by Lee, Sharon
“I'll take care of it, Pilot,” he said solemnly. “Never fear.”
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Twelve
If honor be your clothing, the suit will last a lifetime.
—William Arnot
“Here we are,” Anne Davis said, pausing on the walk before a crystal-laced gate.
Beyond the gate was a tapestry of tiny flowers, shy among glossy green leaves and interwoven with pinpoint lights. At the garden's foot was a door and a large window, half-hidden by an artful rain of crystal and leaf. To Aelliana's eye it looked—expensive. In fact, the whole street looked expensive, hardly a shopping district at all, and certainly not a street where a daughter of Mizel ought to be looking for a few shirts and some serviceable pants. Why, even Voni's most expensive marriage-clothes had been bought ready-made, and adjusted by the in-shop tailor!
“I—your pardon,” she said to her guide, distress plunging her into Liaden, when they had been happily conversing this last hour in Terran.
Anne looked down at her. It seemed to Aelliana, feeling her cheeks warm, that her companion was—amused. Doubtless, she came here often; this shop one of her favorites. It would be instinct, would it not, to bring a new acquaintance in need of clothes to one's favorite shop? And it would be an impertinence to call the judgment of one's host into question. Yet, how much more distressing to find that the guest could not meet her debts?
“I feel,” she said slowly, “that I cannot afford anything that might be on offer here. My needs are modest. Quite modest,” she added, firmly.
Her companion nodded easily.
“I understand perfectly,” she said in Terran. “The first time I was here, I thought I'd melt into a puddle, I was so embarrassed. There I stood, great, hulking gel that I am, wearing not much more than my socks, and not a cash card to hide behind. I couldn't remember when I'd been so unnerved—and all for nothing! By the finish of it, I was almost enjoying myself.”
“Yes, but—” Aelliana ran her thumb across the tips of her fingers; the hand-talk sign for cash.
“No, now, lassie, you mustn't worry about money.” Anne put a gentle hand on Aelliana's shoulder. “You've plenty for this. The delm's orders to me were to find you a 'suitable' wardrobe, since you'd come away without. We can outfit you here with everything you need. They'll measure you, take note of your wants, put it all together and send it! In the end, it's much less tiring than going through half-a-dozen shops, looking for something ready-made that will do. Now.” She tipped her head toward the expensive door. “If you find you don't like the place, after we've gone in, just give me a wink and we'll go elsewhere. Is that fair?”
It did seem a reasonable compromise between her own misgivings and the task given Anne by her delm.
Anne's delm.
Aelliana looked up into the other's face. “Daav doesn't pay for this, does he?” she demanded, shocked at how rudely the question fell on the ear. How did Terrans manage without mode to clarify intent?
Anne, however, appeared to have no trouble understanding that the object of Aelliana's concern was not herself.
“Daav isn't paying for this,” she said calmly, and opened the gate.
It was as Anne had said: measurements were taken with such graceful efficiency that Aelliana scarcely cared about the necessity of disrobing before a stranger. After, she was given an undressing gown almost as nice as the green one Daav had sent to her. Tea and biscuits were served while she answered questions about her preferred colors and fabrics, and her usual occupations.
“My needs are quite simple,” Aelliana explained. “A scholar is expected to show respect for her students; and a pilot, respect for her ship. Beyond that, my occupations are research, and writing.” She glanced up at the frame, where a seemingly endless series of elegant clothing and cloaks faded into and out of existence.
“I fear that I bring no honor to your enterprise,” she said, as a particularly entrancing lady appeared in the frame, wearing a midnight blue dress, its bodice cut low and its full sleeves slashed with silver.
The tailor followed her glance. “That dress would become you extremely, Pilot. You have a good eye.”
“But no need at all for a such a garment,” Aelliana said hastily.
The tailor smiled, made a note on her pad, and inclined her head. “If you will excuse me, I must consult my database. Please, enjoy some more tea. When you are ready, you may dress and find me with Lady yos'Galan in the reviewing room.”
