Lee, Sharon - Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

“That I will not, Pilot,” he said calmly. He paused, and appeared to consider her for a moment before bowing slightly. “Allow me to fetch tea,” he said smoothly. “Pray, make yourself at ease; I will not be a moment.”

He moved toward the back corner of the room, where a buffet like the one in the reception parlor stood. Aelliana sat down, folded her hands on the tabletop, and glanced about.

Mr. dea'Gauss stood high, indeed, she thought, to have gained the right to such an office. A working desk holding three screens and several piles of hard copy occupied a windowed niche on the left-hand wall; the table at which she sat was one of three such placed about the room. The floor was old wood, with bright carpets here and there, like flowering islands adrift upon a dark sea.

“Now, we may talk comfortably,” Mr. dea'Gauss said, setting a tray on the table. He poured for them, deft and neat, before taking the chair at her left hand.

“Where shall we begin, Pilot? I am wholly at your disposal.”

He did certainly seem to be so, Aelliana acknowledged. She sipped her tea—and sipped again in appreciation—before putting the cup aside.

“The task for which I would like to commission your consideration,” she said carefully, “is . . . ” She leaned forward, looking directly into his face.

“I own a Class A Jump—Ride the Luck—which is berthed at Binjali's Yard. It is—my intention to enter the lists as a courier pilot. I understand that there is paperwork—licenses to obtain, guarantees to be posted—in order to best serve and protect ship and crew along the . . . beyond Liaden space.”

“You wish me to bring that paperwork together for you? That is perfectly within my scope, Pilot.” He reached into the pocket of his vest and pulled out a notepad. Tapping the device on, he glanced at her. “A few questions if you will.”

“Certainly.”

“Good—when do you propose to put your ship to work beyond Liad?”

“As soon as may be,” she answered. “Much depends upon my copilot, who has some matters to put in order before he is cleared to fly.”

Mr. dea'Gauss tapped a note onto the pad. “What is your copilot's name?”

“Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval.”

She thought his fingers missed a beat; if so, he recovered so rapidly that she could not be entirely certain.

“Of course. I have Pilot yos'Phelium's particulars on file, so there is no need for you to detail those. Ride the Luck is of course registered with the Guild?”

“Yes. I had only just thought! Will you need ship's archives?”

“Ship's archives are not required, though I have found that it is beneficial to include them as part of the supporting documentation,” Mr. dea'Gauss murmured, his attention on his notes.

“I will transmit them to you this afternoon,” Aelliana promised.

He glanced up. “You need not discommode yourself, my Lady. As the archive is in support only, its presence is not necessary for the completion of the primary documentation.”

“It is no trouble at all,” she said. “I will be taking The Luck to Chonselta this afternoon.”

“In that wise, I will be pleased to have all necessary information immediately in hand,” he murmured and looked up. “I anticipate that the completed and certified documents will be in your hands no later than Banim Third-day.”

Aelliana blinked. “That's very soon.”

“As a task, it is not difficult. There may be some delay upon the Guild's side, though we will of course do everything possible to expedite the matter.”

He put his notepad on the table and gave her his whole attention once more. “I think we have this task well in hand, Pilot. What else may I be honored to do for you?”

She placed her hand on the envelope.

“I wonder if you are . . . able . . . to explain to me why I am awarded this—considerable!—settlement. Daav owes me nothing—it is I who owe him, more than ever I can hope to Balance.”

Mr. dea'Gauss glanced down, perhaps at the envelope; perhaps at the Jump pilot's ring on her finger, then raised his eyes to hers.

“His lordship allowed me to know of the bond between you,” he said slowly. “In . . . more regular circumstances, that bond would predicate a . . . social outcome.”

“As it did with Anne and Lord yos'Galan.”

“Precisely.” Mr. dea'Gauss placed his fingers lightly on the edge of the envelope.

“Precisely,” he said again, and paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

“His Lordship,” he said after a moment, “chose to honor the bond as if it is the social outcome, realizing that this may never come to pass. It is . . . an unusual melant'i, as he himself said, and one may therefore too easily err in proper action. One wishes to place honor—one wishes to place regard correctly, and to rightly value what is precious. His solution . . . I have spent many hours considering his lordship's solution, and I cannot find it in error, my lady, nor say that I might have counseled him differently.”

The envelope was textured and tickled her palm. Aelliana took a breath.

“This is a lifemate's share.”

“It is.”

“I . . . ” She closed her eyes, opened them and considered the man before her with his practical face and canny eyes.

“Mr. dea'Gauss, Daav and I are indeed lifemates-by-nature, as he told you. However, it is by—it is by no means certain that we can, or ought to be, lifemates-by-law. It is—I had hoped that this joint endeavor we undertake would clarify that point. You will know, sir, that Mizel is by no means High House. I would not damage Korval through my ignorance, nor would I make Daav vulnerable.”

He inclined his head, but said nothing, apparently waiting for her to continue, though what else she might say—

But, no, there was something else, after all, to say.

She pushed the envelope to him and lifted her hand away.

“Please, hold these safe until I call upon you in order to sign them, or ask that you destroy them.”

Again, he inclined his head, and Aelliana bethought herself of yet another question.

“In your judgment—ought I to make Daav half owner of The Luck?”

“My lady, you ought not,” he replied promptly. “He is your copilot, and I believe you will find that satisfies him very well.”

“Thank you,” she said, and hesitated, for surely the question that next rose to her tongue was no concern of hers . . .

“Is there something else, my lady?”

“I only wonder,” she said slowly. “This . . . employment as Ride the Luck's copilot will mean that Daav will sometimes be . . . unavailable to Delm Korval and the business of the clan.”

“That had mostwise been the case with Korval's delms until very recently,” Mr. dea'Gauss said. “This firm has protocols in place to handle much of what Korval has been addressing personally. Korval's presence will naturally be required at the bi-annual meetings of the Council of Clans, but a good deal of the . . . lesser business may be handled by a designated speaker.”

She frowned. “Does he—know this?” she asked, thinking of the sense of weariness and ill health that she had felt in him, bone-deep.

“It is my melant'i to assume that Korval is informed,” Mr. dea'Gauss said delicately. “The conditions under which we currently operate are by instruction of Thodelm yos'Galan, acting as Korval-pernard'i, in the aftermath of the tragedy that cost Korval its delm and yos'Galan its a'thodelm. The instructions were never rescinded.”

“I see,” she said, and inclined her head. “Mr. dea'Gauss, I thank you for the gift of your time—and for your assistance.”

“You are most welcome, my lady. Please consider me entirely at your disposal.”

“You're very kind,” she said and stood, Mr. dea'Gauss rising with her.