by Sharon Shinn
“What night? Who’s Rafe?” Zoe demanded.
“The man who rescued me,” Corene said. “He’s much more handsome than the Berringey prince.”
“The man who—the gambler? Who lives in a tavern? That’s who you’ve been secretly meeting with?”
“I haven’t been ‘secretly meeting’ with him,” Josetta said, though the evolving friendship did have a clandestine feel. “He came to the shelter one night when he’d been in a fight and needed someone to patch him up.” All right, that wasn’t strictly the truth, but she plunged on. “And he mentioned that he was trying to decide how to invest the reward money Darien had left him. He’s interested in the elaymotives, so I offered to introduce him to Kayle. That’s all there is to it.”
Corene and Zoe traded glances. “Is that all there is to it?” Zoe asked.
“No,” Corene said positively. “She likes him. I can tell.”
Josetta mustered indignation. “Corene!”
Zoe leaned back against her cushions, amused now, not nearly as alarmed as Darien or Seterre would have been. Well, Zoe had a healthy disregard for class distinctions and societal expectations. She’d spent years camped on the border of poverty, and she had her own criteria for judging a person’s worth. “I always thought it would have been Foley that Josetta ran away with,” she said. “To the outrage of her mother and all the Five Families.”
Corene shook her head. “Foley’s not in love with her. He never was.”
“How would you know?” Josetta demanded.
“Well, we spent all that time together when we were traveling with Jaker and Barlow. I saw how Foley treated you.”
“You were, what, twelve years old? You had no idea what might be going on.”
“How did he treat her?” Zoe wanted to know.
Corene waved a hand. “Like a precious object. Like something he had to keep safe. Jaker said—”
“Jaker! You and Jaker talked about Foley and me?”
“Of course we did. Jaker said he acted around you the way Barlow acted around some expensive new cargo they’d just acquired that he wanted to get safely to its destination. So he watched over you and worried over you—but he didn’t plan to keep you for himself.”
Zoe nodded. “That makes sense. Jaker’s always been so insightful.”
Josetta was ruffled at the whole conversation, but she hardly knew which part to protest against. She settled on, “I don’t think I like being gossiped about.”
“So then tell us what we want to know,” Zoe invited. Celia hiccupped in her sleep and Zoe patted her on the back. “Tell us more about Rafe Adova! Have you seen him since you took him to the factory?”
“He dropped by the shelter the other day,” Josetta said unwillingly.
“And what did you talk about?”
“Just—whatever people usually talk about.”
“What have you found out about his background? His people?”
“Well, he’s not secretly connected to one of the Five Families, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
Zoe spread her hands in a gesture of innocence. “I’m hoping he’s not. Or he would be a lot less interesting.”
Josetta shrugged. “His parents are dead. He has a stepfather and a half brother who live on a farm in the western provinces. He’s been living on his own in the city since he was seventeen—and it’s just now occurred to him that maybe he should come up with a plan for his life.”
“So he’s going to invest in smoker cars,” Zoe said.
Josetta laughed. She couldn’t prevent herself from adding, “And he’s thinking about signing on to pilot some of Kayle’s aeromotives.”
That really got their attention. “He wants to fly?” Zoe demanded.
“Then he’s as crazy as Kayle,” Corene said.
“Is he elay?”
Now Josetta shared a look with Corene, who was smiling. “No. When we met him, he didn’t have any blessings.”
“He has mine now, though,” Corene said with satisfaction.
“Right. But whenever he pulled his own blessings, they were always ghost coins.”
Zoe looked fascinated. “How unusual. I wonder what that means? Maybe you should try picking blessings for him.”
“I did. Time. Triumph. Synthesis.”
For a moment, Zoe and Corene just stared at her, clearly trying to work out what such a set of blessings might mean. “An extraordinary young man, it would appear,” Zoe said at last. “I believe I will have to meet him.”
