Tatiana shrugged. “I’m paying homage to our dead ancestors.” Her voice was clipped, but there was a slight waver at the end that gave her away. Tatiana was frightened.
Mags had sent word that Tatiana spent hours in the sanctuary every day, lighting candles and saying prayers for the soul of the Boatwright. Her father’s decision rested uneasily on her. Tatiana possessed many faults, but callousness toward the Luddite traditions her ancestors held sacred was not one of them.
It was Elliot’s only chance. “His spirit would be more at peace if he was sent out to sea.”
“Your obstinance has made that impossible.”
Elliot shook her head. “I have never forbidden anyone from coming onto the Boatwright estate. It’s our father who won’t cross the border, not even to lay our grandfather to rest in the manner of his ancestors.”
She saw Tatiana swallow hard. Her eyes looked glassy in the candlelight. “Is that what you’re here to do? Order me to relinquish Grandfather’s body?”
“I’m here to talk to my sister about doing what we both know is right for him.”
For a moment, Tatiana was silent. “It was over the line,” she said at last. “Our workers belong here. But Grandfather does not.” She sat down in a nearby alcove. Above her, the insect stars glowed dimly. “But if he goes, Father will be so upset.”
“And then what?” Elliot asked.
“Then he’ll be upset!” Tatiana repeated angrily. “That must not seem like much to you, but I don’t like disappointing him.” She looked away. “I’m enough of a disappointment already.”
Elliot drew closer. “What do you mean?”
“I failed to get the Boatwright estate for him. I failed to win Benedict’s hand. We’ll be left with nothing when Benedict gets back from Channel City and takes over the estate.”
Elliot couldn’t help but smile at this. “Benedict won’t take over the estate, Tatiana. Even now, he’s being detained by Baroness Channel for crimes committed in Channel City.”
“What?” Tatiana exclaimed, and the syllable echoed around the cavern, inciting the stars.
“You heard me. He’ll appear before the tribunal. He may have his land stripped from him. At the very least, it puts you and Father in a good position to take back the estate for good.”
Tatiana’s expression was suspicious. “How do you know about this?”
“From Baroness Channel,” said Elliot. She spread her arms. “What inducement would I have to lie? Like you said, it’s not my estate.”
“What kind of crimes?” Tatiana asked. “If it’s like before, he won’t get any punishment from the tribunal.”
Elliot wasn’t so sure of that. Baroness Channel was on the tribunal, his activities had taken place in her city, and she had a strong incentive to come away with a decision that would keep the Cloud Fleet happy. This might be one time that the corruption of the Luddites would work in the Posts’ favor. And there was something more, too. Something none of the Luddites—except, perhaps, Benedict himself—had taken into consideration.
“He won’t get any cooperation from the North Posts if he tries to take over here, either,” said Elliot. “Whatever else he is, Benedict is no fool. He will know he’d be facing a full-scale revolt if he returns here. And he doesn’t want the North estate enough to risk it.”
Tatiana considered all this. “So it’s mine?”
Elliot gave a curt nod. “If you want it.”
“Of course I want it!” Tatiana stood and swept away. “It’s our ancestral land.”
Her sister’s possessive tone made Elliot anxious. “It’s a farm, Tatiana. First and foremost, it’s a farm. And you, my dear sister, are not a farmer.”
Tatiana whirled around, and her face was contorted into an angry mask by the shadowy light. “You can’t have this, too, Elliot. I won’t be left with nothing.”
“And what will you do with it?” Elliot’s voice remained calm. She prayed that her sister wouldn’t make everyone miserable out of spite. “How will you manage a farm?”
“I’ll get help. I’ll hire . . .” Tatiana bit her lip. “It’s none of your business.”
“What if it was?”
Tatiana’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“What do you want, Tatiana?” Elliot asked. “Do you want to stay here, on this farm, for the rest of your life? Do you want to milk cows and count hay bales and tend to the Reduced women in the birthing house? You’ll have to, you know. You won’t have me here to do it for you anymore. Or do you want to live in Channel City and ride horses and get new dresses and be beautiful?” Beautiful and useless, Elliot almost wanted to add, but it would hardly help her argument.
