He found it in a desert, so he told me—the only living thing in two days' walk. A skinny stick with a couple leaves near the top, that's all it was then.
I don't remember the name of the world it came from. He might not have told me. Wherever it was, when his Troop finally picked him up, Jela wouldn't leave 'til he'd dug up that damned skinny stick of a tree and planted it real careful in an old ration tin. Carried it in his arms onto transport. And nobody dared to laugh.—Excerpted from Cantra yos'Phelium's Log Book
"YES," THE DOORKEEPER at Chonselta Healer Hall sighed, stepping back to allow them inside. "Jon dea'Cort had said you would be here and that it was out of his power to prevent you." He closed the door and beckoned. Silent, they followed him down a short hallway and into a small parlor.
"There is wine on the sideboard, and filled bread. Hall Master will be down to speak to you very soon. In the meanwhile, I am asked to convey to Pilot yos'Phelium the Master's most urgent plea for serenity. We have novices in-Hall." He bowed and left them, the door swinging shut on his heels.
In the center of the room, Korval sighed, then turned, looking down at her from eyes as giving as obsidian.
"Shall you wish refreshment, pilot?" he asked, with a gentleness she would not have expected, from such eyes. "Seat yourself, I beg. I have used you cruelly this evening, when you are already in pain through my ineptitude. At least, let me bring you a cup of wine."
"Thank you," Samiv said, moving to a doublechair and sinking into the soft cushions with bleary gratitude. "I believe I will sit, but I do not think wine. . ."
The door swung open and a white-haired woman in plain shirt and trousers stepped into the chamber. She bowed, briefly.
"Chonselta Hall Master Ethilen. Pray, Pilot tel'Izak, do not trouble yourself to rise. Recruit your strength." She turned her face toward the man in the center of the room.
"Well, Korval?"
"Not well, Master Ethilen," he replied. "You have Aelliana Caylon in keeping here. The report I have of her condition from the pilots at Chonselta Guild is—terrifying. I will see her, of your kindness."
"Alas."
Samiv saw Korval's shoulders tense, though his voice was as calm as always.
"She had wanted me, said the pilots at Guildhall. I would show her she is not abandoned by one in whom she placed trust. I am her co-pilot. I have this right."
"Masters Kestra and Tom Sen are with Pilot Caylon. I cannot allow interference of their work at this juncture. The report you have from the pilot's guild-fellows appears overstated. It is in her best interest that her co-pilot allow himself to be satisfied with this preliminary information and retire to Solcintra."
"I—"
"Korval, you are blinding the House," the old woman said sternly, and held up a hand. "Yes, I See that you are attempting to control yourself, and I thank you most sincerely for the effort. Without it, my shielding would not be sufficient to allow me to stand in the same room with you and converse. However, no amount of converse will deliver you to Pilot Caylon's side this evening. Believe me in verymost earnest." She sighed and lowered her hand.
"Daav, go home. Come again tomorrow. She will love you no less then."
There was a moment of silence charged so strongly Samiv felt the hairs rise on her arm. Then, Korval swept a bow to the old Healer.
"Tomorrow, Master Ethilen, I am not denied."
She inclined her head.
Samiv got her feet under her and rose, muzzy-headed and aching.
"Pilot."
She looked up into a face utterly without expression. Korval offered his arm.
"Allow me to take you to your delm."
SHE SAT IN THE co-pilot's chair, but her board was dark. Korval flew, silent, as he had been since leaving Healer Hall.
"Samiv," he said, and she started, though he spoke gently.
She straightened against the webbing and looked to him, seeing the side of his face, the quick, clever fingers, moving among his instruments.
"Yes, pilot?"
He glanced over to her—lightless eyes in a hewn-gold face—then went back to his board. "I wish you will tell me true. May you?"
She licked her lips. "Yes."
"Good," he murmured. "I wish to know if you, of your own will and heart, desire this marriage which is promised to your delm."
Of her own will and heart. A Scout's question, phrased as if one's own will and heart had place within the weavings of kin and duty. And yet. . .
