introduced to the lady, and will know no one—”
“Ah, but there you are out!” Daav riffled the envelopes in his hand and held one up so that she could see the Snake-and-Moon. “Unless she has lost her touch—which is not the wager to take—this is my invitation to the same event.”
“That was clever of her,” Aelliana acknowledged. “Shall we go?”
“I should think that we must. She's very likely enjoyed herself immensely in choosing the guest list so that she may be the first to make you known to those whom you may find charming, interesting, or of use. We could hardly be so churlish as to deny her so much pleasure.”
Aelliana frowned down at the card, trying to read intent into the few formal lines.
“Of use?” she murmured.
“Indeed. Lady yo'Lanna is nothing, if not a pragmatist—you see? Already you share ground in common! It appears that she is willing to ease your way into the world.”
She looked up. “This is—a kindness?”
“So I believe, yes.”
A kindness. Aelliana sighed.
“Tomorrow, I will write Lady yo'Lanna a note, accepting her kind invitation and thanking her for her notice.”
Daav grinned. “I shall do the same. In my own hand, mind, or I will have such a peal rung over me that it will be heard in the Low Port!”
She tucked the card back into its envelope, placed it on the side table, and sipped her wine before turning her attention to the other invitation.
The embossing was Korval's familiar Tree-and-Dragon; her name was written in glossy black ink in a hand so firm the pen had scored the paper.
She broke the seal and drew out the card.
Since their second, not entirely cordial interview, she had not again met Daav's sister. Indeed, it might have been said that, busy as she had been with other matters, the lady had slipped her mind altogether.
Alas, she had not been similarly forgotten.
She drew a breath.
“Ah, Kareen,” Daav murmured, “so subtle.”
He held what she could only suppose was a like card; shaking his head at it sadly.
“I will not be attending this formal evening gather,” Aelliana stated.
Daav looked at her, one eyebrow up. “Whyever not?”
“Because it is a trap. Lady Kareen warned me that I would not be able to hold my place among the High. Now, she seeks to prove her course and shame me publicly. I will not attend.”
“Don't you wish to prove her wrong?” Daav asked, with every appearance of seriousness.
“I fear that I will rather prove her correct.”
“No, only think! Lady yo'Lanna's picnic is well before this evening gather. Recall that you will at that event be introduced to people whom she thinks you should know. I will grant that not all will be High House, but some will. Very certainly some, if not all, of those whose acquaintance you will make at Glavda Empri will also be present at Kareen's affair. And, you know, you will probably receive other invitations between—Kareen having been so kind as to give us more than half a relumma to prepare.”
She considered him. “You wish me to enter battle?”
“Not in the least. Only attend and demonstrate to Kareen why her equations are faulty.” He tipped his head. “If you refuse to attend this gather, she will only have another, you know. Refuse again and it will surely come to be known that Korval's dependent shows scant gratitude to the House.”
It took the breath away, that summation, but Aelliana had to admit that nothing he said struck her as being beyond Kareen's scope. Certainly, it was to the lady's benefit to publicly discover her rag-mannered and worse. Not to mention that such a public humiliation must also score a strike upon Daav.
Stomach tight, she returned that card, too, to its envelope and put it with the first.
“Tomorrow,” she said unwillingly, “I will send an acceptance.” She looked up and met his eyes. “In my own hand.”
He smiled, pride evident.
“We play on,” he said and inclined his head. “Of course, I shall accompany my pilot onto this chancy port.”
He placed his sister's card onto the smaller of the two piles, dropped the three remaining in his hand onto the larger, and picked up his other correspondence.
Aelliana sipped her wine, watching him lazily as he opened the first, and drew out a sheet of pale violet paper. He could have read no more than the first two lines before he dropped it, too, into the larger pile and opened another envelope.
Smiling, feeling very much at peace, Aelliana turned her attention to her own letter. The envelope bore the ship and planet sigil of the Liaden Scouts over the words Verisa pel'Quinot, Scout Academy. She broke the seal and withdrew a single sheet of white paper, light and crisp to the touch.
The letter itself was brief, consisting merely of a proposition, and a request for a meeting, if the proposition pleased.
