Mouse and Dragon

by Sharon

  “Sinit!”

  Tea, the tinned cookies from the very top cabinet, cheese and rye crackers made a very worthy guest tray, Aelliana thought—and a welcome one, too, judging by Sinit’s attentions.

  “More tea?” Aelliana murmured.

  “If you please,” Sinit said, indistinctly. She swallowed. “These cookies are very good, Aelliana, you should try one!”

  “I’ve only just had lunch,” Aelliana murmured, which was true. Also, she had found of late that sweet things did not please her, which she did not say. Merely, she took a bit of cheese onto a cracker and nibbled it while Sinit disposed of four more cookies.

  At last, her sister sighed, and leaned back into the sofa cushions, her teacup gripped tightly in both hands, as if she feared it being snatched away from her.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You are very welcome. I’m glad I was at home when you came. Your timing was fortunate; I’d just gotten in from a meeting in Solcintra.”

  “To visit … your ship?” Sinit asked, with what Aelliana supposed was meant for delicacy.

  She smiled. “Indeed, no. My ship is berthed at Chonselta Port; I flew it to Solcintra and met with Verisa pel’Quinot, at the Scout Academy. From today’s discussions it seems fairly certain that I will be teaching Math for Survival, and an advanced course in general mathematics. The contract must be drawn and reviewed, of course, but—”

  “Scout Academy?” Sinit interrupted. “But … you’ll still be teaching at—at your usual—”

  “I resigned my position at Chonselta Tech,” Aelliana said gently. “I had determined to set up as a courier service, you see, and the demands of that employment are incompatible with the academic calendar. Scout Academy proposes an intensive course of study that will occupy me and my students fully for a relumma, thus leaving three in which to fly.” She sipped her tea, considering Sinit’s face.

  “What news from home?” Aelliana asked, when it seemed that the silence had stretched too long.

  Sinit glanced down into her cup. “Voni’s married again,” she said slowly, “so it’s only me and Mother in-House. She keeps to her office, though I see her sometimes at meals. My tutor was dismissed; I’ve signed in with the Virtual Classroom—accounting courses, mostly, and comparative cultures. I—Oh! What a beautiful cat!”

  He did, Aelliana supposed, cut a handsome figure, with his plumed tail held high and his whiskers a-quiver, as if he had no notion that there was anything improper in perusing the cheeses on the guest tray.

  “He was rather disordered when he first came, but he has cleaned up nicely,” she said. “Extend your finger, slowly—yes. Now wait for a moment.”

  The cat considered, then stepped forward, daintily avoiding the tray, and bumped his head forcefully against Sinit’s finger.

  Aelliana laughed. “He wants his head rubbed, I fear.”

  Sinit willingly performed this service, also skritching his chin when it was presented.

  “What is her name?”

  “His name is Scout,” Aelliana said, leaning forward to put her cup on the table. “He had been called Mouse when he first took up residence, but he has grown so bold that it no longer suits him.”

  Scout stepped away from the ministering hand, stretched a back foot in salute and jumped to the floor. Sinit did not look up; her voice when she spoke was very quiet, and far too serious for a girl of nearly fifteen Standards.

  “Are you coming home, Aelliana?”

  She sighed and shook her head. “No.”

  “Is it because—Mother says it’s because Korval makes itself free of everyone’s treasures.”

  An argument that would bear more weight, Aelliana thought sharply, if Mizel had valued her, at all. She sighed.

  “It is because I do not love Mizel, nor can I forgive its failures.” She spoke carefully, for to say such a thing—such things were not said. To be outside of the clan was to be dead to the clan. Exactly thus had Ran Eld been deprived of life and every human comfort. She looked to her sister, who was slightly pale, though her eyes were steady.

  Aelliana inclined her head. “In addition, Daav yos’Phelium and I are—natural lifemates, bound soul to soul. That Mizel conspires to separate us does not bring the clan nearer to my heart.”

  “Mizel is … not well,” Sinit said seriously. “I asked if she should have the Healers, for it seemed—it seems that she grieves too much, and she—” Tears rose in the brown eyes. “She struck me, Aelliana.”

