And with that he was gone, the door shutting quietly behind him.
“Is your brother . . . angry?” Aelliana murmured.
“My brother,” Daav told her, with a certain wry humor, “is enjoying himself far too much.”
“And you think that is both amusing and irritating.”
He laughed. “So I do. What else do I think?”
He had meant it for a joke, but, Aelliana-like, she took it as it was asked. Or, perhaps her terrible new sense informed her.
“It is not terrible at all,” she said, snatching the thought wholesale out of his head. “Indeed, I quite like it, though I must say, van'chela, that you're not half complicated!”
She sat up, displaying a complete disregard for the fact that her shirt was unsealed, and her hair tumbled every-which-way.
“Shall I become more simple?” he asked.
Aelliana smiled. “I would never ask it of you. As to what you think—I can't pretend to know, though I might guess. It seems that my guesses will gradually come closer to the mark, as I learn you better.” She put her hand flat over his heart, her palm cool against his flesh.
“I hereby scry,” she announced, singsong and unserious, “you are regretful, you are happy, you are desirous, and you are . . . ” She paused, brows pulling together into a sudden frown. “Daav, are you—ill?”
Ill? He looked down into her face, seeing playfulness melting beneath concern.
“Not that I am aware,” he said. “I will own to being tired, now that the alarms of the last few days are behind us. Perhaps it is that which you scry?”
She tipped her head, considering, and finally sighed, shaking her hair back.
“It may be,” she said eventually. “After all, this is new to me.” She smiled and leaned toward him. “Perhaps I need more practice.”
He bent his head, not loath to assist in so worthy a goal.
There was a knock at the door.
Aelliana drooped against him, muttering.
“It will be Mr. pel'Kana,” Daav said, “wanting to know our wishes for Prime, or—” He glanced to the window, noting with surprise that twilight had faded into evening. “Or perhaps he wishes to tell us that a cold meal has been laid for us in the morning room. Either way, we should acknowledge him, and let him seek his bed.”
She sighed, but slid off his lap, and walked to the window, her back to the door, and her hands busy at the fastenings of her shirt. He rose and sealed his own shirt, scooped her jacket up and dropped it into the chair.
The discreet knock was repeated.
“Come,” Daav called, walking forward to stand by the desk.
Mr. pel'Kana came two scant steps into the room and bowed.
“There is a cold meal laid in the morning room, your lordship,” he murmured. “Do you or the pilot require anything else this evening?”
“I believe that I do not,” Daav said composedly. “Aelliana?”
“Thank you, I am quite content,” she said, her voice perhaps a little unsteady.
Daav inclined his head. “We will serve ourselves, Mr. pel'Kana. Please do not wait any longer on our account.”
“Thank you, sir. Pilot. Good evening to you both.”
“Good evening,” Aelliana called. “Thank you.”
“You are quite welcome, Pilot,” the old man said, and left them.
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Contents
Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon
Chapter Fourteen
He found it in a desert, so he told me—the only living thing in two days' walk. A skinny stick with a couple leaves near the top, that's all it was then.
I don't remember the name of the world it came from. He might not have told me. Wherever it was, when his Troop finally picked him up, Jela wouldn't leave 'til he'd dug up that damned skinny stick of a tree and planted it real careful in an old ration tin. Carried it in his arms onto transport. And nobody dared to laugh.
—Excerpted from Cantra yos'Phelium's Log Book
This waking was both easier and more difficult. Easier because she had the memory of last evening's pleasures to treasure; more difficult because she knew before ever she opened her eyes that she was alone.
After Mr. pel'Kana's interruption, she and Daav had taken a leisurely meal, sitting together on the window seat and overlooking the nighttime garden. They had not spoken very much—there seemed to be no need. When they
