A Jewel Bright Sea

by Claire O'Dell

  Everything else about this interview, however, was different.

  No more lies, no more assumed personas. No more attempts at an intimate conversation. This time Anna sat in a carved wooden chair before Maszny’s desk. The chair was a new addition to the room and clearly expensive, fashioned by a master craftsman. The dark fragrant wood had been polished to mirror-bright smoothness; its lines were perfection; its curves and hollows such that she felt as though someone had measured it to her body. Not an unusual acquisition for a wealthy nobleman, but not one she expected for a garrison commander, whatever his title. Nor one she expected him to offer to a renegade bondswoman he had recently charged with murder.

  Except I am no longer bonded. He told me so.

  That had been but the first topic of their conversation, the one that had lured her from hiding.

  From outside came the muffled stamp, the clash of weapons, of many soldiers at drill. Within Maszny’s office, all was hushed. Uniformed servants had delivered trays of exquisite delicacies, perfumed wines, cold tea, and hot coffee brewed in the Eddalyon style. Maszny had dismissed them and served Anna himself.

  “Which do you prefer?” he asked, his hand hovering over the carafes. “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Wine, please,” Anna said.

  His glance was brief, but expressive.

  “Yes,” she said, “I’ve changed.”

  “We all do,” he said mildly. “You might say death is the last and most final change. Until we’re born anew, that is. How do you find your new lodgings?”

  “Very comfortable. Thank you.”

  He poured wine for them both and handed her a cup. She drank deeply and cradled the cup in her hands. Like her chair, the wine cup was a thing of loveliness, made of blown glass, a pale shimmering green, shaped to fit a woman’s hand. When she turned her focus inward, her suspicions were confirmed. Yes, there was magic embedded in the cup that would mold its form to the bearer’s hand. Very, very expensive.

  “Do you find the wine to your taste?” Maszny said.

  “I do,” she answered. “Thank you.”

  He was becoming repetitious. In any other man, Anna would have suspected nervousness. She was nervous herself. She knew his stated reasons for this visit—to clarify those final few details concerning the Emperor’s jewel and her own status in the Empire—but Anna had lived too long in Duenne to take anything as permanently settled unless by death. And as Maszny had pointed out, even death was a temporary state. So when he smiled at her, a warm and friendly smile, she felt a small shock of surprise.

  Maszny choked back a laugh. “Oh gods. No, I won’t subject you to another siege upon your honor. I thought we’d settled that, but I see you’re not a trusting woman.” His mouth tilted in an embarrassed smile. “Though I admit you’ve had little reason to trust me so far. I often wonder how different my life would be were I not an Imperial officer. I could invite a woman for tea, or wine, and not be suspected of conducting an interrogation.”

  Anna shook her head. “Do you lack in lovers, my lord?”

  “Only the interesting ones.”

  Oh. That had been a pointed remark. “My sympathies,” she murmured.

  Her expression must have conveyed her irritation, because he flipped up a hand. “My apologies. My captains tell me I have a misplaced sense of whimsy. The truth is… These have been an interesting few months—more interesting than I like—but I’m glad of the outcome. The traitor Brun is dead. The jewel returned to the Empire. For your service, the Emperor grants you a full pardon, the freedom from your bond, and a reward of twenty thousand denariie.”

  She let her breath trickle out. He had stated all this the previous day in his message, but she’d found it difficult to believe.

  “And Maté?” she asked.

  Maté had tracked her down within the week. When they both received their formal summons, he had insisted on accompanying her to the garrison. Even now he was closeted with one of Maszny’s subordinate officers.

  “He’s earned the Emperor’s gratitude just as you have,” Maszny said. “But let me phrase that in more definite terms. I, Hêr Prince Dimarius Maszny, Commander for the province of Eddalyon, do declare Anna Zhdanov and Maté Kovács free of their bonds to Hêr Lord Marcus Brun. I further declare you both innocent of the murder of the boy Giannis. All the monies the Empire confiscated from Lady Iljana will be returned to you or your designated agents by noon tomorrow, to be divided between you.”