  She took Sinit’s hand, speechless.

  “The reason I set myself to accounting is that—I looked in the House records—”

  Aelliana stared. “Sinit!”

  “I had to know! Mother—the delm—I scarcely know who! She speaks of merging with Lyderg and she swears that you are the clan’s only hope of survival, and I know that you do not—cannot—come back to us, Aelliana! But surely there is something—” Tears started down the pale face; Sinit’s fingers gripped her so tightly that Aelliana was certain she would have bruises.

  “I do love Mizel and I don’t wish to see us fail! We need to reclaim the nursery and—and bring ourselves into profit. If I become an accountant, I will know how to do these things; I will have access to the Accountants Guild’s mentoring programs and—and Mother won’t say that I’m a useless drain on the clan … ” she finished in a whisper.

  Aelliana moved, wrapping her sister into a hug.

  “You are not useless,” she said fiercely. “You are Mizel’s last and best hope.”

  Sinit sniffled. “I don’t—”

  “What would you be willing to do,” Aelliana interrupted, “in order to salvage Mizel? Would you be willing to—to—” An idea was coming into shape. She didn’t have all of it, yet, but she had … something. She could taste it, like the solution to a knotty math problem.

  “Would you be willing to be fostered into a clan that might teach you about management and how to forge alliances?”

  “Yes!” Sinit pushed against Aelliana’s embrace, and sat up, her face set and her brown eyes fierce. “Aelliana, I would do anything within my power.” She blinked.

  “Your face is—Aelliana, what are you planning?”

  “I don’t quite know myself,” she admitted. “I need to think.”

  “I—” Sinit looked up. “Gods, the time! Aelliana—”

  Aelliana looked at the clock, astonished at its report.

  “Come,” she said, rising and pulling Sinit up with her. “We’ll catch a cab.”

  The cab was easily caught, but Sinit would not allow her escort.

  “If Mother sees you, she will compel you to come in-House,” Sinit whispered. “You dare not risk it. I will be quite safe.”

  From this position she would not be moved, and at last, not without relief, Aelliana let her go, first paying the fare to Raingleam Street and a bonus, for the driver’s trouble.

  She watched the taxi out of sight, then slowly went back inside.

  To think.

  *

  Jen Sar Kiladi had been particularly prolific these last weeks. It seemed the man thrived at night. Who would have known?

  The most recent paper polished to a high gloss, the professor’s attention wandered and himself after it, leaving Daav yos’Phelium yawning in his chair.

  It was very late—or very early, depending, he supposed, on whether one was still awake or just risen. He—was still awake, and had really ought to engage the Rainbow in the service of getting some sleep.

  He rose from behind the desk and stretched, feeling cramped muscles catch, then loosen.

  Well.

  “Sleep,” he told himself. “Now.”

  He turned away from the desk—and immediately turned back as the comm chimed.

  Who, at this hour? he thought, but his fingers had already accepted the call, and there was Mr. dea’Gauss in the screen.

  “Good morning, your lordship,” he said peremptorily. “Necessity dictates that you hear two things, immediately.�
�

  Daav sank back into his chair. “You have my attention, Mr. dea’Gauss.”

  “Excellent. The first thing that you must hear is that Aelliana Caylon Clan Mizel has accepted the portion settled upon her some relumma past by Daav yos’Phelium.”

  Daav’s heart stuttered. Here it is, he thought. She has had enough, and who can blame her? A pilot’s first care is for her ship, and a ship—a ship needs money.

  He inclined his head.

  “I hear,” he said, formally.

  “Yes.” Mr. dea’Gauss sighed. “The second thing you need to hear, your lordship, is rather complex. If you would prefer that I come to you—”

  “We have begun, sir,” Daav interrupted. “Let us by all means continue until we reach the end.”

  “As you say.” There was silence for the beat of three. In the screen, Mr. dea’Gauss glanced aside, as if gathering his thoughts. It was then that Daav saw that his man of business was not calling from the offices downtown, but from what appeared to be his private rooms.

  “The following is proposed, as an offering to Mizel,” Mr. dea’Gauss said at last. “There are five specific points.”

