His heart rose to see her, walking assured and firm—sharp and telling contrast to the tentative, near-invisible woman who had slunk into Binjali's so short a time ago, and whispered the name of her ship.
“Aelliana,” he said, smiling. “Bored to distraction already?”
“Indeed, no,” she said, pausing at the far side of the desk. “Only bedeviled by my own stupidity and wondering if I might ask you, yet again, to help me!”
“Of course I will help in any way I can. What has happened?”
She hesitated, and it seemed to him that the glance she leveled at him was more sightful than previously, as if she saw past face and eyes and someway into his heart.
“Perhaps I should not plague you, just now,” she said slowly, and stepped 'round the desk, her hand darting out to grasp his.
He stiffened, then relaxed as cool fingers wove between his.
“Aelliana,” he said softly, “what do you see?”
“See? Nothing save a weary face and some sadness about your eyes,” she answered, her own face troubled. “However, I feel—Van'chela, what a stew!”
“Your pardon,” he said, stiffly. “I fear I'm all at dozens and daggers.” He slipped his hand away from hers and tucked it into his pocket.
“Daav—tell me true. Is your clan in peril?”
“It is not.”
She tipped her head, as if she considered whether that bald statement might yet harbor some ambiguity.
“Your sister—”
“My sister,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than he had intended, “sees a hundred-year scandal—”
Aelliana's eyes widened, and he made haste to finish.
“ . . . in a teacup misaligned within a formal setting. You must not, as much as she does herself, take Kareen too seriously, Aelliana. In this instance, you may discount her fears entirely, as Mr. dea'Gauss has just shown me the outcome of today's negotiations.” He produced a smile for her earnestness and had the satisfaction of seeing her face lose some of its tension.
“Now,” he said, “you are troubled. What may I do to assist you?”
She sighed and walked to the open window, leaning one hand against the frame as she looked out into the early evening.
“I—as you know, I spoke with Clonak—it was the strangest thing, Daav, but I feel . . . I feel that assuring him of my safety failed to ease him, and that I left him more distraught than I had found him. He was . . . very subdued—not at all in his usual mode, and—the entire purpose of speaking with him was to give him heart's ease . . . ”
“Ah.” He stepped up to the window, too, and looked out over the riot of gladioli blooms. That Clonak's case was bad—he feared it. He had known that his friend had formed an attachment to Aelliana, as had all of the crew at Binjali's. If his heart was truly engaged—and it seemed now that it must be . . .
He took a breath. “Perhaps Clonak still needs some time,” he said carefully. “We were all of us—anxious for you, and recall it has only been a day since it seemed likely that you were . . . ” he paused, wondering if he should bring such things to a mind newly Healed.
“Brain-burned and unlikely to recover,” Aelliana said crisply, which seemed to answer that question.
“That—yes. Sometimes, it is relief which plunges us into terror, once we are certain that danger is beyond us. Certainly, Clonak has been of that persuasion. Scouts are taught to act first and panic later, when one is safe from the worst effects of stupidity.”
“I . . . see.” She was silent for a long time, her attention seemingly on the darkling garden.
He took a deep breath of flower-scented air, and sighed. She was right, he thought; he was weary, and trained as a Scout as much or more as Clonak had been.
“Daav?” she asked softly.
“Aelliana?”
“Do you know—what it was that the Healers did to me?”
Now, there was a question he had hoped not to hear for some days. And yet, she had asked it, and it was his to tell her.
“I know . . . what Master Kestra told me,” he admitted. “Which I will tell you, if you like, but I wonder, Aelliana . . . ”
She turned to look at him.
“Yes?”
“Would you care to go for a walk in the garden? It's far too fine an evening to languish indoors.”
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Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