“I’m not giving you the estate,” her sister scoffed.
“I don’t want you to give it to me,” said Elliot. She’d thought this through very carefully. “I want you to rent it to me. Just like we rented the Boatwright estate to the Fleet. Rent it to me, and go live in Channel City. Let me do with this place what I want. In return, I’ll give you enough money to keep yourself and Father in high fashion down in Channel City. He’ll still be Baron North, and you can be baroness, when your time comes.”
“Father will never agree to that!”
“That’s why I’m not talking to Father,” Elliot replied. Her father was angry, vengeful, vindictive. He’d hurt his own workers just to show them he had power. He’d keep an estate he didn’t want, an estate he couldn’t manage, just to punish Elliot.
Tatiana’s desires were different. Elliot was hoping that they could align.
Two days later, she got the answer she needed when Tatiana showed up on Elliot’s front lawn driving a cart that contained the wrapped remains of Elliot Boatwright.
“Come, Elliot,” she said solemnly. “It’s time to put our grandfather out to sea.”
ELLIOT WOULDN’T PRETEND IT was the memorial her grandfather deserved, and yet as she and Tatiana stood alone in the mist on the shore, watching the glowing pyre tugged out to sea by a rowboat filled with Reduced, she found she preferred it to any of the pomp that would have accompanied the Luddite-attended event a week earlier. Here, at least, she didn’t have to worry about strangers staring at her, reading worlds of meaning into every fallen tear and questioning whether she was a worthy heiress to her grandfather’s legacy.
When the rowers were far enough out, they unhooked the ropes connecting the floating pyre to the boat and pushed it away. Soon, it would be picked up by the current and swept out into the deep, returning her grandfather’s body to the sea and the air and Boatwright ancestors of millennia past.
The sisters stood in silence, watching the fire recede into the mist-swept waters. The only sound was their breath and the waves and the soft dip and creak of the Reduced’s oars as they rowed back to shore.
“Chancellor Boatwright,” Tatiana said softly, almost to herself.
Elliot looked at her. Was she speaking of their grandfather?
“It suits you,” she went on. “I can’t say why. But it would not have suited me.” She gave a halfhearted shrug. “Though I often doubt Baroness North will, either, for all the time I’ve spent imagining it. I find it difficult to picture it on any woman aside from Mother.”
Elliot remained silent, unsure of how to respond to such an admission. The rowers neared the shore as the mist began to burn away.
“I am eager to go to Channel City,” Tatiana said now. “I know it will be a vast change, but I suppose I should accustom myself to change all over these days. Even here in the North. The Posts grow more powerful everywhere. Do you suppose Captain Wentforth will wait to marry Olivia until he returns from his voyage?”
Elliot turned to Tatiana, but there was no malice in her sister’s expression. “I—I don’t know.”
“I can’t imagine Horatio will allow him to take her with him. Not when she’s still recovering. Do you see her much?”
“Every day.” Olivia never missed a music lesson.
Tatiana nodded. “
I have not visited as often as I should. She seems so odd ever since her accident. So dull. She only wants to talk about music anymore.” She sighed. “I guess it’s just as well a Post will have her. She might have trouble finding a husband otherwise.”
Elliot found it impossible to imagine Kai as a consolation prize, and she wondered if Tatiana would still devote so much attention to other people’s marriages if she had any other understanding of power. To her, you were born a Luddite lord or you married one. But Elliot was a lord now, and she still considered it less of an achievement than coaxing seeds into fields of wheat that would feed a hundred families, than building ships from scratch or searching for new lands, or even a cure to the Reduction itself.
The Reduced finished securing the rowboat on the beach and they turned to trek back up the steep path that cut through the cliff. Elliot raised her eyes to the land above them, and saw a figure standing at the top, his superhuman eyes shadowed by the diffused, misty light, the ends of his blue velvet jacket blowing behind him in the wind.
