Mouse and Dragon

Liaden 11 - Mouse and Dragon

Chapter Thirty-Two

A Dragon will in all things follow its own necessities, and either will or will not make its bow to Society.

—From the Liaden Book of Dragons

Daav turned the last page over, and looked to Korval's man of business, sitting straight-backed and attentive on one of Kareen's damned uncomfortable visitor's chairs.

“Mizel accepts all,” he said, scarcely believing what he had just read, “and even adds a date by which Miss Sinit must be welcomed into yo'Lanna's keeping.” He extended a hand, and flipped up the last page, half afraid that he had imagined it—but, no. Mizel's line was signed, witnessed, and sealed. All that remained was to apply his signature and Mr. dea'Gauss his, and the thing was done.

At last.

“I have a pen, your lordship,” Mr. dea'Gauss murmured, rising and reaching into his jacket.

Of course he had a pen. Daav received it with a nod.

“My thanks yet again, Mr. dea'Gauss. I regret this disruption of your evening.”

“It is nothing, your lordship. What I regret is the length of time it has taken us to arrive at this very welcome port, and the unnecessary distress with which Pilot Caylon and yourself were burdened.”

Mr. dea'Gauss did not usually indulge in anger. That he was angry at this—but of course he would be. The misuse of melant'i and the waste of time and opportunity—yes, those things might well anger Mr. dea'Gauss.

Daav addressed the paper, inscribed his name, and handed the pen to Mr. dea'Gauss, who wrote, brief and neat, noting also the time and date. He then withdrew a seal from his case and appended it in the proper place.

“It is done.”

Relief pummeled Daav so that he sank back in his chair, exhausted. Done. Aelliana.

Aelliana was in the next room, and there was nothing now to lose by acquiescing to his compulsion to go to her.

He put his hands on the arms of the chair, meaning to rise immediately—

“If your lordship pleases,” Mr. dea'Gauss said.

Daav grit his teeth.

“There is more, Mr. dea'Gauss?” he asked, managing to keep his voice level.

“I have with me other papers as well, your lordship, should you and Pilot Caylon wish to embrace the fullness of opportunity.”

Daav blinked. Other papers could only be the lifemate lines. It was customary to invite allies and guests to a gather during which the lines were signed and witnessed by all who dealt with Korval.

Most of whom were gathered right here and now.

Kareen would not thank him for turning her party to his own ends. On the other hand, as their mother had often said, The shortest route to done is through begun.

“Yes,” he said, rising more slowly than he had intended. “Let us have it done now, and done well, before all the world.”

Necessity was placed before Kareen's butler, who immediately grasped what was needful and proper for the occasion and took all in hand.

A table materialized at the landing overlooking the gather hall, covered with a tapestry depicting the Tree-and-Dragon, pen, book, and glasses arranged according to Code. Servers were sent out among the guests below, to ensure that everyone held a glass.

Behind the table stood Anne and Kareen; the latter irreproachably solemn, the former frankly beaming.

Daav was escorted to his place by Er Thom, who would stand as his second. There was a wait, then, for Mr. dea'Gauss had gone to find Aelliana and explain the procedures to her. Now that he had leisure, he worried, for she had no kin here to support her, nor even any friends. Perhaps he should not have rushed this, and yet—

And yet.

Below him, the amassed witnesses began to move; folk took a half-step aside, or turned sideways, opening a path—a path wide enough to accommodate two slender women, arm in arm and heads high, both walking with pilot grace, neither faltering.

Aelliana and Samiv tel'Izak.

Unhurriedly, but with purpose, they climbed the stairway, and it seemed that the room held its breath. Upon achieving the landing, Aelliana took her place before the second book, with Samiv beside her and one step to the rear.

Daav shivered. The desire, the need to touch her nearly overwhelmed his senses. His breath came shallow and fast. Gods, it would not do to swoon, and if he, who shouldered the least part of their bond, was thus afflicted, what must she be feeling?

He dared not turn his head to look at her.

Below, the crowd shifted again and Mr. dea'Gauss mounted as high as the third stair, where he turned to address those assembled.

“We are called to bear witness to the joining of the lives, the hearts, and the souls of Daav yos'Phelium and Aelliana Caylon. From this moment onward they shall share one clan, one purpose, and one melant'i.” He paused for the space of two agonizingly long heartbeats.

“Let the lines be signed.”

