Aelliana frowned. “Felicitations?”
“Indeed. Korval and all who wish them well must be gladdened to know that the heir has been conceived.”
The heir? Aelliana pressed her hand against her breast, recalling Daav, the first day they had shared the tree's bounty, felled by his morsel, and his voice breathless with some exultation that had not been fear: “Surely it has no need to murder me today, and good reason to keep me alive for just a few days more.”
She took a hard breath and stared at the Healer, her face so calm and her eyes so knowing.
“Daav had kept fertile,” she said stringently, “for he had been to wed. I, however—had no such necessities.”
“Ah.” Master Kestra inclined her head. “Have you, perchance, eaten of the fruit of Korval's tree?”
“Yes, certainly. It is able to bypass the safeguards?”
“It is able to do a great many things, apparently, and it is invested in a Korval heir, more than many.”
Well, and Daav had told her that, too. She had not thought, not even while she was asking it to engineer some way for them to fully share themselves . . .
Whether it was at all reasonable, she owned herself annoyed, though not quite utterly horrified. Why couldn't it do as it was asked, she thought irritably, instead of playing mischief with one's sureties and arranging for an heir, too—
She gasped.
“Master Kestra.”
“Yes, Pilot?”
“I must ask you to hold this information in the strictest confidence. Tell no one! If Mizel—Mizel will see even more advantage in delay, if it becomes known that I am pregnant beforetime.”
Kestra inclined her head. “It is forgotten,” she said solemnly.
“I thank you,” Aelliana said fervently.
“Is there anything else the guest desires,” the Healer asked, “excepting a cat?”
Daav, Aelliana thought, around a knife thrust of longing so intense she thought she might be ill. As pleasant and cozy as it was, she foresaw that the cottage might very soon come to seem vast and echoing.
Forcefully, she put these thoughts behind her and shook her head.
“I thank you,” she said to the Healer. “I am well-content.”
“Then I will leave you. Please recall that you are welcome in the House, if you care to join us for meals or at another time. There is a list of activities on the house-net.”
“Thank you,” Aelliana said again, and it was all she could do, to hold the tears decently at bay until Master Kestra had made her bow and departed.
Aelliana closed the door, and made sure it was latched, then leaned her forehead against the friendly wood and allowed the tears to have their way.
Uneasy with the silence, she had found a music feed on the entertainment unit and turned up the volume until it could be heard in the furthermost corner of the little house. She washed her face, arranged the port comm on the desk; and hung her clothes away in the wardrobe, working methodically and taking care to think only on the task in hand.
Unhappily, she had not brought clothes enough that she would be occupied all evening by hanging them away. She sighed, leaving the green robe draped across the foot of the bed and went back into the main room. Leaning over the desk, she touched her screen—and jumped at the sound of a firm knock.
The knock came again—from the garden-side door, which meant that her visitor was a Healer—perhaps even the Hall Master, come to see how the guest was faring. It would not do, she told herself sternly, to simply ignore the summons, though she was not at all certain that she wanted company.
She opened the door.
“Well met, Pilot Caylon! The house offers companionship!”
The woman on the step had chocolate brown hair and light blue eyes. She was holding a lanky grey cat stretched across her body from hip to shoulder, one hand supporting the lean belly, the other gripping just beneath the upper legs. The cat's head was against her shoulder. There was something about the long muzzle that suggested at least temporary resignation; the very tippiest tip of the scruffy tail was twitching. Slowly.
Aelliana stepped back. She had, after all, requested a cat.
“Please bring her in,” she said hastily, “and put her down before she becomes angry.”
“He,” the other woman corrected, stepping into the house with a will. “Close the door, or he'll hide in the garden and it will take days to coax him back out.”
Aelliana complied, and her visitor placed the cat on the sofa.
“Now, Mouse, behave yourself. Pilot Caylon had specifically desired you.”
Mouse, however, having been granted liberty, wasted no time in leaping to the floor and taking refuge beneath the chaise.
The woman sighed and turned to Aelliana, her hands raised chest-high in a gesture that looked like the sign for surrender. Since she was wearing a shirt cut very low over round breasts, the gesture was beguiling—as perhaps it was meant to be. Her smile grew softer as she lowered her hands, and wider as Aelliana followed them to a trim waist.
