The Lost Steersman (Steerswoman Series)

by Rosemary Kirstein

  Zenna wasn’t running, but she was moving pretty fast and in a jerky way. Steffie caught up to her. “I guess that didn’t do much good.”

  “It’s too soon to tell.” And she stopped all of a sudden. “Is there a place nearby to sit down?”

  Steffie looked around for a barrel or a crate or something; but then he saw her face.

  He got her into the Mizzen, which was empty, it being early still; and as soon as they were in the door, Zenna sat right down on the first chair she came to, put her face in her hands, and cried. Steffie just stood there.

  Young Acker was on the other side of the room, starting to lay out the tables for lunch, and when he saw them he started to come over and see what they’d like. Steffie waved him away; but he saw what was up and came anyway, not to take their orders but to slip a nice linen napkin into Steffie’s hand; and then he left the room.

  Steffie looked at the napkin; then he sat down next to Zenna and handed it to her. She took it and held it against her eyes; and when she’d got enough voice back to speak, she said, “That was not easy.”

  Steffie tried to think of something to say, but he couldn’t, because no words came into his head, none at all. But words came out of his mouth anyway. “I guess you still love him.”

  “I love the boy I knew in Wulfshaven. I’ll always love the boy I knew in Wulfshaven. But I don’t know if Janus is still him.” And saying that got her crying all over again right from the start.

  Steffie wished he knew her well enough to give her someone to hang onto while she cried, but he didn’t, so he couldn’t. But he sat by her, quiet and not hurrying her, until she was all done, which sometimes is the only thing you can do.

  At last she wiped her eyes in a way that said she was just about finished, and she looked at the napkin. “I really hate to blow my nose in anything so nice.” Then she went ahead and did exactly that.

  “Do steerswomen always have to make things hard on themselves?”

  “It depends on what they’re trying to accomplish.” She set to folding the napkin and unfolding it, over and over. Her eyes were shiny and dark at the same time; and suddenly Steffie wondered how old she was, because she looked very young right then. “I wanted to shock him.”

  “I guess you did that.”

  She took a few deep breaths and went on folding the napkin. “When people are really, really shocked, they either start thinking very clearly— or they stop thinking altogether.”

  He started getting it. “And you want him to think clearer than he’s been.”

  She nodded, not at him, it seemed, but at the napkin. “That would be best. The other would do. With any luck, Janus will soon either do something intelligent or something very stupid.”

  Owning up and getting it all in the open would be the something intelligent. “That’s the good of him doing something stupid?”

  She looked up at him; and all of a sudden she stopped looking small and young and hurt and started looking small and sharp and angry. “He’ll slip. He’ll give himself away. And then Rowan and I will figure the whole thing out for ourselves.”

  That’s when people started coming in for their lunches, the ones who could afford to eat at the Mizzen just for lunch. Steffie and Zenna went back to the Annex, where they ate their own lunch, not talking much. But Steffie talked a lot later, up in the fields, because everyone’d heard that a new steerswoman showed up yesterday.

  He had to tell everything he knew about Zenna, which, when he thought about it, wasn’t really all that much— not most of the things they all wanted to know, like where did she grow up, who was her family, how old was she? But he did tell how her leg got broke so bad it had to come off, because that was the one thing he’d asked her over lunch. The only reason he told it was because he knew someone would ask her later, and he didn’t want her having to say it again, ever.

  When he’d finished telling it everyone went dead quiet, and all the women looked at all the men hard, like they hated them, and all the men looked at nothing at all, hard, for a long time.

  Then, more or less to change the mood, Steffie told about Zenna being interested in the ships vanish place.

  And he told about how she knew Rowan, them being old friends who had taken their steerswoman training together.

  And he told about Zenna cornering Janus with all those questions; but he didn’t tell how she cried after nor why.

  Later they went into the sheds and couldn’t talk any more. And even later, everybody got more interested in something else, because Auni stopped working and went and got Lasker, and they both came back and stood looking at one of Auni’s racks. Then Lasker made everybody stop and told them to start making the reed hills.

