“My apologies to the Hall,” Daav murmured.
He took a breath, closed his eyes, and seemed to—to step away from himself. Aelliana gasped, for truly he burned less vividly inside the dingy little room. He opened his eyes, and her heart cramped; his gaze was remote, as if he looked across a distance too great to bear interest, or humor, or love.
“Daav . . . ”
She stepped forward, hand rising—her wrist was caught by the Healer, his bony fingers surprisingly strong.
“Yes, that is well done and I thank you!” he said snappishly, apparently to Daav. “Maintain yourself thus, and give respite to those who shielded themselves in time to avoid a headache! Pilot—”
He turned to Aelliana, releasing her with a small bow. “As improbable as it seems, this man will do as you tell him. Tell him, I implore you, to take up the norbear and go away with you, back to your ship and off of Avontai, immediately!”
“We had thought,” Daav said, in a too-calm voice, “to leave the norbear in the care of the house. The Healers on Liad often take charge of such strays.”
“This is not the homeworld!” the Healer snapped, and sighed. “Forgive me—you are not informed. We dare not keep the creature here, Pilots. Avontai has a horror of such things as mind control—we are barely tolerated—and only if we are careful not to interfere too much! To hold a norbear in-house would be to destroy the Hall. We cannot allow even such limited aid as we may offer to falter on one life—any life. You have interfered in an alleyway brawl, which you surely know better than—and now you must pay the price. Remove yourselves to a place of safety greater than Avontai. We have summoned a cab—go now!”
Aelliana met Daav's remote black gaze and shivered.
“What is your name?” she asked the Healer.
“I am Hall Master Ver Sev. Feel free to use my name with the Portmaster. Now, will you go? Every moment those two linger here is a moment that those in pain are without surcease.”
She could, Aelliana thought, scarcely be so coldhearted as to remain in the face of such distress. She cleared her throat.
“Daav?”
“Aelliana, it is well,” he told her in that too-calm voice.
She doubted it, but there again, if departing this place won him wholly back to her, then she wished to tarry not one heartbeat longer.
“If you please,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Bring the . . . norbear and let us go.”
Calmly, he bent and picked up the case.
The Master Healer sighed, noisily. “Just through there, Pilot. The cab awaits.”
Carrying the case, Daav left the parlor first. As Aelliana followed him out into the foyer, she heard Master Ver Sev say, softly, “Thank you, Pilot.”
The Luck's hatch sealed securely behind them, and Aelliana spun, fright and confusion flaring into anger.
“Daav yos'Phelium, stand forth and tell me what has happened!”
He tipped an eyebrow; she thought his gaze was sharper now, but he maintained a reserve that was both unfamiliar and unwelcome.
“What would you know, Pilot?”
“What is that—that norbear? Why must we take it off-world? Is it dangerous? Where are we to take it? What happened to you?”
“A comprehensive beginning list,” he murmured, and his eyes were sharper; his expression sardonic, his whole self coming back into focus.
“As for the norbear . . . ” He dropped to one knee and opened the bag wide.
“Come out now, rogue, and show yourself to the pilot. Understand, I can do nothing if she decides to space you, or to bake you and serve you up for tea. She is the final authority here, and it is she whose patronage you must win.”
As before, a small, furry hand rose to grip the side of the case. The hand rested for a moment, was joined by a second, and then a pair of round ears, a round head and large, liquid eyes. It paused with its nose level with the case, as if giving her a moment to accommodate herself.
“It understands?” she asked Daav.
“To a certain point. The questions being—which point, and whether he also misunderstands or only ignores one.”
She frowned at the creature, knelt, and tapped the deck before her with a forefinger.
“Come here, norbear.”
It blinked, as if considering the request, then all at once it was scrambling out of the case, sliding and hitting the deck firmly on its rounded rump. Undeterred, it performed a graceless somersault, got all four feet oriented and bumbled toward her. It tried to stop on the spot she had indicated, but its claws got no purchase on the decking and it slid the last distance, bumped into her hand, skittered a little, and sat, one paw braced on the deck and the other on her knee.
She stared down at it. A less offensive creature would be difficult to imagine, yet neither the crowd's horror nor the Healer's fear had been feigned. It bore her scrutiny with the good humor that seemed its chiefest characteristic; not so large as a cat, nor yet so small as a mouse, its brown fur was shot with ripples of orange. Aelliana bit her lip, fighting a desire to laugh—and another, to gather it up and rub her cheek against its plush fur.
