Aelliana drew a breath—and let it out in a rush.
“Only by being correct,” she said ruefully. “I need to learn how to be captain of my own ship—that is why we are undertaking this enterprise.”
He gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Being reminded of one's duty is endlessly irritating, is it not?”
She felt her mouth twist slightly—perhaps not quite a smile, but no longer a frown. “In fact, it is.”
She touched the comm, recalling Mr. dea'Gauss from his exile off-screen.
“The contract is well, sir, saving that we stipulate a three percent bonus for early delivery, rather than five, as it is written here. We are young in this trade, after all. Perhaps, after we are established, we might revisit the clause and raise our bonus to be more in keeping with our melant'i.”
Mr. dea'Gauss inclined his head. “The change shall be made, Pilot, and the contract dispatched immediately by runner to Lady jo'Bern. We will of course hold the executed hard copy at this office. Do you also wish a copy?”
She paused on the edge of saying “no,” considering what sorts of proofs might be required, Outworld.
“Of your goodness, please send an electronic copy to Ride the Luck.”
“It shall be done,” he promised. “Is there any other service I may perform for you?”
“Not at the moment, I thank you.” She glanced to her copilot. “Daav, have you anything for Mr. dea'Gauss?”
He glanced to the screen and inclined his head. “Only my thanks, as always, sir.”
Mr. dea'Gauss bowed.
“It is my pleasure to serve, your lordship,” he said formally.
The screen went dark.
“Put in my place twice in the course of a single meal,” Daav said mournfully.
Aelliana turned the comm off, and glanced to him.
“I think he meant respect, van'chela,” she said.
His lips twitched. “Ah, do you?” he murmured, and turned his head.
Aelliana followed his glance, immediately spying the red-haired pilot, who had apparently dismissed his comrades. He approached their table slowly, both hands plainly in sight, fingers slightly spread in the pilot's sign for no danger here. His hands were innocent of rings, Aelliana saw, which was proof of nothing—Daav had used to leave off Korval's Ring when he worked his shift at Binjali's. This man's pale fingers were unmarked, however, as if he disdained rings in general. His face was also pale, and his eyes were very blue.
He was not, she realized with a slight shock, Liaden.
“Clarence,” Daav said, his tone so even that Aelliana slipped her hand off the table and rested it on his knee.
She tried to be stealthy, but the red-haired pilot saw the movement, and stopped where he was, though he partially blocked the aisle. The emotions she received from Daav were—complex, even confused: wariness, affection, dismay, fellowship . . .
“ . . . it's good to see you,” Daav continued, in Terran.
“It's good to see you, too,” Pilot Clarence responded readily, and to Aelliana's ear truthfully. He glanced at her meaningfully, as if chiding Daav for his choice of language.
“Practice, I need,” she told him, in her laborious Terran.
“In that case,” he answered gravely, “I'm honored.”
Beside her, Daav shifted slightly; she received a flutter of good-humored fatalism from him, even as he swept his hand out to formally show her their guest.
“Aelliana, this is Clarence O'Berin. You may hear him referred to as 'Boss O'Berin,' or 'the Boss.' ”
Aelliana inclined her head. “Clarence O'Berin, I am happy to meet you,” she said, which phrase in Terran had very nearly the same meaning as its counterpart, in High Liaden.
“Not as happy as I am to meet Aelliana Caylon herself,” he answered gallantly. He glanced again to Daav. “I'm hoping the wine was acceptable?”
It was, Aelliana realized with a start, a bi-level question. She had not thought that such complexities were possible in Terran! In the flush of discovery, she almost missed Daav's reply.
“Half the pilots on-port have already bought Aelliana wine. I'm only amazed to find you among the half yet to do so.” His tone was light now, as if he wished to set the other pilot at ease.
“Not any more,” Clarence pointed out with a smile that perhaps betrayed relief.
“Kind it was,” Aelliana said, feeling that she should do her bit for good will between pilots. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” the red-haired man assured her. He paused, considering her out of sharp blue eyes. “Word on the port is you're looking to set up as courier.”
She frowned slightly as she felt over the shape of the words. “Set up? Ah! I see. Yes, I am available as a courier pilot.” There came a thrill of . . . something . . . from Daav, but she was too focused on the conversation to sort it out properly.
“I was a courier pilot, myself,” Clarence said. “It's a grand life, but a dangerous one.”
He spoke as one who had known such dangers at first hand, and Aelliana leaned forward eagerly. Here was a pilot she might learn from.
