Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

by Lee, Sharon

  “Now, have I ever tried for decorum?” Daav said musingly, looking down at her from snapping black eyes. “I must have done, mustn't I? Once or twice?”

  “Surely, Korval must be decorous!” she returned.

  He moved his shoulders. “Korval of course must be decorous, lest society fail. Daav rarely has such calls upon him. However, you are correct! One's brother has endured an unsettling morning, and very likely a less-than-amusing afternoon. He deserves better than to be treated to the spectacle of the two of us, with the dust of the port—and half the valley!—on us and our hair in matching mares' nests.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “There ought to be a comb or three in the drawer under your seat.”

  There were, she found, exactly three—disposables, each sealed into a transparent envelope. She handed him one and took another for herself, reaching behind her head to open the silver clasp.

  “Ouch!” Biting her lip, she worked the comb carefully through the knotted mass of her hair, and after a time was able to once again snap the hair clasp into place.

  “Behold us,” Daav said gaily as she slipped the comb into the pocket of her jacket, “respectable!”

  “If your brother's day has been distressing,” Aelliana said, frowning up at him, “ought we to disturb him with a stranger's affairs?”

  “We ought by all means make him aware of the clan's obligations, and immediately. He stands as nadelm, recall. If aught were to happen to me, it is Er Thom who will continue those arrangements guaranteed by Korval. You may be sure he would ring a peal over me the like of which you have never heard if I failed to acquaint him with one who stands within Korval's protection.”

  Aelliana shivered, suddenly cold in the warm afternoon. If aught were to happen to me . . . So blithely said, and yet—

  “Aelliana?”

  Nothing, she told herself firmly, is going to happen to Daav. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. “I beg your pardon,” she said.

  He frowned slightly. “I'm a brute,” he said comprehensively. “Pulling you from here to there with no time to rest. It will be quickly done here, I swear it, and gently, too. Er Thom at least has address.”

  He opened his door. After a moment, Aelliana opened hers, and stood out onto the 'crete apron.

  Before her, the grass stretched like blue-green velvet from apron's edge to a pleasant patio agreeably populated with chairs and small tables. Behind them, tall glass doors stood open to the day, the house stretching above and beyond . . .

  She stared, suddenly understanding the scope of the building before her. This was no humble thing such as Mizel's house on Raingleam Street. This was house writ large, bold, and proud—and if she had not been told “house” she might instead have supposed it to be a—a mercantile center, or a building attached to an university, or—

  “Aelliana?” His hand came lightly to rest upon her shoulder; she felt concern, and a tang of self-anger.

  “Your brother lives here?” she demanded. “It is—how many? In your clan?”

  "Ah. You must understand that Trealla Fantrol is Korval's showpiece. Our mother taught that, in the past, it was also a fortress, guarding the mouth of our valley, and denying those with . . . unfriendly intent . . . access to Jelaza Kazone—yos'Phelium's house, you know—which is much less grand, and quite a bit older.

  “As to how many we are—very few, in these days. We have never been a large clan, even at our most fulsome.”

  “I see.” She took a breath, recalling the calming spin of color Daav had named the Rainbow. Carefully, she called a prism to mind, one hue after the other—but the exercise failed to calm her.

  “I suggest that we press on, Pilot,” Daav said softly. “I engage that Er Thom will not eat you. He will make his bow, fix your face in his memory, and doubtless say something pretty and pleasant. We need not even stop for a cup of tea, if you would rather.”

  He was, Aelliana realized with a start, soothing the woman she had been yesterday. The woman she was today—she was startled, and uneasily aware that her manners were not High, but she was not afraid.

  “I am not frightened,” she said, firmly. “I agree that it is best to continue—and even to drink a cup of tea. It would be very bad of me, as one who has accepted Korval's protection, to disdain the nadelm's hospitality.”

  A flicker of brightness, gone before she could identify it, as Daav took his hand from her shoulder and moved across the lawn with his long, noiseless stride.

  I am not, Aelliana told herself, following, frightened.