Aelliana frowned as the order scrolled across the low screen. Surely, she did not need a dozen shirts? Beside her, however, Anne Davis inclined her stately head and murmured, “Yes, excellent” and “Very good.”
“A cloak?” Aelliana exclaimed as that item scrolled past, accompanied by Anne's approving murmur. “I have no need of a cloak!”
The tailor extended a hand and froze the list in place.
Anne turned to Aelliana.
“The word I had from the delm was that you were to have a complete wardrobe,” she said mildly. “A complete wardrobe includes at least one cloak.”
Aelliana considered her closely. She seemed, now as she had from the start, to be a sincere and open-mannered lady, intent on doing what she had been bid by her delm. It bore recalling, she told herself, that Anne's delm had also begged Aelliana to allow herself to be guided by the lady's judgment. Anne, more than Aelliana, knew the cost of things from this emporium where she was plainly a valued client. And Anne had assured Aelliana that she could afford what she purchased here, knowing that her purchases would include . . . a cloak.
“Thank you,” she said, slowly. “I am . . . not accustomed to going about in the world.”
“That is entirely understandable,” Anne said, and looked to the patient tailor.
“I approve the suggested items for purchase,” she said easily. “Please send them to Trealla Fantrol.”
“Certainly, Lady.” The tailor inclined her head deeply. “They will be with the pilot no later than tomorrow morning.”
“That is well, then,” Anne said, briskly. “Thank you for your consideration.”
The tailor rose and bowed. “Thank you, Lady—and you, Pilot—for your patronage. You honor my shop.”
Anne came to her feet, rising like a mountain into the day. She inclined her head easily. “Good day to you,” she said, and turned to Aelliana.
“I believe I could eat some lunch,” she said companionably. “Will you join me, Pilot?”
That, Aelliana thought darkly, was surely Daav's hand, but as it happened she was beginning to feel, just a little, hungry.
“I would be pleased to join you,” she said.
* * *
“If your lordship will review the documents, I believe you will find that a very satisfactory arrangement has been constructed with Bindan.” Mr. dea'Gauss passed the first folder across his desk and into Daav's waiting hand. “The Balance with Pilot tel'Izak will, I hope, meet with your approval. It was necessary to liquidate a small personal fund, your lordship; after deducting your lifemate's portion, and funding this Balance.”
“Am I destitute, Mr. dea'Gauss?” Daav asked lightly.
“Indeed, no,” the older man answered, with one of his rare smiles. “Merely a trifle embarrassed.”
“Hah.” Daav inclined his head. “You are far too good to us, Mr. dea'Gauss.”
“Nonsense, your lordship.”
* * *
The restaurant was scarcely a block away, on yet another quietly expensive street, its trim door two shallow steps above the level of the sidewalk. They stepped into a dim vestibule overlooked by a grey-haired woman of elegant bearing, who bowed welcome.
“Lady yos'Galan, how pleasant to see you again! The garden niche for you and your guest?”
“Only if my guest will humor me,” Anne replied. “Allow me to make you known to her—this is Pilot-Scholar Aelliana Caylon. Aelliana, here is Vesa bel'Ulim,
host of the Garden Gate Café.”
“Pilot-Scholar Caylon, you honor my establishment!” Vesa bel'Ulim bowed as host-to-honored-guest. “Please allow me to commend the garden niche to you; it is quite the most secluded table in the house; one may be entirely shielded from the curious there.”
“It is also the most pleasant seat in the house,” Anne added, and awarded the host a small bow. “Or so I believe.”
The other woman smiled. “Not everyone is as discriminating as her ladyship.”
Secluded? She had, Aelliana realized, entirely failed to worry about her supposed notoriety. But—Daav had cared, hadn't he? And apologized for exposing her to gossip. Perhaps Anne's instructions from her delm had included shielding Aelliana—which would also explain the quiet, exclusive tailor shop. And, now that she thought of it, a place away from overwide ears would suit her, very much.
“It sounds quite pleasant,” she said to Anne.
The tall woman smiled and inclined her head to the host. “Your eloquence carries all before it,” she said. “Lead on!”
