Shield's Lady (Lost Colony #3)

Gryph looked down at her. "Tell me who needs my help."

"I've just told you. The Avylyn Clan."

He shook his head, knowing suddenly what he wanted from her. "No. Not the Avylyns. They would be long gone by now if it wasn't for you. Tell me who really needs my services. Tell me who will pay whatever she has to pay in order to get them."

Sariana stared at him, confused. Gryph waited, willing her to understand what he wanted from her. Then he saw the knowledge dawn in her large eyes.

"I need your help," Sariana said quietly. "Say it again."

She set her teeth. "I need your help." Gryph nodded, satisfied. "That's right. You. Not the Avylyns." He released her. Sariana sat back in her seat, massaging her wrist unobtrusively. She regarded him with wary, smoldering eyes.

"Get my weapon kit out of that stone table," Gryph ordered calmly.

Sariana pressed a hidden button under the table and a section of the polished stone surface silently slid open. She reached inside and retrieved the kit.

"I only wanted to make you listen to my proposition," she said, handing the kit to him. "I just wanted to get your attention long enough to convince you that you won't lose in this deal."

"You've taken more risks tonight than you even realize, Sariana Dayne," Gryph remarked as he quickly fastened the weapon kit back on his belt. "But you're in luck. I've decided I need the work after all. I'll take the job provided you can afford daily expenses. I'll let you know later what my final fee will be."

Chapter 2

SARIANA was awake very early the next morning. As usual, she had dressed and breakfasted long before the rest of the household. Soon after her arrival in the western provinces she had discovered that the locals tended not to worry very much about such things as punctuality or disciplined work hours.

Lady Avylyn had admonished Sariana more than once for what she perceived as a lack of proper priorities. "Really, my dear," the matriarch of the Avylyn Clan had declared, "you work much too hard. You must learn to play a bit more or you will run the risk of turning into a very dull little old lady."

"I think the results of too much play and too little work are quite obvious in the present financial status of your clan. Lady Avylyn," Sariana had retorted. "Only a lot of hard work is going to salvage the situation now."

"Yes, well, I'm sure you have a point, Sariana, but it

does seem a pity for you to miss so many lovely parties. Life is short, my dear." "I am well aware of that, madam. And because of that fact, I cannot waste a moment of my time here

in the western provinces. The sooner I accomplish my professional goals, the sooner I can go home."

"Yes, yes, I quite understand. But to be truthful, I cannot comprehend why anyone would want to return to the east. Such a dull, dreary place."

Sariana had gritted her teeth, knowing Lady Avylyn had never been to the eastern continent. But westerners had a definite image of the foreign lands of the east and that image was of a grim, gray, humorless place where no sensible person would want to live.

The westerner's failure to 'appreciate the hard working, sober, disciplined ways of her homeland was a constant source of irritation to Sariana. She was fiercely determined not to lower her own personal standards in such matters while she was in exile. It was one of many small battles she waged here in the west.

Sariana was dressed this morning in one of the elegantly restrained business gowns she'd had made at a local clothing design shop. The owner of the shop, a short, stout woman who prided herself on introducing the latest styles to her customers, had been most upset by the order for a simple fitted jacket and long, narrow skirt in a subdued shade of gray.

'Too dull, much too dull for you," the shop owner had protested when Sariana had given her the order. "You are living in Serendipity, the fashion capital of the western continent. Even the people in the smallest towns of the farthest provinces wear more stylish garments than the sort you wish to order. Bustles are in style but you don't want one. Slashed sleeves are in vogue but you don't want them, either. Look here, you haven't even asked for any ribbon trim. I could do so much more, even with this simple design, if you would just let me choose the color and add some trim."

"I'm a businesswoman," Sariana had explained, not for the first time. "I prefer more restrained styles." "Ha. We have plenty of business people here in Serendipity," the woman had shot back. "None of

them has anything against a little style and color. That's the problem with you eastern folks. You're much too dull and sober and tiresomely strict. No fun at all. Remember, you're not living in Rendezvous now, my dear. You're living in Serendipity. Here we have color and light and contrast and lots and lots of style." The woman had waved one hand in a sweeping gesture that included all of Serendipity, the surrounding province of Pallisar and the whole western continent.

It hadn't been easy, but Sariana had finally gotten her way with the shop owner. The small confrontation had been typical of the sort she endured on a daily basis in Serendipity. Sometimes it was tiring to hold her ground, but she usually managed to prevail. It was amazing how effective persistence and rational determination could be against the flamboyant, emotional and melodramatic ways of the locals.

The expansive Avylyn household consisted of three long wings of chambers, gardens and halls that radiated out from a central core structure in the manner of spokes on a wheel. Sariana's suite of apartments was situated in the spoke farthest away from the Avylyns' private chambers and Sariana liked it that way.

The location of her rooms gave her a sense of privacy and some necessary distance from the ceaseless uproar that seemed to be the normal mode of communication for the Avylyns and everyone else in Serendipity. Nobody did things in a quiet, reflective, composed manner. Everyone looked for and found the most dramatic and extreme reactions to any given situation. Tears flowed, anger exploded and laughter sang out, all with just the slightest provocation. No one worried much about self-restraint.

It seemed to Sariana that normal day-to-day life provided plenty of opportunity for westerners to indulge their tastes for the extreme, but she had quickly learned that when a real excuse came around weddings, funerals, or births, for example - all the stops were pulled and the moon was the limit.

The walk to her office, which was in the middle spoke on the floor above the jewelry design rooms, normally took Sariana through a long, glass hall full of exotic plants and flowers and into the luxurious central hub building with its spacious showrooms, ballrooms and reception areas. This morning Sariana took a short cut outside through the gardens.