"Can you tell me now," he said softly, hands quick and certain on his controls, "what it is I must help you resolve?"
She swallowed, eyes on the readouts, and it helped, someway, not to have to meet his gaze as she said it.
"I…dream. Frightening dreams. The Healers—send me to face my terror."
There was a small pause. "Which is myself?"
"No." She licked her lips. "I—believe—it is your Tree." She took a breath, fighting tears that came all too easily, these last days. "I resigned my contract on Luda Soldare—I could not sleep, my reactions are—in question. I could not endanger the ship…"
"Of course not," he agreed and it was uncannily comforting, hearing that said in his deep, rough voice. Samiv closed her eyes briefly, opened them again to the necessity of her board.
"One's delm desires the alliance, of course. I—I would ask your leave to—before the lines are signed—to approach the Tree and—and assure myself that it is—only—a tree."
"Ah. But it is not, you know, only a tree." He was silent for a moment, then, "Is your delm aware that you have brought this to me?"
She looked over to him; saw only the side of his face, and the quick, sure hands on the board.
"My delm is—certain—the dreams will abate, once the contract is signed."
"I see." He sighed, and flicked her another of his bold, un-informing looks. "Your board to me, if you will. Thank you. In regard to our present mission—there is a firearm in the pocket beside you. It would be best to check it now, so there are no surprises, if you must use it."
She stared at him, at the eyes that told her nothing. "You think—"
He moved his head from side to side. "We may find that all is well, in which case we will merely be called upon to drink tea and display our manners."
Samiv pulled the gun from its nest. "But you do not expect that."
"I don't," he said gently. "All my life, I've been plagued by hunches. From time to time, one does prove to be merely indigestion." He cast her a glance that seemed rather too full of amusement. "Korval is mad, you know."
Samiv looked down and cracked the gun.
Somewhere in the beatitude of equations, a chime sounded. Sometime later, there was light.
Aelliana detached a portion of her attention from the problem of the retrograde planet and raised heavy arms, stiff fingers groping against—nothing.
The dome of the Learning Module was open. It took a moment to understand the significance of that.
She was free.
Free belonged to the subset of things which are precious beyond rubies.
Aelliana flung herself up, crying out as her body simultaneously reported every bruise she had gained from her encounter with her brother, and the additional information that she was hideously thirsty.
The room reeled. She clawed the staggered data into sense, lurched toward a low table, hefted a heavy vase full of wilting flowers and lurched back to the Learning Module.
Flowers and solution went into the program box, which fizzed, smoked and popped. She raised the vase in both hands, swung it at the control dials. Her first attempt failed to connect; the force of the missed blow kicked her legs out from under her and she went face-first into the carpet.
Gagging, she clawed her way to her knees, got her hands around the vase once more and smashed at the controls.
The blow connected, hard enough to dent the faceplate. Aelliana whimpered, the controls twisting in and out of perspective. She raised the vase, staring at the main dial, forcing herself to see it through the images that flickered and flashed before her mind's eye. The dial steadied and she swung with all her might.
Glass broke, instrumentation screamed, shrilly, and went silent.
Aelliana dropped the vase, hung onto the edge of the Learning Module and lurched to her feet, staring round at a room that spun out of sense, objects pulsating, edges attenuating into nothingness, the image of a star system she had never seen superimposed over everything and she struggled— struggled to recall. Something. Something—important.
It was dim in the room…dark outside the gaping window. Something. Numbers, strung together in the shape of a personal comm code, and a deep, beloved voice, whispering from memory, "Call me, Aelliana, should you have need…"
There was a comm in the study. She knew that. Over—over by the window. Yes. She could see the window, through the pulsating stars. First one foot…
She fell over a table, lost her balance and hit the floor amid an avalanche of bric-a-brac. Panting, she got to her knees, oriented herself and crawled the rest of the way to the window. Once there, she pulled herself upright with the aid of a built in bookcase, put her hand flat on its top surface and inched forward, feeling for the comm.
