Er Thom was in sapphire and ivory. He stood in the entry to the alcove, the golden light from the main room limning his slim figure, throwing his face into shadow.
“Kareen will be angry if you break that glass,” he commented. “It's part of a set.”
“I'll buy her a new set,” Daav answered, horrified to hear how his voice quavered.
“Best not to call attention,” his brother said, and came forward, walking easy and soft. “Brother, what pains you?”
Daav took a breath, keeping his eyes on Er Thom's.
“I am compelled,” he said.
“Ah.” His brother inclined his head. “I understand.”
Of all the beings alive, Daav thought, his brother would understand. More the pity, that Er Thom's brother had not understood when a similar compulsion had been visited upon him.
“Brother, I owe you a profound apology.”
“Nonsense,” Er Thom said briskly. He slipped the glass from Daav's hand. “Let me fetch you something more fitting to drink.”
“Not wine!” he said sharply.
“Of course not. Come out of the corner, Daav, do.”
Come out of the corner, he thought, blinking back tears; as if it were simple.
. . . and yet, it was Er Thom who asked it; Er Thom, who knew precisely what it would cost.
Daav straightened his shoulders and stepped away from the wall. His knees trembled, but he could stand. His hands were cold, and his lungs ached as if he had been running at the top of his speed for far too long.
“Here you are,” Er Thom said, stepping to his side and handing him a wineglass filled with pale yellow liquid.
Daav shook his head. “No wine,” he repeated. “Brother—”
“Taste it,” Er Thom commanded.
Goaded, he assayed a sip—a small sip—and sputtered a laugh.
“Lemonade?”
“It is perfectly adequate lemonade,” Er Thom said, sipping from his own glass. He wrinkled his nose slightly. “Who could have supposed that Kareen would have it too sweet?”
Daav snorted, then sobered.
“I promised that I would support her here,” he said, without any need to explain who that might be.
“Of course you did, and so you shall,” Er Thom replied, offering his arm. “Come, Brother, let us tour the room.”
* * *
Lady Kareen had detached her from Ilthiria yo'Lanna, precisely as that lady had predicted.
“You are so new among us, Scholar Caylon, that I am persuaded there are many here who are strangers to you. Come! Allow me to make you known to the room.”
Aelliana looked to Lady yo'Lanna, which had not been part of what they had decided between them, but did not, Aelliana thought, do them a disservice. What Lady yo'Lanna felt was not to be known, as she simply waved a negligent hand and issued an airy, “Do allow Lady Kareen to introduce you to those to whom you are not known, Pilot. No one knows her guests so well as the host.”
The first person the host guided her to was an unfamiliar man with a triangular face and severe grey eyebrows. Aelliana's stomach, already unsettled, grew less so.
“Ixin, allow me to make you known to Aelliana Caylon Clan Mizel, Scholar and Pilot. Scholar Caylon, here is Lus Tin ven'Deelin, who has the honor to be Ixin.”
They exchanged bows, each accepting the other's introduction, while Lady Kareen stood back, her face watchful beyond, Aelliana thought, what became even the most careful host.
“Scholar Caylon, how glad I am to meet you!” Lus Tin ven'Deelin said. “My niece had only praise for you and for your course. But—” he looked suddenly conscious—“you have had so many students, perhaps you do not recall—”
“Rema was one of my best students,” Aelliana murmured. “Of course I remember her, and—if a teacher may say it—with great fondness.”
“That is kind of you, Scholar. I will be certain to tell her father of your notice. Also, allow me to add my own thanks for the gift of your genius, and for your care, Scholar.”
“You are too kind,” Aelliana murmured.
“Not at all,” he protested gallantly, and they parted, with bows, he to proceed down the room and she to accompany Lady Kareen.
“How fortunate that you were acquainted with Ixin's niece,” Kareen murmured.
“Trebly fortunate,” Aelliana allowed.
“Ah, now, here is—”
“Is it Pilot Caylon?” a woman's high, sweet voice interrupted Kareen. “How well you are looking, ma'am!”
Aelliana turned and bowed. “Lady Sera, how good it is to meet you again.”
“Had I the least idea you were to be here, I would have offered you my escort. I hope you were not constrained to come alone. Really, this matter inconveniences everyone—don't you think so, Kareen?”
“Certainly, it is an inconvenient situation,” that lady answered smoothly, “and not at all regular.”
“Well! But it is Korval, ma'am, and—aside yourself, of course—irregularity would seem a mark of the House. Pilot Caylon, how are you situated? It would please me to offer you guesting. My house is quite near.”
“Thank you,” Aelliana said, inclining her head. “Lady yo'Lanna kindly allows me to guest with her.”
“Ah, does she? You're well taken care of then.” She tipped her head. “I wonder, Pilot, your jewels. Moonel, I assume?”
“Yes,” Aelliana said, who had not known the artist existed until that very afternoon, when Lady yo'Lanna had brought Daav's gift to her. The Master had used every jewel in the Jump pilot's cluster to make what seemed at first viewing to be a meaningless tangle. Once about her neck, however, it was revealed as a star route, with the Jump points marked out in grey pearl—three Jumps, in fact, to Avontai, and three more, to Staederport.
Lady Sera sighed. “You are very fortunate, ma'am.”
“So I believe as well,” Aelliana murmured, which gained her a sharp look from the lady, and an insincere smile.
“Why there is Etgora!” she said brightly. “I must have word with him before he vanishes into the crowd again. Kareen, you have achieved a crush!” A hasty bow and Lady Sera was away.
“How came you to meet Sera tel'Kai?” Kareen asked as they moved across the crowded floor together.
“We were guests together at Lady yo'Lanna's morning picnic some weeks back,” Aelliana murmured. “She was kind enough then to give me her attention.”
“I see.” Lady Kareen took her arm, as if she were afraid that Aelliana might escape. “I hope you will humor me, Scholar. There is one of my guests that I particularly wished you to meet. I fear that the tel'Kai is correct, however, we have achieved a crush and will scarce be able to find ourselves, much less—Ah! There we have her!”
* * *
One did not, Daav found, grow accustomed so much as one found ways to cope. He coped by allowing Er Thom to steer them from one pleasant acquaintance to another, and by concentrating on seeming precisely as usual. vin'Tael made some comment meant to call into question the melant'i of those who did not immediately acquiesce to the demands of High. He was, however, in his cups, and was easily quelled with a stare.
That his brother's route down the room was modeled on Aelliana's progress, Daav knew by the burning of his nerves. He ignored it, as much as he might, and tried to be content with the occasional glimpse of her face, or her tawny hair, swept back into a deceptively simple knot, revealing her face entirely, and exposing her delicious ears.
Eyla had done well with the dress, he thought. It was a simple thing, with clean lines and matter-of-fact elegance. Beside her, Kareen seemed subtly overdressed.
Moonel's necklace—well, what could be said? The man was a genius. Daav wished he had been able to give it himself, so that he could have seen whether it pleased her. That, alas . . .
“Kareen is on the approach to mischief,” Er Thom murmured. “Shall I go?”
Daav looked out over the room, beyond Aelliana's present location, and drew his breath in sharply.
“Yes, and at once,” he said, releasing Er Thom's arm. “For if I go, I will surely murder her.”