Josetta couldn’t decide if that would make things better or worse. “Darien met him,” she said with a faint smile. “He wasn’t impressed.”
Zoe’s own smile was wide. “I’m much more subtle than Darien,” she said.
“You’re not subtle at all!” Josetta objected. “You flood whole cities just to make a point.”
Now Zoe was laughing. “Well, then, I’m more open-minded.”
“That’s true,” Corene said. “Anyway, I think you’ll like him.”
Josetta didn’t have to respond to that because Calvin came to the door, making so much noise as he clattered over the bridge that he had to be doing it on purpose. He loved this room and all its amenities; he was, like Zoe, coru to the heart.
“There’s a visitor,” he said, “but you aren’t going to want to see her.”
Zoe sat up in alarm. “Who is it?”
“Queen Alys. She wants to talk to Corene.”
Josetta and Zoe glanced over at Corene, whose face had instantly assumed a neutral mask. Zoe said slowly, “Darien’s gone. And he doesn’t want Alys to see Corene unless he’s here.”
“You’re here,” Corene said. “He’d probably think that was good enough.”
Zoe debated. “Do you want to talk to her?”
Corene shrugged. “She says she has something to tell me. I should probably hear it sometime.”
“Maybe she’ll apologize,” Josetta suggested.
Corene threw her a mocking look. “Maybe not.”
“You can meet her in Darien’s study,” Zoe decided. “That’s private enough for a real conversation—but Josetta and I can be just outside the door, listening, if you want our help.”
“All right,” Corene said. Josetta still couldn’t read her emotions—resignation, indifference, hope, anger? Maybe all of those. Maybe more.
“Calvin, can you take Celia to Annova? Then show Alys into the study and tell her Corene will be along shortly.”
It was a few minutes before everyone was in place and Corene was heading to Darien’s study, Zoe and Josetta creeping along behind her. Corene’s back was perfectly straight and she never once looked behind her, but Zoe and Josetta exchanged a few glances. What was the girl thinking?
Corene let herself into the study, carefully leaving the door open a few inches, and Josetta and Zoe settled on either side of the frame. The melodrama made Josetta want to laugh until she remembered who was on the other side of the door.
“Hello, Mama,” Corene said. “You wanted to see me?”
There was a rustle of fabric and the sound of quiet footfalls; Josetta imagined Alys crossing the room to take Corene in an embrace. “Darling! It feels like a quintile since I’ve had a chance to talk to you! I will never forgive Darien. I will never understand this game he’s playing.”
Corene didn’t answer, and after a moment, Alys said, “Here, let’s sit down for a few moments. Are you enjoying Ghyaneth’s visit?”
“Well, I’m enjoying all the dinners and the parties, but I don’t like the prince,” Corene said candidly.
“No, he’s a rather hateful thing, and very self-important. Still, powerful men often have flaws, and women simply must learn to work around them.”
“I don’t see why,” Corene said. “I think women should just do what they want and not care what
men think or say.”
Zoe grinned at Josetta across the width of the door. So do I, she mouthed.
“Sometimes it’s not that easy,” Alys murmured. “Sometimes the power you have access to is indirect. Then you’re forced to be—let us say—clever in how you deploy it. You can’t be obvious. You can’t be stupid.”
Again, Corene remained silent. Alys waited for a moment, then sighed.
“Darling, you know what I need to ask you.”
“No, I don’t.”
“I want you to apologize to Dominic.”
“Well, I’m not going to.”
“My pet, he’s a powerful man. He does business with most of the primes; he has connections to all of the important families in Chialto. He’s rich. Men like that must be treated well, because if you manage to win their favor, life becomes very easy.”
“My life’s already pretty easy.”
“Corene, you have to apologize to him. You accused him of assaulting you, and you made him very upset.”
Corene’s voice was limpid. “Did it make him upset when I told the blind sisters what he did?”
“When you—what?”
