Mouse and Dragon

Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

Chapter Sixteen

Be aware of those actions undertaken in your name . . .

—From the Liaden Code of Proper Conduct

“This is quite sudden, Scholar.” Director Barq went so far as to frown into the screen. “I wonder if you have given any thought to the impact of your decision upon Chonselta Technical College.”

As it happened, she had, and it grieved her. She had taught mathematics at Chonselta Tech for seven Standards, and the advance seminar in practical mathematics, that her Scout pupils had called Math for Survival, for five. Surely, she owed Chonselta Tech much, for having hired her, trembling and timid as she had been; and for having been for so many years a refuge and a sanctuary.

And, yet, she told herself now, as she had told herself several times during a solitary, wakeful night—one had other tasks before one; an entire new life to explore. She had given Chonselta Tech fair measure.

“I regret the inconvenience; I appreciate that my decision seems sudden,” she told Director Barq. Surely it would seem so to him; it having been her custom for so many years to simply reinitial her contract at the beginning of the Long Interval. This year she had put off that simple custom while she considered requesting a reduced teaching schedule, so that she might spend more time with her ship, learning that galaxy of practical detail necessary to a working pilot.

“I believe, however,” she continued, in the face of the director's unremitting frown, “that there are many qualified to teach the mid-level courses. The seminar, of course—”

“Of course,” he interrupted, and threw up a hand, as would one bested in negotiation. “I had meant to bring this to your attention previously, Scholar, but our paths scarcely crossed this last term. I am dismayed that I must tell you that the college failed to accurately record your ascent to the next level of compensation at the end of last school year—seven Standards with us, and all of them to our honor! Of course, we will be transferring the balance owing to your account immediately. Also, I think you will be very pleased with your bonus this semester.”

Aelliana stared, a sudden and not-entirely-welcome thought forming at the back of her mind.

She had been accustomed to receiving a small bonus, most semesters, which reflected the continued success of the advanced seminar. However, she could not immediately recall that she had ever received an increase in her general compensation. Seven Standards, and she had been so grateful for a huddling place; a door to which Ran Eld did not hold a key; a place to think, and study, and write . . .

“Certainly,” she said slowly, hating the thought that she had been cheated; hated the woman she had been, who had been so poor a thing that she was so easily cheated.

“Certainly,” she said again, to Director Barq's suddenly careful face, “if there has been an error, it should be rectified. I regret, however, that I remain unable to continue my contract with Chonselta Technical College. Necessity . . . necessity exists.”

That was true, she thought defiantly. And if it was her own necessity and none of clan or kin, yet it did exist.

“I will come later today to remove my belongings from my office,” she said. “If there are—separation papers that the college requires me to sign, I will be pleased to endorse them then.”

Director Barq's face closed; he inclined his head.

“Of course, Scholar.”

“Good-day, Director,” she said sadly, and touched the disconnect.

She sat back in her chair, looking out over the morning garden.

You are as a mouse among raptors, Lady Kareen reminded her from memory.

Aelliana sniffed, and shook her head.

“I will learn better,” she told the room at large.

A chime sounded, as if to underline her determination. Aelliana frowned, then rose to go hastily across the room.

The door slid open to reveal Mr. pel'Kana, a sizable envelope in his hand.

“This has just come for you, Pilot.”

“Thank you,” she said, receiving it. She glanced down; but all she saw was her own name, written out in elegant green ink.

“It was delivered from the office of Mr. dea'Gauss,” Mr. pel'Kana murmured.

“I thank you,” Aelliana said, not much enlightened. Surely, she had planned to call upon Mr. dea'Gauss today. Could he have anticipated her request? Or was this Daav's hand once more? She looked up to the waiting butler.

“Mr. pel'Kana, I will be driving into the city soon. Could you tell me where I might find . . . the car lent to my use?”

He inclined his head. “I will have your car brought 'round, Pilot. When do you anticipate leaving?”

“I—” She glanced at the envelope, then over to the clock. “In half a glass?” she asked.

“Certainly. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment. I thank you.”

“Very good.” He bowed and departed, walking stately down the hall.

The letter covering the packet gracefully directed her to review the enclosed account transfer forms, sign each at the place indicated, and return two sets of the three to the office of dea'Gauss, in Solcintra, address appended. She could, she learned, assign a password to each account and manage them herself, or she could assign management, in whole or in part, to Mr. dea'Gauss and his staff. Had she any questions, she was invited, most warmly, to contact him.

Aelliana flipped the letter over and riffled the first clipped set of papers, located an accounts list, with balances, among the appendices, and ran an expert's eye down the page.