Her fingers touched cool plastic. She bit her lip. Numbers. Daav's comm code. All she need do was code the number into the comm, here beneath her hand. Daav would help her.
Thought formed. There was danger. Danger in using the house comm. Scouts. Ran Eld. Ran Eld would harm Daav.
She must not call.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I ran co-pilot for Garen 'til she broke her skull, and the ship came to me, complete with a full load of trouble. I was young enough then to believe my skull was too hard to break— opted to run solo, and take care of the troubles as I met them.
I wasn't looking for a co-pilot the night I found Jela, though I was old enough by then to know I could die. What I wanted was a glass and a roll in the blankets—one glass, one roll and an early lift out, headed for the Rim with a load of don't-you-care.
Funny, how even simple plans so often fail to work.
—Excerpted from Cantra yos'Phelium's Log Book
Sinit was curled in the round chair in the front parlor, reading. Chonselta City Library had only today placed on its shelves In Support of the Commonality of Language by Learned Scholar Anne Davis and Sinit had been fortunate enough to engage it.
Language and the roots of language had their places in the larger art of anthropology and she read with absorption. Indeed, she read with so much attention to the work that it was not the first, but the second sounding of the doorchime that roused her.
Blinking, she uncurled, taking care to mark her place, and pull on her houseboots. She straightened her tunic on the way to the entry hall and tucked her hair behind her ears.
The bell sounded once more.
From above-stairs came the noise of a door opening, feet thumping along thin carpeting, and Voni's voice, wondering: "Whoever could be calling this late in the day?"
Sinit opened the front door.
The taller of the two visitors bowed as the porch light came up, cloak shimmering around him: Visitor to the House, Sinit read, and inclined her head.
"Speak."
Black eyes looked down at her from a stark, clever face; his dark hair was pulled back and secured with a silver ribbon, an end of which lay across his shoulder. A twist of silver was in the right ear; there a flash of slick enameled colors as he brought his left hand up in the age-old gesture and showed her.
Tree-and-Dragon.
"I have the honor to be Korval," he said in the Mode of Announcement. He gestured toward his companion. "Pilot Samiv tel'Izak."
Sinit barely attended. Korval. Korval here, in the company of a second pilot, who must surely be another of Aelliana's comrades. Yet, if they were come here—
"But," she blurted, looking from his eyes to the smooth, careful face of his companion. "Aelliana is not to House, sir— pilot. I had thought—surely—she is at—at Solcintra?"
They exchanged a glance, the two on the porch, and Sinit caught her breath, afraid suddenly, though not of them.
"Please," she said, backing away and pulling the door wide. "Please, come in. I—"
"Sinit, whatever are you doing?" Voni demanded peevishly from above. Sinit spun, squinting through the dimness toward the landing.
"These gentles are here to speak with Aelliana, sister. Pray, ask her
to come down."
There was a moment of shocked silence, then the sound of footsteps, going swiftly back up the stairs. Sinit felt her knees go weak.
"She must have come in while I was reading," she said, shakily, and pushed the door closed. "Doubtless, she will be here in a moment to greet you. Would you care to step into the parlor, gentles? Refreshment…"
Upstairs, a door slammed and the footsteps that pounded hastily down were not Aelliana's. Sinit saw the man know that; saw him convey the knowledge to his comrade with the twitch of a well-marked black brow.
"Callers for Aelliana?" Ran Eld's voice was breathless, but, then, Ran Eld was very little used to running. Sinit went two steps back and to the side, instinctively seeking the shadow of the back hallway. She looked up and directly into the eyes of Pilot telTzak. The pilot held her gaze a moment, then turned her head away.
"Who is—ah." The questioner had gained the foyer—a slender and be-ringed young man in a houserobe much too ornate for his surroundings. Samiv frowned as he came into the light. There were marks of paler gold on the man's face, as if he had been scratched and had recent recourse to an autodoc. From the edge of her eye, she saw the halfling doorkeeper fade one more step toward the safety of the hall-shadows.
