Unknown - (Ghost Ship splinter) Daav's up early : (c) 2012, Sharon Lee & Steve Miller

Jelaza Kazone

Surebleak

He woke before the birds, head buzzing with a scheme for sponsoring a junior course.

The number of secondary school scholars seeking to audit such subjects as traveler's etiquette, language diversity, and other hands-on tertiary courses had grown significantly since he had first taken the Gallowglass Chair. He had been thinking for some time that there was not only room, but demand, for a team-level course in kinesics. Of course, Admin would never allow him to teach it, deeming it beneath the dignity of a Scholar Expert to instruct children. However, there was to hand Donet, one of his advanced students. He was concerned of Donet, who had the material more thoroughly than any other of his advisees, yet who continued to mistrust his instincts at every turn. Teaching those who were truly ignorant would cement his knowledge, and the gain in confidence--

Yes, he thought; it would do. He would bring it to the Registrar this very morning, and present the thing to Donet as an accomplished fact.

He was thoroughly awake now; energized, and not likely to go back to sleep. Best to rise, then, gently, so as not to rouse Kamele...

Daav yos'Phelium Clan Korval opened his eyes.

He was alone in the wide bed. The carved chest against the wall just there would have fit into the shared bedroom at Number Twelve Leafydale Place only with the sacrifice of the bed. Nor had Jen Sar Kiladi possessed a jewel-box, much less one as handsome as that sitting atop the chest.

The testimony of the furniture placed him at Jelaza Kazone. He glanced up to the skylight, wondering at the dullness of the light. Was it so early, then?

But no. The skylight framed a cloudscape in sullen grey, occasionally enlivened by a spiteful spit of snow.

Memory finally came fully functional.

Jelaza Kazone had been relocated to Surebleak, and he had been returned to his clan.

Daav closed his eyes, abruptly without any necessity to rise. There was no Registrar with whom to do battle; no brilliant uncertain student to nurture...

No long-time, well-loved companion asleep next to him, half-curled on her side, pale hair as fine as feathers framing a long, intelligent face.

I miss her, too, Aelliana said, her voice seeming the veriest whisper in his ear.

"And soon we will miss Theo, as well," he said, grimly.

Theo will forgive us. His lifemate's voice was firm.

"Ah. As Val Con has forgiven us? Or Er Thom. Did he forgive us, Aelliana, when his lady was killed, his heart shattered, and his brother, who might have held him to life, absent and uncaring?"

His answer was a profound silence, as weighty as it was brief.

I want to go for a walk.

He opened his eyes, so that she might observe the frowning sky.

"In that?"

Surely, we have walked in snow before. I wish to see the grounds, and what sort of country we have landed in.

There was, he admitted, something in what she said. One ought to know one's lands, after all, and such roads and trails and hidey-holes as might be available, at need.

And a walk would do them both good.

He threw back the blankets, came to his feet, and crossed the room to the closet.

#

The formal gardens at the front of the house had survived the journey, though it remained to be seen if they would survive Surebleak.

It was chill enough that Daav turned up the collar of his jacket as he paused on the path to take his bearings.

In...other days, he would have walked to the right of the house, to the place where the formal gardens gave way to the working land. At that point, he would have turned to follow long rows of vegetables, soil monitors twinkling among the leaves like stars. Eventually, he would have entered a slender belt of trees and found a path tending uphill, which he would follow until the trees thinned and he stepped out onto Trealla Fantrol's spacious lawns.

This morning, he turned to the left, and strode out briskly, hands tucked into his pockets, the sense of Aelliana's presence so strong that it seemed he must certainly see her gamely keeping pace beside him, if he but turned his head a fraction.

He had long ago learnt that bitter lesson; and kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Aelliana," he said, his breath frosting the chill air.

Van'chela?

"I wonder if I might now prevail upon you to tell me why you felt it...necessary that we form an alliance with Kamele Waitley?"

It was an old question; and though he could-- and had-- guessed at her reasons, she had steadfastly refused to state them. He expected another refusal this morning; indeed, what matter did it make, now?

There was a long pause as he walked on, occasionally assaulted by a snowflake, before Aelliana spoke, surprisingly, and perhaps not quite as firmly as she might have wished.

Necessity.

Well, but that was only what any well-brought-up Liaden might say when confronted with a demand for an explanation she did not wish to give. He had his refusal, after all.

But-- no. It seemed that, this morning, Aelliana had something more to say on his topic.

You will... perhaps think me deficient in the order of my duty, she continued, slowly. After all, the ship is the care of the pilot and the co-pilot's care is the pilot. However, our order became reversed when we came into our present arrangement. Surely, you are the pilot of your own body, and the course lain in for Balance arose from your genuis.

That being so, I took up my care, and it came to my attention that my pilot...required...more stimulus than he was likely to gain in solitude, even a solitude leavened by students, and cats, and a voice only he could hear.

I therefore set out to provide my pilot with human contact. You may ask 'why Kamele?'-- but that you may answer for yourself, van'chela. I saw that she interested you; that she was a scholar, and out of the common way. She had a strong, trained mind and a resolute spirit-- both attributes required in a long-term companion. For it would not have done, you know, Daav, to have taken up with someone you could bully.

That surprised a laugh out of him, even as his eye snagged on an...irregularity in the land ahead.

Cautiously, he approached the ragged edge where the formal garden formed a uneasy border with what seemed to be a crack in the land.

The edge of the old mine pit? Aelliana wondered.

"So it would seem. We have not been an exact match, which should surprise no one."

He felt the ripple of her laughter as he approached the irregularity, wary of sinkholes and disturbed rocks.

The space that separated the land that had accompanied Jelaza Kazone and native Surebleak dirt was not wide-- even an elderly, desk-bound scholar might easily make the leap-- nor was it particularly deep, perhaps extending to a depth matching Daav's height. It had been Edger's avowed intent to plant house and tree firmly, whereupon the Tree, so it had said, would see to the rooting of things.

In time, the gully between the worlds would fill, Daav thought, nor was the pit into which they had been settled a wound of Korval's making. Still, it might be best to begin their tenure here with healing. And one would not like to think of a child, or an unwary adult, or a rabbit, tumbling into the crack and taking harm.

Daav raised his head.

The land across the divide had the look of being tended and worked, for all its lack of crisp lines and the busy flashings of monitors. His eye marked out rows, newly raked, and there, leaning against a wizened tree bearing some small, pink fruits along its twisted branches, the rake itself.

...beyond the rake, tucked not-quite-behind the trunk, obscured by the branches, was a man. A long, thin man, with a cap pulled low over a brown face. Dark blonde hair stuck out around the cap, like straw out of a hay-rick. An eye gleamed in the shadows; blinked.