Carefully, she pulled out the desk chair, and, carefully, sat.

She flipped back to the first page, and was very soon in possession of the fact that certain monies (itemized list in Appendix A) were transferred from Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval to Aelliana Caylon Clan Mizel to be hers fully, without restraint, and without condition, to use wholly as she judged fit.

There was more, language specifying that the grant was to herself personally, and a great deal of what she judged to be mere formality, in order to sanctify the contract in the eyes of another qe'andra and the Accountants Guild.

What there was not, was any explanation of why Daav should be giving her—her personally—so very much money, not to mention what appeared to be a small house or holding in the Hayzin Mountains.

Aelliana reassembled the papers and slid them back into their envelope with the letter from Mr. dea'Gauss covering all, exactly as it had been. She could not possibly accept so much—not from Daav. If this was some High House notion of seeing to her comfort—

She bit her lip, recalling Anne's reassurance that she could afford that exclusive, expensive shop. Daav hadn't paid for her clothes, no. He had merely given her the means to do so.

Well, she thought, pressing the seal on the envelope and rising from her chair, Mr. dea'Gauss had invited her to consult him with any question. How convenient, that she had already determined to call upon him with other business.

* * *

Daav closed the door behind him, and sealed it before going deeper into the clan's closest-held library. Here were shelf after shelf of leather-bound volumes—Korval's Diaries, including the stained and rumpled book that had belonged to the very Founder, Grandmother Cantra, who had first lain down the rules of the clan.

Today, he thought, he need not go . . . quite so far back. He stepped up to a shelf holding more modern, less abused, volumes and ran his fingers down the leathered spines . . .

* * *

“May I,” Aelliana said to the young man at the desk, “speak with Mr. dea'Gauss?”

The young man inclined his head, respectful, but not encouraging.

“Have you an appointment, Pilot?”

Aelliana's stomach sank. A gentleman so highly placed—of course she ought to have made an appointment, rather than rushing in as if—as if this fine office in Solcintra's business district was the Binjali Repair Shop, and someone of the regular crew certain to be about to aid her.

“I beg your pardon,” she said to the young man. “It did not occur to me to do so. Perhaps I might make one with you?”

“Certainly,” he said, his fingers touching the keys set into the desktop. “Your name, please?”

“Aelliana Caylon.”

The young man's busy fingers paused.

“Ah . . . ”

“I understand that there is a great deal of demand upon his time,” Aelliana began—and paused when he raised his hand.

“Pray forgive me, Pilot Caylon. I will inform Mr. dea'Gauss of your presence. Please, allow Ms. pen'Dela to guide you to one of the private parlors.”

He must have touched a key, for here came a young woman who scarcely looked past halfling, dressed in sober business clothes, her face formal, and her bow precise.

“Pilot Caylon, please. Follow me.”

“I—” Aelliana looked back to the young man at the desk. “Pray do not call Mr. dea'Gauss from his duties for me. Indeed, you are quite correct; I ought to come at his convenience.”

The young man inclined his head.

“My instructions are that Mr. dea'Gauss will see Aelliana Caylon,” he said.

“If the pilot will come?” Ms. pen'Dela added in a sweet, high voice.

Aelliana bit her lip, then inclined her head and followed the young lady down the hallway and into a small, graciously appointed parlor.

“There is tea,” her guide said, showing her the buffet laid with cups and a small plate of pastries. “If you would prefer wine . . . ”

“Thank you, tea is all that I require,” Aelliana said hastily.

Ms. pen'Dela bowed.

“Certainly, Pilot. Mr. dea'Gauss should be with you very soon. In the meanwhile, if there is anything at all that you require, only press this button—” She placed her hand briefly next to the button in question, discreetly set into the top of the buffet. “—and someone will come.”

“Thank you,” Aelliana said again. “I am quite content.”

Her guide bowed and departed. A curtain woven with the sign of the Accountants Guild fell across the doorway, granting privacy as Aelliana sank into one of the soft chairs grouped agreeably about a small table.

She took a breath, straightened her spine, placed the envelope on her lap, and folded her hands atop it. Mr dea'Gauss had been very kind to her during their previous meeting, she told herself. She would explain her error, and beg his pardon—surely he would accept that? Then, she would make a proper appointment, and—

The curtain across the doorway parted to admit a man of very upright posture, wearing a bronze vest over dark shirt and trousers.

Aelliana came to her feet and bowed low.

“Mr. dea'Gauss, please forgive this unseemly intrusion into your day.”

There was a pause, growing rather longer than courtesy permitted. She straightened, and met a pair of speculative brown eyes.