  The room beyond the patio was small—perhaps a family parlor, with comfortably shabby chairs and a litter of books and projects in process adorning various side tables. Near the open doors, a smaller chair sat next to a larger, both angled away from the garage. A fleece throw was draped, haphazard, across the back of the larger chair. In the smaller sat a stuffed animal with large round ears and rounder blue eyes, apparently left to enjoy the view.

  Daav moved quickly through the room to the hallway beyond, unhesitatingly turning left, as silent on the polished wooden floor as he had been across carpet and grass.

  Aelliana sighed. Every Scout she knew had the knack of silent movement; perhaps she would ask one of them to teach her. For this afternoon, however, she contented herself with walking as lightly as she might, and taking care not to bump into the occasional artfully placed flower table or art piece.

  Ahead of her, Daav paused at the intersection of halls, head tipped as if he were listening to the house.

  “Perhaps if we called out?” Aelliana said, coming up to stand just a step behind his shoulder.

  “No need—he will be in his office. I left a bit of a tangle in his lap, I fear.”

  “Then perhaps I should lead,” she suggested, and heard him chuckle.

  “Perhaps you should! Only a step more and we are arrived.” She felt his glance settle on her and looked up to meet his eyes.

  “How do you fare, Pilot?”

  “It has been a full day, but I believe that I fare well enough,” she said, truthfully. “The sleep that the Healers put on me was—most amazingly restorative.”

  “Good.” He smiled. “We play on?”

  “We play on.”

  Down the hall they went. Daav put his hand on the knob of the first door on the left and pushed it wide.

  For a heartbeat, she thought that he had guided them to the wrong room. Surely, the bright-haired man with the stern, beautiful face could not be Daav's brother!

  Then he smiled and rose from behind the desk, his hands held out in welcome.

  “So, you are returned at last!” he exclaimed in the Low Tongue. “I had begun to fear that you had left me to solve all, forevermore!”

  Daav laughed and swept forward, catching Aelliana's hand and bringing her with him.

  “I am twelve times a wretch, but even I must pause at such perfidy! Has it been dreadful for you, darling?”

  “Not unremittingly,” the other said, coming around the desk. He was slim, and studied, and moved with a pilot's effortless grace. “I have entertained several people on the delm's behalf, though not everyone I had expected, and learned some things which will perhaps be useful. At the moment, we are in a lull. Anne has gone to her office at university, and I had thought to catch up on some matters of use to yos'Galan.”

  “And now I interrupt you yet again! It will be as quick as can be, then I to home, and duty!”

  “There's no need to rush away,” Er Thom said. His tones were soft and sweet, entirely unlike Daav's deep, rough voice. “Make me known to your guest, do.”

  “Not only a wretch, but a unmannered wretch!”

  Daav brought her forward, and she felt affection warming her. “Aelliana, here is my brother Er Thom, Thodelm of yos'Galan and heir to Korval. Brother—I show you Aelliana Caylon, scholar and pilot, reviser of the ven'Tura Tables. As of this day, she stands enclosed by Korval's protection, until such time as she shall call enough.”

  Aell
iana bowed, choosing the mode of adult-to-adult upon finding herself uncertain of the hand-motion for the proper forming of greeting-a-thodelm-not-one's-own.

  “Er Thom yos'Galan, I am pleased to meet you,” she said, and even though she was not afraid, her voice trembled, just a little.

  Violet eyes considered her gravely, and it seemed to her that he was indeed committing her face to memory. He answered her bow precisely.

  “Aelliana Caylon, I am very pleased to meet you. You may rest easy in our care.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “No,” he answered surprisingly. “It is I who thanks you, Pilot, from the bottom of my heart.”

  Before she could react to this, he turned again to Daav.

  “If you and the pilot are at liberty, I would like to share some of what I have—”

  There was a sudden clatter in the hall beyond, footsteps—a quiet pair and a noisier. Daav exchanged a wild look with his brother, caught Aelliana's hand and brought her to the right just as a regal-looking gentleman in green-and-gold livery appeared in the doorway.

  “The Right Noble Lady Kareen yos'Phelium,” he announced, too loudly for the circumstances, and stepped nimbly to the left.

