Lee, Sharon - Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

She pushed the cover back and followed the cat's example. Once on the floor, however, she hesitated, looking down at herself. The olive trousers were rumpled and grass-stained, the black sweater flecked with stems and small bits of fluff.

“First a shower,” she told her invisible class. “This is not something to be discussed in less than a clean face.”

The cat was sitting in the window, gazing down into the garden, the tip of his striped tail flicking—one . . . two-three!—when Aelliana came into the parlor, her hair damp and loose along her shoulders.

In the shower, she had decided that the best course would be to send him a note through the house base, asking when they might speak together. She would be careful not to touch him, or in any other way offend him. In the time between, she would study the problem as she knew it to exist. She would, she vowed, do better for Daav than she had for Clonak.

She loved him, she thought, coming 'round the desk. Ought she to tell him so? She glanced at the computer; the message light was glowing a steady blue. Slipping into the chair, she touched the proper key.

Words bloomed on the screen; his name was the first she saw.

Good morning, Aelliana. I trust and hope that you slept well in our house. Korval's business rules me today, and so I am early away. That being so, I have asked my sister Anne to come to you and take you to the city to acquire clothing and whatever else you may need or desire. Please do me the honor of placing yourself entirely in Anne's care, and be guided in all things by her judgment.

Daav

She blinked and slumped back in her chair. Shopping? But—she needed nothing! Moreover—shopping with a strange lady—a Terran lady, whose book she still had not read? Was he mad?

“No,” she said, leaning forward abruptly. This was, after all, Daav, who did nothing for one reason if it could be done for six.

So, then, reason number one: Perhaps a wardrobe consisting entirely of two pairs of trousers, a sweater, a shirt, and a pilot's jacket was, just a bit, thin.

Reason number two: She had wanted to practice her Terran against a native speaker.

Reason number three: The lady was lifemated to Daav's sunny-haired brother, and counted the bonding as the greatest joy of her life.

“This is,” she told the orange cat, “a person I will wish to see.”

He had asked the lady to come to her, he said, but made no mention of an hour, nor left her any means of contact.

“Well, let us find Mr. pel'Kana,” she said to the cat. “Doubtless, he knows everything.”

As it happened, Mr. pel'Kana had been well-informed on her topic. He engaged to call Trealla Fantrol's butler with a message for Lady yos'Galan while Pilot Caylon chose her breakfast from among the foodstuffs on offer in the morning room.

Pilot Caylon had submitted to the morning room, seeing Daav's hand once again, and discovered herself most wonderfully hungry. By the time Mr. pel'Kana had come with the news that Lady yos'Galan would be pleased to wait upon her at the turn of the hour, Aelliana had consumed two cheese rolls, a cup of curried vegetables and drunk two glasses of tea.

“Thank you,” she said to the butler.

“Certainly, Pilot. Will there be anything else?”

“No, I—yes! I wonder, what is the name of the cat?”

Mr. pel'Kana leaned forward gravely. “Which cat, Pilot? There are several.”

“Oh! The orange one.”

“That would be Relchin. Quite the outdoors enthusiast. You'll find him more often in the gardens than the house, though he does enjoy his little luxuries. Lady Dignity prefers to observe the wilderness from the comfort of a window seat or an adjacent shelf.”

“I will watch for her,” Aelliana said solemnly, and Mr. pel'Kana bowed as if were perfectly natural that she do so.

“If I may, Pilot, you will not wish to forget your jacket, for your trip into the city.”

Her jacket. She looked at him doubtfully. “Is that . . . proper wear for—shopping?” Her cheeks warmed; she ought, she told herself, to know these things.

“A pilot's jacket is proper attire everywhere,” Mr. pel'Kana answered her gravely, and not as if her question had been absurd at all.

“Then I will fetch it immediately,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, Pilot. Will there be anything else?”

“No—not at the moment.”

“Very good, Pilot.” He bowed again, gently, and wafted out the door.

Aelliana finished her tea, cast a speculative eye on the remaining cheese rolls, and regretfully decided against. Lady yos'Galan was due in a very few minutes, and she still had to fetch her jacket.

She had just gained the second floor hallway when the bell rang.

Mr. pel'Kana met her at the bottom of the stairway, guided her to the threshold of the small parlor, and left her to enter alone.

A very tall lady stood by the mantle, her chestnut hair brushed back from a face that was both interesting and intelligent, but in no way beautiful. The jacket she wore open over her dull-gold shirt was good, serviceable twill. She smiled when Aelliana came into the room, as if the sight delighted her as few things had, and bowed in the mode of adult-to-adult.

“You must,” she said, as she straightened to her full, improbable height, “be Aelliana Caylon. I am Anne Davis.”

Aelliana returned the bow. “Lady yos'Galan,” she said, glad of adult-to-adult. “Thank you for your consideration.”

“Please, call me Anne,” the tall lady said. “I am very happy to meet you at last.”

At last? Aelliana inclined her head. “If you will be Anne, then I will be Aelliana,” she said, her words freighted with more formality than adult-to-adult easily carried. “I—It is very good of you to take me to the shops. I hope that I have not disrupted your whole day.”

“Not at all! If I had stayed home, I would only be reading student papers.”

Aelliana smiled. “I would rather go shopping myself,” she said. “But is the university not at recess?”

“The university is on recess, but I have six graduate students who do not know the meaning of the word 'rest.' Their enthusiasm does them credit, of course.” This was accompanied by a knowing look from well-opened brown eyes, and Aelliana smiled again.

“Of course. I hope, however, that they will grant their mentor the gift of a few days.”

“Oh, I have a plan,” Anne said airily, and plucked up a package from the mantle.

“Daav said that you were interested in reading my distillation of Professor yo'Kera's theory of the common root-tongue. Please, accept this as a gift.”

Aelliana received the book, and bowed. “My thanks to you for your kindness.”

“Please, think nothing of it,” Anne Davis told her. “If you are at liberty, we might go up to Solcintra now.”

“I lack any students as enthusiastic as yours,” Aelliana assured her, “and so am perfectly at liberty. I wonder . . . I wonder if I might ask a boon.”

Anne Davis tipped her head to one side. “Certainly.”

“I have . . . very small Terran,” Aelliana told her, in that tongue. “It would oblige me, if we might speak so.” She paused and said, more rapidly in Liaden. “It is for selfish purposes alone; I would very much like to improve my command. If it will be tiresome for you—already burdened with six eager students—then I thank you for your consideration of my request.”

“Has Clonak been teaching you Aus dialect?” Anne asked her, in the brisk modelessness of Terran.

Aelliana blinked up at her. “Trying, he has,” she admitted. “An apt pupil, I am not.”

“I think you're very apt, indeed. And I will be perfectly happy to let you sharpen your Terran against me. After all, I practiced my Liaden against Er Thom and Daav. Still do,” she added thoughtfully.