  In a much different tone, he added, “There. Done. Is that pompous and official enough?”

  Anna had to hide her smile by pretending a keen interest in her wine cup.

  “What is so amusing?” Maszny asked. “Me? Or my stuffed uniform?”

  “You,” she said.

  He laughed out loud—a free and easy laugh that transformed his face entirely. Perhaps that passing comment about a different life carried more than a few grains of truth. For the first time, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. Perhaps…

  But no. She could not forget that moment when she was certain he heard Ishya plead for its freedom. She had handed over the jewel. He had chosen to hand it over to the Emperor.

  We were both complicit. We will both pay for our choices that day.

  But saying such a thing out loud would never do, even if the commander in question had recently displayed an actual sense of humor. Anna pretended to drink more of her wine, then set the cup aside and waved off Maszny when he went to refill her cup.

  “I have a few questions,” she said. “You mentioned that I might need to give evidence. How long must I remain here in Eddalyon?”

  He regarded her with obvious curiosity. She regarded him back, with as much bravado as she dared.

  Eventually he sighed and made a gesture of surrender. “You don’t need to remain here any longer than you wish. You can give testimony to my clerk—tomorrow, if you like. And I shall give him the order for a note of hand, guaranteeing the money for your reward. Have you…have you decided where you wish to live?”

  Anna smiled and shook her head. “The mainland, but where exactly, I haven’t decided.”

  Maszny’s eyes narrowed, as though he knew she was lying. But she had turned the problem over throughout most of the night. Duenne and its University could give her the refuge and the anonymity she needed. She could take a new name, become one of the hundreds of scribes or clerks employed there, and leave the islands behind entirely.

  And I could buy a pair of rooms for myself. One for my books. One for my bed and a fireplace to cook my breakfast. And a lock on the door.

  Maszny steepled his hands, fingertip to fingertip. “I believe I understand. And…if someday you feel it’s possible, write to let me know how you are.”

  They drank another cup of wine, then Anna took her leave. A young private escorted her to the front gates and offered to summon a chair. Anna politely refused. She would wait for her friend, she said.

  Outside the garrison, the streets were empty of pedestrians. The morning rains had passed, leaving the air cool and clean. She scanned the harbor automatically, noting the fleets of Imperial ships, a dozen or more freight boats, which plied their trade between the islands, and several that looked like ferryboats from the mainland. None with three masts and triangular sails, and the look of a very fast ship.

  The gates swung open a second time. Maté stepped out beside her. He wore a very bland expression, but Anna didn’t miss how he let out a long breath, as though in relief. She remembered how he’d never talked about his time in the army, and the few telling comments that had escaped him.

  We both have wounds in our memories.

  “Your interview didn’t take very long,” she said.

  He shrugged. “Eh. There wasn’t much to discuss. I have my bond canceled. You and I get whatever jewels or coin are left from your days as Lady Iljana. More’s to com
e with that reward. And the commander made no objection to my staying here in Eddalyon.”

  Her throat tightened, briefly. Even before he’d told her that morning, she’d known he would remain in the islands. He had no ties to Duenne, nor family in that far-off northern province who remembered him. And he had made new ties here. Eleni Farakos. Her son Nikolas. Friends among Koszenmarc’s company and crew. Even so…

  “What about you?” Maté asked.

  She gave an answering shrug. “Maszny said much the same to me. Though…I told him I meant to leave the islands. I didn’t tell him where, but I want to go back to Duenne, just as I had planned before. Nothing has changed that.”

  “Nothing?”

  She glanced up and away. “It’s for the best, Maté.”

  Maté made no answer for a moment. He too scanned the harbor, his eyes narrowed against the bright afternoon sun. There were new creases beside his eyes, and at the corners of his mouth. Laugh lines. Worry lines. Eleni might give him more of both. It was something to think about, what a person wanted from their love.