“I told one of the blind sisters. I told her everything he’d done to me.”
Zoe’s eyes were wide with shock. Apparently Corene hadn’t bothered to mention this to anyone else in the household. Josetta nodded. “I was there,” she breathed.
Alys sounded first stunned, then furious. “You told— I can’t believe— That must be why Lilias Ardelay wouldn’t let us— How could you do such a thing! Corene, you go back there today, right now! You tell them you were making up stories!”
“I only told her the truth.”
“You could ruin him, do you understand? Lilias is such a prude—and Riana Dochenza! Even worse! If they back out of their business deals—Corene, you have to recant.”
“Mama, he came to my room when I was sleeping! He climbed into bed with me, he put his hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream!”
“Your maid was there,” Alys said impatiently. “Nothing happened. She told me about it the next day.”
Zoe and Josetta were exchanging looks of horror. Inside the room, invisible to them, Corene sounded like she was almost crying.
“Mama, how can you love somebody like that more than you love me?”
“Darling, of course I love you more! But I need Dominic, don’t you understand? And so I need you to make this right. I need you to go to the blind sisters, to tell them that you fabricated the whole story, and then come with me to see Dominic—”
There was a rushing sound, as if Corene had jumped to her feet so fast she caused the draperies in the room to blow. “I won’t. And if anyone asks me, I’ll tell them what he did. And if he ever tries to talk to me, I’ll spit on him.”
“You—selfish—bitch,” Alys hissed, and slapped her.
Zoe was through the door before Josetta had even registered the sound of the blow. By the time she scrambled into the room a scant second later, Zoe had already pushed her way between mother and daughter and had obviously shoved Alys so forcefully that she had fetched up hard against Darien’s desk.
“Get out before I have you thrown out,” Zoe said in a dark voice.
Alys pulled herself upright, rubbing her thigh where she would no doubt have a spectacular bruise, and divided a smouldering look between the two erstwhile eavesdroppers. “I might have known there was no such thing as a private conversation in this house,” she said.
“If you ever touch her again, I will boil the blood in your veins,” Zoe promised.
Alys laughed and tucked her red hair behind her ears. “Oh, you will? I think the last time you threatened me, Mirti Serlast practically broke the bones in your body.”
“This time maybe she’ll help me destroy you.”
An ugly expression crossed Alys’s beautiful face. “You’re already bent on destroying me, but you won’t. You can’t. I know a fact that will change everything. And then we’ll see who falls down in the wake of the grand destruction.”
None of them had had time to summon the servants, but suddenly Calvin appeared in the doorway with three footmen at his back. Josetta supposed he had been spying on them while she and Zoe had been spying on Corene, and she was grateful.
“Majesty, we’ve come to see you to the door,” Calvin said in his affable voice, though he was having trouble hiding his smirk. He seemed like the only one who was actually enjoying himself. But then, Calvin found the human pageant endlessly entertaining.
“Oh, no need to throw me out,” Alys said, straightening her tunic and giving her hair a light pat. “I’m leaving.” She gave Corene one long, sorrowful look. “You have no idea how much you’ve hurt me. You’ve cut me to the heart.”
Josetta thought Zoe would lash out at Alys again, but instead she turned her back on the queen and drew Corene close to her, shielding the girl’s eyes against her tunic, trying to cover Corene’s ears with one bent arm. “Don’t listen to her—never listen to her again,” she whispered over that bowed head. “She cares about nothing but herself.”
“Majesty,” Calvin said again. And with a huff of irritation, Alys stalked from the study and slammed the door. Josetta didn’t even watch her go. She hurried over to where Zoe and Corene were huddled, putting her arms around both of them, adding her murmured reassurances to Zoe’s soft voice. But Corene didn’t look up. Corene didn’t speak. It was hard to tell if she was crying or merely standing there, hoping that if she stood entirely still the world wouldn’t split apart and swallow her whole.