The garden niche was delightful, Aelliana owned, concealed from the rest of the tables placed among the flowers in the extensive back garden by a screen of trellises, each overgrown with a particular flowering vine.
Aelliana waited until lunch had been served and tasted before making her request, low-voiced, and in Liaden.
“I wonder if I might ask you,” she said hesitantly, “something of a . . . personal nature.” She raised her eyes to Anne's lively, intelligent face. “Regarding your . . . the condition you share with Lord yos'Galan.”
“Our lifemating, you mean,” Anne said, sitting back with an air of satisfaction. “By all means, ask! I have been hoping you would!”
“Did you choose this place for its secluded table, hoping that I might?”
“I had been hoping you would ask,” Anne said. “A secluded table offers opportunity, and the food is wonderful. Do you agree?”
Aelliana smiled. “Yes, I do agree. I had never used to care about food, until—until yesterday. Now, it seems that every meal is more delicious.”
“That may be the effects of the healing,” Anne said softly. “Wounds fester in strange ways.”
“So I begin to discover. I look back upon—only two days ago!—and I am astonished at myself. Mere commonplaces filled me with terror—” She moved a hand, sweeping her digression away. “But that is neither here nor there! What I would like—very much—to know is—Daav had told me, you see, that the Healers discovered us—he and I—as natural lifemates. He said that you and his brother share a like bond, and count it a great happiness.”
“It is the greatest joy of my life. However, at first, it was so . . . strange. You may laugh, but I thought I had quite lost my mind! Now, I look back and hardly know how I bore my life—before. I was so alone. It seems unnatural now—an illness that had been with me for so long I hadn't realized I was unwell, until, suddenly, I was healed.” Anne raised her wine glass and sipped. “Similar, perhaps, to your condition.”
Aelliana leaned forward. “It was not a smooth transition? There were—misunderstandings at first? Difficulties with the—the interface?”
Anne laughed. “Difficulties doesn't begin to say it, lassie!” she exclaimed, in Terran. She continued in Liaden. “It took time, and work, and communication. Understand me, the link with Er Thom is sunk deep into my heart. I think if it were taken away, now, I would die of it. But when we first discovered ourselves—bound, neither of us knew what was happening, nor how to make sense of it. We tried—I tried—to deny it, which only caused more confusion and needless pain.” She nodded at Aelliana's plate.
“Don't ignore your meal, Pilot.”
“No, of course not!” Aelliana picked up her tongs and once again addressed her plate. Long, thin noodles and chunky vegetables in a cream sauce, with spark-spice and lemon. She thought she'd never tasted anything so delightful. Of course, she had thought that of the sandwiches she had shared with Daav yesterday, at Healer Hall.
“Are you and Daav,” Anne Davis murmured after a few moments, “having difficulty with the interface?”
“It seems that we—I—may have . . . misunderstood—and became entangled in—expectation,” Aelliana said slowly. She looked up. “Also, you know, it appears that our link may not be—operating entirely as it should. There was—trauma, long left untended, which may be disrupting . . . ” Her eyes filled abruptly and she looked down, blinking.
“Certainly, together, we can—we can overcome this difficulty,” she whispered.
“Certainly, you can,” Anne said, with a crisp return to Terran. “Neither one of you is an idiot. Now, what do you say to dessert?”
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Thirteen
Each one of a Line shall heed the voice of the thodelm, head of that Line, and give honor to the thodelm's word. Likewise, the thodelm shall heed the voice of the delm, head of the clan entire, and to the delm's word bow low.
Proper behavior is that thodelm decides for Line and delm decides for clan, cherishing between them the melant'i of all.
—Excerpted from the Liaden Code of Proper Conduct
“Well, the book,” Anne said, as she drove them at a sedate and seemly pace down the valley road. “It has its detractors. There's not much support for a common root-tongue—since that would give us a common root. Too many people find that offensive.”
“Yet the scholarship—”
“Oh, well, the scholarship!” Anne laughed. “Jin Del—Scholar yo'Kera, my . . . colleague. He had the proof. But you must have seen the articles in the Scholar Base, written by those who have their own proofs . . . ”
“I had seen that there was some lively discussion,” Aelliana admitted. “Has Scout Linguist pel'Odyare published her results, as yet? It seemed she felt your arguments might be supported.”