“You do not intrude, my lady,” he said, his voice soothing in the mode of servant to lord. “I see that you have the transfer packet. Please, allow me to take you to my office. We may speak confidentially there.”

Aelliana swallowed. Well, and if he would see her, she thought, then he would. She would try to keep her requests and her questions to the point and disrupt him as little as possible.

“Thank you,” she said, and took the arm that he offered.

“Only a step down the hall,” he murmured, keeping yet to that mistaken mode, “and a short ride on the lift. It is a fine day, and the views from the windows are quite pleasant.”

It was, Aelliana admitted some time later, a worthy view: Most of Solcintra City could be seen from the windows of Mr. dea'Gauss' office, an orderly gridwork of architecture and parkland. Indeed, if one took the right angle, one could see the Tower in Solcintra Port, nearly colorless against the bright sky.

“From the rear windows one may see Korval's tree.” Mr. dea'Gauss gestured toward an panel of opaqued windows. “Alas, this is not the best hour for such a viewing.” He inclined his head, and continued, somewhat more briskly, “Now, my Lady, what task may I be honored to perform for you?”

She hesitated. It was an impertinence to call another adult's understanding of melant'i into question. However, it was . . . dishonorable to claim a place higher than where one stood.

“I fear that, in my ignorance, I may have misled you, sir,” she said carefully in adult-to-adult. “I am the second daughter of the House, and Mizel—Mizel does not stand High. Scholar will do for me, or Pilot; each is a melant'i that I hold in my own right. I have, for a variety of reasons, accepted the protection of Clan Korval.” She raised her hand to touch the pin in the collar of her jacket. “But I am not of Clan Korval.”

“I see.” Mr. dea'Gauss tipped his head, and moved a hand, indicating that she walk with him to the table where she had left the envelope. “Perhaps, then, Pilot,” he said in adult-to-adult, “we ought to discuss your melant'i more fully. But first—” He used his chin to point at the worktable—“you have some questions regarding the transfer paperwork?”

“Yes,” she said, pausing by a chair to allow him to seat himself first, as was appropriate, given their relative ranks. “And also, I have a—task for you, if you are willing to undertake it. Understand, I have no good idea of how much work is involved, so you must not hold shy of telling me if it will not do.”

“That I will not, Pilot,” he said calmly. He paused, and appeared to consider her for a moment before bowing slightly. “Allow me to fetch tea,” he said smoothly. “Pray, make yourself at ease; I will not be a moment.”

He moved toward the back corner of the room, where a buffet like the one in the reception parlor stood. Aelliana sat down, folded her hands on the tabletop, and glanced about.

Mr. dea'Gauss stood high, indeed, she thought, to have gained the right to such an office. A working desk holding three screens and several piles of hard copy occupied a windowed niche on the left-hand wall; the table at which she sat was one of three such placed about the room. The floor was old wood, with bright carpets here and there, like flowering islands adrift upon a dark sea.

“Now, we may talk comfortably,” Mr. dea'Gauss said, setting a tray on the table. He poured for them, deft and neat, before taking the chair at her left hand.

“Where shall we begin, Pilot? I am wholly at your disposal.”

He did certainly seem to be so, Aelliana acknowledged. She sipped her tea—and sipped again in appreciation—before putting the cup aside.

“The task for which I would like to commission your consideration,” she said carefully, “is . . . ” She leaned forward, looking directly into his face.

“I own a Class A Jump—Ride the Luck—which is berthed at Binjali's Yard. It is—my intention to enter the lists as a courier pilot. I understand that there is paperwork—licenses to obtain, guarantees to be posted—in order to best serve and protect ship and crew along the . . . beyond Liaden space.”

“You wish me to bring that paperwork together for you? That is perfectly within my scope, Pilot.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a notepad. Tapping the device on, he glanced at her. “A few questions if you will.”

“Certainly.”

“Good—when do you propose to put your ship to work beyond Liad?”

“As soon as may be,” she answered. “Much depends upon my copilot, who has some matters to put in order before he is cleared to fly.”

Mr. dea'Gauss tapped a note onto the pad. “What is your copilot's name?”

“Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval.”

She thought his fingers missed a beat; if so, he recovered so rapidly that she could not be entirely certain.

“Of course. I have Pilot yos'Phelium's particulars on file, so there is no need for you to detail those. Ride the Luck is of course registered with the Guild?”

“Yes. I had only just thought! Will you need ship's archives?”

“Ship's archives are not required, though I have found that it is beneficial to include them as part of the supporting documentation,” Mr. dea'Gauss murmured, his attention on his notes.

“I will transmit them to you this afternoon,” Aelliana promised.

