It was, still, easier in the dark. In the dark, he could imagine that she was lying beside him, her voice a murmur accessible to the outer ears. Sometimes, in the dark, for whole minutes at a time, he could imagine her head on his shoulder, a silken leg thrown over his . . .
“Aelliana,” he said now, staring up into the darkness. “What are you planning?”
Planning, van'chela?
He snorted lightly. “No, that will not do, minx. Tell me—what necessity drives us to escort Scholar Waitley to a local sunset?”
She asked so nicely, his dead lifemate said. Besides, I like her. Don't you like her, Daav?
“She's well enough.”
Oh, clench-fisted, van'chela! she chided him. How has the scholar offended you?
He sighed, and closed his eyes against the darkness.
“The scholar is blameless,” he admitted, ashamed of his churlishness. “Indeed, I enjoyed our discussion, and would, I feel, enjoy another. She has a ready wit and seems not so bound by local culture as . . . others of my colleagues.”
“In fact,” Aelliana murmured, “she might well be someone who could become a good friend.”
“I did not,” he said tiredly, “come here to make friends.”
Indeed you did not. I only ask you to pity poor Professor Kiladi, separated from clan and kin, wholly unsupported in a strange and cloistered environment. A man in such circumstances might have need of a friend—or even two.
“Professor Kiladi is a fabrication, my lady . . . ”
Professor Kiladi has published widely, his scholarship is noteworthy, and his achievements undeniable, Aelliana said tartly. He is a work of art, van'chela; a work of art with a heart and a soul, sorrows and joys. You owe him at the least a brother's care, yet you drive him and make demands of him and allow him not a single joy or pleasure. I never knew you to be so meager, Daav. It troubles me. Indeed, it troubles me deeply.
Tears pricked his eyes—his or hers, it scarcely mattered. Nor did it matter that the fabrication of Jen Sar Kiladi had begun as a game; twenty years, three degrees, and dozens of scholarly papers, hundreds of students . . . Surely, Jen Sar Kiladi was every bit as alive as—as Daav yos'Phelium.
. . . or perhaps more.
Daav?
“Aelliana . . . ” he gasped, the slow tears suddenly fast and hot. “Aelliana . . . ”
He twisted, burying his face in the flat pillow, sobbing, and seeing it all, all again—the street, the flash, her hair swirling as she leapt to shield him, the blood, the blood . . .
Some time later, as he lay shivering and exhausted, he felt her stroke his hair, then slip close and put her arms around him. And so at last he fell asleep, imagining that she held him.
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Partial Liaden Lexicon
a'nadelm
Heir to the nadelm.
a'thodelm
Heir to the thodelm.
a'trezla
Lifemates.
al'bresh venat'i
Formal phrase of sorrow for another Clan's loss, as when someone dies.
benjali
Excellent.
cantra
Liaden unit of large currency, named for Cantra yos'Phelium.
cha'leket
Heartkin; a person for whom one feels a sibling's affection.
cha'dramliza
A Healer. plural: cha'dramliz.
chernubia
Confected delicacy.
chiat'a bei kruzon
Dream sweetly.
