“Aelliana?” His hand came lightly to rest upon her shoulder; she felt concern, and a tang of self-anger.
“Your brother lives here?” she demanded. “It is—how many? In your clan?”
"Ah. You must understand that Trealla Fantrol is Korval's showpiece. Our mother taught that, in the past, it was also a fortress, guarding the mouth of our valley, and denying those with . . . unfriendly intent . . . access to Jelaza Kazone—yos'Phelium's house, you know—which is much less grand, and quite a bit older.
“As to how many we are—very few, in these days. We have never been a large clan, even at our most fulsome.”
“I see.” She took a breath, recalling the calming spin of color Daav had named the Rainbow. Carefully, she called a prism to mind, one hue after the other—but the exercise failed to calm her.
“I suggest that we press on, Pilot,” Daav said softly. “I engage that Er Thom will not eat you. He will make his bow, fix your face in his memory, and doubtless say something pretty and pleasant. We need not even stop for a cup of tea, if you would rather.”
He was, Aelliana realized with a start, soothing the woman she had been yesterday. The woman she was today—she was startled, and uneasily aware that her manners were not High, but she was not afraid.
“I am not frightened,” she said, firmly. “I agree that it is best to continue—and even to drink a cup of tea. It would be very bad of me, as one who has accepted Korval's protection, to disdain the nadelm's hospitality.”
A flicker of brightness, gone before she could identify it, as Daav took his hand from her shoulder and moved across the lawn with his long, noiseless stride.
I am not, Aelliana told herself, following, frightened.
The room beyond the patio was small—perhaps a family parlor, with comfortably shabby chairs and a litter of books and projects in process adorning various side tables. Near the open doors, a smaller chair sat next to a larger, both angled away from the garage. A fleece throw was draped, haphazard, across the back of the larger chair. In the smaller sat a stuffed animal with large round ears and rounder blue eyes, apparently left to enjoy the view.
Daav moved quickly through the room to the hallway beyond, unhesitatingly turning left, as silent on the polished wooden floor as he had been across carpet and grass.
Aelliana sighed. Every Scout she knew had the knack of silent movement; perhaps she would ask one of them to teach her. For this afternoon, however, she contented herself with walking as lightly as she might, and taking care not to bump into the occasional artfully placed flower table or art piece.
Ahead of her, Daav paused at the intersection of halls, head tipped as if he were listening to the house.
“Perhaps if we called out?” Aelliana said, coming up to stand just a step behind his shoulder.
“No need—he will be in his office. I left a bit of a tangle in his lap, I fear.”
“Then perhaps I should lead,” she suggested, and heard him chuckle.
“Perhaps you should! Only a step more and we are arrived.” She felt his glance settle on her and looked up to meet his eyes.
“How do you fare, Pilot?”
“It has been a full day, but I believe that I fare well enough,” she said, truthfully. “The sleep that the Healers put on me was—most amazingly restorative.”
“Good.” He smiled. “We play on?”
“We play on.”
Down the hall they went. Daav put his hand on the knob of the first door on the left and pushed it wide.
For a heartbeat, she thought that he had guided them to the wrong room. Surely, the bright-haired man with the stern, beautiful face could not be Daav's brother!
Then he smiled and rose from behind the desk, his hands held out in welcome.
“So, you are returned at last!” he exclaimed in the Low Tongue. “I had begun to fear that you had left me to solve all, forevermore!”
Daav laughed and swept forward, catching Aelliana's hand and bringing her with him.
“I am twelve times a wretch, but even I must pause at such perfidy! Has it been dreadful for you, darling?”
“Not unremittingly,” the other said, coming around the desk. He was slim, and studied, and moved with a pilot's effortless grace. “I have entertained several people on the delm's behalf, though not everyone I had expected, and learned some things which will perhaps be useful. At the moment, we are in a lull. Anne has gone to her office at university, and I had thought to catch up on some matters of use to yos'Galan.”
“And now I interrupt you yet again! It will be as quick as can be, then I to home, and duty!”
“There's no need to rush away,” Er Thom said. His tones were soft and sweet, entirely unlike Daav's deep, rough voice. “Make me known to your guest, do.”
“Not only a wretch, but a unmannered wretch!”
Daav brought her forward, and she felt affection warming her. “Aelliana, here is my brother Er Thom, Thodelm of yos'Galan and heir to Korval. Brother—I show you Aelliana Caylon, scholar and pilot, reviser of the ven'Tura Tables. As of this day, she stands enclosed by Korval's protection, until such time as she shall call enough.”
Aelliana bowed, choosing the mode of adult-to-adult upon finding herself uncertain of the hand-motion for the proper forming of greeting-a-thodelm-not-one's-own.
“Er Thom yos'Galan, I am pleased to meet you,” she said, and even though she was not afraid, her voice trembled, just a little.
Violet eyes considered her gravely, and it seemed to her that he was indeed committing her face to memory. He answered her bow precisely.
“Aelliana Caylon, I am very pleased to meet you. You may rest easy in our care.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No,” he answered surprisingly. “It is I who thanks you, Pilot, from the bottom of my heart.”
Before she could react to this, he turned again to Daav.
“If you and the pilot are at liberty, I would like to share some of what I have—”
There was a sudden clatter in the hall beyond, footsteps—a quiet pair and a noisier. Daav exchanged a wild look with his brother, caught Aelliana's hand and brought her to the right just as a regal-looking gentleman in green-and-gold livery appeared in the doorway.
“The Right Noble Lady Kareen yos'Phelium,” he announced, too loudly for the circumstances, and stepped nimbly to the left.
Er Thom yos'Galan inclined his head. “Thank you, Mr. pak'Ora,” he said, as serene as if he did not hear that second pair of footsteps, stamping angrily down his fine wooden hall.
The regal gentleman bowed slightly, turned, and paused to allow the owner of the footsteps by.
Into the office she came, her steps only somewhat muffled by the rug. That she was neither a pilot nor a Scout was immediately obvious. Despite this, Aelliana owned, she was a handsome woman, her dark hair a silky cap adorning a shapely head, and bright stones glittering in pretty ears. Her face was at the moment marred by a monumental frown, well-marked brows pulled tight, and lips thin in anger.
“Good afternoon, cousin,” Er Thom yos'Galan said, gentle-voiced, and speaking the Low Tongue, as one did with kin. “I had expected you earlier in the day.”
“Had you, indeed? I am desolate that the demands of my duty to Liad put me in a closed meeting all of yesterday and half of today.” The lady's voice was sharp, her choice of mode High—Elder-Kin-to-Junior. “It was only after lunch that I was at leisure to catch up the world, and then what should I do but first call upon the delm.”
Her frown increased, and she turned her head suddenly, sharp gaze going past Aelliana and resting—on Daav.
“You!” she snapped, and that was a mode Aelliana knew well—Superior-to-Inferior.
“Indeed, I.” Daav agreed, also in the Low Tongue.
“I suppose that it should not surprise me to find you here, sheltering behind your cha'leket, as you have always done! Of course it is nothing to you, that the clan dances on the brink of ruin, as long as you have had your diversion! And such a grand diversion it was, with your hand all over it, leaving no doubt in the minds of the vulgar. I say nothing of the shattered contract with Bindan—you have made it plain in the past that you intend to steer Korval into ruin, and will hear no advice from your elders! But one would think that you—even you!—would understand the impropriety, to say nothing of the cost, of ransacking a clanhouse, holding the nadelm at gunpoint, subverting the youth—”