Their shared pen sat in its holder in the exact center of the table; a fanciful creation of silver and jet that was perhaps meant to evoke an old-style fin ship, the book open on the cloth before it. Aelliana, superbly coached by dea'Gauss, extended a hand, the jewels in the Jump pilot's ring winking like remote stars. From the side of his eye, Daav saw her pluck up the pen, write in the book, and replace the pen in the holder.

Daav took up the pen, signed his name, and replaced the pen.

Er Thom and Samiv stepped forward in time, as if they had practiced the move, each taking up the lesser pen at the table ends, and leaning over to sign their names, before stepping back to join Kareen and Anne.

“Let the book find its proper owner.”

This, thought Daav, was going to be delicate. He closed the binder, fingers caressing smooth leather, and turned at last to face Aelliana.

She was . . . glowing; her eyes were beyond emeralds, her face transcendent. He raised the book and softly kissed the leather, his eyes never leaving hers.

There was a murmur, perhaps he had outraged those below. He did not care.

He placed the book into her hands.

“For my pilot.”

“No,” she answered, her voice flowing out over the room. “We fly together.”

Silence from the gathered onlookers and now there was only one more thing to do.

Daav raised his hand, showing Korval's Ring to those gathered.

“Korval Sees Aelliana Caylon, beloved friend, pilot, lifemate, delmae.” His voice wavered slightly, but he hardly cared. He closed the space between them, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him with so much love in her face that he felt his soul seared, aflame and exalted all at once, and there was yet one more thing to say, and to do.

“The Clan,” he said, loud enough to be heard in the farthest corner of the room, “rejoices.”

He bent his head, and kissed her.

The room exploded into greenness, the air was scented with leaf. He stood on his toes, stretching into the kiss; he could feel the nap of his coat sleeves under his fingers, a heaviness in his womb, and passion poised like lightning.

Daav . . . he heard her voice, inside his head, and abruptly it was his head again, and his hands cupping silk-smoothed shoulders. It was Aelliana who ended the kiss, and stepped back from him, her hands gripping his arms, and her smile enough to dazzle a blind man.

Together, they took a deep breath and looked out over the room, where Kareen's guests stood, as if ensorcelled.

“It is done,” Mr. dea'Gauss announced, and turned on the stair.

Deliberately, and with exquisite timing, he bowed: Honor-to-the-Delm.

The last guest had filed by to offer felicitations, and they were momentarily, at least, alone.

“Daav,” Aelliana leaned into his side. “I must tell you something.”

He looked down at her, dared to raise a hand and touch her lips.

“You're pregnant,” he said, recalling that moment, or hour, when he had known her as entirely as himself. “The tree is a brute.”

“Indeed, it is,” she said warmly, “and so I shall say to it! However the means, the babe was got beforetime. Master Kestra gave me the news when I came to the Healers. I could not speak to you and did not wish to disturb Mr. dea'Gauss with the matter, fearing to introduce too many factors into his calculations . . . ”

“I understand,” he murmured. He brushed his thumb over the high curve of her cheek. Gods, she was so beautiful—and now they fitly belonged to each other . . .

“Daav?”

He shook himself out of the growing reverie of passion.

“There is precedent,” he managed to say, fairly calmly. “Shan preceded yos'Galan's lifemating by several Standard years, after all. We need not be concerned with the tree's sense of humor in this, except, to chastise it for circumventing your wishes.”

Relief washed over him—her relief. He caught his breath.

“Van'chela?”

“All's well,” he said, unsteadily, his hand cupping her cheek. “Aelliana, I can—I have your signal.”

Joy flared, and he nearly lost his balance. Aelliana pressed closer to him, her joy joining with his, arousing him—and her . . .

“Perhaps,” Er Thom's voice came quietly from just beyond his shoulder. “Perhaps you had best go home.”

Daav turned his head.

“Brother, we expect a child.”

Er Thom's eyes took fire, and he extended a hand to each, his grip fierce.

“The Clan rejoices,” he said. Releasing them, he stepped back.

“Go now. I will make your apologies to the host.”

“Kareen!” Aelliana brought her hand to her lips, and Daav felt her chagrin.

“The whole purpose of this gather was to show the world how unsuitable I am.”

“She failed,” Er Thom said. “If Kareen were less ruled by spite, she might succeed more often.” He bent gently and kissed her cheek.

“Welcome, Sister,” he murmured, and stepped back. “I will deal with Kareen, and with The Gazette. Now, if you please, take your lifemate home before he embarrasses us all.”

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