He glanced up. “You need not discommode yourself, my Lady. As the archive is in support only, its presence is not necessary for the completion of the primary documentation.”

“It is no trouble at all,” she said. “I will be taking The Luck to Chonselta this afternoon.”

“In that wise, I will be pleased to have all necessary information immediately in hand,” he murmured and looked up. “I anticipate that the completed and certified documents will be in your hands no later than Banim Third-day.”

Aelliana blinked. “That's very soon.”

“As a task, it is not difficult. There may be some delay upon the Guild's side, though we will of course do everything possible to expedite the matter.”

He put his notepad on the table and gave her his whole attention once more. “I think we have this task well in hand, Pilot. What else may I be honored to do for you?”

She placed her hand on the envelope.

“I wonder if you are . . . able . . . to explain to me why I am awarded this—considerable!—settlement. Daav owes me nothing—it is I who owe him, more than ever I can hope to Balance.”

Mr. dea'Gauss glanced down, perhaps at the envelope; perhaps at the Jump pilot's ring on her finger, then raised his eyes to hers.

“His lordship allowed me to know of the bond between you,” he said slowly. “In . . . more regular circumstances, that bond would predicate a . . . social outcome.”

“As it did with Anne and Lord yos'Galan.”

“Precisely.” Mr. dea'Gauss placed his fingers lightly on the edge of the envelope.

“Precisely,” he said again, and paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

“His Lordship,” he said after a moment, “chose to honor the bond as if it is the social outcome, realizing that this may never come to pass. It is . . . an unusual melant'i, as he himself said, and one may therefore too easily err in proper action. One wishes to place honor—one wishes to place regard correctly, and to rightly value what is precious. His solution . . . I have spent many hours considering his lordship's solution, and I cannot find it in error, my lady, nor say that I might have counseled him differently.”

The envelope was textured and tickled her palm. Aelliana took a breath.

“This is a lifemate's share.”

“It is.”

“I . . . ” She closed her eyes, opened them and considered the man before her with his practical face and canny eyes.

“Mr. dea'Gauss, Daav and I are indeed lifemates-by-nature, as he told you. However, it is by—it is by no means certain that we can, or ought to be, lifemates-by-law. It is—I had hoped that this joint endeavor we undertake would clarify that point. You will know, sir, that Mizel is by no means High House. I would not damage Korval through my ignorance, nor would I make Daav vulnerable.”

He inclined his head, but said nothing, apparently waiting for her to continue, though what else she might say—

But, no, there was something else, after all, to say.

She pushed the envelope to him and lifted her hand away.

“Please, hold these safe until I call upon you in order to sign them, or ask that you destroy them.”

Again, he inclined his head, and Aelliana bethought herself of yet another question.

“In your judgment—ought I to make Daav half owner of The Luck?”

“My lady, you ought not,” he replied promptly. “He is your copilot, and I believe you will find that satisfies him very well.”

“Thank you,” she said, and hesitated, for surely the question that next rose to her tongue was no concern of hers . . .

“Is there something else, my lady?”

“I only wonder,” she said slowly. “This . . . employment as Ride the Luck's copilot will mean that Daav will sometimes be . . . unavailable to Delm Korval and the business of the clan.”

“That had mostwise been the case with Korval's delms until very recently,” Mr. dea'Gauss said. “This firm has protocols in place to handle much of what Korval has been addressing personally. Korval's presence will naturally be required at the bi-annual meetings of the Council of Clans, but a good deal of the . . . lesser business may be handled by a designated speaker.”

She frowned. “Does he—know this?” she asked, thinking of the sense of weariness and ill health that she had felt in him, bone-deep.

“It is my melant'i to assume that Korval is informed,” Mr. dea'Gauss said delicately. “The conditions under which we currently operate are by instruction of Thodelm yos'Galan, acting as Korval-pernard'i, in the aftermath of the tragedy that cost Korval its delm and yos'Galan its a'thodelm. The instructions were never rescinded.”

“I see,” she said, and inclined her head. “Mr. dea'Gauss, I thank you for the gift of your time—and for your assistance.”

“You are most welcome, my lady. Please consider me entirely at your disposal.”

“You're very kind,” she said and stood, Mr. dea'Gauss rising with her.

“There is,” she said, suddenly recalling, “one more thing.” She touched the collar of the shirt she was wearing, one of several purchased from Anne's favorite store.

“You will, I think, be receiving an invoice from the Crystal Flower. Please forward it to me when it arrives; it is my debt and I will pay it.”

Mr. dea'Gauss bowed.

“Certainly, my lady.”

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