lips twitch toward a
smile--most inappropriate when one was in conversation with one's
Delm--and straightened them with an effort..
"Master Healer Kestra," he said, "was
pleased to inform me that many people find Liadens irritating."
"So they do," his Delm agreed gravely. "Most
especially do yos'Pheliums who have not yet attained their
thirtieth name-day find Liadens annoying. If you will accept the
experience of one who is your elder, I will certify that the
annoyance does ease, with time."
Daav bowed acceptance of an elder's wisdom.
"I would welcome instruction on how not to do a murder in the
interim."
Korval tipped her head, looking into his
eyes with such intensity he thought she must see into his secret
soul. It required effort, to neither flinch nor look away, but less
effort--noticeably less effort--than had been required, even five
years ago.
"As concerned as that," Korval murmured and
looked down at her folded hands, releasing him. She was silent for
a few moments, then looked back to his face.
"Very well. The Delm will take her Decision
under review."
Daav felt his knees give, and covered the
slight sag with a bow of gratitude.
"All very fine," said Korval. "But I will
not start you in the habit of questioning Delm's Decision."
"Of course not." He bowed again, every line
eloquent of respect.
"So very well-trained," Korval murmured,
rising from her chair. "It's nothing short of marvelous."
* * *
FROWNING, DAAV CONSIDERED the gun.
It was not a pretty gun, in the way meant by
those who admired jeweled grips and platinum-chased cylinders. It
was a functional gun, made to his own specifications and tuned by
Master Marksman Tey Dor himself. It was also small, and could be
hidden with equal ease in Daav's sleeve or his palm.
Etgora's evening-gather, now. It might
please his mother to dismiss this evening's affair as tedious, but
the papers forwarded by dea'Gauss had shown that it was not so long
ago that Clan Etgora and Clan Korval had come at odds--and when
Balance was done, it was Korval who showed the profit.
Etgora had pretensions. A clan with its
profit solidly in the star-trade, they had strained after High
House status, and fell but a hand's breadth short before the loss
to Korval set them a dozen Standard years further back from the
goal. There was bitterness in the House on that count, Daav did not
doubt.
However, if Etgora wished
to secure its teetering position as a high-tier Mid House, they
must show a smooth face to adversity. Of
course they would place Korval upon the
most-honored guest list. They could not do otherwise and
survive.
By the same logic of survival, Etgora would
take utmost care that no slight or insult befell Korval while she
was in their care.
Which meant that Daav, chancy tempered as he
knew himself to be, might safely leave his hideaway in its
custom-fitted box.
And yet....
"Might," he murmured, slipping the little
gun into his sleeve, "is not ought."
He glanced to the mirror, smoothed the
sleeve, twitched the lace at his throat, touched the sapphire in
his right ear and made an ironic bow. His reflection--black-browed,
lean and over-long--returned the salutation gracefully.
"Do try not to kill anyone tonight,
Daav," he told himself. "Murder would only make the evening more
tedious."
* * *
THEY WERE ADMITTED to Etgora's townhouse and
relieved of their cloaks by a supernaturally efficient servant, who
then bowed them into the care of a child of the House.
She had perhaps twelve Standards, hovering
between child and halfling, and holding herself just a bit stiffly
in her fine doorkeeper's silks.
"Kesa del'Fordan Clan Etgora," she said,
bowing prettily in the mode of Child of the House to Honored
Guests. She straightened, brown eyes solemn with duty, and waited
for them to respond, according to Code and custom.
"Chi yos'Phelium," his mother murmured,
bowing as Guest to House Child, "Korval."
The brown eyes widened slightly, but give
her grace, Daav thought; she did