Well, she thought, pressing the seal on the envelope and rising from her chair, Mr. dea'Gauss had invited her to consult him with any question. How convenient, that she had already determined to call upon him with other business.
* * *
Daav closed the door behind him, and sealed it before going deeper into the clan's closest-held library. Here were shelf after shelf of leather-bound volumes—Korval's Diaries, including the stained and rumpled book that had belonged to the very Founder, Grandmother Cantra, who had first lain down the rules of the clan.
Today, he thought, he need not go . . . quite so far back. He stepped up to a shelf holding more modern, less abused, volumes and ran his fingers down the leathered spines . . .
* * *
“May I,” Aelliana said to the young man at the desk, “speak with Mr. dea'Gauss?”
The young man inclined his head, respectful, but not encouraging.
“Have you an appointment, Pilot?”
Aelliana's stomach sank. A gentleman so highly placed—of course she ought to have made an appointment, rather than rushing in as if—as if this fine office in Solcintra's business district was the Binjali Repair Shop, and someone of the regular crew certain to be about to aid her.
“I beg your pardon,” she said to the young man. “It did not occur to me to do so. Perhaps I might make one with you?”
“Certainly,” he said, his fingers touching the keys set into the desktop. “Your name, please?”
“Aelliana Caylon.”
The young man's busy fingers paused.
“Ah . . . ”
“I understand that there is a great deal of demand upon his time,” Aelliana began—and paused when he raised his hand.
“Pray forgive me, Pilot Caylon. I will inform Mr. dea'Gauss of your presence. Please, allow Ms. pen'Dela to guide you to one of the private parlors.”
He must have touched a key, for here came a young woman who scarcely looked past halfling, dressed in sober business clothes, her face formal, and her bow precise.
“Pilot Caylon, please. Follow me.”
“I—” Aelliana looked back to the young man at the desk. “Pray do not call Mr. dea'Gauss from his duties for me. Indeed, you are quite correct; I ought to come at his convenience.”
The young man inclined his head.
“My instructions are that Mr. dea'Gauss will see Aelliana Caylon,” he said.
“If the pilot will come?” Ms. pen'Dela added in a sweet, high voice.
Aelliana bit her lip, then inclined her head and followed the young lady down the hallway and into a small, graciously appointed parlor.
“There is tea,” her guide said, showing her the buffet laid with cups and a small plate of pastries. “If you would prefer wine . . . ”
“Thank you, tea is all that I require,” Aelliana said hastily.
Ms. pen'Dela bowed.
“Certainly, Pilot. Mr. dea'Gauss should be with you very soon. In the meanwhile, if there is anything at all that you require, only press this button—” She placed her hand briefly next to the button in question, discreetly set into the top of the buffet. “—and someone will come.”
“Thank you,” Aelliana said again. “I am quite content.”
Her guide bowed and departed. A curtain woven with the sign of the Accountants Guild fell across the doorway, granting privacy as Aelliana sank into one of the soft chairs grouped agreeably about a small table.
She took a breath, straightened her spine, placed the envelope on her lap, and folded her hands atop it. Mr dea'Gauss had been very kind to her during their previous meeting, she told herself. She would explain her error, and beg his pardon—surely he would accept that? Then, she would make a proper appointment, and—
The curtain across the doorway parted to admit a man of very upright posture, wearing a bronze vest over dark shirt and trousers.
Aelliana came to her feet and bowed low.
“Mr. dea'Gauss, please forgive this unseemly intrusion into your day.”
There was a pause, growing rather longer than courtesy permitted. She straightened, and met a pair of speculative brown eyes.
“You do not intrude, my lady,” he said, his voice soothing in the mode of servant to lord. “I see that you have the transfer packet. Please, allow me to take you to my office. We may speak confidentially there.”
Aelliana swallowed. Well, and if he would see her, she thought, then he would. She would try to keep her requests and her questions to the point and disrupt him as little as possible.
“Thank you,” she said, and took the arm that he offered.
“Only a step down the hall,” he murmured, keeping yet to that mistaken mode, “and a short ride on the lift. It is a fine day, and the views from the windows are quite pleasant.”
