Mouse and Dragon (36 page)

Clarence snorted. "Oh, I had a hunch, didn't I just!" He shifted the bad leg meaningfully. "Much good it did me."

Daav put his glass down.

"But—"

"Concealed gunman, and me not close enough to my best guess to be able to be
sure
. Nothing wrong with my hearing, at least—" He sent Daav a bright, unreadable look. "A fortunate fall, and no mistake."

Daav let his breath out slowly.

"My crew lit out after, but lost them—that's been the story lately." Clarence shook his head. "I want them off my port, mind you; they're causing no end of trouble."

"I agree," Daav said. "Perhaps we can pool information?"

"That's all right by me. I'll send what I have tomorrow by public courier—acceptable?"

"Perfectly acceptable," Daav said. "Clarence—"

"It's late, you know," the other man interrupted. "Shouldn't you be going home to your wife?"

"I haven't a wife," Daav said, his voice much cooler than he had intended.

Clarence shot him a hard glance. "No, now, that's not the way to go about it! Get yourself home, man, and make it up."

In spite of himself, Daav laughed. "It sounds as if you've been married."

"Happens I was," Clarence said, soberly. "We were too young for it, o'course. I had my second class, doing in-system work, but still, a lot of lonely nights for him and me not there. We worked at it, but then—it was a hard world, and money wasn't easy, even with both of us working like we did. The fees on a pilot's labor—" He glanced down at his glass.

Daav lifted the bottle and poured, adding some more to his own glass.

"Thank you. In any case, I'd flown my hours and was burning for first class, but we'd never afford the buy-in. Come a woman to port offering to pay it all, and hire me when I had my ticket, if I agreed to do her a favor, if you understand me." He shook his head. "He wouldn't stand with that, not at all. It was terrible, that fight, but in the end I chose the ticket, and the doin' of that favor." He drank, deeply.

"And that's how I come to work for Herself as a courier pilot, before she come here to be Boss; before she got transferred and I did . . ." His voice faded out and he looked down at his hand where it rested on his knee.

"And your spouse?" Daav asked, though surely it was no business of his, if Clarence kept a harem.

"Eh?" The other man looked up, eyes distant with memory. "Oh, he left me, and right he was to do it. The doin' of favors, well. Look where it's got me." He shook his head and offered Daav a half-feral grin. "The choices we make, those're what shapes us. You go on home, now, and make it up with her."

"In time," Daav said softly. "Do you have someone here to escort you?"

"Several someones," Clarence assured him. "They're outside."

"Then the first thing I will do is see you safely into their care. After, I will indeed go home."

"If you're of a mind to coddle, then I'm not the one to stop you," Clarence said. He put his glass on the table and rose, gingerly, most of his weight on his uninjured leg.

Daav offered his arm. "Off we go now, two comrades, deep in our cups."

Clarence laughed as they turned toward the door.

"Y'know, I'd rather that was the reason. Gods, I hate being stupid."

"Stupid would have seen you dead," Daav said, opening the door and guiding him into the hall.

"They're watching the shadow door?" he asked, meaning Ongit's discreet—and well-guarded—back exit.

"Yeah.
That
stupid, I'm not."

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
—
Terran Proverb
 

It was early evening when she returned to the Hall, the meeting at Scout Academy having gone longer than she had supposed it would. As had become her custom, she passed through the front parlor of the house itself, in order to collect her mail. The fact that she received mail—invitations, almost exclusively—had at first bemused her. But, after all, she had met a great many people at Lady yo'Lanna's picnic, and it was, as she had learned from Jen, the season to be giving parties.

Today, there were no invitations, but a letter.

Aelliana froze, staring down at the word "dea'Gauss" and her direction, written out with dainty precision:
Aelliana Caylon, in care of the Healers, Chonselta City.

Mouth dry, heartbeat pounding in her ears, she stared down at the envelope. It was impossible to deduce whether it held good news or bad. Her hand moved, as if she would break the seal, but she clenched her fingers tight, and forced her arm to her side.

Not here
. Not where her elation or her despair would discommode the work of two dozen or more.

Slipping the envelope into her sleeve, she went down the hall, meeting no one, which was perhaps a blessing, and stepped out into the garden.