"I am Nadelm Mizel," the gaudy young man said, inclining his head slightly. "May I know your business, sir, ma'am?"
Korval silently extended his left hand. The Tree-and-Dragon flashed. The nadelm froze, as well he might, then bowed again, ornately.
"The House is honored to receive Korval. How may I serve you?"
Korval did not deign even to incline his head. "I would speak to the House's daughter Aelliana, sir."
"I regret that is not possible," Nadelm Mizel said.
"Ah, I see." Korval said quietly. "In that wise, I will speak with Mizel Herself."
The nadelm spread his hands, rings glittering. "It is my misfortune to disappoint you twice, sir. Mizel is from House."
"That is unfortunate," Korval agreed gravely. "When will she return?"
Relief loosened the haughty shoulders. "Tomorrow midday, by my best information. Shall you call then? Or perhaps Mizel may call upon you?"
"Perhaps we need not embrace either alternative," Korval said, as the elder sister—she who had skittered from the landing—came carefully down the stairs to stand at her nadelm's side. He ignored her.
"When," Korval inquired, "will it be possible to speak with Pilot Scholar Aelliana Caylon?"
The nadelm's lips thinned. "Indeed, sir, Aelliana is the veriest fluttercap! One never knows when she might appear."
In the shadow at the edge of the hallway, the halfling girl jerked—and was still.
Samiv flicked a glance at Korval, but his eyes were all for the nadelm.
"I have never found her thus," he said, meditatively, and the black eyes moved, pinning the elder sister.
"Of your kindness, ma'am, bring me Aelliana, or tell me where I might find her."
The woman fluttered, foolish blue eyes darting this way and that. "Truly, sir, I don't—but it is as Ran Eld says! Aelliana is—she is—" She faltered, staring wildly at her nadelm. "She is—"
"At study," the nadelm said forcefully. "It would be perfectly useless to try and rouse her, sir. Leave your card, and I will see she receives it, when she is sensible again."
Fool, thought Samiv and looked again to the hallway.
The halfling was gone.
" I am prepared to wait," Korval said, fixing the nadelm in his eye, "until Scholar Caylon has completed her study."
The other man's eyes slid aside. "It may be—some time."
"I understand," said Korval. He laced his hands together and moved his eyes to the hall table, his face composed into an expression of gentle meditation.
"See here," Nadelm Mizel said sharply, "you can't just stand in our entrance hall all night—"
The black eyes moved. Gravely, Korval inclined his head.
"Your concern does you credit. I hasten to assure you that it is entirely within my scope to stand in your entrance hall all night—and all of tomorrow, if necessary. However, Pilot tel'Izak would perhaps welcome the use of a chair."
"Thank you," she said, with a composure she was far from feeling. "I am perfectly at my ease."
The nadelm's face tightened in anger. "I do not think you have entirely understood that you are standing within Mizel's own House. I do not—"
"Delm Korval!"
He turned. The halfling who had admitted them to the house skittered to a halt at the mouth of a sidehall, brown eyes wide with terror.
"The Learning Module," she gasped and Daav felt ice down his spine.
"Show me," he said.
She turned and fled back down the hall, he striding after her.
"Halt!" shouted Nadelm Mizel, face suddenly gone pale. "I forbid you to enter any further into Mizel's house!" He flung after Korval and Samiv spun into his path, hand up.
"Hold!"
Snarling, he pushed her aside. She staggered, caught herself and swung before him once more.
"Hold!" she ordered again, gun out and quite steady on his belly. "Proceed at your peril."
The Learning Module was empty, the brain-box shorted, the timer shattered, the master controller smashed. The session dial had stopped at five hours. The concentration slide was pushed to the top.
"It makes no sense," the halfling stuttered. "Why would Aelliana wish a maximum intensity review of the Code?"
Excellent question. And he was very sure that the answer was—Aelliana had not. Daav took a deep breath and ran the Scout's Rainbow quickly, bringing both terror and fury down to manageable levels.
