I smiled. "I believe I understand you, Minister."
"I knew you would, ke Pathen," Thesenet said.
I left him at his table in the back and went to join Darsi, who'd found himself a cup of fragrant mulled wine. He offered it to me and in keeping with our story I accepted it and drank.
"So what was that about?" he said in my ear as I put an arm around his waist.
"Not here," I answered and gave him back his cup. A little louder, "Let's celebrate our leaf."
"All right, my Claw."
How Darsi turned that into an endearment, I couldn't fathom... and yet somehow, he managed. Together we wandered back toward the largest knot of people to resume mingling.
When we returned with our news Abadil took the leaf from me and grimaced. "I think Thesenet is right. But that might work in our favor."
"How so?" Hesa asked, holding out its hand so Abadil could pass it the token. "You think it would be better to flush our enemies into the light?"
"Sounds like unnecessary risk to me," Darsi said, but he sounded so resigned that we all looked at him. He dropped into a chair and said, "I've accepted I'm on the caravan being driven by the crazed Jokka along the edge of the terrifying cliff. I feel obliged to say these things, though."
I chuckled. "If you didn't we'd wonder if you'd taken some disease."
"So where shall we put it, since we have no storefront?" Abadil said. "That's where the leaf usually goes. Every year Houses that receive them add the latest to the previous ones, so that you can see at a glance how long they've been important in het Narel."
"Ah, so that's what that means," Darsi said. "I'd seen the displays in the shops but dismissed them."
"The Head of Dzeri suggested we hang it outside the House until we have a storefront," I said.
"Or until we have the warehouse up," Hesa said, giving the leaf back to me. "The source of our power in the het."
Abadil huffed. "You wait until I perfect my paper, ke eperu. Then we'll see what makes our money in Ke Bakil."
Hesa laughed softly. "Money is not power, ke emodo."
"Maybe not," Abadil said. "But it helps."
This conversation was perhaps too clear in my mind when the minister paid House Asara an unexpected visit several days later, accompanied by two Claws in the stark uniforms I used to wear. I received him in the antechamber to my office, which was large enough for the two of us to sit together at the small round table and keep the Claws nearby without looming. They took up station at the door and watched the emodo who brought us heated wine and spiced nuts and white cheese. Thesenet offered no pleasantries while we waited; I didn't try to break his silence. Once the emodo had withdrawn, I said, "Not a social call, Minister. What can House Asara do for you?"
"House Asara can tell me what one of its eperu was doing with money," Thesenet said.
I leaned back in my chair. His face, his voice... all very neutral. But the question... "Perhaps you'll allow me to ask you for more detail."
"There is not much more to say," Thesenet said. "Someone reported that one of your eperu was seen buying food at a stall. We discovered this was true when we stopped it for questioning."
That made my vision bleed white with rage. "You have it detained?" I asked.
Something in my tone must have warned him to speak carefully. "We haven't harmed it. I said we asked it questions and that's what we did. No torture, no punishment. It's not even in a cell; they're holding it at the barracks in one of the spare bunkrooms. It was very forthcoming when we asked about the rumor. It said you gave it a coin, and that it had been saving it until that day, and then it bought something on the way back to the House."
Bought 'something,' I thought. Because actually saying 'a fried cake' or 'a skewer of grilled vegetables' would make it plain just how absurd the complaint was.
Thesenet waited for my response in seeming repose, but I caught the hint of a flinch when I set my hand flat on the table between us. "I hope you are correct, Minister."
"I'm not lying," he said. "So perhaps now you might explain why you gave money to an eperu."
"Because," I said. "That eperu works for House Asara. Don't you pay your employees, Minister?"
"I pay my male employees," Thesenet said, stiff. "It's against the law to pay any of the others."
"Tell me, ke emodo," I said, and leaned forward to pour him some of the wine. "Do you still care for the prosperity of het Narel?"
"Of course," Thesenet said warily.
"So," I said, pouring into my cup now. "You have money, which you give to an emodo. The emodo goes out to spend it. He buys a few fripperies, perhaps. Spends an hour in the cheldzan. Goes home, then, because the hours between work and sleep are few. He spends perhaps a quarter of what he earns." I glanced up to see if he was listening, and he was, frowning. I set the jar down. "Now, you halve that original salary. Give half to the emodo, who goes off and spends what he did before. Give the other half to the eperu who... also goes off and spends some of it. More of the money is now exchanging hands, isn't it?"
"If you're trying to convince me to give the eperu salaries because it will make the het richer—"
"Won't it?" I asked.