  Five points? Daav wondered. But what use had they for points, or for appeasing Mizel in any way if Aelliana—

  “One. Korval will pay to Mizel the life-price for a first class pilot as set down in the Accounting Standards. That sum will be paid in full at the time the contract is signed.

  “Two. In six years, Korval will pay to Mizel the life-price for a scholar expert as set down in the Accounting Standards.

  “Three. Sinit Caylon will be fostered into yo’Lanna for six years in order to complete her education.”

  Daav sat forward in his chair.

  “Four. In acknowledgement of the fact that Mizel is grown dangerously thin—and made thinner yet by reason of Three, above, a dea’Gauss will be placed into Mizel’s service for a period of six years, to perform those tasks that would, in the proper order of things, fall into the nadelm’s honor.

  “Five. Aelliana Caylon will pay the blood-price for Ran Eld Caylon’s death, which debt properly falls to her, when Sinit Caylon takes up Mizel’s Ring.”

  It was a thing of broad and scintillant amazement, Daav thought; a solving worthy of a delm. Saving one or two small details.

  “Mr. dea’Gauss, I stand in awe of Pilot Caylon’s solution. However, I cannot help but notice that your Line has become entangled in Korval’s contract, which we surely cannot have—”

  “Your lordship of course is not conversant with all the details of our House,” Mr. dea’Gauss interrupted. “I therefore hasten to assure you that this is the very solution toward which I have been groping for a Standard or more. There is one of my House, who serves in the firm, for whom this proposed assignment is—in a word, your lordship, perfect.” He inclined his head. “I welcome this opportunity to further strengthen the bonds between our clans.”

  There could be no doubting his sincerity, Daav thought. He inclined his head.

  “Very well, Mr. dea’Gauss. I also see that we have involved yo’Lanna in this. It is perhaps unworthy of me to suppose it, but I fear my mother’s dear friend will not share your generous impulse.”

  “On the contrary, your lordship. Pilot Caylon reports that her ladyship would be delighted to assist in this matter. She asserts that it is not to yo’Lanna’s benefit to see Mizel dissolved and further states that it is the duty of the High to assist those who stand below.”

  Daav gave a shout of laughter.

  “Exactly,” Mr. dea’Gauss said solemnly. “I should add,” he said after a moment, “that Pilot Caylon was kind enough to calculate the seed money needed for the proposed future payouts, and to cite several funds paying interest enough to grow the seed into payment in full.”

  Daav bit his lip. “No doubt the exercise afforded considerable pleasure to Pilot Caylon.”

  “She seemed very much in spirits,” Mr. dea’Gauss said quietly.

  Daav took a breath against the sudden stab of longing. Below the desk, out of sight of the screen, he clenched his fists until his knuckles screamed.

  “I am pleased to hear it,” he said, steadily. “Mr. dea’Gauss, in your considered opinion—is Mizel likely to take this?”

  “There lies the genius of the plan, your lordship. If Mizel does not take it, then the delm must surely be brought before her peers and closely questioned as to her reasons. As Lady yo’Lanna states, it benefits no one to allow a clan to dissolve. In offering this, Korval is seen as looking to the best benefit of Liad.” Mr. dea’Gauss inclined his head. “Which is according to its charter.”

  Daav bent his head and considered the plan. It posed, in its way, just as much risk as the one he and dea’Gauss had produced, yet carried a greater likelihood of success, if Mr. dea’Gauss was to be believed, and an avenue of legal recourse open to them, if Mizel balked.

  “It is well,” he said, raising his head. “I do not need to ask you to bend your best efforts, I know. Please, proceed as you see fit in negotiating these new terms. The dice are in your hand.”

  Mr. dea’Gauss bowed.

  “I shall do my utmost, your lordship.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The wages of spite are well-earned.

  —Liaden Proverb

  Daav gave his cloak to Kareen’s butler and paused a moment to order himself. He wore a misty grey coat and silvered lace, in complement to Aelliana’s colors. That he arrived alone, and yet constrained by Mizel’s whim, angered and dismayed him.

