She locked up the door to the cottage, and pocketed the key, and then stopped, looking at it for a long time. This could very well be the last time she came here.
All for a good cause, she thought – their cause. House Mederos would come back from its shame and its poverty. She had her revenge. They could go home.
A strange feeling overcame her. The past weeks had been the most free she had ever been. She hadn’t been a merchant’s daughter, civilized and mannerly, whose life was laid out before her in an endless row of days, with all the milestones occurring at regular intervals: Taking on management at the House, courting and marrying a suitable young man, having two perfect children, and becoming her mother.
Instead, she had been a rabble-rousing newspaper columnist, a Gentleman Bandit, and the savior of her family.
She was exchanging freedom for a gilded cage.
“Yvienne!” Tesara called. “Come along.”
She came back to herself. “Right. We need to hurry, get these to the newsies. Mathilde?” She wondered where the girl would go, now that she could no longer be their housemaid. Alinesse and Brevart would never get over this one, Yvienne thought.
Mathilde smacked the dirt off her long coat, and stretched to get the kinks out of her back.
“I thought my brother was dead, and I thought you and your family had killed him,” she said. Her eyes were dry, as if she had cried all the tears she had. “I saw you in my power, and I liked that. Your mother and father, so dependent on me…” She shook her head. “I was ashamed how much I liked it.” She drew a breath. “But I never meant to cause Treacher’s death. I thought I was only getting the dirt the Guild wanted on you.” Her mouth twisted. “Have you named me in that broadsheet too?”
“I should have,” Yvienne said, matter-of-factly. “But I didn’t. You didn’t know. You’ll go now, though, and if I were you, I wouldn’t be coming back. The Guild will look unfavorably on co-conspirators, especially those who can attest to what’s in this broadsheet.”
Mathilde nodded. “I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t matter to you, nor should it, but I am very sorry, and I’ll never forget what I’ve done. And now you’ve given me back my brother. If there’s a chance to find him I have to take it.”
“Good luck,” Yvienne said. “I do hope you find him. I think, had we met under different circumstances, we might have been friends.” Not as merchant daughter and housemaid, perhaps, but under some other condition in which they were equals and allies, not enemies.
“Thank you,” Mathilde said. “I like to think that too. I’m sure it will be a long time before we see each other again, but if you like, I’ll write to you and let you know what becomes of my journey.”
“I’d like that,” Yvienne said. Mathilde walked off, a tall brisk angular woman in a duster and a traveling hat, on her way to adventures unknown. Yvienne felt a pang of jealousy. Then she hoisted up her stack of broadsheets, and Tesara followed suit. “Let’s go make some news.”
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Three months later…
The sun came up on a fine day in Port Saint Frey. The sky glowed a crisp deep blue, and the whitecaps on the harbor were a blinding white. Tesara breathed deep in the salty air, and then closed the window and slid off the window seat. She had always loved this view from her old bedroom and she was glad to have it back. She picked up her summer straw hat and deftly, even with crippled fingers, tied the gay ribbon just under her chin and let the ends fly freely down the back of the washed silk green walking dress. It would have been lovely to have gone out walking with Jone and Mirandine, equals at last, but she had heard nothing from them since the newspapers had been full of the Great Fraud, as it was being called. It stung, but she had to accept that she had been nothing but a novelty to them. The cut contributed to the pall that overlay their triumphant return. Revenge was sweet, but they had experienced too many losses and revelations to ever go back to the way things were. The shadow would always be there, no matter how many pretty dresses she wore or bright smiles she bestowed.
She drew on her gloves, awakening a spark beneath the fine kid leather. No longer could gloves quiet her power. She was keenly aware that the last expulsion of energy against Trune had freed something within her, and now the magic danced just beneath the surface. Trune was no fool. He saw her power and knew it for what it was – a dangerous, valuable, potent weapon. If she didn’t learn how to control it, she would fall into another enemy’s hands, and another, and another. It was overwhelming to think of it, because she didn’t know where to begin.
And learning that Alinesse had known and had tried over the course of her childhood to repress her talents was a sobering and painful realization. That was why Alinesse had been sanguine about Tesara’s crippled hand. Job done, she could almost imagine her mother thinking. Tesara felt even worse for Uncle Samwell, imagining the confused little boy who grew up to become a blustering man-child. No wonder we were both friends and enemies, she thought. On some level, her uncle must also have recognized her hidden talents.
Yvienne rapped on her door and let herself in. “Come on, aren’t you ready?” Her sister was wearing a blue dress that showed her dark hair and blue eyes to their best advantage. Her eyes held the same shadows though, and Tesara knew the demons were just beneath the surface. The Gentleman Bandit would not be contained with corsets and washed silks.
“You look very fine,” she told her sister, as gently as she could. Yvienne’s only response was a cynical shrug.
“Thank you. Best hope that no eagle-eyed lady sees a resemblance to my more larcenous persona.”
They were going to Elenor Sansieri’s engagement party. Most of the guests had been robbed by Yvienne at gunpoint and Tesara at the card table. Then again, most of the guests had been involved in the fraud against House Mederos, so there was that. Either way, kind, gentle Elenor was going to have an engagement party that would fuel the Port Saint Frey gossip mill for years to come.
They walked down the wide stairs together. Alinesse, talking to Brevart in the large entry salon, glanced up to see them coming the stairs.