“I've been in communication with Master pel'Odyare; we're doing a source match, in our spare time.” Anne threw her an amused glance. “Which is why it's taking us so long.”
Aelliana laughed.
“In the meanwhile, the delm had a notion, though I'm not certain I have the right of it, yet. It seemed he was for sending some of Korval's records along with the book to certain . . . influential thinkers. What came of that, I know not—and it's possible we'll never know. Ah, now! Here we are, home.”
She pulled the car to a stop, and they got out, walking side by side across the lawn toward the patio door.
“Ma!” A white-haired child hurtled across the lawn and into Anne Davis' laughing embrace. She caught him under the arms and swooped him up, spinning in a tight circle. A grey-haired woman stood at a small remove, her hands folded and her face composed. The effortless stillness of her pose called Scout to Aelliana's mind.
Spinning, mother and child shouted with laughter, then the ride was over, and the boy was set on his feet.
“Aelliana,” Anne said breathlessly, “here is my son, Shan yos'Galan.”
She looked down into a thin brown face dominated by eyes of so pale a blue they seemed silver, and bowed as Visitor-to-Child-of-the-House.
“Shan yos'Galan, I am pleased to meet you.”
“Shannie, this is Aelliana Caylon,” Anne said. “Please make your bow and welcome the guest.”
A bow was produced, recognizably Child-of-the-House-to-Visitor. “Welcome to our house, Aelli,” he said exuberantly.
“Aelliana,” his mother corrected.
“No, allow it,” she said. “My youngest sister sometimes called me so.”
“His father tells me he needs to learn the forms. Shannie, what is our guest's name?”
“Aelliana Caylon,” he answered promptly. “Her sister calls her Aelli, and so may I.”
“You, my son, are incorrigible.” She turned her head. “Mrs. Intassi, allow me to make you known to Korval's guest.”
The grey-haired woman came forward, walk
ing with Scout silence and the unmistakable grace of a pilot.
“Aelliana Caylon, I am pleased to meet you,” she said, her voice soft and soothing. She bowed a plain bow of introduction. “I am Mrs. Intassi, the heir's nurse.”
“Mrs. Intassi, I am pleased to meet you,” Aelliana said politely, returning the bow.
“Now, if you will excuse me, Pilot, it is time for this young student to apply himself to his numbers. Unless your ladyship would like him with you?”
“Numbers first,” Anne said promptly.
“Very well.” The nurse gathered Shan in with an glance. “Please make your bow to the guest and take leave of your mother.”
“Bye, Ma!” the young gentleman said in blithe Terran. To Aelliana, he bowed with more intent than mode, and offered, “Until soon, Aelli,” in Liaden.
“Until soon, Shan,” she replied. “Learn your numbers well.”
Nurse and student removed to the house, Anne and Aelliana following more leisurely.
“Do you have you a child?” Anne asked, her voice lazy and unconcerned in the chancy modelessness of Terran.
Aelliana blinked.
“Tiatha is my daughter,” she said. “Fosters she at—with?—Lyderg.”
“Maybe she'd like to come for a visit,” Anne said, as they reached the patio.
Aelliana bit her lip. It was certainly possible that her daughter might like to visit; she could not say. The probability of such a visit, however, was . . . very slim. Lyderg must surely have a controlling interest in Mizel's nursery by now; the temporary arrangement between cousin-houses had long since become permanent. Tiatha would think of herself as a daughter of Clan Lyderg, which had cared for her and educated her, and would in time require duty from her . . .
“Now, would you like tea, or would you rather I show you to your apartment?” Anne asked. “I hope you'll like it; the windows look over the park. Sometimes in the evening, the syka come to graze at the treeline. And the birds! I—”
“Your pardon.” Aelliana stopped. It was hard to breathe. For a heartbeat she was the woman she had been two days ago, her shoulders climbing up toward her ears, and her chest tight with misery.