"That big one fell again!"
"If they've dropped something of mine, I'm going to . . . I'm going to . . ."
Theo grinned and filled in, "Going to go to the Delm of Korval?" she asked, remembering how Father had challenged her as a child, leaning on her favorite book to help bring a sense of proportion to her young complaints.
"Do what?" Asu turned, squinted down at Theo with a wry expression, waving her hands at the same time.
Theo's fingers told Asu will repeat suggestion and she said out loud as seriously as she could muster, "Are you going to take this problem to the Delm of Korval?"
"How could he help?" the other girl asked, apparently genuinely puzzled. "I mean, that's silly. He's dead, anyway, even if he could."
"He's dead?" Theo stared at her, feeling her grin slide toward a gap. "You mean there is a Delm of Korval? Or—was?"
Asu shook her head sadly.
"Yes, there was one, of course there was. But he died. Very sad."
"No, wait," Theo said. "I thought he was a story—a myth for littlies!"
A voice from behind the short wall interrupted their discussion and promised more delay.
"This thing is tagged by you, Turley. I need your signature before I can move it!"
"You got a go from me," the counter guy called.
"I need your signature or a thumbprint, not a verbal!"
Turley sighed dramatically, looked at the line, which had grown considerably at yos'Senchul's back, and called out, "A moment more only, duty calls!" before hurrying toward the back.
Asu shook her head, continued: "Why would you think Korval was a myth? They've got ships everywhere. They make Diamon Lines looks small!"
Asu sounded exasperated, so Theo continued in the same tone. "I thought the Delm of Korval was a myth because I saw him in a storybook for kids!"
"Ah . . ."
That was yos'Senchul, who had obviously been listening in with some interest.
Theo rounded on him.
"Well, that's where I knew about him. The book was called Sam Tim's Ugly Day, and it was by Meicha Maarilex. I found it at a Try and Trade when I was a littlie, and made Father read it to me over and over—it had the story in Terran at the top of the page and in Trade at the bottom . . . and 'way in the back, it was written out in Liaden. That's how I started reading Trade and Terran together—even though the words weren't always exactly the same as Father read to me from the back."
She sighed, knowing exactly where that book was, and knowing that with any luck at all Coyster would be sitting on the desk under the bookshelf, staring up at the mobile, or curled asleep on the bed or . . .
"And this book was all about Delm Korval? I think I have heard of the author but did not know she had written about Korval."
The instructor's voice was low, but she'd managed to catch his words despite her own distraction.
"No, but that's why it was interesting. There was Sam Tim, you see, and his day was ugly to him. He complained some. Nothing was going right, over and over, and he kept wanting it all fixed. Everyone in his family, and all his neighbors, and the storekeepers, they kept saying to him, 'And if we can't solve this for you, what will you do? Take your problem to Delm Korval?' "
"Ah, an excellent question to ask someone suffering from the day without delight, Al'kin Chernard'i, as we have it in Liaden."
Theo nodded, and looked back to Asu.
"See, it was obvious that Sam Tim was always looking too high for his answer, that he ought to be able to solve some things for himself. That, really, you only go to Delm Korval with really important problems. So then we started using that for us. If I was having problems with something, or complaining, Father would ask me, 'So, is this problem worth taking to Delm Korval?' It was a joke."
"Truth, also," yos'Senchul said. "One would wish not to be seen by Delm Korval over matters of little consequence."
"But you say he's real! I thought he was like, you know, Mr. Winter who lives over the mountain and brings the snow."
"No, not so powerful and more powerful too, that is Korval." yos'Senchul raised one hand, fingers curled slightly, as if weighing Korval's power. "A mighty clan, Korval, and very old. They are considered, perhaps, a bit odd, even dangerous, though none doubts their melant'i."
Asu nodded as if he'd given a lecture, and blurted out breathlessly, "If you think Korval's a myth you might as well think that Diamon Lines—and me too—are myths!" She waved her hand, not hand-talk, just finger-junk, and went on quickly. "But, anyway, Clan Korval doesn't have a delm right now. He committed suicide!"
"This news . . ." said the instructor, leaning forward earnestly. "Of a suicide I have heard. Might you share? Is it recent?"
"You didn't know? Delm Korval's life-wife was shot on Liad, right in front of him. I mean, she died, stepping in front of a pellet meant for him. And there, it was like he kept going a few days, and then turned everything over to staff, and left. They say he took his wife's spaceship and just flew it right on into the sun!"
"Ah," said the Liaden carefully. "Do you know, I think that I may have heard this—it happened some Standards ago, if I recall correctly."
Over a sudden clatter and squeaking, yos'Senchul hand-spoke a determined attend me, leaning forward so they might both hear.
"Even at the time, there was some measure of disbelief in this death. It seemed . . . unlikely, at best, given what they say of Korval—and what Korval says of Korval. Korval is ships, Liadens say. A delm so distraught as to consider self-death . . . even such a delm, being Korval, I think would not, and could not, kill a ship. Korval is ships, Korval is pilots."
Asu looked aggrieved.
"Well, have you seen Delm Korval? There is none!"
She straightened abruptly, fingers pressed to lips, as if just recalling that she spoke with one of her instructors.
yos'Senchul smiled lightly, his hand signaling a soothing this will clear.
"Indeed, this is not the first time that Korval has waited upon a delm—and it is true that yos'Galan never spoke against the reports. Be assured that there will again be a Delm Korval, and Sam Tim's lesson is a good one to recall. Go to Korval Himself only in extremity!"
"Do you guys want this stuff or should we just send it back now?" Turley leaned on the counter in front of them, hands spreading apart in question.
The stuff was overwhelming, and the first five pieces of it, including two large packages requiring signatures and thumbprints both, were for Asu, who cooed over the return addresses, each from one of the stops on the pro scavage tour. Covered in customs stickers, postage marks and symbols, freight notes, and handling instructions, the collection massed more than Asu.
Theo nodded to herself with casual understanding: this was why Asu wanted her to come along—not out of a concern that Theo wasn't getting enough "fresh air," but to have help carrying it all! It was a shame, she thought, that most of her hangers-on had found other things more interesting than her over the last few days.
No, on second thought—it wasn't. All that company had made her twitchy and bad-tempered. She'd rather not have to deal with a crowd, even if it would have been useful to have more hands to push Asu's mail across campus.
"Two more," Turley called out.
Asu looked around, spied a community-use handcart across the room and darted off, leaving Theo to cope with whatever came across the counter next.
. . . which turned out to not be so bad.