“Lovely, girls,” she said. “You both look very fine. No doubt you will be eyed very closely by the other guests and they will be chagrined to find there is nothing about you to disparage.” That seemed to satisfy her, that her old friends would have to acknowledge that the sisters Mederos were back and a credit to their House. Tesara and Yvienne exchanged glances. What could one say to that?
“Thank you, Mama,” Tesara said, just as Yvienne added,
“What are you two planning? Any more violent renovations?”
Brevart smiled at his elder daughter’s gentle teasing. He had lost some of his vagueness, though his conversation would forever be marked with a tinge of confusion. However, their mother and father had thrown themselves back into restoring House Mederos with the strong will that had made them two of the most important merchants in Port Saint Frey. Although it would take years to unravel all of the tangled web that Trune and his cronies had brought down on their family, they had managed to work some deals with a few of the smaller merchant houses. The bank had once again extended credit, after some lusciously worded mea culpas and a few protestations of well, it might have been true. Uncle Samwell’s connections – old, disreputable friends though they were – had extended insurance as shipping Names.
Parr was not among them. Parr had disappeared the day of the last Arabestus broadsheet, along with Trune and a few of the other merchants. The Guild had turned on each other, as facing the fury of wives and business partners who were not in on the deal, the remaining chief culprits were turned in to the courts. The entire scheme went through all facets of society, extending to the death of Treacher, contracted by Trune himself and executed by one of Cramdean’s boyos. It involved not just the merchants and the underground but the captains, and even harbor masters in other cities, where cargo was unloaded and went directly to the black market.
It was a wonder they h
ad ever been found out, Tesara thought. But then, Trune’s first and last mistake was betting against House Mederos. She reckoned he wouldn’t do that again, but there was no way to tell. He had taken the opportunity Yvienne had given him and disappeared.
The butler, Albero, opened the door for them. Alinesse and Brevart had tried to rehire Charle and the rest of the staff, but when they discovered that Charle had retired and gone to live with his son up in the mountains, where he spent his days running a country inn and fishing during the off season, they let him be, even though he offered to come back. Cook had taken a position in Ravenne in the Governor’s House, and decided to stay, though she sent word that she was happy the family was restored to their former station. Jenny was no longer in service, having married Coachman Jone’s oldest son; she ran a tea shop on Bury Street. So Albero was promoted, even though he was too young to be a butler.
Mrs Francini stayed on as cook. Mrs Aristet and Pol were let go, with references, after a discreet word from Tesara. She knew she couldn’t ever see them again. As for poor, hapless Marques, the poor man had thrown in with Trune, apparently; there was no word of him after that fateful night.
Her parents had enquired about Mathilde after she never showed up again, and Uncle Samwell protested his innocence loudly and furiously with the air of one who was going to be unfairly blamed. Alinesse had taken a breath to upbraid him, but Yvienne and Tesara quickly stepped in. They didn’t tell the full story but managed to mollify everyone that Uncle was telling the truth. This time it really wasn’t his fault.
Stepping out into the glorious day, Tesara breathed deep again. Today, despite presentiments of magic and old enemies, would be a good day. She glanced at Yvienne, who was carrying the beautifully wrapped present from Sturridges, a collection of small silver whimsies, fairies with lacy silver wings and tiny teakettles that really whistled, and beautifully worked acorns, a charm snowflake, and other treasures. The collection was beautiful and completely impractical, but they had taken one look at it and known it was perfect for Elenor for her engagement party. “You won’t let me carry it, will you,” she said. Yvienne smiled and shifted the basket from the crook of one elbow to the other.
“I’m the eldest,” she said. “My responsibility.”
Tesara linked her arm through the handle. “Both our responsibilities,” she corrected, and the two elegant Mederos sisters, clever, powerful, and ruthless, promenaded along the Crescent as if they belonged there.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to my agent Jennie Goloboy for believing in the sisters and their story, and the team at Angry Robot, who, from the moment they welcomed me as the newest member of the Robot Army, have been professional and supportive and awesome to work with. And finally, my writers group, Cryptopolis – thanks, guys. Y’all are the best.
About the Author
Patrice Sarath is an author and editor living in Austin, Texas. Her novels include the fantasy series Books of the Gordath (Gordath Wood, Red Gold Bridge, and The Crow God’s Girl) and the romance The Unexpected Miss Bennet. She is the author of numerous short stories that have appeared in several magazines and anthologies, including Weird Tales, Black Gate, Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine, Realms of Fantasy, and many others. Her short story “A Prayer for Captain La Hire” was included in Year’s Best Fantasy of 2003. Her story “Pigs and Feaches,” originally published in Apex Digest, was reprinted in 2013 in Best Tales of the Apocalypse by Permuted Press.
patricesarath.com • twitter.com/patricesarath
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ANGRY ROBOT
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Reversal of fortune
An Angry Robot paperback original 2018
Copyright © Patrice Sarath 2018
Patrice Sarath asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
UK ISBN 978 0 85766 775 5
US ISBN 978 0 85766 775 5
EBook ISBN 978 0 85766 776 2
Cover by Paul Young.
Set by Argh! Nottingham.
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ISBN: 978-0-85766-776-2
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Join the Robot Legion
Legals
Guide
Cover
Copyright page
Acknowledgements
Text
Epigraph
Title Page
Dedication
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The Sisters Mederos Page 29
