sighed.
“It is because I do not love Mizel, nor can I forgive its failures.” She spoke carefully, for to say such a thing— such things were not said. To be outside of the clan was to be dead to the clan. Exactly thus had Ran Eld been deprived of life and every human comfort. She looked to her sister, who was slightly pale, though her eyes were steady.
Aelliana inclined her head. “In addition, Daav yos'Phelium and I are—natural lifemates, bound soul to soul. That Mizel conspires to separate us does not bring the clan nearer to my heart.”
“Mizel is . . . not well,” Sinit said seriously. “I asked if she should have the Healers, for it seemed—it seems that she grieves too much, and she—” Tears rose in the brown eyes. “She struck me, Aelliana.”
She took Sinit's hand, speechless.
“The reason I set myself to accounting is that—I looked in the House records—”
Aelliana stared. “Sinit!”
“I had to know! Mother—the delm—I scarcely know who! She speaks of merging with Lyderg and she swears that you are the clan's only hope of survival, and I know that you do not—cannot—come back to us, Aelliana! But surely there is something—” Tears started down the pale face; Sinit's fingers gripped her so tightly that Aelliana was certain she would have bruises.
“I do love Mizel and I don't wish to see us fail! We need to reclaim the nursery and—and bring ourselves into profit. If I become an accountant, I will know how to do these things; I will have access to the Accountants Guild's mentoring programs and—and Mother won't say that I'm a useless drain on the clan . . . ” she finished in a whisper.
Aelliana moved, wrapping her sister into a hug.
“You are not useless,” she said fiercely. “You are Mizel's last and best hope.”
Sinit sniffled. “I don't—”
“What would you be willing to do,” Aelliana interrupted, “in order to salvage Mizel? Would you be willing to— to—” An idea was coming into shape. She didn't have all of it, yet, but she had . . . something. She could taste it, like the solution to a knotty math problem.
“Would you be willing to be fostered into a clan that might teach you about management and how to forge alliances?”
“Yes!” Sinit pushed against Aelliana's embrace, and sat up, her face set and her brown eyes fierce. “Aelliana, I would do anything within my power.” She blinked.
“Your face is—Aelliana, what are you planning?”
“I don't quite know myself,” she admitted. “I need to think.”
“I—” Sinit looked up. “Gods, the time! Aelliana—”
Aelliana looked at the clock, astonished at its report.
“Come,” she said, rising and pulling Sinit up with her. “We'll catch a cab.”
The cab was easily caught, but Sinit would not allow her escort.
“If Mother sees you, she will compel you to come in-House,” Sinit whispered. “You dare not risk it. I will be quite safe.”
From this position she would not be moved, and at last, not without relief, Aelliana let her go, first paying the fare to Raingleam Street and a bonus, for the driver's trouble.
She watched the taxi out of sight, then slowly went back inside.
To think.
* * *
Jen Sar Kiladi had been particularly prolific these last weeks. It seemed the man thrived at night. Who would have known?
The most recent paper polished to a high gloss, the professor's attention wandered and himself after it, leaving Daav yos'Phelium yawning in his chair.
It was very late—or very early, depending, he supposed, on whether one was still awake or just risen. He—was still awake, and had really ought to engage the Rainbow in the service of getting some sleep.
He rose from behind the desk and stretched, feeling cramped muscles catch, then loosen.
Well.
“Sleep,” he told himself. “Now.”
He turned away from the desk—and immediately turned back as the comm chimed.
Who, at this hour? he thought, but his fingers had already accepted the call, and there was Mr. dea'Gauss in the screen.
“Good morning, your lordship,” he said peremptorily. “Necessity dictates that you hear two things, immediately.”
Daav sank back into his chair. “You have my attention, Mr. dea'Gauss.”
“Excellent. The first thing that you must hear is that Aelliana Caylon Clan Mizel has accepted the portion settled upon her some relumma past by Daav yos'Phelium.”
Daav's heart stuttered. Here it is, he thought. She has had enough, and who can blame her? A pilot's first care is for her ship, and a ship—a ship needs money.