FOURTEEN
It turned out Kayle had been expecting Rafe to apply for a job.
“Yes, of course,” he said before Rafe had gotten out the first few words explaining how he wanted to pilot one of those sleek, magical, perilous metal creatures. They were standing in Kayle’s messy office, although the elay prime wasn’t really standing—the man couldn’t seem to stay in one spot for longer than thirty seconds. “How quickly can you join us? There’s a test flight tomorrow and I’d like you to be there.”
“I’d love to go,” Rafe said. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes, but I suppose they have shops here where I could buy things.”
“No. They’re all horrible. Tunics made out of seaweed, or so you’d think. Although probably no worse than what you’ve got on now.”
Rafe grinned. “I’m not very picky.”
“We issue uniforms to the mechanics. Surely something will fit you. Do you have a place to stay?”
Rafe shook his head. “I thought if you hired me, I might find lodgings here. I have a room back in Chialto, of course, but—”
“Oh, you’ll need to stay here. I own a building near the wharf that I rent out to some of the workers. I think there are a couple of open units. My man Darby can get you settled in. Be back here at sunrise tomorrow, and we’ll drive out to the hangar. The flight is planned for sometime before noon.”
Rafe glanced out one of the magnificent windows, which showed blustery skies, a storm-tossed sea, and ships of every size rocking on the choppy water. “Doesn’t look like the best weather for flying. What if it doesn’t clear up by tomorrow?”
For a moment, Kayle stood absolutely still and trained those wide blue eyes on him. “I believe I can be counted on to ensure calm weather for at least the duration of the flight,” he said at last.
“Oh—you can—really? The primes can control the weather?” Rafe stammered.
Kayle looked faintly annoyed. “Everyone talks of Zoe’s prowess, but really, every prime has some skill with his or her element,” he said. “I could call up a storm if I wanted to, but I am much better served by still air and blue skies.”
“Of course,” Rafe said.
Kayle turned away from him, nervously tapping his desk, shuffling through papers. “Now, you may as well read the r
eports we have so far—it will start your training in a way—but where did I—ah.” He located a thick file, bulging with loose papers and what looked like sketches and mathematical calculations. “This is more or less a history of our successes and failures so far. This will give you an idea of what to expect tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait to read it.”
Darby was a thin, tight-lipped man of indeterminate age and nervous energy who accepted without comment his assignment to settle Rafe into one of the rental units. He consulted a ledger, retrieved a key from a safe, and escorted Rafe out of the office and into the crowded, noisy streets.
“Is it far?” Rafe asked him, lifting his voice to be heard.
Darby shook his head. “Down this street and one street over. You won’t get lost.”
Walking through the port town was a whole different experience from driving through in an elaymotive. The streets were uneven and oddly patchy—a few blocks constructed of cobblestone, half a block of brick, one long stretch in some kind of hardy amalgam—as if the city had built itself out from the sea in visible increments every time it needed to expand. The buildings themselves were similarly idiosyncratic, one-story wooden shacks side-by-side with tall stone structures designed for both strength and beauty. Nowhere did Rafe see a patch of grass or a cultivated acre of land. The few green things he spotted were defiant weeds and small, pale, twisted bushes that had improbably sprouted between gaps in mortar and blocks of stone. He wondered what the people in the port found to eat. Maybe they lived on fish and salt water. Maybe they subsisted on dreams.
Kayle’s rental property was one of the newer and more attractive buildings, five stories tall and solidly constructed of honey-blond stone. Darby and Rafe followed a central stairwell to the third floor, which featured one long hallway with doors opening off either side. The door Darby unlocked led to a surprisingly airy space with enormous windows and a spare selection of graceful furniture. Right across the threshold, the kierten was delineated by a plush blue rug the size of a couple of grave plots; everywhere else, the flooring was a burnished hardwood.
“I assume you wanted a furnished place,” Darby said. “There are empty rooms if you’d prefer.”