Her steps faltered. Was Kai’s hearing so unnaturally good that he’d been able to make out Tatiana’s words, even from so far away? As she watched, he gave her a stiff bow, and when they reached the top of the path, it was Tatiana who spoke first.
“Captain Wentforth,” she said, and there was only a trace of mockery in her tone. “Have you heard that my father and I are leaving the North estate?”
“I had not.”
“We’re leaving it in the hopefully capable hands of my sister,” she said. “And we’ll be living from now on down in Channel City.”
He turned to Elliot. “Is this true?”
She nodded. “I’m to take over management of both estates, beginning at once.” She expected him to look happy, but his face remained grave.
“Yes,” said Tatiana. “Both estates. And we shall see if she’s up to the task.”
Kai was silent for a long moment, and then took a deep breath, smoothing his frown into something that almost, but not quite, resembled a smile. “I’m sure she is.”
Forty-two
DEE GAVE BIRTH TO her baby on the first day of spring. Since her father and sister had packed up and left, Elliot had transformed one entire wing of the North house into chambers for pregnant women, new mothers, and babies—both Reduced and Post. News of her father’s departure had spread quickly through the enclaves, and many of the old North Posts had returned to the estate, starting with Thom. Elliot was glad that he was there to witness the birth of his daughter. Felicia had attended the delivery, which was a relief to Elliot. Felicia was training some of the North healers to improve the quality of medical care on the estate, and had brought her students along to demonstrate some techniques.
“We’re naming her Li,” said Dee, cradling her newborn in the bed that had once been Tatiana’s. “After you.”
“And me,” Felicia said with a laugh.
Elliot squeezed Dee’s free hand. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d better figure it out,” Dee said. “It’ll be a few months before I can go back to work.”
Planting season had begun in earnest, and Elliot had bravely—or foolishly—decided to expand her experiment this year. Over half the wheat fields on both estates had been devoted to her special strain. If it performed as expected, it would cut down tremendously on the amount of work the laborers would be forced to do, and if it didn’t, she still had planted enough conventional grain that they would be able to feed themselves this winter.
As she drove with Felicia back to the Boatwright house, Elliot stared out over the plowed fields of her vast home. This is what she’d wanted for four years—the North estate, happy and prosperous. The Boatwright estate, returned to its former glory. The laborers well taken care of, the Posts rewarded for their work with freedom and autonomy.
The only downside of having all these extra Posts on the estate was that she found herself with more free time than she’d ever had before. Indeed, if she wasn’t cautious, she might find herself with as little to do as the laziest Luddite lord. Between the relatively low maintenance of her special strain of wheat and the dozens of workers who’d flooded back to the estate—most with more experience in farming, labor management, and animal husbandry than Elliot ever had—her duties had suddenly become remarkably light. The irony that if her father had treated his servants better, he might have enjoyed the same opulent lifestyle without renting out his estate was not lost on Elliot.
She wondered if it would ever become clear to the baron. For Tatiana, she had somewhat higher hope.
Even her new projects for the Posts had become self-sustaining once they’d begun. The schoolroom she’d decided to set up for Post children was being handily managed by an adult daughter of Gill and Mags who had been making her living as a governess in a Luddite household down in the enclaves. Felicia had helped her find a trained healer from among her friends in Channel City who was now helping to bring the nurses on the estate up to speed. And Admiral Innovation had already alerted her to friends of his who’d be interested in renting the shipyard for the summer season. Elliot was happy to delegate these projects to people who had more experience than she did in these matters. She was glad she’d turned her lands into a place the Posts found safer than the enclaves, and where they had more autonomy and opportunity than most estates, but she was practically drowning in leisure.
It was dangerous. Somehow she’d weaned herself from rereading Kai’s old letters, but now she found herself poring over her grandfather’s old books—tales of daring explorers, of brilliant scientists, and, worst of all, lifelong loves. It was silly. It was pointless. But there it was.
