Luken kept his Balances tidy—it had been one of the things Nova was to learn, as his 'prentice. And it was . . . somewhat comforting—knowing that the gossipers would not go unanswered.

Ahead, Uncle Er Thom stepped to the kerb, and turned to look back at them, his posture indicating surprise at finding them lagging so far behind. They hurried to his side.

"At the end of this block is the Mercantile Hall, where we shall attend the trade reception.