Her heartbeat was overloud in her ears: one, two, three, fo—
Daav pressed her hand and released it, moving slightly to one side, so that her fingers fell away from his lips.
“The honor will be mine, Pilot,” he said, with careful gentleness. “However, we should settle a thing, before proceeding further.”
He leaned over and placed her box on the copilot's chair. Straightening, he considered her out of serious black eyes, then bowed, with deliberation.
She was not much accustomed to moving in the polite world, and for an instant the mode confused. All at once, she had it: delm-to-one-not-of-the-clan. She bit her lip, and took a breath as Delm Korval looked down at her.
“It is possible that Korval has presumed,” he said, the High Tongue striking her ears like so many crystalline pebbles. “Pilot Caylon, speak your truth without fear of offense. Is it your wish—and yours alone—to be taken into Korval's protection?”
Aelliana took another breath and met his eyes. The shift in melant'i had been unexpected, and momentarily shocking, but she found herself much more at ease than she had supposed she ever would be, come face to face with the most powerful delm on all of Liad.
“If it must be said before Korval to be true,” she said slowly, “then I say that I wish—very much—to come under Korval's care. That I share this desire with Daav only warms me; it does not compel me.”
Korval inclined his sleek head and reached into his jacket. A moment later, he held out to her a pin in the shape of Korval's sigil, the Tree-and-Dragon.
“Wear this whenever you venture beyond Korval's grounds. It will mark you out as one who rests beneath the Dragon's wing.”
“I thank you,” Aelliana said, formally, and took the token from his hand. By the time she had affixed it to the collar of her jacket and looked up, Daav had her box stowed in the net between the pilot and copilot stations, and was webbing into his chair.
“Lift for Solcintra, Pilot?” he asked, looking up at her with a half-smile that made her chest tighten.
“Lift for Solcintra it is,” she said, with as much composure as she was able, and took her place in the pilot's chair.
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Seven
Home is where the heart is.
—Terran proverb
The Luck settled sweetly onto its coldpad. Aelliana gave the board one last, comprehensive sweep—all lights green—looked over to her lanky copilot and smiled.
“Please tell Tower that we are berthed and will be taking systems down.”
He nodded and touched the comm key. “Ride the Luck down, Binjali's Yard. Pilot Caylon's putting her to sleep.”
“Affirmative, Ride the Luck. Welcome home, Pilot Caylon.”
She took a breath and, when Daav did not immediately close the line, another.
“Thank you,” she said, pitching her voice as if to be heard at the back of a crowded classroom. “I am pleased to be home.”
Daav nodded, flicked the key off, and began to shut down the copilot's station.
“Accustom myself?” she asked him, her fingers moving effortlessly along the controls, as if they knew what to do of themselves.
“Tower did seem sincere,” he answered, his tone so bland that it could only mean mischief. “You will notice that they did not welcome me home.”
“That was very wrong of them,” she said, matching his intonation as nearly as possible. “Open the line and I shall have them make amends.”
He laughed, and gave his board one last flick before leaning back in the chair, grinning.
“In truth, it is . . . a relief to be ignored. And I would not have Tower abused.”
“Abused!” Her hands had finished shutting down the pilot's board. She spun her chair to look at him. “As if I could abuse anyone!”
“Could you not?” he asked, and there was a thread of seriousness beneath the mischief that gave her pause.
“It is true that I . . . struck Ran Eld,” she said slowly, “but my object—as Trilla has taught me—was to run away.”
He appeared to consider that, his gaze straying over the dark board.
“The difficulty with running away,” he said slowly, “as with most solutions, is that one must judge when it will answer—and when it will not.”