  Which is what they did; and when Steffie put the little hills among the worms in his racks, most of them didn’t seem interested. But a couple of them reared up on their hindquarters and waved their heads at the hills, with a hello-what’s-this-then? look about them. So maybe it wouldn’t be long.

  Then the night workers came in, and Steffie and the day workers started walking home. Gwen was there, and she ran and caught up with Steffie. She’d been working in the opposite order from him, and hadn’t heard what he’d told the others, so he told it all over again, to her and everyone else nearby. Gwen didn’t even bat an eye when Steffie said again about Zenna and Rowan knowing each other. She just laughed, tossed her head, and said that with a new permanent keeper at the Annex, maybe everything would get set right again, and about time. She acted nice toward Steffie, funny and flirty and sassy, just like old times; and he thought, well, maybe she’s right about that.

  So they stopped by the Annex on the way home, but Zenna wasn’t there.

  It wasn’t until a lot later, in the middle of his own dinner, which he was eating with the family, that Steffie remembered about Dan and Zenna having dinner at Brewer’s. So he told everyone; and they all hurried to get done, and went up to Brewer’s themselves, except Steffie went to Gwen’s home and got her first.

  When they got inside Brewer’s, they found out that the whole town had the same idea, and the room was filled up with people who looked like they planned to stay a long time, just like nobody had to work the next day. If Dan had been hoping to have Zenna all to himself, he was right and wrong at the same time. Because even though they had a little table all to themselves, and no one else was talking to them, everyone was paying attention to nothing except Dan and Zenna. Although they all pretended they weren’t.

  There were no free seats. But Gwen went up to young Acker, who was at a table right next to Zenna and Dan, and she started talking to him; and then she started teasing and flirting with him, while Steffie stood not far off, looking the other way, because he knew this trick.

  Then all of a sudden Gwen tickled Acker, then dashed back, and Acker was up out of his chair to snatch at her— and Steffie got right behind him and sat down. And Gwen slid around, and sat in Steffie’s lap and he put his arms around her. And they both sat looking up at Acker, smiling, and everybody laughed. But they kept the chair.

  They were close enough to hear whatever Dan and Zenna were going to say; but Zenna was waving at Brewer across the room. Brewer saw and waved to one of the servers to go over there. But then Zenna waved bigger, meaning she wanted Brewer in particular, so he edged over.

  When he got there, Zenna said, “I’m going to be inviting a few people over to the Annex for an evening, and I suspect that in Alemeth you’re the person to hire to provide food and drink. Am I right?”

  “Well, if it’s not fancy fare, you’re looking for, I’m your man. But, you being a steerswoman and all— ”

  She put up her hand to stop him. “No, I won’t hear of it. It’s one thing for the whole town to feed me, and another to expect them to feed my guests. I’ll pay you for the job, just like anyone else would. Although, if you really insist, you’re welcome to charge nothing for the portion that I’ll eat myself. But I will pay for my own guests.”

  Which was
nice of her, Steffie thought, and Brewer thought so, too. “Well, that’s fair, I say. Now, how many people are we talking about?”

  “That’s a very good question. Give me a moment while I find out.”

  Then Zenna stood right up, looked around the room, and let out a two-toned whistle— sharp and loud. Everyone got to stop pretending they were doing something else and looked at her.

  She called out to the whole room. “I have a question for everyone. How many people here can read?” She put up her own hand to show them what she wanted them to do.

  Then they stopped looking at her, because they were all looking at each other, confused. Steffie did, too, looked at Gwen, who just shrugged. But Steffie put his hand up, and then a few other people did, slowly.

  “Six. Thank you. Now, who can tell me how many people who aren’t here can read?” That took a little longer. “There’s Michael,” someone said. Steffie said, “All the Bosses; really. Michael and Maysie and Karin and Lasker and the brothers. The spiderwife. And Sulin. And Dan.”

  “I already counted Dan. Any more?”