  “I heard a ship’s leaving for the mainland in ten days,” Maté said casually. “You might speak with the captain in the next day or two, if you want to secure a berth.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I will.”

  * * * *

  Nine days later, Anna sat with Maté and Eleni in a small wineshop, near the gates where she and Andreas Koszenmarc had escaped from Maszny’s guards. Maté had come upon the wineshop during his days of seeking out news of Lord Sarrész, and like all his other discoveries, it promised a delicious meal as well as good wine. The neighborhood was quiet, unlike the harbor district, and the air smelled of wet earth and moldering leaves.

  Maté filled their wine cups. Anna lifted hers in a toast. “To all our tomorrows.”

  “And may they be good ones,” Maté said.

  They drained their cups. Maté set his down heavily on the table. “I’ll miss you, Anna Zhdanov. I wish—”

  Eleni laid a hand on his shoulder. “No. Wish all you like, but don’t be sad. Who knows? They say true friends meet time and again across their lives.”

  She leaned against him, and they exchanged a brief, expressive look. Anna dropped her gaze to the tabletop. She would miss Maté. She would miss them all. Thea and Daria. Nikolas and Theo.

  I meant to leave without any good-byes. I thought it would be easier.

  But Maté had insisted on this farewell feast. His treat, he said, even before she brought the matter up. After all, her expenses would be greater than his for some time. “And besides,” he’d added, “I want to.”

  Two serving girls arrived bearing platters of grilled fish, mounds of sweet potatoes, a tureen of cold, spicy soup, and pitchers of white wine. For a time, Anna and her friends left off talking for eating. It was a comfortable meal, not an elegant one, which made it all the more satisfying. Raindrops tapped against the windowpanes and on the roof, a constant soothing counterpoint to her own unsettled state of mind.

  “You have everything you need for the ship?” Maté asked.

  He had asked the same question the day before when he came to visit.

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “And I still have the names of your friends. I was even competent enough to pack my belongings without losing a single item or getting charged any overage fees.”

  Maté made a noise in his throat, either of exasperation or amusement, she couldn’t tell which. Eleni’s mouth quirked in a smile. “Maté likes to take care of people. I’ve noticed that myself.”

  She exchanged another glance with him, and Anna had the impression again of an entire conversation distilled into a moment. It was a mark of how much everything had changed since she and Raab and Maté had first arrived in these islands. She had always pictured Maté alone. Now she couldn’t imagine him without Eleni.

  Anna sighed. Maté gave her a questioning look. She shrugged and smiled. Eleni was right. Tonight was for friendship, for joy. She helped herself to another serving of fish. Maté refilled their wine cups, while Eleni called for fresh fruit and cheese.

  More wine. The dishes cleared, and others brought. The rain hissed against the windows, much like waves hissing against the side of a ship. Eleni brought news of the company. The past three weeks had changed everyone’s lives. Commander Maszny had issued letters of marque to Konstanze, Mathilde, and Daemon—public ones, this time—along with official pardons for the company, whatever their past. A dozen had decided to take their share and start a new life elsewhere in the islands. The rest had chosen to remain, Daria and Thea among them, though whether they remained on Asulos wasn’t certain.

  To no one’s surprise, Eleni had been the first to offer her resignation. She and Maté had bought a small set of rooms in Iglazi. Maté intended to hire out as a tracker and guide for hunting expeditions. Eleni had taken service with a merchant fleet that sailed between Vyros and Idonia. Within a year, Nikolas would join her.

  But throughout the hours, no one mentioned Andreas Koszenmarc.

  The rains died away, the moon shone through a break in the clouds. The serving girls took away the last dishes, but at Maté’s signal, they brought fresh pitchers of water and sweet rolls stuffed with pineapple and coconut. Anna could tell he wanted to delay the end of their feast. She did as well, she admitted to herself. But eventually, she set aside her cup and sighed.

  “It is time,” Eleni said gently.