  Er Thom yos'Galan inclined his head. “Thank you, Mr. pak'Ora,” he said, as serene as if he did not hear that second pair of footsteps, stamping angrily down his fine wooden hall.

  The regal gentleman bowed slightly, turned, and paused to allow the owner of the footsteps by.

  Into the office she came, her steps only somewhat muffled by the rug. That she was neither a pilot nor a Scout was immediately obvious. Despite this, Aelliana owned, she was a handsome woman, her dark hair a silky cap adorning a shapely head, and bright stones glittering in pretty ears. Her face was at the moment marred by a monumental frown, well-marked brows pulled tight, and lips thin in anger.

  “Good afternoon, cousin,” Er Thom yos'Galan said, gentle-voiced, and speaking the Low Tongue, as one did with kin. “I had expected you earlier in the day.”

  “Had you, indeed? I am desolate that the demands of my duty to Liad put me in a closed meeting all of yesterday and half of today.” The lady's voice was sharp, her choice of mode High—Elder-Kin-to-Junior. “It was only after lunch that I was at leisure to catch up the world, and then what should I do but first call upon the delm.”

  Her frown increased, and she turned her head suddenly, sharp gaze going past Aelliana and resting—on Daav.

  “You!” she snapped, and that was a mode Aelliana knew well—Superior-to-Inferior.

  “Indeed, I.” Daav agreed, also in the Low Tongue.

  “I suppose that it should not surprise me to find you here, sheltering behind your cha'leket, as you have always done! Of course it is nothing to you, that the clan dances on the brink of ruin, as long as you have had your diversion! And such a grand diversion it was, with your hand all over it, leaving no doubt in the minds of the vulgar. I say nothing of the shattered contract with Bindan—you have made it plain in the past that you intend to steer Korval into ruin, and will hear no advice from your elders! But one would think that you—even you!—would understand the impropriety, to say nothing of the cost, of ransacking a clanhouse, holding the nadelm at gunpoint, subverting the youth—”

  Aelliana flushed hot. “You will not hold Daav to account for that!” she snapped, and there was the High Tongue come to her, after all: Pilot-to-Passenger.

  Wondering dark eyes turned her way.

  “I beg your pardon?” The lady's words fair glittered with ice.

  “I said,” Aelliana repeated, somewhat more temperately, “that you will not hold Daav to account for insisting upon entry into Mizel's House, nor his employment of those willing to aid him. The muddle was of my making, and it is my shame that it fell to him to put all right for me! If you will cast blame, Balance and doom, then I am your proper target, ma'am! Daav did only as he ought!”

  The room was utterly silent. The dark-haired lady did not go so far as to gape, though she was certainly taken aback. As who would not be, Aelliana thought, her hands suddenly cold, addressed thus heatedly by a stranger in the house of a kinsman? From the side of her eye, she saw Er Thom yos'Galan, lips parted; an expression of startled delight illuminating his face.

  “Who,” the lady asked, in the mode between strangers, “are you?”

  Aelliana swallowed, and brought her chin up.

  “Forgive me, cousin, I am remiss!” Daav's brother moved forward, slipping his hand gently under Aelliana's elbow. “Allow me, please, to present to you Aelliana Caylon Clan Mizel, the foremost practitioner of mathematics on the planet today! She and my brother have only just returned from Chonselta. Scholar Caylon honors us by resting in our care.” He pressed her elbow gently, as if, Aelliana thought, encouraging her to be of good heart.

  “Scholar Caylon, I make you known to my cousin, Daav's sister, Kareen yos'Phelium Clan Korval. You will of course know of her ongoing work with the Code. Now, please,” he said to Aelliana, “allow me to make amends for my dreadful manners, and offer you a cup of tea. I hear from my brother that you have endured much these last hours . . . ” He turned her away from Lady Kareen, who stood with her glare in place, and led her to the tea table by the cold hearth.

  “Daav, ring for Mr. pak'Ora, will you?” Er Thom called over his shoulder. “We'll want fresh tea.” He saw Aelliana situated in a chair and smiled down at her. “Will you have something to eat?”

  “I thank you, but—no. However, tea would be most welcome.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” he murmured, his smile widening. “Well played, Pilot,” he added, for her ears alone.

