“Jon . . . ” Daav cleared his throat. “Jon tells me you have an assignment. Where to, Scout?”
“Security detail for a trade mission to Deluthia.”
Daav blinked. “Are the guild masters after that again? Don't they recall what happened last time?” Granting that it had been more than two dozen Standards in the past, but the last trade mission to Deluthia had resulted in the loss of two master traders and several support team members before the remainder had managed to win back to their ship and depart.
“Oh, they say the theocracy has mellowed,” Clonak said, sounding for the moment almost like his usual, manic self. “They came to the masters with sweet words on their tongues, and interesting goods in their hands. The masters considered it worth a second risk, and asked for volunteers.”
Volunteers.
Daav closed his eyes.
“It would be better,” he said, around the ache in his heart, “if you exited this adventure intact. She would miss you, terribly—and I . . . ”
“I'll come back, Captain,” Clonak said softly. “I only need . . . something to occupy me for the next while.”
“I do understand.” He took a breath. “Be safe, darling. Come to us, when duty releases you.” He turned. It was an ill parting from a lifelong friend, but he did not—he very much did not—wish to abrade Clonak's emotions further. He hoped, with all his heart, that their friendship might survive this—
“Daav!”
He turned back, as Clonak came 'round the desk.
“I—I haven't wished you happy, old friend.” He opened his arms, and Daav stepped into the embrace, cheek to cheek.
“Tell her that I wish her so very much joy,” Clonak whispered. “Tell her that, Daav.”
A strike to the heart, that was. Daav closed his eyes, arms tightening around the other man.
“I'll tell her,” he promised.
* * *
Trilla spun, sweeping her leg out in an attempt to catch and trip. Aelliana leapt, landing in a counterspin, her hand rising to block a blow at her dominant left side. What a pleasure it was to dance, to feel her muscles moving in concert, to know herself perfectly balanced and aware—
She caught the motion from the side of her right eye, a fist, striking without subtlety directly for the heart of her defense.
In former times, when she had danced menfri'at with Trilla, her immediate response to such an attack was to avoid it at all costs, even diving to the floor and curling into a ball, her arms folded over her head.
Today, without even a thought for the pain, she half-turned, accepting the glancing strike across her shoulder as she lunged back along that admirably straight line, her hand connecting solidly with her partner's chest. The force of the blow sent them spinning apart. Aelliana came 'round as fast as she was able, anticipating a blow from the rear, or perhaps a snatch at free-flowing hair. Ran Eld had caught her that way—
Trilla was standing flat-footed, her hand up in the sign for pause.
“Bravo!” she called. “You've been listening, after all!”
“I had always listened.” Aelliana shook her hair out of her face. “It was only that today, I could—access what I'd learned.”
“Well done.” Daav's deep voice came from behind.
Aelliana turned, and smiled to see him lounging against a tool cart, his arms crossed over his chest, pride plain on his face.
“I think the pilot may be ready for the next level, Master Trilla. What say you?”
“I agree, Master Daav. I agree!” She gave Aelliana a grin of sheer deviltry.
“Come again tomorrow, Pilot, and we'll dance indeed!”
“Ought I to be terrified?” Aelliana asked, though the prospect exhilarated rather than frightened.
Trilla laughed. “It depends on how apt a student you are.” She fished a rag from her back pocket, glancing to them each in turn.
“Your pardons,” she said, and dabbed at the sweat on her forehead.
“Pilot?” Daav said. “Did you want to do that inspection, now?”
“You had wanted to do the inspection, as I recall it,” Aelliana answered. “But I will gladly stand by and watch.”
“Fair enough,” he said, and came out of his lean with boneless grace, melting immediately into a bow to the pilot's honor.
“After you.”
The walk to Ride the Luck's coldpad had been quiet, with Daav abstracted. Twice, Aelliana began to ask after Clonak, and twice thought better of it.
When we reach the ship, she thought. Then, surely, he will tell me.
She climbed the ramp first, and slotted the key, looking up at him over her shoulder as the hatch slid open.
