kin."
"Oh, I know who they are -
there was a time when everyone knew who they were, though I see
that's no longer the case. They had used to be Terran--I recall
being told that the family name is ancient
Terran-- Seneca .
They set up in Port, and carried on just as if they were still on
any Terran world you like--which meant they married oddly, mostly
of Terrans, you see, and took no care to establish their
Clan."
"Which is why I don't find them in the Book
of Clans."
"Nor in Terran Census, either." Luken
sighed. "In anywise, boy-dear, if it's sen'Equa you want, it's to
Low Port you'll go."
"Ah, will I? How delightful." Pat Rin
slipped Fal Den's debt book into his sleeve and absently took up
his wine glass. "I wonder what trade it is that Family sen'Equa
follows?"
Luken moved his shoulders. "Why, they began
in mechanical and electronics repair, with a side in the gaming
business. The repair work led them to vending machines, you see,
and an exclusive contract with dea'Linea. Then, when dea'Linea
incepted that tedious scandal and got ruined by way of it, sen'Equa
sued for such holdings as remained--in payment of their contract. I
was myself involved as a trustee of the dissolution, and saw the
paperwork. sen'Equa received only the most meager of
settlements--well, they had no one to speak for them. So, unless
they have moved far forward--or backward--sen'Equa owns properties
in Mid-Port and in Low-Port, in the form of several small gambling
houses."
"Oh," Pat Rin said, and very nearly smiled.
"Do they?"
* * *
SHE HAD READ the letter
thrice, more alarmed each time. A party , here, at House of Chance?
Worse, a party composed, or so he would have her understand,
entirely of those who made High Port--aye, and the city beyond
it--their home? All very well and good to bring in one or three at
a time, filling the private rooms, to her profit. But, a party of
three to four dozen lord-and-ladyships? It was...
...frightening.
Betea sen'Equa was not a
woman of fragile nerve, nor was hers an imaginative nature. Yet
this latest letter from Hia Cyn--this
proposed--engaged--event-- felt
wrong . Gods' mercy that her grandmother was
dead, and Betea did not have to go before her with such feeble
misgivings in her heart.
"Hitch your fortune to the High Port," that
redoubtable old lady had been wont to say, "and the cantra will
flow into your pocket."
Which had doubtless been true in the old
days, when her grandmother, with the assistance of various patrons,
added three houses to the sen'Equa holdings--one in High Port
itself.
Grandmother's wisdom had likewise served
Betea's mother, who had added another Mid-Port house to the chain
before a drunken quarrel with her latest patron left her dead.
After that came Betea's aunt, who decreed
that sen'Equa had no need of patrons; that sen'Equa houses would
henceforth pay for themselves, with no dependence on those who sat
high.
It had been a worthy dream,
Betea thought so even now. But her aunt in her grief over the loss
of her sister had reckoned without worldly realities. sen'Equa had
no standing among the Clan-bound, nor ever had. Oh, they paid
taxes, in return of which they were guaranteed the protections and
services of the Port. But they had no social standing, and no one was
obliged to either sell, or treat with them at fair cost.
Or pay a death-price, for kin who were
murdered.
It had been fair market prices and rent that
the names of the wealthy patrons had purchased for sen'Equa, and by
the time her aunt realized that, the house in High Port had
faltered and was closed.
Her aunt then did what no other of their
family had done--she left the Port and went into the city, to apply
for a Name from the Council of Clans.
But to become a Name, there must be a Name
willing to sponsor the applicant to the Council. A patron, in
fact--and Betea's aunt would have none of patrons.
So, now it was Betea and two houses
left--their starting place in Low Port, where Uncle Tawm ruled, and
the
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