  “Can Janus read?” Gwen asked Steffie.

  “Janus isn’t welcome at the Annex,” Zenna said, sounding offhand about it. “Who else?”

  It took some talking, but Sulin and Michael’s clerks got named, and one of Maysie’s girls. And Steffie’s Ma, once he thought of it, even though she hadn’t thought of it herself. Then Corey put up his own hand and counted himself, which he’d forgotten to do earlier.

  “Nineteen. And myself, that’s twenty.” She turned back to Brewer. “Twenty people exactly.”

  “Um, right.” Brewer was flustered. “And when would that be for?”

  “Tomorrow night. Food and drink for twenty. Oh, and what sort of entertainment is available in Alemeth?”

  “Well,” Brewer said, “there’s the little band plays sometimes down at the Mizzen. But they’re dear. But Belinda, she’s got a fiddle.”

  “Perhaps I can afford Belinda.”

  But Belinda called out herself, from across the room. “If you feed me, I’ll come for nothing and play all night.” A couple of people clapped at that, happy, until they remembered they weren’t invited.

  “Thank you, Belinda. And that’s twenty-one. Brewer, can you manage that for tomorrow night? Do you need more notice?”

  The old man blew out his cheeks while he figured. “No, no, I can manage.” Then they set to working out the cost, which Brewer ended up setting too low, but Zenna just smiled bigger and said thank you. Still, the little sack of coins she pulled from a pocket in her skirt jingled when she brought it out and didn’t jingle at all when she put it back, only went clink, clink a couple times.

  And when she was done with Brewer, Zenna started to sit again; but she stopped herself, looking around like she’d just noticed the whole room staring at her, dead quiet.

  She let it stay quiet for a long time; then she put her fists on her hips, just like a mother chiding a flock of children. “Oh … all right. Everyone else can come, too. But if you can’t read”— and she put on a pretend-mean face— “you have to bring food!”

  Then she sat back down across from Dan. The whole room set to buzzing, everyone trying to guess what was up, even though Zenna was right there to ask. But sometimes it’s more fun to guess, and then see how close your guess came.

  Gwen couldn’t wait. She leaned across the space between and asked Zenna, “What’s the party for?”

  “Books,” Zenna said cheerfully, then set to spooning up her stew.

  “Books?”

  “Specifically, five books.”

  That was interesting. “Which five?” Steffie couldn’t help asking.

  “Any five. Five per person who can read.” And she just went on eating.

  “What do they do with the five?” It was Dan who asked, looking half at sea and half wondering if it might be fun to swim.

  “Place them in order. Alphabetically.” She put down her spoon. “Every person who can read will be asked to take five books, look at the names, and place them in order. Then we eat, and drink and dance until Belinda falls asleep.”

  “You’re going to make people fuss with those books?” Gwen didn’t think much of the idea.

  Dan glanced at her, then back to Zenna. “Just put the five in order?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But that’s easy. Five’d take no time at all.” And Steffie was about to say, But there’s thousands of books; but Dan went on. “I can do better than five.”

  “Ten?” Zenna asked.

  And all of a sudden Steffie saw how it would go. Zenna would ask just for five, and people would do the five, because it was a new thing to do, and they’d go along, if only once; and after all, there’d be a party right after. But for a good reader, five would feel like nothing, so they’d go ahead and do another five. Then some of the others, like Dan, would think ten’s not so many and would do even more. Then some really smart person would want to show everyone up and do twenty-five or more, and someone else wouldn’t let them get away with that and would match ’em, at least.

  Twenty fives are a hundred. Twenty tens are two hundred. With some doing five, some doing more—

  Well, he lost track there, figuring who would do what. But by feel and guess— “Could be four hundred at a go,” he said.

  “That’s what I’m hoping,” Zenna said.

  Still— “Plenty left.”

  She gave him a look. “Steffie,” she said, “I’m going to be here for the rest of my life. This won’t be the last sorting party.”

  “You just spent a lot of money,” Gwen pointed out. “Can’t keep that up.”