  “Time and past,” Anna said. “And never time enough. I’m expected aboard the ship at sunrise.”

  Maté settled their account for the meal. He and Eleni accompanied Anna back to her inn, through streets wet from the rains and glittering in the moonlight. A final farewell outside the doors to the inn. A tight hug from Maté, who nearly did not let go. A clasp of the hands with Eleni. Then Anna was alone and climbing the stairs to the inn.

  * * * *

  She ordered a pot of tisane, brewed in the island fashion, to be delivered to her room. In truth, she had little to do except sleep. She had paid the innkeeper that afternoon. With her share of Lady Iljana’s money and jewels, Anna had bought a store of plain clothes and other necessities. These were all packed in her single trunk, now locked and tied and ready for the carter. But some of Maté’s caution had infected her, and Anna wanted to make one last review of her preparations.

  She lit a lamp and sat at the small desk by the window. Once again, she checked over her papers—her bond of service stamped with the official seal declaring it dissolved, the even more official certificate of pardon, Maté’s list of names and addresses for his friends in Duenne, and a letter of recommendation from Maszny himself, written in the elegant and flowery style of his first message to her. She smiled, remembering, then frowned, remembering the jewel.

  Later, very much later, once she was certain of her new life, she would write her thanks to him. Then she would be truly done with Eddalyon.

  She took out the small journal she had bought the day before, where she recorded her accounts. Two pages were filled with sums representing the monies she had received, the monies borrowed and paid, and the expenses she predicted for the coming months. Though she had checked them over twice, she did so again. So much for the ship’s fare, to be paid on boarding. So much for meals on ship. So much for the boat transfer fees. So much for passage in a caravan from Hanídos to Duenne.

  She set her journal aside and glanced out the window. The skies had cleared; the full moon hung low over the horizon. Here and there, white sails shimmered in the harbor. And high above, the stars gleamed bright and sharp in constellations that had become familiar to her.

  I will miss them too. I wish—

  A knock sounded at her door. Anna set her journal aside and admitted the sleepy-eyed kitchen boy. He set his tray on her desk, which she hastily cleared, then made a fuss over laying out the teapot and the cup on its saucer, along wit
h two dishes of honey.

  But when Anna tried to hand him a coin in thanks for his service, he held his hands behind his back. “No thanks needed, lady. Not for such a…a nothing.”

  He hurried out the door, leaving Anna wide-eyed.

  She glanced suspiciously at the teapot and cup.

  Oh.

  A small square of paper, folded over several times, had been tucked inside the empty cup.

  She touched a fingertip to one corner. A spark of magic stung her—a hint of magic’s green scent—and the paper unfolded like a rose. Her pulse beating fast, she picked up the letter.

  Anna, I am sorry. I wish you all the best in this life and all your lives to come. Andreas Koszenmarc.

  For a moment, she couldn’t comprehend what she read. It was impossible. Only Maté and Eleni knew her whereabouts. How had he—?

  She hurried out of her room just in time to see the kitchen boy vanish into the stairwell.

  Anna blew out a breath and retreated back into her room. She’d crumpled the letter in her fist without realizing it. Now she smoothed out the paper and reread the message. It was…not what she’d expected. He made no attempt to explain himself a second time. No plea for forgiveness. Simply, I’m sorry. I wish you well.

  A message that didn’t require any answer.

  Then why do I want to send one?

  She closed her eyes, briefly considered the consequences. Then reached inside for the balance point.

  Ei rûf ane gôtter. Ane Lir unde Toc. Komen mir de strôm. Lâzen mir älliu sihen. Lâzen mir älliu der gëste sihen.

  Time spun away. She watched the past moments in reverse—the kitchen boy taking up his tray and backing out the door. Another whisper to the gods and to magic, and she released her soul from her body to follow. Down the dimly lit stairs and through the servants’ corridor, into the kitchen, and…

  …out another leading into the alley.

  Where the boy accepted the note and several gold denariie from Andreas Koszenmarc.