"We will be certain to ask her that," he said to Sinit Caylon's frantic face, "when we find her. Have you looked anywhere else? Her rooms?"
"No, sir."
"Do so," he instructed her. "I will see what else may be found here. Quickly. If she has indeed been in the sleep learner for so long a time, she will be—disoriented."
Brain-burned, he amended to himself as Sinit ran from the room. He swallowed against resurgence of terror and began methodically to search the room.
He lingered for a moment by an overturned gidget table, frowning at the trinkets scattered across the rug, then passed on, satisfying himself that delirium had not moved Aelliana to shelter beneath the furniture.
Eventually, he came to the end of the room. There was a comm on the floor beneath the closed window. He bent to pick the unit up and felt a cool breeze kiss his cheek. Straightening, he moved to the window, put his hand flat on the tall center pane and pushed.
The window swung open, soundless on well-oiled hinges. Daav leaned over the sill, a Scout's trained eye picking out the route she had taken through the meager garden, the marks at one consistent height along the length of the worn wooden fence, where she had likely set her shoulder, for balance, and for orientation. The gate at the bottom of the yard stood open, rocking slightly in the night-breeze.
"Pirate!" Nadelm Mizel shrieked, his face flushed and twisted in rage. "I will see you ruined, outcast and ridiculed! I will—"
Rapid footsteps sounded in the hallway and the halfling flashed by, raced across the foyer without a sideward glance and flung up the stairway, two steps at a time.
"Sinit!" howled the nadelm, but Sinit did not answer.
"Voni!" the nadelm shouted then. "Call the Peacekeepers."
But Voni was sitting on the lower step, head resting on her knees.
Furious, he raised a ring-crusted hand, as if he would strike her. Samiv called his attention to the gun, and he froze, rings glittering—tawdry things for the most part, she saw, all sharp edges and shine—
Except for one. And how had such a tasteless dirt-stomper as Nadelm Mizel come by a Jump-pilot's cluster? she wondered. Such things were priceless—clan treasures, to be locked safe away and brought forth once a twelve-year to marvel upon.
"Samiv." Korval's voice was in her ear. "I have found her trail. She do
es not appear—well," he said, and she felt a thrill of horror run her spine. "We must overtake her before she comes to more harm."
"Yes," she said. "Go you first while I keep this one—"
The front door clanked and swung ponderously open. A round-faced woman in a travel cloak stepped into the foyer— and froze, as she took in the scene before her.
She swept forward then, raising her hand, so that the Clan Ring was plain to see.
"I have the honor," she said icily, fixing Samiv in her eye, "to be Mizel. You will explain yourselves."
It was difficult to talk; words she did not mean to say fell in abundance from her lips white words she desperately wished to say failed to form themselves.
Still, she had made the taxi driver understand—at least, he drove her to the Pilot's Guildhall in Chonselta Port. She did not think she had precisely asked him to do so, but it was— enough.
"The orbit of the retrograde planet will develop a wobble in approximately ten thousand years," she told him as she fumbled the cantra-piece out of her pocket, "and will fail entirely in eleven thousand."
"Then it's nothing either of us need be concerned of," he replied, pressing the coin firmly back into her palm, and bending her ringers over it, one by one. "Plot a straight course for the dorm, now, pilot. Time to sleep it off."
"If you are outside a major gravity well you may ignore the pel'Endra Ratio and proceed," Aelliana said gratefully, fingers locked around the cantra.
"I fully intend to proceed, and as quickly as may be," he said. "Hull's cool, pilot. Out you go."
She managed to disembark and stood trembling on the walkway. The taxi's door began to descend and she said, "Don't tell him you saw me."
The door sealed and the taxi moved slowly away.
Aelliana turned carefully, there being nothing to hold on to here on the walk. She focussed on the doorway, ignoring the random flashes and flarings that had nothing to do with the street before her. Focus established, she moved forward, sliding her feet along the sidewalk, to maintain what balance she might.
Lee, Sharon & Miller, Steve - Liaden Books 1-9 Page 227