She hesitated again, once she was out-of-house, but forced herself to walk on until she came to the cottage and let herself in.

There, her back against the door, she had the letter out, snapped the seal and let the envelope fall as she unfolded the single sheet.

Mr. dea'Gauss wasted few words on pleasantries. He wrote, so the lines ran, to apprise her of the state of negotiations to date. Mizel remained adamant in its demands, refusing all counteroffers tendered by Korval. They were therefore about to embark upon a new tactic, which held some increased risk. He did not wish to proceed without first soliciting her thoughts on the topic, as she was a principal in the case, and stood to lose the most, should the stratagem fail.

No
, Aelliana thought,
he cannot know what Daav will lose, if Mizel will not be persuaded.

She focused again on the page. In brief, Mr. dea'Gauss proposed to challenge Mizel on the harm done to the lifemate bond, harm taken directly from the actions of Mizel's former nadelm. He would intimate that perhaps a hearing before Council was in order, to determine to whom the bond belonged and what Balance might be owing for its damage.

Aelliana gasped. A bold move, indeed! To shout the fact of their link, and its deformed state, to all the world—yes, small wonder that Mr. dea'Gauss begged that she contact him at any hour of the day or night, using either of the comm numbers he provided, should she have questions or concerns.

He closed kindly, naming himself her most devoted servant, and bidding her to be of good heart.

She put the letter on the desk and went into the kitchen. Deliberately, she put the kettle on, refilled the cat's water bowl and food dish, took down a mug—and froze.

The sound came again. A knock—not Jen's robust rap, but a hesitant, trembling sound scarcely audible over the roiling of the kettle.

Some instinct guided her to the other door, that gave on to the shaded, unbusy street. She opened it, looking out and then down, to the hedge and the gate, and the thin hand on the latch—

"Sinit!"

Tea, the tinned cookies from the very top cabinet, cheese and rye crackers made a very worthy guest tray, Aelliana thought—and a welcome one, too, judging by Sinit's attentions.

"More tea?" Aelliana murmured.

"If you please," Sinit said, indistinctly. She swallowed. "These cookies are very good, Aelliana, you should try one!"

"I've only just had lunch," Aelliana murmured, which was true. Also, she had found of late that sweet things did not please her, which she did not say. Merely, she took a bit of cheese onto a cracker and nibbled it while Sinit disposed of four more cookies.

At last, her sister sighed, and leaned back into the sofa cushions, her teacup gripped tightly in both hands, as if she feared it being snatched away from her.

"Thank you," she said.

"You are very welcome. I'm glad I was at home when you came. Your timing was fortunate; I'd just gotten in from a meeting in Solcintra."

"To visit . . . your ship?" Sinit asked, with what Aelliana supposed was meant for delicacy.

She smiled. "Indeed, no. My ship is berthed at Chonselta Port; I flew it to Solcintra and met with Verisa pel'Quinot, at the Scout Academy. From today's discussions it seems fairly certain that I will be teaching Math for Survival, and an advanced course in general mathematics. The contract must be drawn and reviewed, of course, but—"

"Scout Academy?" Sinit interrupted. "But . . . you'll still be teaching at—at your usual—"

"I resigned my position at Chonselta Tech," Aelliana said gently. "I had determined to set up as a courier service, you see, and the demands of that employment are incompatible with the academic calendar. Scout Academy proposes an intensive course of study that will occupy me and my students fully for a
relumma
, thus leaving three in which to fly." She sipped her tea, considering Sinit's face.

"What news from home?" Aelliana asked, when it seemed that the silence had stretched too long.

Sinit glanced down into her cup. "Voni's married again," she said slowly, "so it's only me and Mother in-house. She keeps to her office, though I see her sometimes at meals. My tutor was dismissed; I've signed in with the Virtual Classroom—accounting courses, mostly, and comparative cultures. I—Oh! What a beautiful cat!"

He did, Aelliana supposed, cut a handsome figure, with his plumed tail held high and his whiskers a-quiver, as if he had no notion that there was anything improper in perusing the cheeses on the guest tray.

