It was, Aelliana admitted some time later, a worthy view: Most of Solcintra City could be seen from the windows of Mr. dea'Gauss' office, an orderly gridwork of architecture and parkland. Indeed, if one took the right angle, one could see the Tower in Solcintra Port, nearly colorless against the bright sky.
“From the rear windows one may see Korval's tree.” Mr. dea'Gauss gestured toward an panel of opaqued windows. “Alas, this is not the best hour for such a viewing.” He inclined his head, and continued, somewhat more briskly, “Now, my Lady, what task may I be honored to perform for you?”
She hesitated. It was an impertinence to call another adult's understanding of melant'i into question. However, it was . . . dishonorable to claim a place higher than where one stood.
“I fear that, in my ignorance, I may have misled you, sir,” she said carefully in adult-to-adult. “I am the second daughter of the House, and Mizel—Mizel does not stand High. Scholar will do for me, or Pilot; each is a melant'i that I hold in my own right. I have, for a variety of reasons, accepted the protection of Clan Korval.” She raised her hand to touch the pin in the collar of her jacket. “But I am not of Clan Korval.”
“I see.” Mr. dea'Gauss tipped his head, and moved a hand, indicating that she walk with him to the table where she had left the envelope. “Perhaps, then, Pilot,” he said in adult-to-adult, “we ought to discuss your melant'i more fully. But first—” He used his chin to point at the worktable—“you have some questions regarding the transfer paperwork?”
“Yes,” she said, pausing by a chair to allow him to seat himself first, as was appropriate, given their relative ranks. “And also, I have a—task for you, if you are willing to undertake it. Understand, I have no good idea of how much work is involved, so you must not hold shy of telling me if it will not do.”
“That I will not, Pilot,” he said calmly. He paused, and appeared to consider her for a moment before bowing slightly. “Allow me to fetch tea,” he said smoothly. “Pray, make yourself at ease; I will not be a moment.”
He moved toward the back corner of the room, where a buffet like the one in the reception parlor stood. Aelliana sat down, folded her hands on the tabletop, and glanced about.
Mr. dea'Gauss stood high, indeed, she thought, to have gained the right to such an office. A working desk holding three screens and several piles of hard copy occupied a windowed niche on the left-hand wall; the table at which she sat was one of three such placed about the room. The floor was old wood, with bright carpets here and there, like flowering islands adrift upon a dark sea.
“Now, we may talk comfortably,” Mr. dea'Gauss said, setting a tray on the table. He poured for them, deft and neat, before taking the chair at her left hand.
“Where shall we begin, Pilot? I am wholly at your disposal.”
He did certainly seem to be so, Aelliana acknowledged. She sipped her tea—and sipped again in appreciation —before putting the cup aside.
“The task for which I would like to commission your consideration,” she said carefully, “is . . . ” She leaned forward, looking directly into his face.
“I own a Class A Jump—Ride the Luck—which is berthed at Binjali's Yard. It is—my intention to enter the lists as a courier pilot. I understand that there is paperwork—licenses to obtain, guarantees to be posted—in order to best serve and protect ship and crew along the . . . beyond Liaden space.”
“You wish me to bring that paperwork together for you? That is perfectly within my scope, Pilot.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a notepad. Tapping the device on, he glanced at her. “A few questions if you will.”
“Certainly.”
“Good—when do you propose to put your ship to work beyond Liad?”
“As soon as may be,” she answered. “Much depends upon my copilot, who has some matters to put in order before he is cleared to fly.”
Mr. dea'Gauss tapped a note onto the pad. “What is your copilot's name?”
“Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval.”
She thought his fingers missed a beat; if so, he recovered so rapidly that she could not be entirely certain.
“Of course. I have Pilot yos'Phelium's particulars on file, so there is no need for you to detail those. Ride the Luck is of course registered with the Guild?”
“Yes. I had only just thought! Will you need ship's archives?”
“Ship's archives are not required, though I have found that it is beneficial to include them as part of the supporting documentation,” Mr. dea'Gauss murmured, his attention on his notes.
“I will transmit them to you this afternoon,” Aelliana promised.
He glanced up. “You need not discommode yourself, my Lady. As the archive is in support only, its presence is not necessary for the completion of the primary documentation.”
“It is no trouble at all,” she said. “I will be taking The Luck to Chonselta this afternoon.”
“In that wise, I will be pleased to have all necessary information immediately in hand,” he murmured and looked up. “I anticipate that the completed and certified documents will be in your hands no later than Banim Third-day.”
Aelliana blinked. “That's very soon.”
“As a task, it is not difficult. There may be some delay upon the Guild's side, though we will of course do everything possible to expedite the matter.”
He put his notepad on the table and gave her his whole attention once more. “I think we have this task well in hand, Pilot. What else may I be honored to do for you?”
She placed her hand on the envelope.
“I wonder if you are . . . able . . . to explain to me why I am awarded this—considerable!—settlement. Daav
