Aelliana following suit.
“Where,” she asked, after the plates were empty and the glasses refreshed again, “did you go?”
“Ah. Daav visited his brother while the delm took counsel of his thodelm.”
Aelliana felt her stomach tighten. “And the outcome?” she asked, striving for a calm voice.
“Thodelm yos'Galan is of the opinion that it is Korval's duty to show a bold face to the world. It is unbecoming of us to cower in the shadows, clinging to safety. He stops short of advising us to brawl in taverns and set up a business in the Low Port, but only just.”
She considered that, sipping her wine gratefully. “Mr. dea'Gauss had said that there were protocols in place in his office, to accommodate those tasks that the delm now oversees,” she said, looking up into Daav's sharp, attentive face. “He says that there is a promising younger on his staff whom he would very much like to accept those responsibilities—with oversight, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
Aelliana sipped again, thinking of the papers that she had left, unexecuted, in Mr. dea'Gauss' hands. There was, she decided, no need to mention them to Daav. After all, he had seen no need to tell her that he intended to settle half his fortune on her.
“We are agreed, then? You will sit my copilot, and we shall enlist The Luck as a courier?”
He smiled, and she felt her blood warm.
“We are agreed,” he murmured. “How can we stand against the advice of both yos'Galan and dea'Gauss?”
She laughed, and reached out to touch his hand, feeling his amusement bolster her own.
“Now!” he said. “Would you like another toasted cheese sandwich?”
She considered him, and the thought—the desire—that had formed, seemingly of its own.
“I thank you,” she said, “but no. I believe that I would rather field—an impertinence.”
Interest rippled from him, and perhaps a glow of pride.
“And that would be?”
She took a deep breath, his hand beneath hers on the table. “Might I see—your apartment?”
There was a flutter of—Daav slid his hand away.
Panicked, she looked up into his smile.
“There is not very much to see, but if that is your whim—certainly. Let me clear the table while you finish your wine.”
His apartment was on the same side of the hall as hers; it warmed her absurdly to think that they shared a like view of the inner garden. He opened the door and stepped back to allow her first entry, as if she outranked him—or the place was hers by right.
She looked up into his face, which was perfectly and politely bland. She raised her hand—and let it fall before she touched him.
“Daav? If you had rather not . . . ”
“You had wanted to see it,” he murmured. “Please, satisfy yourself.”
Thus commanded, and regretting her impertinence fully, she stepped into the room.
She had meant—when she saw how much it distressed him, she had meant only to look, and then to go away and leave him his peace. But the room drew her in, step by wondering step, and she with just enough sense to keep her hands clasped behind her. The shelves begged study—there were books, certainly, but interesting stones, figurines, shells, and other things that she would need to ask him what they were, and what he thought of them.
A comfortably-shabby double chair covered in dusty blue sat at an angle to the fireplace, a book open, facedown on the seat. By the window, where in her apartment the computer desk held pride of place, stood a worktable of another kind, bladed tools were neatly set to hand; wood in different shapes, colors and textures were sorted to the sides. The comm unit sat on a table of its own; message light dark.
She moved on, her steps Scout-silent on overlapping rugs, pausing as she came to a wall covered so closely with pictures that the wood could not be seen. A star map caught her eye, and a portrait of the tree, drawn in a childish hand. A flatpic of a fair-haired woman with piercing blue eyes, and another, of a brown-striped cat . . .
Aelliana took a breath, and spun slowly, seeking to memorize this place that was so clearly and definitively Daav's place.
Her spin brought her 'round to face him, standing as still as a wild thing to one side of the open door, watching her from hooded black eyes. She bowed, as one who has been granted a great boon.
“Thank you,” she whispered, and took a breath. She wanted to stay here in this room that seemed to embrace her and hold her close, but that would indeed be an impertinence. Daav, she understood suddenly, did not have people here. He had an entire house in which to entertain whom he would—friends, even lovers, need never come here.
“I will bid you good night, van'chela,” she said gently. “Dream sweetly.”
She moved toward the doorway.
“Aelliana.” So soft, his voice. Almost, she thought she had imagined it.
She turned. He held out his hand, fingers slightly curled; she put her palm against his.
“Will you stay?” he asked, and she read his desire, that she would, and his fear—that she would refuse him.