"He was rather disordered when he first came, but he has cleaned up nicely," she said. "Extend your finger, slowly—yes. Now wait for a moment."

The cat considered, then stepped forward, daintily avoiding the tray, and bumped his head forcefully against Sinit's finger.

Aelliana laughed. "He wants his head rubbed, I fear."

Sinit willingly performed this service, also skritching his chin when it was presented.

"What is her name?"

"His name is Scout," Aelliana said, leaning forward to put her cup on the table. "He had been called Mouse when he first took up residence, but he has grown so bold that it no longer suits him."

Scout stepped away from the ministering hand, stretched a back foot in salute and jumped to the floor. Sinit did not look up; her voice when she spoke was very quiet, and far too serious for a girl of nearly fifteen Standards.

"Are you coming home, Aelliana?"

She sighed and shook her head. "No."

"Is it because—Mother says it's because Korval makes itself free of everyone's treasures."

An argument that would bear more weight, Aelliana thought sharply, if Mizel had valued her, at all. She sighed.

"It is because I do not love Mizel, nor can I forgive its failures." She spoke carefully, for to say such a thing—such things were not said. To be outside of the clan was to be dead to the clan. Exactly thus had Ran Eld been deprived of life and every human comfort. She looked to her sister, who was slightly pale, though her eyes were steady.

Aelliana inclined her head. "In addition, Daav yos'Phelium and I are—natural lifemates, bound soul to soul. That Mizel conspires to separate us does not bring the clan nearer to my heart."

"Mizel is . . . not well," Sinit said seriously. "I asked if she should have the Healers, for it seemed—it seems that she grieves too much, and she—" Tears rose in the brown eyes. "She struck me, Aelliana."

She took Sinit's hand, speechless.

"The reason I set myself to accounting is that—I looked in the House records—"

Aelliana stared. "Sinit!"

"I had to know! Mother—the delm—I scarcely know who! She speaks of merging with Lydberg and she swears that you are the clan's only hope of survival, and I know that you do not—cannot—come back to us, Aelliana! But surely there is something—" Tears started down the pale face; Sinit's fingers gripped her so tightly that Aelliana was certain she would have bruises.

"I
do
love Mizel and I don't wish to see us fail! We need to reclaim the nursery and—and bring ourselves into profit. If I become an accountant, I will know how to do these things; I will have access to the Accountants Guild's mentoring programs and—and Mother won't say that I'm a useless drain on the clan . . ." she finished in a whisper.

Aelliana moved, wrapping her sister into a hug.

"You are
not
useless," she said fiercely. "You are Mizel's last and best hope."

Sinit sniffled. "I don't—"

"What would you be willing to do," Aelliana interrupted, "in order to salvage Mizel? Would you be willing to—to—" An idea was coming into shape. She didn't have all of it, yet, but she had . . . something. She could taste it, like the solution to a knotty math problem.

"Would you be willing to be fostered into a clan that might teach you about management and how to forge alliances?"

"Yes!" Sinit pushed against Aelliana's embrace, and sat up, her face set and her brown eyes fierce. "Aelliana, I would do
any
thing within my power." She blinked.

"Your face is—Aelliana, what are you planning?"

"I don't quite know myself," she admitted. "I need to think."

"I—" Sinit looked up. "Gods, the time! Aelliana—"

Aelliana looked at the clock, astonished at its report.

"Come," she said, rising and pulling Sinit up with her. "We'll catch a cab."

The cab was easily caught, but Sinit would not allow her escort.

"If Mother sees you, she will compel you to come in-House," Sinit whispered. "You dare not risk it. I will be quite safe."

From this position she would not be moved, and at last, not without relief, Aelliana let her go, first paying the fare to Raingleam Street and a bonus, for the driver's trouble.

She watched the taxi out of sight, then slowly went back inside.

To think.

* * *

Jen Sar Kiladi had been particularly prolific these last weeks. It seemed the man thrived at night. Who would have known?

The most recent paper polished to a high gloss, the professor's attention wandered and himself after it, leaving Daav yos'Phelium yawning in his chair.

It was very late—or very early, depending, he supposed, on whether one was still awake or just risen. He—was still awake, and had really ought to engage the Rainbow in the service of getting some sleep.