  Mr. pak'Ora, arrived at the door, received his orders and departed, promising tea on the instant. Er Thom yos'Galan turned to address the other lady.

  “Kareen? Will you take tea?”

  There was a small hesitation before she moved forward. “Certainly, cousin. Why should we not take tea while the clan crumbles about us? Already, I apprehend, we are a laughingstock, our credit fallen on the Exchange. Tea will be pleasant, as we watch all that we once were fall and burn.” She seated herself across the table from Aelliana and inclined her head. “Don't you agree, Pilot-Scholar Caylon?”

  “Certainly,” Aelliana said, warily, “tea is often pleasant. It is very good of Thodelm yos'Galan to offer such kindness to a stranger.”

  “No, you must acquit him,” the lady said. “It is not kindness, but yet another diversion.”

  “Diversion is also welcome,” Aelliana answered, meeting the other's eyes firmly, “and so a further kindness.”

  “Own yourself bested, sister,” Daav said, folding his lanky self into the chair at Aelliana's right hand.

  She turned slightly, the better to see him, and barely restrained herself from snatching his hand as she put her question.

  “Van'chela, is this true? Has your clan taken so much harm?”

  “No, nothing so dire,” he assured her, smiling. “It's merely Kareen's humor.”

  “My humor?” the lady inquired, raising shapely eyebrows.

  Daav tipped his head, as if considering her question. “It is either your humor or your distemper, sister,” he said at last, and with less goodwill than Aelliana had expected. “Choose wisely.”

  “Ah, the tea.” Er Thom yos'Galan slipped into the chair at Aelliana's left. “Thank you, Mr. pak'Ora.”

  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “Not at the moment, I think.”

  “Thank you, sir,” the butler said, and departed, closing the door softly behind him.

  Er Thom yos'Galan poured, handing the first cup to Aelliana, the second to Daav, the third to Kareen yos'Phelium, keeping the fourth for himself.

  “Speaking to your point, cousin,” he said, after he had sipped his tea, “I had the felicity of a visit from the Master of the Accountants Guild today. He had gone first to Jelaza Kazone, and on discovering the delm away, came to me.” He looked to Aelliana and inclined his
head gravely. “Forgive me if I touch upon a painful subject, Scholar. In sum, it would appear that the departure of your former kinsman has uncovered a mystery that has for several years puzzled the master accountants. They wish me to convey to Korval their gratitude.”

  “Pray, what mystery is this?” inquired Daav's sister, her tone almost civil.

  Er Thom turned to face her.

  “It would seem that certain small- to mid-sized endeavors held by clans of modest means have come on the market unexpectedly over the last while, to be sold for absurdly low cash amounts. It was thought at first that these sales were to ameliorate cash-flow difficulties, but it rarely seemed to benefit the clans in question at all. Indeed, if anything, they came to be less robust than before the sale.”

  “Bad business sense is hardly a mystery,” Lady Kareen pointed out.

  “True. However, today, in the new hour of the morning, a man approached the Mid Port office of the Accountants Guild, demanding payment of a note, signed by one Ran Eld Caylon, ceding a half-share in Sood'ae Leather Works, or cash equivalent, to the bearer, one San bel'Fasin. The master at the desk placed Master bel'Fasin into a waiting room while she called Mizel, and the port proctors. Mizel reported that Ran Eld Caylon was clanless; his signature without worth. The Six Masters then questioned San bel'Fasin, closely, and with the assistance of the proctors. In short, it appears that this person is the key to an entire enterprise of fraud.” He inclined his head.

  “Once again, Korval is shown to be a champion of Liad.”

  Aelliana sipped her tea, her brain racing. Ran Eld had signed a note—signed a note after he had been made clanless, ceding half the worth of Mizel's most profitable venture to a—Port tough? It made no sense. Unless . . .

  She put the teacup back into its saucer with an unsteady clatter. Unless he had been at peril of his life and snatched at any straw, in order to preserve himself?

  “Well, younger brother!” Lady Kareen said, not sounding pleased at all, “Your luck holds firm.”

  “So it would seem,” Daav answered cordially. “Who could have looked for such good fortune?”