- Prologue

'No, not so powerful and more powerful too, that is Korval.' yos'Senchul raised one hand, fingers curled slightly, as if weighing Korval's power. 'A mighty clan, Korval, and very old. They are considered, perhaps, a bit odd, even dangerous, though none doubts their melant'i.'

Asu nodded as if he'd given a lecture, and blurted out breathlessly, 'If you think Korval's a myth you might as well think that Diamon Lines—and me too—are myths!' She waved her hand, not hand-talk, just finger-junk, and went on quickly. 'But, anyway, Clan Korval doesn't have a delm right now. He committed suicide!'

'This news . . .' said the instructor, leaning forward earnestly. 'Of a suicide I have heard. Might you share? Is it recent?'

'You didn't know? Delm Korval's life-wife was shot on Liad, right in front of him. I mean, she died, stepping in front of a pellet meant for him. And there, it was like he kept going a few days, and then turned everything over to staff, and left. They say he took his wife's spaceship and just flew it right on into the sun!'

'Ah,' said the Liaden carefully. 'Do you know, I think that I may have heard this—it happened some Standards ago, if I recall correctly.'

Over a sudden clatter and squeaking, yos'Senchul hand-spoke a determined attend me, leaning forward so they might both hear.

'Even at the time, there was some measure of disbelief in this death. It seemed . . . unlikely, at best, given what they say of Korval—and what Korval says of Korval. Korval is ships, Liadens say. A delm so distraught as to consider self-death . . . even such a delm, being Korval, I think would not, and could not, kill a ship. Korval is ships, Korval is pilots.'

Asu looked aggrieved.

'Well, have you seen Delm Korval? There is none!'

She straightened abruptly, fingers pressed to lips, as if just recalling that she spoke with one of her instructors.

yos'Senchul smiled lightly, his hand signaling a soothing this will clear.

'Indeed, this is not the first time that Korval has waited upon a delm—and it is true that yos'Galan never spoke against the reports. Be assured that there will again be a Delm Korval, and Sam Tim's lesson is a good one to recall. Go to Korval Himself only in extremity!'

'Do you guys want this stuff or should we just send it back now?' Turley leaned on the counter in front of them, hands spreading apart in question.

The stuff was overwhelming, and the first five pieces of it, including two large packages requiring signatures and thumbprints both, were for Asu, who cooed over the return addresses, each from one of the stops on the pro scavage tour. Covered in customs stickers, postage marks and symbols, freight notes, and handling instructions, the collection massed more than Asu.

Theo nodded to herself with casual understanding: this was why Asu wanted her to come along—not out of a concern that Theo wasn't getting enough 'fresh air,' but to have help carrying it all! It was a shame, she thought, that most of her hangers-on had found other things more interesting than her over the last few days.

No, on second thought—it wasn't. All that company had made her twitchy and bad-tempered. She'd rather not have to deal with a crowd, even if it would have been useful to have more hands to push Asu's mail across campus.

'Two more,' Turley called out.

Asu looked around, spied a community-use handcart across the room and darted off, leaving Theo to cope with whatever came across the counter next.

 . . . which turned out to not be so bad.

Package number six was a white box bearing local postage only—for Chelly. It had the look of a box of candy or pastries. There was no return address and no sign-for; Theo took that in hand with a shrug, as Asu came back, pushing the cart ahead of her.

The clerk from the back tossed the last package over the wall.

'Heads up! That one needs special handling!'

It wasn't a big packet; slightly smaller than Chelly's box. Turley caught it casually, and glanced at the tear slip.

Asu reached for it, but Turley lifted it out of her range.

'Ahem, student. This object has traveled light-years to reach us, so I think it ought to go to the person it's for. Erkes, Suite 302, Theo Waitley.'

He looked at Theo suspiciously, hamming it up for the line.

'Are you a pilot, Trainee? Or do I have to sign this for you from my lofty height?' He tapped the stylized delta wing on his collar for emphasis. 'This, my friend, is pilot post.'

He held the package out tantalizingly, as if daring Theo to take it.

From behind her came yos'Senchul's voice.

'If you please, Second Class Provisional Pilot Turley, it would honor me to sign for this package if you feel that Pilot Waitley's bona fides are lacking. In fact, I insist. I'm sure we all know the Terran refrain, 'Pilot post travels faster on the wings of a master.'?'

Eight

Erkes Dormitory, Suite 302

Anlingdin Piloting Academy

It was Asu's turn to push.

Theo walked beside the cart, keeping a concerned eye on the wobbling stack of packages, especially the thin one in the pale-brown cargo wrap. The wrap was worn in spots—which was, Theo told herself, reasonable for something so well traveled. There was a stub of green stuck askew at the bottom left, which was her part of the school's tear slip; otherwise the package was innocent of the postage and customs forms that decorated every