He put his notepad on the table and gave her his whole attention once more. “I think we have this task well in hand, Pilot. What else may I be honored to do for you?”
She placed her hand on the envelope.
“I wonder if you are . . . able . . . to explain to me why I am awarded this—considerable!—settlement. Daav owes me nothing—it is I who owe him, more than ever I can hope to Balance.”
Mr. dea'Gauss glanced down, perhaps at the envelope; perhaps at the Jump pilot's ring on her finger, then raised his eyes to hers.
“His lordship allowed me to know of the bond between you,” he said slowly. “In . . . more regular circumstances, that bond would predicate a . . . social outcome.”
“As it did with Anne and Lord yos'Galan.”
“Precisely.” Mr. dea'Gauss placed his fingers lightly on the edge of the envelope.
“Precisely,” he said again, and paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
“His Lordship,” he said after a moment, “chose to honor the bond as if it is the social outcome, realizing that this may never come to pass. It is . . . an unusual melant'i, as he himself said, and one may therefore too easily err in proper action. One wishes to place honor—one wishes to place regard correctly, and to rightly value what is precious. His solution . . . I have spent many hours considering his lordship's solution, and I cannot find it in error, my lady, nor say that I might have counseled him differently.”
The envelope was textured and tickled her palm. Aelliana took a breath.
“This is a lifemate's share.”
“It is.”
“I . . . ” She closed her eyes, opened them and considered the man before her with his practical face and canny eyes.
“Mr. dea'Gauss, Daav and I are indeed lifemates-by-nature, as he told you. However, it is by—it is by no means certain that we can, or ought to be, lifemates-by-law. It is—I had hoped that this joint endeavor we undertake would clarify that point. You will know, sir, that Mizel is by no means High House. I would not damage Korval through my ignorance, nor would I make Daav vulnerable.”
He inclined his head, but said nothing, apparently waiting for her to continue, though what else she might say—
But, no, there was something else, after all, to say.
She pushed the envelope to him and lifted her hand away.
“Please, hold these safe until I call upon you in order to sign them, or ask that you destroy them.”
Again, he inclined his head, and Aelliana bethought herself of yet another question.
“In your judgment—ought I to make Daav half owner of The Luck?”
“My lady, you ought not,” he replied promptly. “He is your copilot, and I believe you will find that satisfies him very well.”
“Thank you,” she said, and hesitated, for surely the question that next rose to her tongue was no concern of hers . . .
“Is there something else, my lady?”
“I only wonder,” she said slowly. “This . . . employment as Ride the Luck's copilot will mean that Daav will sometimes be . . . unavailable to Delm Korval and the business of the clan.”
“That had mostwise been the case with Korval's delms until very recently,” Mr. dea'Gauss said. “This firm has protocols in place to handle much of what Korval has been addressing personally. Korval's presence will naturally be required at the bi-annual meetings of the Council of Clans, but a good deal of the . . . lesser business may be handled by a designated speaker.”
She frowned. “Does he—know this?” she asked, thinking of the sense of weariness and ill health that she had felt in him, bone-deep.
“It is my melant'i to assume that Korval is informed,” Mr. dea'Gauss said delicately. “The conditions under which we currently operate are by instruction of Thodelm yos'Galan, acting as Korval-pernard'i, in the aftermath of the tragedy that cost Korval its delm and yos'Galan its a'thodelm. The instructions were never rescinded.”
“I see,” she said, and inclined her head. “Mr. dea'Gauss, I thank you for the gift of your time—and for your assistance.”
“You are most welcome, my lady. Please consider me entirely at your disposal.”
“You're very kind,” she said and stood, Mr. dea'Gauss rising with her.
“There is,” she said, suddenly recalling, “one more thing.” She touched the collar of the shirt she was wearing, one of several purchased from Anne's favorite store.
“You will, I think, be receiving an invoice from the Crystal Flower. Please forward it to me when it arrives; it is my debt and I will pay it.”
Mr. dea'Gauss bowed.
“Certainly, my lady.”
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Contents
Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Seventeen
A room without books is like a body without a soul.
—Cicero
Er Thom was in his office. Good.
Daav pushed the door open gently, pausing just inside the room to consider his brother, who had for so long been the first tenant of his heart. He made a charming sight, to be sure, with his head bent studiously over his work, and the light from the lamp making golden hair luster.
“You might be of some use, and pour the wine,” Er Thom said, without raising his head. “I'll be through here in a moment.”
Grinning, Daav crossed to the cabinet, unshipped glasses, and poured—red for Er Thom, and the same for himself, there being no misravot on offer.
“You stint me,” he said, carrying the glasses to the table and disposing them.
“Does Pilot Caylon know you drink misravot?” Er Thom asked. He rose and stretched, hands over head, relaxing all at once, with a sigh.
“She may well,” Daav said ruefully. “She may even know that I am not particularly fond of it.”
“A perceptive lady, indeed,” his brother said, coming forward. He looked into Daav's face, violet eyes shrewd. “When shall I have the felicity of seeing the announcement in The Gazette?”
“Perhaps not for some time,” Daav said slowly. “My lady wishes to hone her edge.”
“Surely she can acquire whatever edge she feels she lacks on the whetstone of the world,” Er Thom murmured, picking up his glass and assaying a sip.
“She makes a compelling argument against that route,” Daav murmured, tasting his own wine. “And offers an interesting proposal, darling.”
“Which you are inclined to accept.”
“Since it falls in with my own wishes and desires, of course I am inclined to accept. Which is why I've come creeping along yos'Galan's back hallways at an hour when we both ought to have put work away.” He sipped, and lowered his glass. “I need your advice, Thodelm.”
Golden brows rose slightly. “Shall I be alarmed?”
“You may well become so; who am I to know?”
“And is it,” Er Thom asked carefully, “Korval come seeking yos'Galan's advice, on behalf of the clan's son Daav?”
Trust Er Thom to parse the melant'i thus. Indeed, he had himself spent a goodly portion of the afternoon attempting to untangle just that point.
“Scrutiny reveals that it must be Korval who seeks yos'Galan's wisdom—on behalf of Korval. There's no keeping Daav out of the equation, I fear, but the solving cannot be for the undutiful child alone.”
“Hah.” Er Thom pulled out a chair and sat, waving Daav to the other. “Tell me.”
“Put most simply, and with the best good of the clan foremost in your consideration—does it seem to you that the clan might . . . thrive . . . should the delm choose to accept employment as copilot on a courier ship?”
“It does not immediately seem to me that the clan would founder and break apart,” Er Thom said placidly. “yos'Galan appears to take no harm from the benevolent neglect of its thodelm.”
“True. I will tell you that I have spent some time with the Diaries today, and learn that past delms have been . . . more lightly tied to Liad.”