Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter One
The delm is the face and the voice of the clan, representing the interests of the clan to the world and solving those problems presented by the members of the clan. The clan's whole honor and melant'i reside with the delm.
—Excerpted from the Liaden Code of Proper Conduct
On balance, Daav yos'Phelium thought as he strode down the hall toward his office, it had not been one of his better solvings.
Oh, it had produced the desired result—he was free of a marriage that could only have ended in tragedy, and had preserved the sanity of a fine pilot in the bargain. Surely, on first glance, it were done well enough.
On second glance, however, it was a shambles of a solving, unworthy of one who had stood as Delm of Clan Korval for five heartbeats, let alone very nearly five Standard Years.
Clan Bindan held out to society's gossip, and himself to ridicule—those outcomes concerned him not at all. He did regret that he had not been able to entirely protect Samiv tel'Izak, who had until scant hours ago been his affianced wife. But his failure to shield Aelliana—his pilot!—from the eyes of the curious and the tongues of the malicious was clumsy beyond excuse.
“Really, Daav,” he told himself, his voice muted by the wooden walls, “you might have had a better result from Shan.”
Alas, that his small nephew had been abed just when his advice had most been needed.
He opened the door to his office with rather more force than was necessary and was nearly at his desk before he registered the presence of another person in the room.
Stride unchecked, he glanced over his shoulder, where Master Trader Er Thom yos'Galan sat before a card table fetched from the game closet, his port comm open, and a neat stack of papers resting on the rug at his side.
“Good morning, brother,” Daav said, his voice brittle in his own ears. He moved 'round the desk and slapped the computer up. “Has your lifemate barred you from your own office?”
“My own office,” Er Thom replied crisply, “would not inform me immediately you had arrived home.”
Daav dropped into his chair, fingers flashing across the keys. “You might have left a message,” he noted, his attention more than half on his screen. “I would have called.”
“Would you? Is it ill-tempered to note that last evening you failed of calling—and this morning, as well.”
Oh, Daav thought, hearing the thread of anger beneath the precise words.
“You will think it a poor enough excuse, but last evening there was no time to call. A life hung upon speed.”
“Were you speedy enough?” Er Thom inquired.
“In fact, I was not,” Daav answered, splitting his screen into quarters and assigning a task to each.
Er Thom was heard to sigh.
“Delm Guayar came to me this morning,” he said.
Daav closed his eyes. Guayar had been his weapon of choice, whom he had primed with news of scandal, and aimed at Bindan. The other delm had done his work thoroughly, and had doubtless enjoyed the doing of it. It was not, however, to be expected that he would keep such a fine story in his vest pocket. Most especially not when Bindan could be expected to very soon shout the whole of it to the stars. Of course, he would next impart his news to Er Thom, who was, after all, Thodelm yos'Galan, heir to Delm Korval, and Daav's cha'leket. Not only would Guayar enjoy retelling the tale, but it would seem to him a kindness.
“All honor to him,” he said, opening his eyes. Guessing his pilot's size, he ordered the jacket, and directed it to Chonselta Healer Hall, priority.
“All honor to him,” Er Thom echoed, dryly. “Indeed, he did much to prepare me for The Gazette.”
Daav's fingers stilled; he looked down at the keyboard. The Gazette. Yes, certainly. “Brother, I confess all: I am an idiot.”
There was the sound of a chair being set back and a rustle of clothing as Er Thom stood.
“I would hardly say that,” he commented, his steps soft as he came behind Daav's chair. “Surely it takes a certain genius to create quite so . . . comprehensive a muddle?”
Despite the fear roiling in his gut, Daav shouted a laugh. “Wretch.” He returned his attention to the screen, fingers moving once more.
