Unquiet Land

by Sharon Shinn

  Zoe tossed a few quint-silvers into the tithing box before stepping up to the barrel and vigorously mixing the coins. She grinned at Leah. “You’ve been gone how long now? Five years? When’s the last time you had a blessing bestowed on you?”

  “More recently than you’d think. There was a Welchin temple in Palminera’s international district, and I went there now and then. Even had strangers pull blessings for me from time to time, to be sure I was doing it properly.”

  Annova looked interested. “So what was the last set of blessings you received from strangers?”

  It took Leah a moment to remember, and then she let out a strangled laugh. “Hope, serenity, and change. At the time I thought the only one that really applied was change.”

  “That’s the thing about blessings,” Zoe agreed. “The ones that seem most unlikely are the ones that come true.” She dipped her hand back in the barrel and came up with her fingers closed around a coin. “And so the first blessing I pick for the shop is—” She opened her fist. “Beauty.” She flipped the coin once in the air, caught it, and dropped it back in the barrel. “That seems fitting, if you’re going to sell lovely things.”

  Annova pushed herself to her feet and approached the barrel. Closing her eyes, she skimmed her fingers through the top few layers of metal before plucking one at random. “Wealth,” she said, after squinting at it in the temple’s low light. “Another good omen.”

  Leah plunged her arm elbow-deep into the cool pile of coins and grabbed the first disk that didn’t slip through her fingertips. “Surprise,” she said when she identified the glyph. “Hmm. I’m not sure that’s the best sign when you’re starting a business.”

  “Surprise is always good,” Annova said.

  “Not for torz people,” Leah retorted.

  Zoe was smiling. “I’ve liked most of the surprises that came my way,” she said. “But some of them have definitely required an adjustment.”

  Annova was sorting through the coins again. “Now, let us each choose blessings for ourselves,” she said. “Since we’re here.” The coin she came up with showed the glyph for fertility. She laughed and slipped it into her pocket. “Calvin will like that,” she said.

  Zoe’s blessing turned out to be change. “I don’t know why I even bother,” she said, tossing the coin back.

  Leah’s was honor. A blessing she already possessed, a blessing that had been bestowed on Chandran the first time he visited a Welchin temple. She felt a little shiver go down her back. “I guess this means you can trust me to keep any bargain I make with Darien,” she said.

  Zoe waved a hand. “We already trusted you. This means something else.” She grinned. “Or nothing. Sometimes the blessings are obscure.”

  Leah shrugged and dropped the coin back into the barrel, where it landed with a musical splash. “At any rate, I think we’re all set,” she said. “I’ll write notes tonight and bring them to Darien tomorrow—and then we’ll get started.”

  • • •

  The reifarjin watched Leah for the entire hour it took her to compose a letter to Chandran. So she told him about the fish, which, when the day began, had seemed like the most interesting thing she would have to report. She told him about Darien’s plan to bring Mally to Chialto for a quintile, and how afraid she was to see the girl for the very first time—how afraid and how excited. Chandran had learned about Mally on the day he met Leah; he was one of the few people in the world who knew she had a daughter.

  But, of course, she devoted the bulk of the letter to outlining Darien’s extraordinary request. She was careful in how she described their arrangement because she did not want to baldly proclaim, “The regent is employing me to spy on foreign visitors.” So she said that she’d proposed the idea of opening a shop and Darien had offered to fund it as a way to make expatriates feel more at home. Chandran would be able to interpret that statement correctly.

  She wrote:

  I’m so glad he agreed. I need some structure or I think I’ll go mad. I can’t go back to my old life, but I haven’t figured out my new life. I know I want it to include Mally, but I haven’t even had the courage to go to her yet. Maybe this shop will be my anchor. Maybe it will be my tall tower, the place from which I can look out on the world.

  Chandran would understand that reference, too. They’d spent an evening standing together on one of Palminera’s high towers, gazing at the city below. That’s where they were when she told him she was leaving. That’s where they were when they promised to write.

  But I need your help to launch my new enterprise! I’m hoping you’ll be willing to make some purchases for me with the money I’ve enclosed. I’d like a selection of items from Dhonsho, Berringey, and Cozique. You know the pieces I like best—the scarves, the jewelry, the glass boxes—but I trust you to pick out anything else that you think would appeal to me. In return, I’ll be happy to send you Welchin merchandise for your booth, if you tell me what you’re looking for.

  She paused then, trying to think of what else to say. She wanted to keep writing; she wanted to ball the paper up and throw it in a corner and start over, writing something much less scattered and chatty. She didn’t know how it had happened, this change in their relationship. While she was in Malinqua, she had never felt moved to pour her heart out to Chandran, and now she wanted to tell him everything she was thinking and feeling. She supposed it was because he was so far away, so unreachable; it was safe to confide in him now. She couldn’t think of anyone in Chialto she would want to confide in.

  Well, she’d never really been the confiding type.

  It was nighttime before she finished the letter. She stood, stretched, and wandered over to the window to watch the gaslights of Chialto spring up all along the boulevard. Some were streetlamps, some were house lights, and all of them threw small circles of illumination over other people’s lives. Her own lights were on. Had passersby glanced up to see her bent over the table, scratching out her letter with great concentration? Had they wondered who she was writing to, whether she was sharing good news or bad? Or had they kept their heads down and continued walking, indifferent to her entire existence?