She and Kai were friendly enough now. He spoke to her from time to time about her plans for the estate, about Dee’s progress, and occasionally she saw him in the garden with Ro. But though Ro always waved her over, Elliot made sure to keep a polite distance. It was safer for her to wish him well, but stay away. Soon enough, he’d be gone from the estate. That would make it easier. She hoped.
They would be friends. That was good. It could even be world changing. She was the owner of a shipyard, and he built ships. That was enough friendship to survive on, and she had the added satisfaction of knowing that, in some small way, they were fulfilling the dreams they’d once spoken of in their letters. Kai would leave. He’d see the stars. And Elliot would remain, and work the farm, and silence any voice in her heart that screamed for more.
The lawn of the Boatwright house had been scarred into ruts by the tracks of the sun-carts, and Elliot maneuvered their ride over the bumps. Perhaps she’d get a sun-cart of her own, and maybe she’d pave a bit of this lawn to make a driveway for the machine. Once the Cloud Fleet left, she planned to move back into the Boatwright house, but for now she avoided it along with the shipyard and Kai.
“There you are!” Andromeda shouted, appearing at the door. She stomped down the porch steps, her face pink with anger. Elliot didn’t think she’d ever seen a Fleet Post stomp. She didn’t realize it was possible, given the enhancements. Kai appeared behind her, eyes wide. He waved his hands in warning at the two occupants in the cart.
“I know what you’re doing, Malakai,” Andromeda growled. She glared at Felicia. “You have to come inside right this minute and talk some sense into my brother.”
“Why?” Felicia asked. She climbed out of the cart and shook out her skirts.
“Because he claims he’s not coming with us. He says he wants to stay here. On the estate.” Andromeda’s voice dripped with derision. “I have not fought for us all these years for him to abandon us for some stupid Luddite.” She turned to Elliot. “Hello, Chancellor. Just so you know, you aren’t the stupid Luddite this time.”
“Ann!” Felicia cried.
Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Please, can we just stop pretending now? Can we just drop all this scraping and pretense and all of it? Can we just get on the boat and leave? Donovan will change his mind once
we’re out to sea, I know it. Can’t we just tie him up and throw him on board and not let him loose till we’re out of sight of this godforsaken island once and for all?”
“Yes,” said Elliot, nodding her head. “You can. You should. It’s what I would do, if I were you.”
All three Posts turned to her and blinked in astonishment.
She pointed at Kai. “It’s what I told him to do four years ago. Run away. Get out. You can. You have no one who depends upon you for survival, and indeed, all our survival may depend upon you. So your God-given duty is actually to go.”
And then Andromeda cracked the first real smile Elliot had ever seen from her. “Perhaps I should have you make this argument to my brother.”
For his part, Kai had said nothing, but there was a strange look in his strange eyes.
“Very well,” said Felicia. “Lead me to him. Maybe he makes a good point.”
Andromeda groaned and the whole party headed inside, where they were greeted in the parlor by Horatio at the door, Olivia in the chaise longue, her legs covered in blankets, and Donovan in the chair beside her, tuning his fiddle. He looked up at his sister and frowned.
“Hello, everyone,” Horatio offered awkwardly.
“Hello,” said Felicia. “I am told I’m here—despite the fact that I got fewer than three hours of sleep last night after delivering a baby—to intervene in a family squabble?”
“It’s more than a family squabble,” Andromeda said. “He’s endangering the mission if he stays behind.”
Donovan’s expression toward Andromeda was now one of pure hostility. “I can’t believe you did that.”
Andromeda crossed her arms over her chest. “Go ahead, Don. Tell her. Tell her what you told me.”
Donovan shook his head in disappointment. “You’re being cruel.”
“No, you’re being cruel. To all of us. This woman has given everything to you, and this is how you repay her?”
“Can we have this conversation somewhere else?” Donovan suggested.
For Darkness Shows the Stars Page 27
