Shield's Lady

quarrel was in the making and she had neither the time nor the patience to weather one tonight. All of the blond, handsome Avylyns had strong tendencies toward melodrama. In that respect they were typical of most of the inhabitants of the western provinces. Give any one of them a convenient stage, Sariana had learned, and one could expect an outrageous display of dramatic fireworks. Not to mention a lot of noise.
    Sometimes the noise of the Avylyn Clan was too much for her. Sariana had been brought up in a far more civilized household. But the elegant, sophisticated, well-managed home of the Dayne Clan lay halfway around the planet of Windarra on the eastern continent. A year earlier Sariana had made the wrenching decision to leave her clan and journey across the seas to the wilds of the western continent. There was not only an ocean between her parents’ home in Rendezvous and her new home in the town of Serendipity; there was also a gaping abyss in terms of lifestyle. Sariana was still working on the problem of culture shock.
    The artisans, craftsmen, designers and gemologists of the Avylyn Clan were technically Sariana’s clients. Officially she was their business manager. Although she was only a couple years older than Mara, there were times when Sariana felt more like a nanny than a business manager.
    She coughed gently and tapped the table with the heel of the small fan she carried. The fan was a western affectation she had somehow acquired. It had its uses.
    “If I may have your attention, please.” Sternly she regarded each member of the Avylyn Clan present at the midnight meeting.
    The need for secrecy had led Lord Jasso, the patriarch, to ordain that only the oldest and most immediate members of the Prime Family be present tonight. Even Luri, the youngest son, was not here. Needless to say, no one beyond the Prime Family had been notified of either the loss of the valuable prisma cutter or the plan for recovering it. Aunts, uncles, distant cousins and other assorted Avylyns were being kept in blissful ignorance, as were all business rivals. The responsibility for protecting the cutter was, after all, the task of the Prime Family of the Clan. Now that it had been stolen, Jasso’s duty was clear. He had to get it back, even if it meant dealing with a dangerous Shield.
    In practical terms that meant Sariana had to find a way to retrieve the cutter. A business manager’s lot was often a difficult one.
    “We are committed now,” Sariana said coolly. “There is no turning back. Granted, the fact that the drug didn’t work as it was supposed to has made things slightly more difficult, but we can adapt to the situation.”
    “It’s because they’re different,” Lady Avylyn said with a sigh.
    Sariana glanced at her, impatient with the interruption. “I beg your pardon, Lady Avylyn? What are different?”
    “Shields. The members of the Shield clans are different,” Lady Avylyn explained gravely. “That difference is more than just a matter of customs and dress and manners. It goes all the way to the bone.”
    Sariana blinked in astonishment. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Lady Avylyn.”
    It was Lord Avylyn who tried hurriedly to explain. “It’s part of the legend, you know. Shields are—well, not quite like the rest of us. It’s difficult for you to understand because you don’t have any equivalent to the Shield class in the eastern provinces. Here the Shields occupy a special niche in society. They are living legends.”
    Sariana glanced at the man on the floor with a mildly derisive expression. “That’s a living legend? He looks more like a frontier bandit who wandered into town and got drunk.”
    Lady Avylyn was horrified. “Don’t ever call him a bandit, Sariana. Shields are very proud. They spend their time getting rid of bandits. You should hear some of the tales of frontier battles.”
    “No offense,” Sariana said briskly, “but in my opinion, you westerners give entirely too much credence to your legends and tales.”
    “Just because you easterners have forgotten all your First Generation tales doesn’t mean we have ignored our own history,” Mara exclaimed.
    Sariana was annoyed. “The fact that we easterners didn’t bother to immortalize our history in a lot of silly ballads and plays doesn’t mean we have forgotten that history.” She resented the implication that the descendants of the colony ship The Rendezvous had not protected their history as well as the