  “You’re thinking silly things,” she said, half aloud. “You must be hungry. Eat, then go to bed. If tomorrow is anything like today, it will definitely live up to the blessing you pulled for the shop.”

  It had always been the blessing she found most unwelcome. Surprise.

  FOUR

  In the morning, Leah took a public elaymotive to the palace—a much less comfortable experience, though the large vehicle was well-maintained and not too crowded. Darien’s admirable servants recognized her name immediately, so she didn’t have long to wait before he joined her in his study. He agreed to have one of his personal couriers deliver her letter and asked how much money she wanted to send to Chandran. When she named a sum, Darien lifted his eyebrows.

  “You must be convinced of his honesty,” he said.

  “He tried to poison me the first day I met him,” she said, partly because it was true and partly to see Darien’s reaction.

  But it was hard to astonish the regent. He merely raised his eyebrows again and said politely, “It is usually the behavior I look for among my closest friends.”

  “But I do think he’s an honorable man,” she said. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  “Yes, if he never sends any goods in response to your plea, we can assume he’s a scoundrel.”

  She laughed. “Well, I plan to go to the harbor soon to see what I can find among the ships in port. So I should have something to sell even if Chandran betrays me.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to travel to the harbor today,” Darien said. “I’d like you to join me for lunch. I have guests.”

  Something about the way he said it made her stomach tense. “Guests?”

  “Taro and Virrie Frothen. And Mally. They arrived last nigh
t and are currently staying at the palace.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Mally. Mally. Mally. Leah had returned to Chialto for just this moment, just this reunion, and yet she wasn’t sure she could endure it. Her heart would hammer open her rib cage; her bones would shatter from longing and dread. “I—” she said, though it came out barely a whimper. “Darien, I—”

  “If you would prefer to meet her alone in a room, that could be arranged. But Virrie and Zoe both thought it might be easier if there were other people around and the conversation was casual,” Darien went on.

  “What other people?” she managed.

  “Just us. You and Zoe and me, Taro and Virrie and Mally. Oh, and Celia.”

  That surprised a smile from her. “Your baby daughter?”

  “She’s just over a year old now,” he said. “We don’t bring her to the dinner table if we’ve got company—which we usually do—but Zoe likes to include her at informal lunches to get her used to social situations. Josetta says that she and Corene had had a meal with every prime and political player in the city before they were five years old and that it’s simply part of a princess’s training. More to the point, Mally likes her. Her presence might”—he waved a hand—“make things easier.”

  Leah nodded and gulped some air. “Yes,” she said. “I’d love to stay for lunch.”

  • • •

  They headed back to the small dining room they’d used the day before, to find only one person awaiting them. It was Taro, a big mountain of a man with brown hair and brown eyes and loose brown clothing. Even on state occasions, he looked like he’d spent half the day in the fields, coaxing the crops to grow by digging through the dirt by hand.

  As soon as he saw her, he said her name in his deep rumbling voice and enveloped her in a hug. She gulped for air again and tried not to burrow into his shoulder, to bury herself in his warm embrace. He was the torz prime; he was the most human and compassionate of the five, with a gift for affection, but he had always been more to Leah. He was her mother’s brother, her surrogate father, the man who had held her up when every other support in her life had failed. Once her mother died, he had been the only person Leah believed loved her without reservation.

  Naturally, she had trusted him to raise her daughter.

  “How good it is to see you again,” Taro said, pulling back just enough to get a look at her face. “Though you’re thinner than I like. And you’ve done something to your hair.”

  She laughed a little and pulled back even more, though she was pleased when Taro kept hold of her hands. “People keep talking about my hair! Does it look that bad?”

  “It’s just different,” Taro said. He surveyed her critically a moment. She wondered what he was searching for—shadows of the old emotional scars or signs that she had outgrown them. Maybe he was looking for new scars, damage done by her recent life. Maybe he was just taking in the sight of her face. “You look good,” he said finally.

  “You look just the same.”

  “No need to insult me,” he said, then let loose a booming laugh. She couldn’t help but join in, and so that was how it happened that she was laughing the first time she saw her daughter.

  There was a swirl at the door and then suddenly there were four more people in the room. Zoe, holding a small blond toddler on her hip. Virrie Frothen, a serene, big-boned woman who looked perfectly sized and constructed for the torz prime. And a little girl who trailed behind them, glancing around with interest at the people and the objects in the room.

  For the third time in ten minutes, Leah found it impossible to breathe. She felt light-headed, as if she might faint. Lights flickered at the edges of her vision. She wanted to run from the room, but she was paralyzed. She wanted to stay and never take her eyes off her daughter.

  Mally looked like she might be a little tall for her age and hadn’t grown into her height yet. Her hair was darker than Leah’s had ever been until she started coloring it, and long enough to take on a spiraling curl as it fell down her back. Her eyes were huge, a gold-flecked brown. Just like Leah’s mother’s eyes.