"If I were—my own delm—I would not seek the marriage," she said slowly, feeling along those unaccustomed threads of personal desire. "I—forgive me. . ."
"I had asked," he said softly. "There is no need to ask forgiveness for truth, among comrades, eh?"
"Just so." She took a breath, hands fisted on her lap. "Truly, Korval, I find I—like—you much more than ever I—But I do not think that we should—that we should—suit," she finished, somewhat helplessly.
"Ah." More silence, and she sat back into the chair. It came to her to wonder what her delm might think, could she hear Samiv in such a conversation with her affianced husband, and hiccuped a laugh.
"Are you able to bear some little of your delm's displeasure?" he asked abruptly. "I swear that I will take all that I might to myself. But she is bound to be displeased with you."
"She is displeased with me now," Samiv said blearily. "I was never to have come to ask your aid, you know."
"I see. In that wise, I believe we may win you free of the Tree's attentions, pilot. You need only stand firm and quiet. And swear me one thing."
She blinked. "What shall I swear?"
He looked at her, one dark brow up. "Come to me, when your delm's anger has cooled, and let us finish Balance between us."
"Korval, there is nothing owing. I—"
"I must beg you to allow me to know the extent of my own debt," he interrupted, all stern-voiced and by-the-Code. Samiv strangled a rising giggle and managed to incline her head.
"As you will, sir. When I may, I will come to you, in order to complete Balance. My word upon it."
"Thank you," said Korval, and flicked up the comm toggle.
"THIS IS YOUR notion of propriety?" Delm Bindan demanded. "Of withholding from scandal? Of safety and respect for Bindan's treasure? I suppose it a mere trifle for you, Korval, nothing higher than a lark! Certainly, go to the opposite end of the world for your mischief, force yourself into a clanhouse, hold a nadelm at gunpoint, subvert the youth and steal away the second daughter! Amusing in the extreme, I make no doubt! Certainly, Delm Guayar thought the news delicious. He called while I was yet at breakfast to share it with me. I could have hidden my face!
"And you—" She turned her eyes to Samiv.
"I have only respect," Daav murmured, "for the honor and the fortitude of Samiv tel'Izak, who stood staunch, as a troth-wife must and—"
"Troth-wife!" Bindan spun. "If you dare believe, after last evening's escapade, that I will allow one of Bindan to risk herself and her honor in support of your mad whim—Good-day, sir! Your man of business will hear from mine."
Had he not been frantic to return to Chonselta, he would have laughed aloud. Clonak's father had done his work with admirable thoroughness. And, doubtless, he thought wryly, enjoyed every moment of it.
He bowed to Bindan's outraged face. "Good-day, ma'am. Pilot. Sleep well."
"If your Lordship," Bindan's butler murmured from the doorway, "will attend me. I will escort you to the door."
CHARGED WITH UNEXPENDED adrenaline, Daav strode across the glade, laid both palms against the trunk and glared up into the branches.
"You may give over terrorizing Samiv tel'Izak," he said, voice shaking. "She and I will not wed."
The bark beneath his hands warmed. "Yes, very good!" he snarled, snatching his hands away. "Approve me, do! What shall it mean to you, that a fine pilot was all but destroyed for your whim? What shall any of us mean to you, who has seen us all die—from Jela to Chi! Breed-stock, are we? Then hear me well!"
He was in the center of the glade now, with no clear notion of how he had gotten there, hands fisted at his sides, shouting up into the branches as if the ancient, alien sentience cared—had ever cared—for his puny, human anguish.
"I shall lifemate Aelliana Caylon, if she will have me, and if you dare—dare!—frighten or in any way discontent her, I will chop you down with my own hands!"
His words hung for a moment, and were gone, swallowed by the still, warm air. Daav took a breath—another—deliberately relaxed his fists. . .
In the height of the branches, something moved.
He tensed, recalling the torrent of trash that had greeted Samiv tel'Izak, thinking that the Tree could easily and with no harm to itself loose a branch onto his unprotected head, thus disposing of a breed-line that had failed of its promise.
The noise grew louder. Daav crouched, ready to leap in any direction.
And fell to his knees as dozens of seed-pods cascaded around him.