  Still, he reminded himself, he would at least be able to see her, a pleasure that had been denied him for too long. If he were very lucky, they might meet in a condition demanding that they exchange a brief greeting with the bow. It frightened him, how much he ached to hear her voice.

  Well, and standing out here in the hallway would serve nothing, save Kareen’s spite. He gave his lace another, unnecessary, shake, and moved down the hall to the reception room.

  He had arrived somewhat behind time, wishing to avoid a long dawdle in line before he paid his respects to the hostess and was passed inside. Thus, he found Kareen alone in the reception hall, with only her good friend Scholar Her Nin yo’Vestra to support her.

  He made his bow properly: Guest-to-Host, augmented with the hand-sign between kin.

  “Good evening, younger Brother!” Even in the High Tongue, Kareen sounded positively cheerful, which could not, Daav thought, be a good sign.

  He straightened warily.

  “Good evening, Sister,” he replied, speaking in the Low Tongue more from habit than from any particular wish to annoy her this evening. He inclined his head to her support. “Scholar yo’Vestra.”

  “Korval,” the man answered, with a certain sternness, as he was every bit as much of a stickler as Kareen. Indeed, the two of them sat together upon the League for the Purity of the Language—two cornerstone members.

  “Do go in,” Kareen urged him, smiling. “You will of course find many here whom you know.”

  Yes, he thought, his stomach tightening, too cheerful by far.

  He bowed again and passed into the great room.

  It was not quite a crush, he thought, pausing to survey the room. That would change over the course of the evening. He had only been somewhat late, and that in service of his own convenience. There were those others who would time their entrance so that the most eyes fell upon them.

  At the moment, he saw the usual and expected assortment of guests. Kareen had drawn almost exclusively from the High Houses for this entertainment, with a few of the more … ambitious of the Mid Houses, nor had she stinted herself in the matter of ostentatious display. The hall had been repainted a velvety gold, with new rugs to match. It was rather like standing inside a jewel box, with the guests acting the part of the jewels.

  Daav took another step into the room, meaning his path to intersect with that of a server wearing a wide-sleeved gold shirt and carrying a tray full with glasses, when t
he crowd shifted, only a little; he saw Lady yo’Lanna, surrounded as usual with the beautiful and the amusing, the woman at her side perhaps the new favorite—

  He went taut, even as the breath was crushed out of his lungs. Joyfully, he accepted the bolt of her beauty and he stood there, transfixed—no! Breath returned with a rush; his heart slammed into overdrive and there was nothing, there was no one but her, to whom he must go immediately. He took a step …

  Aelliana turned, her eyes wide and fey. Her hand rose, lace flowing away from her fingers like water, as she, too, took a step—

  His arm—the grip was firm enough to pierce the glaze of enchantment. The voice was overloud, commanding attention.

  “Young Korval!” Guayar told the room. “Just the man I was wanting to see!”

  Daav shook his head, unable to move his eyes from her face, the compulsion painful now, so that his breath came short, and he—

  “Daav … ” That was lower, almost a growl. “Command yourself.”

  “I—” His voice died. Gods, he would die, if he did not go to her now, now, and damn the consequences—

  “Come with me,” Guayar said. “You want wine.”

  “No,” he whispered. “No, I don’t want wine.”

  The grip on his arm was firm enough now to bruise. He scarcely felt it, in the greater agony of his soul.

  “Very well, then,” Clonak’s father said, with quiet patience, “you want a glass of tea. Come with me, please, you are becoming an object of interest.”

  Lady yo’Lanna extended a hand; leaned close and whispered something to Aelliana. She—Aelliana turned her back on him.

  “Daav?”

  “Yes,” he said raggedly, turning painfully toward his own rescuer. His body ached, as if he had been thrown onto sharp stones from a height. “For the gods’ sweet love, sir, do not loose my arm.”

  Guayar sighed, but held firm. “No more than a dozen steps, there is an alcove provided with refreshments,” he said, in normal tones. “We may be private there. I swear that my small bit of business will go no longer than is required to drink a glass of tea.”

  *

  “Will you lose everything for one unguarded step?” Lady yo’Lanna whispered in her ear.