  Dan looked around at them all. “But,” he said, “Zenna, you don’t have to feed me. If you do this again, I mean. I know you don’t have money.”

  And that would happen, too, Steffie saw. If the party was a lot of fun people would want to do it again just for some excuse to get together and celebrate, even if they had to bring their own food. Then it would turn into a special thing, a tradition, an Alemeth thing to do.

  It was a smart idea, really smart. “How come Rowan never thought of this?”

  Zenna threw her head right back and laughed and laughed. “Oh, Steffie, Rowan would never, not in a hundred years, ask someone else to do her work for her!”

  Dan grinned. “But you would?”

  “Absolutely!” She grabbed her mug and held it up. “At every possible opportunity!” And she finished it off with a big gulp. “Did you ever hear of a ship called Graceful Days?” No one had. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised; we never made it to Alemeth.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?” Dan asked.

  “ ‘We’ is me and my family.” And now she was talking to everyone nearby. “It was our ship, and we were her officers and most of her crew. My grannie was captain, until she started losing her faculties. Then my dad took over. I grew up on the water, working side by side with aunts and uncles and cousins, not to mention the hirelings, most of whom got to be just like family. And not a few of whom married in.

  “Now, the thing that I learned—” and she took a moment to thank the server for another beer “— the thing that I lived and breathed every day is: you work together. Someone organizes it, someone is in charge— but everyone pitches in. The more people, the less effort per person. I can’t set all those books in order by myself in any reasonable amount of time, so— I organize.”

  “Organize a party!” Dan laughed.

  “Absolutely.”

  Gwen clapped her hands and laughed, too. “Well, one thing’s sure— you’re better at this than Rowan was.”

  “Better at throwing a party? Oh, yes. The only party Rowan ever organized, we spent the entire evening discussing natural manifestations of the Fibonacci series.” She stopped short. “Actually, that was a lot of fun. For steerswomen. But it’s not for everyone.”

  “No, I mean, better at being a steerswoman.”

  And even though Zenna didn�
��t do a thing, not a thing different, and her face didn’t change at all— even so, Steffie heard this voice in his head go: Watch out! And it looked like Dan heard that same voice, too, because he sat right up and even moved his chair back a couple of inches.

  “Gwen,” Zenna said with a friendly smile on her face, “count my legs.” Gwen didn’t answer straight off. “Go ahead. Count them.”

  And looking like she was cornered, Gwen said, “One …”

  “Now count Rowan’s.”

  And because he knew she wouldn’t, Steffie said, “Two.”

  Zenna slowly folded her hands on the table. “Rowan has spent her entire career traveling hard roads, threatened by the weather and animals and bandits; having, at one point, every wizard in the world scouring the Inner Lands, trying to find her and kill her; wandering the Outskirts, fighting hordes of warriors, being attacked by goblins and monsters; and surviving blasts of magic coming down from the sky at her— and she strolls into Alemeth on her own two feet. I,” she went on, “spent five years cheerfully ambling along the Shore Road, on one of the easiest routes a steerswoman can get, and I get sent home on a stretcher and end up here, doing work intended for an old woman. Now, tell me: Who’s the better steerswoman?”

  Gwen didn’t want to answer, but she had to. “Well … I still think it’s you.

  “Really? How interesting.” Zenna picked up her mug. “Gwen, I’m going to have to assume that your own personal definition of steerswoman is: the lady who lives at the Annex, who’s so much fun to be with.” She twitched her mouth. “I suppose I can manage to live up to that much, at least.”

  Funny thing was, that really had been Steffie’s own personal definition of a steerswoman, too. Until he met Rowan.

  And Steffie was exactly right about how the party went.

  Five books went so fast that everyone did ten, even Corey, who took a long time to do them; but he wasn’t alone, because a bunch of people went right on to twenty. Then the food came out, and everyone stopped; but some went back after. When the music started, everyone stopped again. But every now and then, all through the night, someone would wander back into the aisles and do a few more.