  She wasn’t smiling. The serious expression on her face seemed natural to her, as if she didn’t smile very often, but she didn’t seem somber or worried. Observant, maybe. Watchful. Not quite sure what the world would throw at her next and wanting to be ready for it.

  No, that’s how you look, Leah reminded herself. She couldn’t stop staring.

  Zoe crossed over to her, jiggling the child on her hip. “Leah! I’m so glad Darien talked you into staying for lunch. I wanted you to meet Celia, who I am hoping will be on her best behavior. Celia, this is Leah. Can you say hello?”

  Leah dragged her gaze from Mally and managed to give a moment’s attention to Celia. She had her father’s smoky eyes but her mother’s lively face, and an expression that said she could be as stubborn as one and as wayward as the other. She watched Leah for a moment, then stuck her fingers in her mouth and looked away.

  “I think she’s hungry,” Zoe said. “We all are.”

  Not Leah. She thought she might throw up.

  “Leah. There you are. When Darien told me you might join us—” Virrie didn’t bother to finish the sentence, she just folded Leah against her soft body and hugged her close. When she pulled away, she was smiling. “Now the world is right again.”

  “It is so good to see both of you,” Leah said, but she was back to staring at Mally. Virrie motioned to the little girl, who promptly joined them.

  “Mally, dear, this is Taro’s niece, Leah, who’s been traveling in exotic lands,” Virrie said. “How would you like to greet her?”

  Leah watched as Mally considered for a moment, clearly remembering hours of etiquette training. Then she offered a perfectly judged bow—not as low as she’d give to a prime, deeper than she’d dip for most other members of the Five Families. “She gets extra respect because of Taro,” Mally said, her voice ending on a slightly interrogative note.

  “Very good,” Virrie approved. “Now how should she acknowledge you?”

  Mally considered again, lifting her flecked brown eyes to Leah’s face. “She doesn’t know,” she said after a moment. “You didn’t tell her who I am.”

  Who do you think you are? Leah wanted to ask. But she didn’t wait for the introduction. She bowed in return, to almost exactly the same depth. She wanted to sink to the floor in an obeisance lower than she would offer to a queen, but she forced herself to maintain some decorum. She was proud of how normal her voice sounded when she explained, “You’re here with my uncle, so you deserve to be treated with honor.”

  Mally replied to that only with a grave smile, but she seemed pleased.

  “Everybody, sit!” Zoe exclaimed, gesturing them all to the table. The coru prime didn’t seem to have orchestrated anything, but somehow it turned out that Mally was sitting between Leah and Zoe, while Zoe kept Celia on her lap. Virrie sat across from Mally, and the men pulled their chairs close together at the head of the table. Well, it was a small table; they were all close together.

  “So, Leah. Tell us about your travels,” Virrie requested as they began passing around serving dishes. “Darien dribbled out bits of information, but we have been famished for news.”

  Once again, Leah forced herself to look away from Mally, and she glanced guiltily between Virrie and Taro. “I know I should have written,” she said. “But everything was just too—difficult.”

  “Sometimes it is,” agreed Zoe, who was amazingly adept at holding a child on her lap with one hand while serving herself food with the other. “Celia, use a spoon if you’re going to eat from my plate. Thank you. I once disappeared for ten years and didn’t tell anyone where I was. Mally, can you handle that platter? Do you want Leah to help you?”

  “I can do it,” Mally said, and very carefully dished out a portion of fruit compote before handing the platter to Leah.
Their fingers didn’t touch.

  “No one knew where you were that whole time?” Virrie asked.

  “Well, they knew I was with my father,” Zoe said in a dry voice.

  “Your mother’s family must have been worried to death,” Virrie said.

  Zoe gave Celia a bite of vegetables before eating from the same spoon. “It turned out they were,” she said. “Though I didn’t know it at the time. That’s what happens when your parents come from families that despise each other.”

  Taro snorted an appreciation of that and looked straight at Leah. “That’s exactly what happens,” he said.

  Zoe glanced at Leah, too. “I don’t really know your story,” she said. “I was thirteen when my father and I left Chialto, you know, so I missed all the scandals for the next few years.”

  Leah was quickly doing the math. Zoe must be only twenty-nine or thirty, a year or two younger than Leah, though the prime had such presence she seemed older. “I’m not sure it qualified as a scandal,” Leah said.

  “Celia, do not eat off of Mally’s plate!”

  “I don’t mind,” Mally said. She tore a piece of bread into small chunks and offered one to Celia.

  “You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to,” Zoe added.

  Leah shrugged. She could barely choke down food, so she might as well talk. “My mother was Taro’s youngest sister, and very wild, everyone said,” she explained. “Born elay, if you can believe it.”

  “You couldn’t help but love Rinda, but she was so difficult,” Virrie said. “Stubborn and selfish and dramatic. And beautiful.”

  “She joined an acting troupe when she was seventeen and married the lead actor three ninedays later,” Leah went on.

  “Said she married him,” Taro muttered into his goblet of water.

  “Taro,” Virrie reprimanded him, gesturing subtly at Leah.

  As if Leah hadn’t always known that she was probably illegitimate. As if knowing that had kept her from having an illegitimate daughter of her own.