“Still well within the client's necessity for delivery,” he pointed out.
“True,” she acknowledged, and sighed. “I suppose we might call and find if he's arrived early.”
“Or,” Daav murmured, “we might refresh ourselves, and rest, so that we do not come to the young gentleman in all of the disorder of travel.” He met her eyes, his only slightly mischievous. “After all, he may have something to send in return.”
Aelliana leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers through her hair. It was true that they had flown hard, pushing her limits, if not his, and more with her training in mind than the bonus . . . But, it had been the pure joyous rush of flying, even the considerable bits where “flying” was Jump and the screens showed nothing but grey—the joy of knowing that she was at last working her own ship, just as she said she would do—exactly as she had hoped to do, with Daav sitting his board at her right hand. Oh, it had been exhilarating, the lift to Avontai.
But it had not necessarily been conducive to either rest or sleep.
“There is something in what you say,” she admitted. “Who would entrust anything precious to such a pair of scarecrows?”
She rose, stretching, and looked down into his face, noting the subtle signs of weariness there. Daav had kept good watch, as a copilot ought, and if he had not been as flight-drunk as his pilot, yet he had not gotten much more rest.
“I am going to take a shower.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“A shower and a nap?” he suggested.
“Only if you will do the same.”
He smiled, and a trickle of mischievous lust warmed the air between them, lighting a slow fire in her own belly.
“There's a rare bargain,” Daav murmured, and rose to his full height, formally extending his hand to her. Korval's Ring glinted, almost as if the Dragon had moved a wing. She rested her fingers on the back of his hand— and gasped aloud.
“I thought you said a nap,” she managed.
He smiled and raised their hands, bending his head above hers.
“There's time,” he whispered, and kissed her knuckles lingeringly.
His lips were cool, exciting in their remoteness, giving the lie to the passion licking across their nerves. She wanted to move closer, to achieve a fuller embrace, but their relative positions did not allow it. Daav completed his salute, unhurried, raised his head and turned, his hand still beneath her fingers.
Bland-faced, as outwardly indifferent as if they were two strangers about to go into a formal dinner together, he guided her across the piloting tower and down the short hall to their quarters.
The snow drifted prettily, glinting like mirrors among the lights of the port. The flakes were cold, which she had known they would be, but which still surprised, and she turned her face up into them, laughing as they showered burning kisses on her cheeks.
Snow play was limited to the air. Underfoot, the walk was heated and dry. Daav had approved of that, and settled the pack holding Hedrede's fragile treasure more firmly on his shoulder. She had protested that she could carry it just as well, but he claimed copilot's right.
“But that leaves me to protect you, and you know what my marksmanship is!” she'd protested, which had gained her one of his tightly edged smiles.
“I repose every faith in my pilot,” he'd replied, which was no answer at all, but nonetheless put her on her mettle.
Avontai Port was not so large as Solcintra, nor even Chonselta, though it enjoyed good custom. The walks were crowded; gem-colored light from the shops splashed across the walkways, scandalously painting the faces of passersby.
Aelliana looked from right to left and back again, trying to see everything at once. Her first new world—with snow! Perhaps, she thought, they might take a day, after the package was delivered, and explore Avontai more fully.
It came to her then that Daav, too, was being watchful, but in an entirely different manner. She considered the side of his face and the set of his shoulders. Not worried, she decided, but on guard.
Cautiously, she looked about, trying to see what might have made him wary, but saw nothing untoward. She swayed a step nearer to his side, though she did not take his hand. There was a chance that such contact would break his concentration, which she in no way wished to do until she more fully understood their position.
“Does the port feel strange to you?” she asked.
He looked down at her, black eyes, his hair starry with snowflakes.
“I have no comparison; this is my first time on Avontai Port.”
Aelliana bit her lip, and glanced about, but all she saw were shops and shoppers and people moving quickly, as if they had an errand in hand.
“Your friend Clarence had said that he was hearing from pilots that the ports felt . . . odd. To me, Avontai feels unlike Chonselta or Solcintra, but surely that is as it should be and nothing odd?”
“There are certain things to notice, when one is on-port. Do the natives seem unconcerned or anxious? Are proctors or security very obvious—or absent entirely? Does it seem that pilotkind cling close to each other, or that there are too few about on the common ways?” He moved his shoulders. “I will try to be a better teacher, Aelliana, though I suspect an experience of several ports may be necessary to build a sense of what is not odd.”
“That seems reasonable,” she granted, and gave him a grin, inviting him to share the joke. “So, we see a
