Daav bent his head and considered the plan. It posed, in its way, just as much risk as the one he and dea'Gauss had produced, yet carried a greater likelihood of success, if Mr. dea'Gauss was to be believed, and an avenue of legal recourse open to them, if Mizel balked.
“It is well,” he said, raising his head. “I do not need to ask you to bend your best efforts, I know. Please, proceed as you see fit in negotiating these new terms. The dice are in your hand.”
Mr. dea'Gauss bowed.
“I shall do my utmost, your lordship.”
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Thirty-One
The wages of spite are well-earned.
—Liaden Proverb
Daav gave his cloak to Kareen's butler and paused a moment to order himself. He wore a misty grey coat and silvered lace, in complement to Aelliana's colors. That he arrived alone, and yet constrained by Mizel's whim, angered and dismayed him.
Still, he reminded himself, he would at least be able to see her, a pleasure that had been denied him for too long. If he were very lucky, they might meet in a condition demanding that they exchange a brief greeting with the bow. It frightened him, how much he ached to hear her voice.
Well, and standing out here in the hallway would serve nothing, save Kareen's spite. He gave his lace another, unnecessary, shake, and moved down the hall to the reception room.
He had arrived somewhat behind time, wishing to avoid a long dawdle in line before he paid his respects to the hostess and was passed inside. Thus, he found Kareen alone in the reception hall, with only her good friend Scholar Her Nin yo'Vestra to support her.
He made his bow properly: Guest-to-Host, augmented with the hand-sign between kin.
“Good evening, younger Brother!” Even in the High Tongue, Kareen sounded positively cheerful, which could not, Daav thought, be a good sign.
He straightened warily.
“Good evening, Sister,” he replied, speaking in the Low Tongue more from habit than from any particular wish to annoy her this evening. He inclined his head to her support. “Scholar yo'Vestra.”
“Korval,” the man answered, with a certain sternness, as he was every bit as much of a stickler as Kareen. Indeed, the two of them sat together upon the League for the Purity of the Language—two cornerstone members.
“Do go in,” Kareen urged him, smiling. “You will of course find many here whom you know.”
Yes, he thought, his stomach tightening, too cheerful by far.
He bowed again and passed into the great room.
It was not quite a crush, he thought, pausing to survey the room. That would change over the course of the evening. He had only been somewhat late, and that in service of his own convenience. There were those others who would time their entrance so that the most eyes fell upon them.
At the moment, he saw the usual and expected assortment of guests. Kareen had drawn almost exclusively from the High Houses for this entertainment, with a few of the more . . . ambitious of the Mid Houses, nor had she stinted herself in the matter of ostentatious display. The hall had been repainted a velvety gold, with new rugs to match. It was rather like standing inside a jewel box, with the guests acting the part of the jewels.
Daav took another step into the room, meaning his path to intersect with that of a server wearing a wide-sleeved gold shirt and carrying a tray full with glasses, when the crowd shifted, only a little; he saw Lady yo'Lanna, surrounded as usual with the beautiful and the amusing, the woman at her side perhaps the new favorite—
He went taut, even as the breath was crushed out of his lungs. Joyfully, he accepted the bolt of her beauty and he stood there, transfixed—no! Breath returned with a rush; his heart slammed into overdrive and there was nothing, there was no one but her, to whom he must go immediately. He took a step . . .
Aelliana turned, her eyes wide and fey. Her hand rose, lace flowing away from her fingers like water, as she, too, took a step—
His arm—the grip was firm enough to pierce the glaze of enchantment. The voice was overloud, commanding attention.
“Young Korval!” Guayar told the room. “Just the man I was wanting to see!”
Daav shook his head, unable to move his eyes from her face, the compulsion painful now, so that his breath came short, and he—
“Daav . . . ” That was lower, almost a growl. “Command yourself.”
“I—” His voice died. Gods, he would die, if he did not go to her now, now, and damn the consequences—
“Come with me,” Guayar said. “You want wine.”
“No,” he whispered. “No, I don't want wine.”
The grip on his arm was firm enough now to bruise. He scarcely felt it, in the greater agony of his soul.
“Very well, then,” Clonak's father said, with quiet patience, “you want a glass of tea. Come with me, please, you are becoming an object of interest.”
Lady yo'Lanna extended a hand; leaned close and whispered something to Aelliana. She—Aelliana turned her back on him.
“Daav?”
“Yes,” he said raggedly, turning painfully toward his own rescuer. His body ached, as if he had been thrown onto sharp stones from a height. “For the gods' sweet love, sir, do not loose my arm.”
Guayar sighed, but held firm. “No more than a dozen steps, there is an alcove provided with refreshments,” he said, in normal tones. “We may be private there. I swear that my small bit of business will go no longer than is required to drink a glass of tea.”
* * *
“Will you lose everything for one unguarded step?” Lady yo'Lanna whispered in her ear.
Aelliana shivered. She could not move, except to go to him. She would die, if she did not touch him.
“Turn around.” Lady yo'Lanna gripped her arm.
“I cannot,” she whispered.
“You will,” the older woman said, her voice conveying absolute conviction.
Daav—Delm Guayar was speaking to him. She saw the longing in his face; felt the effort it cost him, to stand in one place, trembling, as she was trembling, soul on fire and heart a-stutter . . .
She closed her eyes. The pain did not abate. I will not lose, she thought. I will not forfeit my life.
Shaking, she turned away.
* * *
Shaking, he put himself into the alcove's farthest corner, closed his eyes, and concentrated on being very still. Now that it was aroused, the compulsion did not fade as he had hoped it might. He knew where she was; blindfolded, he could walk to her side, through walls, if he must . . .
“Here is tea,” Guayar said.
He opened his eyes, and received the glass with both hands. The liquid sloshed and rippled unnervingly.
Apparently, Guayar thought so, too, for he sent a sharp look into Daav's face.
“Attend me, please,” he said, as if he were speaking to a child yet in nursery. “You are to remain precisely there; you will not endanger your clan or your lady or yourself by word, action or deed while I am away. Do you swear it?”
Daav took a hard breath. “How long will you be gone?”
Guayar awarded him another sharp look.
“I am going to fetch your brother.”
Daav inclined his head. “On my honor, I will wait here until my brother comes.”
“Excellent.”
Alone, Daav closed his eyes, and felt for the steps that would bring him to that place of quiet peace. He could not concentrate; the imperative to go to her shattered his thought, flooding him with agony.
Biting his lip, he reached for the Rainbow, but the colors slid away from his thought, leaving him bereft and ill.
A light step alerted him. He opened his eyes.