"Betinwool and silk," Gorna Dail murmured. "It's used, but whoever owned it before me took care of it. It could pass for new."
"New – " Theo snorted as she flipped the edge of the rug up and looked at the knots on the underside. "The new rugs at the co-op are all made out of plaslin."
"And you won't have that, eh?" Gorna Dail smiled again. "I don't blame you in the least, Theo Waitley. Now, tell me honestly – what do you think of this rug?"
Theo ran her hand over it, pleased with the way the nap silked along her skin, and smiled at the cool, swirling colors. It would almost, she thought, be like having her water mosaic again.
"I like it," she said to Gorna Dail.
"Good. Now, let's talk price."
"All right," Theo said steadily. "How much is it?"
Gorna Dail laughed, and sat back on her heels. "No dickering here, I see!"
Theo looked down, cheeks hot. "I don't know what you mean," she said, her voice sounding sullen in her own ears.
"A joke, Theo Waitley," the shopkeeper said placatingly. "Only a joke. On many worlds, in many cities, a price is... mutable. It changes with the weather, the time of the day, the demeanor of the buyer, the mood of the shopkeeper. It is not an entertainment of which Delgado partakes, more's the pity. So, for you, the price on the rug is forty cred."
Theo licked her lips, and ran her hand over the rug again, which was a mistake, because it only made her want it more.
"I can't spend that much today," she said, and looked up into the woman's face. "Could you – I can pay twenty-four cred today, if you can put it aside for me? And tomorrow – well, no, not tomorrow," she corrected herself. "I've got teamplay after class. But, I'll bring the rest the day after tomorrow for sure."
Gorna Dail tipped her head. "And carry the rug home on the bus?"
Theo paused, then found her solution. "I'll take a cab."
"Excellent," the old woman said, with a slight smile; "but I think I may have a better answer, if you'll allow me."
"I'd be glad to learn," Theo said politely, and wondered why Gorna Dail chuckled.
"I propose this: I will charge your card for the full amount – " Theo opened her mouth – and subsided when the shopkeeper held up a hand. "Wait until you've heard it all. What I propose is charging your card for the full amount, tomorrow."
Theo blinked. "Can you do that?"
"Easily," the woman assured her. "Also, because you're such an accommodating customer, I'll throw in a pack of grippers, so your rug won't slide all over that slick floor, and – " She paused and smiled at Theo. "And I'll have them and this rug delivered to you tomorrow evening, after teamplay."
"Really?"
"Really. All you need do is swipe your card and give me your direction. Will that suit you, Theo Waitley?"
"It will!" Theo smiled, relieved. "Thank you!"
"My pleasure, child," Gorna Dail huffed as she pushed to her feet. "My pleasure."
Chapter Six
History of Education Department
Oriel College of Humanities
University of Delgado
"So, then," Kamele Waitley said, with a calm authority she was far from feeling; "we're agreed."
She looked carefully around the table at her colleagues, who had not seen the need, who had not wanted to commit the funds – and whom she had one by tedious one brought to her side. She wished that it had been finesse or gamesmanship, pure reason, or anything other than brute will that had carried the day. If she had come back to the Wall sooner or, failing that, taken the necessary time to strengthen her ties inside the department – but she had come late, and reluctant, driven by what Jen Sar dignified as "necessity." If it were discovered – and it would be! – that the Educational History Department at Delgado University had failed to pursue an investigation after one of their own professors was dismissed for falsifying data – they would lose students, funding; perhaps their accreditation! And it would not happen, Kamele had sworn – not on her watch.
Your honor is in peril as much as the department's, Jen Sar had said, after listening to her lay out her observations and her fears. Of course you must do what is necessary to bring all into Balance.
Balance, as Kamele had learned over the years of their life together, was the Liaden ideal. And it was deucedly difficult to maintain.
Which did not mean that it should not be pursued.
"It appears that we have indeed agreed to an in situ forensic literature search," Mase Toilyn said quietly from half-way 'round the table. "In order to be certain that the two instances of dishonest scholarship of which we have become aware are, as we believe, the only such instances."
"It's expensive," Jon Fu said, which had been his constant objection throughout the meeting. This time, however, the note of complaint had given way to resignation.
"Expensive, yes, but prudent," Ella ben Suzan, Kamele's oldest friend and her only ally at the table, concluded firmly.
"...prudent," EdHist Chair Orkan Hafley repeated, sighing as her hands fluttered over her note-taker. Flandin had been her protégé; that Admin had allowed her to remain as chair was, in Kamele's opinion, worrisome. It hinted at alliances extending into the Tower itself, but even so, Kamele assured herself for the twentieth time, it did not mean that Hafley's position was robust, or that true scholarship could not prevail.
"Yes," Hafley said, finally, frowning down the table at Kamele. "Yes, Sub-Chair, we're agreed that it's our duty to husband the reputation of the college and its scholars. What we haven't agreed upon is which of the numerous protocols should be implemented, or, indeed, who should do the work. Perhaps," she concluded, with heavy irony, "you have a suggestion."
Kamele forced herself to meet that frown and counter it with a smile.
"But remember that the Emeritus Oversight Committee was formed for this very purpose!" she said with false cheerfulness. "We'll apply to them for dispassionate searchers."
"Well," the chair sniffed. "And the protocol?"
Kamele reached to the notepad, fingers dancing over the lightkeys. Three blue links hovered inside the Group Space at the center of the table.
"Please," she said, looking 'round at her four colleagues once more, "everyone contribute three links concerning your favored protocol."
Fingers moved; a set of yellow links joined the blue, and a moment after, green, red, violet...
Kamele nodded. "Now, if we do a branch-search," she tapped the command into the notepad, and watched with satisfaction as the trees formed and connected, closer and closer, until, at base...
"As you can see," she said, keeping her voice pleasant and calm. "Each of our favored implementations has at root the Antonio Smith Method. That being so, I would suggest that the basic Smith Method, which has not only been proved in rigorous field conditions, but has also birthed so many daughters, is best suited to our purpose."
There was some discussion of the suggestion, of course, though briefer than it might otherwise have been. She injected the possibility – nay, the probability! – that the search and approach they had agreed upon might eventually be adopted as an official protocol for the university entire, and with the calculating looks brought into some eyes and faces came a certain willingness to move at long last from talk, to action. When the chair finally adjourned the meeting, the responsibility for contacting the Oversight Committee rested satisfactorily in the hands of Ella ben Suzan.
* * * *
"I think you handled that very well," Ella said as the door to Kamele's office closed behind them. She stretched with vigor before collapsing dramatically into the visitor's chair, her head against the back and her eyes half-closed. "And you were afraid you'd lost your touch."