“That is so,” he said, watching her with Scout's eyes. She sighed, sharply and suddenly, and closed her eyes, as if she had received . . . information—and of a sudden jumped, her eyes snapping open.
“But this is terrible!” she cried. “Where will he have gone? I must find him—at once!”
Daav stared. That she was in genuine distress was apparent, yet this same Ran Eld had in the not-distant past done his utmost to destroy her.
“He will likely have gone to Low Port,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “All of the clanless do, soon or late. It is the only place on Liad where their voice is heard and their coin is good.”
“Then I must—go to Low Port,” Aelliana stated, and bit her lip. “Will you come with me?”
“If it transpires that the errand must be run, I challenge you to hold me from your side,” he answered. “However, if I may . . . what is this urgency to seek a man you describe as spiteful and dangerous—and who has in the last day lost everything—because of you.”
“He has stolen the ring that Jon gave to me!”
Ah. Here, then, was not madness, but sensible outrage.
Daav bowed slightly. “Indeed,” he said gently, “he did so. However, it was recovered, through the good offices and sharp eyes of Pilot tel'Izak. Your delm requested that I hold it for you and return it to your hand, when you were found.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and produced it. “I regret. I should have given it to you immediately.”
It sparkled against his palm, seeming at first glance the most garish and gaudy bit of trumpery in the galaxy, formed all of glass and gypsy silver. Second glance saw that the rubies, emeralds, diamonds and sapphires were every one of the first cut, and the metal too heavy for anything but platinum. Daav dared not hazard a guess as to how long the ring had been in Jon's family; dea'Cort was an old piloting line. Say it was an antique, precious beyond its worth, and leave the matter there.
“I am in the pilot's debt,” Aelliana breathed. “Pray, how do I find Pilot tel'Izak?”
“I will tell you—later,” Daav said carefully. “Just at this present, she stands beneath her delm's displeasure.”
Aelliana stared up at him. “On my account?” she asked, and he could see that she meant to sally forth immediately and do battle on Samiv's behalf, if it were so.
“On mine, if you will have it. I used her shamefully.”
She frowned. “If it were done in service of protecting your pilot, then the debt is mine, as well,” she said.
Daav straightened his face with an effort, but she shot him a sharp glance, as if she had heard the laugh he had swallowed.
“Is there a joke?” she asked sternly, reminding him all at once that she was a teacher.
“Only that you had never used to lecture me on Code, Aelliana,” he said meekly, and smiled when she laughed.
“As to that,” she said, taking the ring from his hand and slipping it onto her finger. “I have just completed an intense study of the Code.”
It was humor—and Scoutlike of its kind—yet too close, far too close. Daav shivered.
“Oh, no!” She stepped forward, bold as she had never been, and put her arms around him. “It is well, van'chela! The Master Healer has said it—and, truly! I feel—I cannot recall when last I felt so well!”
His returned her embrace—how could he not?—his blood heating with unruly passions. Dazzled, he reached once more for the Rainbow . . . yet, here was Aelliana stretching high on her toes, her arms around his neck now, and her face turned up to his, eyes wide, lips barely parted. He bent his head . . .
Pounding roused him, and a voice shouting, “Korval!”
He stirred, breaking the kiss tenderly, and raised his head, as fuddled as if he had been woken from deep sleep. Aelliana moaned, her arms tightening, her body taut against his.
“Korval!” The voice came again, and he had wit enough now to recognize Master Kestra's voice. “I remind you that there are children in this House!”
“What does she mean?” Aelliana whispered.
Daav laughed, breathless, and found the strength to step back from her and put his hands down at his sides.
“Why, she only means that the Healers find me very—loud—as they have it, and rightly fear the impact of our —passion—upon the tender empathies of the students of the House.” He raised his voice to address the door.
“We are reminded, Master Kestra.”
“Bah,” the door returned comprehensively, followed by the sound of footsteps moving, much too heavily, away.
“Daav.”
He looked to where she stood, her eyes vividly green, her robe more than a little awry.
He managed a shamefaced grin. “Your pardon, Pilot. It will not happen again.”
“Now, that was not the proper answer.” Aelliana tucked her hands into her sleeves and shook her hair away from her face. “Daav—I—do not wish to—lift without you. Yet, to preserve myself, I must go. Even with Ran Eld . . . dead . . . Ride the Luck is not safe. The delm—Mizel is by no means wealthy. The sale of a starship would go some distance toward reasserting the clan's fortunes.”
“You still intend to work the ship?” Daav asked her.
“I—yes! But—circumstances are come upon me so quickly, that . . . ” She closed her eyes. “I must think, and
