Ranvit is correct, Er Thom thought. We have done damage here.

He inclined his head, which was proper, and moved his hand, showing Korval's Ring, that he wore in trust for his delm, as yet too young to take up duty.

"We are all of us at the service of the clan," he said, which was by Code and custom.

Mr. pak'Ora bowed his head. "Indeed we are, sir."

"The House regrets the loss of your presence and your expertise. If a word from Korval might ever serve you, only ask."

"Your lordship is . . . everything that is conciliatory," Mr. pak'Ora whispered, head still bent.

And it was ill-done, Er Thom thought, to keep a man who had displayed only excellence in the service of Korval trembling not only on the edge of further impropriety, but of tears.

"May the House provide transportation?" he asked gently.

"Thank you. My delm has sent a car." Mr. pak'Ora straightened, and met Er Thom's eyes.

"Be well, your lordship. It has been an honor, to serve."

That was Code-wise, and also the small inclination from the waist before he turned and exited the room, walking down the hallway to the front door for the last time. The Code was . . . knotty regarding an escort in such cases. On the first hand, one escorted guests. On the second, one also escorted those whom the House did not welcome.

Certainly, Mr. pak'Ora had been far more a part of the House than a mere guest, no matter how beloved, nor had he offended in any way.

And who knew the path to the door so well?

Er Thom turned back to his desk, his own head bent.

* * *

Val Con yos'Phelium Clan Korval knelt on the twelfth stair of the formal staircase, the one with the Rising of Solcintra carved into the tread, and peered through the bannister.

That he was supposed to be upstairs, packing for tomorrow's removal to Dutiful Passage bothered him not at all.