“Well, we can't have that,” he said comfortably. “Recall that you and I have a meeting with the Scout Commander and a tour of the World Room before us.”
“On Trilsday,” she said. “I remember. Jon?”
“What's on your mind, math teacher?”
“When is Clonak's next shift? I—I must speak to him.”
Jon's gaze slid to one side—to Daav, Aelliana thought, and wondered what information passed from old Scout to younger in that rapid glance.
“Clonak's off these next few days,” Jon said, carefully, to Aelliana's ear. “He said he had some business to lay before his father.”
“Oh.” Aelliana bit her lip. “I had hoped to speak with him—soon.”
“As it happens,” Daav murmured, “I have Clonak's comm number. I might, if you wish, and after you are settled, call him and ask if he will speak with you—or when you might meet him.”
“Thank you,” she said, much relieved. “That will answer. I don't wish to leave him in distress . . . ”
“ 'Course not,” Jon said, gruffly. “ 'Course not.”
* * *
Aelliana had been silent for some time, her head turned slightly away from Daav, paying attention, so he thought, to the spectacle of Solcintra Port. The vehicle they traveled in was smaller than the car loaned for his use in Chonselta, and far more nimble. Had he been driving only himself, he would have made use of several of the smaller ways known to him and so put the port behind him sooner. With his passenger so rapt, he drove along the main thoroughfares, at a mostly decorous speed, and kept his tongue between his teeth.
They had cleared the gate and were into Solcintra proper, when she stirred and looked over to him.
“Is Clonak High House?”
She knew Clonak's surname, which ought to have given her the answer, but Aelliana appeared to have never learned the teaching songs matching Lines to Clan. Or, he thought, she had forgotten them, as less important than mathematics, or, perhaps, survival.
“ter'Meulen belongs to Guayar, certainly,” he said gently. “And Guayar holds place among the Fifty.”
She nodded as if she had suspected as much, and her face grew more serious.
“In that case, I feel that I must speak with Clonak—very soon, indeed. I do not wish to count myself too high, but the tenor of his message leaves me to fear that these matters he intends to put before his father might have to do with a, a strike against Mizel.”
“Mizel has offered Clonak no insult,” Daav pointed out, wondering at this new political sensibility.
The corners of her mouth tightened.
“Clonak sat my copilot, too,” she said.
“Ah. I understand.” He maneuvered the little car down the Boulevard of Flowers—not the most direct route out of the city, but a pretty, winding way that he thought might please her.
“Clonak's father is not likely to allow him to act precipitously. I fear that an account of my actions on your behalf last evening has found its way into The Gazette, of which he is an avid auditor. I am certain he will not endorse any plans Clonak proposes for Balance with Mizel until he has spoken to me and, now that you are able, to yourself.” He glanced over, reading tension in the tilt of her chin.
“You are very right that you must speak with Clonak soon, and give him what ease you may. But I believe that we may depend upon his father to keep him in hand for a few hours more.”
Aelliana inclined her head. “You have knowledge which I lack,” she said. “Doubtless you are correct, that Clonak's father will not allow him to do anything . . . foolish.”
She glanced out at the street, and her smile flickered, which was the usual response to the Afternoon Garden. It was a small plot, scarcely larger than a patio, planted with blooming things in all shades of orange and yellow, with a few benches artfully adrift in flowers.
“That's lovely,” she said, and cast a quick look to him. “And perhaps not the straightest route out of the city.”
“Discovered! No, not the most direct route—nor the least. I thought a casual survey of the gardens might do us both some good.”
“Chonselta Public Garden is very grand,” she said, her attention focused out the windows. “But these are—pocket plantings! And the houses, with their flowers! It's like being in the middle of a wildwood!”
Daav, who had spent some considerable time in wildwoods of one sort or another in his capacity as a Scout captain, did not correct her.
“The yellow is the Afternoon Garden,” he said, instead. “There is also an Evening Garden, a Dawn Garden, and a Midnight Garden. Groups are made up to visit each at its proper moment; in between, there are tours of the house gardens and refreshments alfresco.”
“It sounds a marvelous way to while away a day,” Aelliana said, and laughed slightly. “I don't think I've ever taken such a tour.”
No, very likely she had not, Daav thought darkly. Though the elder brother had doubtless taken as many pleasant excursions as he might have wished.
“We leave the flowers here, alas,” he said, turning onto North Street. “If you like it, we may come back and take more time with them, another day.”
“I would like that,” she said, and shifted in her seat.
He glanced over and met wise green eyes.
“Now that our diversion is done, if you please, Daav: an account of your actions last evening? Is there more than one?”
Discovered, indeed! He sighed lightly.
“In fact, there are. Mind you, both accounts detail the same actions; it is the meaning of those actions which is appropriated . . . rather differently.”
“And The Gazette tells the misappropriated tale?”
“It does—which was my intention. It was necessary to shield Pilot tel'Izak as much as possible from her delm's anger. Unfortunately, in taking what I might to myself, I fear that I have exposed you to the eyes of the curious.”
He met her eyes, soberly.
“It was a clumsy solving, Aelliana. I beg your pardon.”
She considered him for a long moment, then put her hand on his knee.
“There is no need to beg my pardon, van'chela. Indeed, I was well on my way to making a spectacle in my own right. Had I not arranged to have my name appear in the news sheets, Ran Eld should never have known that I owned a ship.” She gave him a smile.
“You needn't hold your speed down for my sake, Pilot.” she said.
Daav laughed, surprised and delighted.
“Transparent, am I?”
Aelliana frowned slightly. “I would not say transparent, only . . . strangely obvious. It is odd, but not unpleasant.” She looked over to him. “Do you find it so?”
“Unpleasant? No. Surprising, I would say.”
“And not precisely what you anticipated,” Aelliana murmured, her fingers warm on his knee. “What did you anticipate, Daav?”
He hesitated. “Any number of things, since last evening, and been joyously proved wrong in most.” He took a breath. “May I ask that we pursue this topic . . . later, after we have made you known to my cha'leket, gained his smile, and seen you comfortably settled? It may be that a few hours more will illuminate that which is presently obscure.”
After a moment, she nodded. “That may be wisest. Tell me about your brother.”
Encapsulate Er Thom? Almost, he laughed again, but—no. Aelliana was tentative among strangers. Her manner was—or had been, he corrected himself—self-effacing, and her manners, while not boorish, were . . . unpolished. Well she might be shy of meeting a High Clan lordling in his own house. Especially with the example of her own brother before her.
“Er Thom is . . . very dear to me. And you must forgive me for miring you immediately in another of Korval's muddles.”
“Is he not your brother, then?” Aelliana teased.
“Ah, you think it a simple question! We are the children of identical twins, near enough to the brothers our hearts believe us to be. However, Er Thom was born to Petrella yos'Galan, and I to Chi yos'Phelium. More! The delm ordered our births, and thereafter took both of us into her care and training. We were two seeds in one pod, you understand, neither one greater nor lesser than the other, until we came halfling. At that point, the delm decreed that I be sent to the Scouts, as the children of yos'Phelium often are, and that Er Thom join his mother aboard Dutiful Passage, there to learn all he might of the mysteries of trade.”