—Cicero
Er Thom was in his office. Good.
Daav pushed the door open gently, pausing just inside the room to consider his brother, who had for so long been the first tenant of his heart. He made a charming sight, to be sure, with his head bent studiously over his work, and the light from the lamp making golden hair luster.
“You might be of some use, and pour the wine,” Er Thom said, without raising his head. “I'll be through here in a moment.”
Grinning, Daav crossed to the cabinet, unshipped glasses, and poured—red for Er Thom, and the same for himself, there being no misravot on offer.
“You stint me,” he said, carrying the glasses to the table and disposing them.
“Does Pilot Caylon know you drink misravot?” Er Thom asked. He rose and stretched, hands over head, relaxing all at once, with a sigh.
“She may well,” Daav said ruefully. “She may even know that I am not particularly fond of it.”
“A perceptive lady, indeed,” his brother said, coming forward. He looked into Daav's face, violet eyes shrewd. “When shall I have the felicity of seeing the announcement in The Gazette?”
“Perhaps not for some time,” Daav said slowly. “My lady wishes to hone her edge.”
“Surely she can acquire whatever edge she feels she lacks on the whetstone of the world,” Er Thom murmured, picking up his glass and assaying a sip.
“She makes a compelling argument against that route,” Daav murmured, tasting his own wine. “And offers an interesting proposal, darling.”
“Which you are inclined to accept.”
“Since it falls in with my own wishes and desires, of course I am inclined to accept. Which is why I've come creeping along yos'Galan's back hallways at an hour when we both ought to have put work away.” He sipped, and lowered his glass. “I need your advice, Thodelm.”
Golden brows rose slightly. “Shall I be alarmed?”
“You may well become so; who am I to know?”
“And is it,” Er Thom asked carefully, “Korval come seeking yos'Galan's advice, on behalf of the clan's son Daav?”
Trust Er Thom to parse the melant'i thus. Indeed, he had himself spent a goodly portion of the afternoon attempting to untangle just that point.
“Scrutiny reveals that it must be Korval who seeks yos'Galan's wisdom—on behalf of Korval. There's no keeping Daav out of the equation, I fear, but the solving cannot be for the undutiful child alone.”
“Hah.” Er Thom pulled out a chair and sat, waving Daav to the other. “Tell me.”
“Put most simply, and with the best good of the clan foremost in your consideration—does it seem to you that the clan might . . . thrive . . . should the delm choose to accept employment as copilot on a courier ship?”
“It does not immediately seem to me that the clan would founder and break apart,” Er Thom said placidly. “yos'Galan appears to take no harm from the benevolent neglect of its thodelm.”
“True. I will tell you that I have spent some time with the Diaries today, and learn that past delms have been . . . more lightly tied to Liad.”
“So there is precedent.”
“There is,” Daav agreed. “Do you think it wise for both the delm and the delm's heir to be offworld at the same time?”
Er Thom tipped his head. “Did not our mother and my mother travel off-planet together in company with my elder brother?”
They had, Daav allowed—delm, thodelm and a'thodelm, together all. And when the trip was done, delm and a'thodelm were dead, with the thodelm crippled, and in mortal fear of her life.
“That is hardly an argument in support of the scheme,” he commented.
“It is merely an observation,” Er Thom said, frowning down into his glass. “We were already thin when that trip was taken—it was only after that we came to think of ourselves as endangered.”
He lifted his head. “I think it was my mother, who came back to us so badly wounded, having lost her sister and her heir, who locked us down, brother, and insisted that the delm clip his wings.”
Daav considered. In the terrible days after their losses, he and Er Thom had depended upon the clan's sole remaining elder for advice and guidance. Ill and grieving as she was, she might well have deemed it best to nail her reckless nephew to the ground, lest he risk his life and his bloodline.
“It may be that she was the author of our current situation,” he said slowly. “Indeed, the entries in the Diaries would seem to support the supposition. Perhaps it was wisdom.”
“Not wisdom,” Er Thom said decisively. “Not malice, I think—but wisdom? No.” He straightened.
“yos'Galan advises Korval,” he stated, in the mode of Subordinate-Line-to-the-Delm.
Daav inclined his head. “Korval hears,” he returned, Delm-to-Subordinate-Line.
“It is not the best care of the clan to huddle, safe, upon the homeworld. Korval is ships; Korval is pilots. If Korval allows fear to rule it, we become less than we are. More, we violate the law laid down for us by the Founder. Thus does yos'Galan advise the delm.”