Thesenet said nothing, but he did take the cup, turning it on the table. "Pathen. I can't pay the eperu. It's against the law."
"Failing to pay the eperu salaries is the way it's done in het Kabbanil," I said. "This is het Narel."
"Which is part of the same empire!" Thesenet said, exasperated.
"And the empire doesn't allow the ministers to make decisions to promote local welfare?" I said, sipping from my cup.
Thesenet scowled at me. "If I instated such a "local" law, ke emodo, the next time Roika rode into town I'd be dead on a platform."
"And what if Roika doesn't?" I said. "He's off on some trip across the ocean. What if he never comes back?"
"What if he does?" Thesenet said. And leaned back, folding his arms. "This is treasonous talk."
"This is practical talk," I corrected. "We are discussing how to introduce more money into het Narel's economy."
"If we give the eperu money," Thesenet said, bending toward me, “we give them power."
"Why are you afraid of that?" I asked.
Stunned, he sat back in his chair.
"What do you think they'll do with power?" I asked. "Buy seed cakes and spiced wine? Have fur-lined gloves commissioned so their hands don't chafe in the cold while they're working the fields? Wait, they might buy themselves nice clothes and go spend their money drinking in the cheldzan. Where they might meet people who might wish to employ them? Except it's illegal for them to break their contracts now. Do you think they'll take up arms against us, ke emodo? Do you think we've given them cause?"
Thesenet had grown gray beneath his skin.
"I'll answer that for you," I said. "The eperu will never take up arms against us, Thesenet... because they feel they were born to serve the Jokka, and serve us they will until they die of it. So is it fear that keeps you from paying them? Or guilt?"
Thesenet stared at me for several heartbeats, eyes wide. Then, deliberately, he reached for his cup and drank. "Well," he said. "Never let it be said that you do anything without thinking it through, Pathen." I pushed the plate of nuts at him and he took one with a sigh. "Nevertheless I can't overturn one of the empire's fastest laws on a whim. No matter how I feel about it."
"You would rather waste the money," I said.
"Than waste people's lives?" Thesenet said. "Because they'd die the moment Roika heard what was going on here. Yes, ke emodo. I err on the side of safety. Better poor than dead. Better unappreciated than tortured."
It was so close to what Hesa had said in response to my petition... I considered the minister while he crunched through one of the nut candies. And then I went with my instincts. "While you're here, there is a matter that needs your attention. If you'll excuse me a moment?"
"Of course," Thesenet said.
I stepped outside long enough to find someon
e and ask them to bring Hesa, then I returned to the room and refilled our cups. Thesenet had downed half that one as well when Hesa arrived. I wondered what he saw when he looked at the eperu: if he felt the energy that animated it, the fierce vitality, the quick intellect... and the absolute devotion to the health and safety and prosperity of the rest of us.
"Hesa Asara-emodo," I said.
"Ah, yes, the pefna," Thesenet said. He sounded puzzled. "I remember from our ride."
"Ke Hesa," I said. "The minister has agreed to listen to your concerns." To Thesenet, I said, "I've charged the pefna with the execution of the warehouse contract based on its business acumen. It offered to educate me on the issues sufficiently to ask its questions, but I don't have the experience to know what questions to ask in response to your answers. I thought we'd save some time if the two of you spoke directly."
"All right?" Thesenet said. And addressed himself to Hesa. "Go on, pefna."
Hesa glanced at me once, a hesitation I assuaged with a small dip of my head. It drew in a breath then and sat at the table. "Minister, thank you for your time. Can I send someone for a map while we discuss the preliminaries?"
It was not a brief meeting. I sent for a real meal an hour into it, and we were still talking two hours later. I'd been guessing when I said I wouldn't have the experience to anticipate the ramifications of Thesenet's answers, but I'd been right. I learned as much as I suspect Thesenet did from Hesa's questions. The warehouse project implied issues neither of us had imagined: where would we store the city's goods when we arrived at a destination? What if those goods were continuing on to another stop? What if they were perishable? Where would the caravans park? Who would build the warehouses in these distant cities? Who would administrate them? Who would buy wares to fill those warehouses? How would the accounting be kept? Who had the authority to hire people in those cities? And on and on it went, with Hesa pressing Thesenet either for answers or for the power to make the decisions on his behalf. It was an astonishing afternoon, and by the time Hesa rolled up its maps and saluted us both with the neuter's respect to males, hand to breast, I felt as if I'd been run over by one of our as yet unrealized caravans. Thesenet was little better from his expression.
After it left, he slumped. "Void and Brightness! You've employed a minor god of commerce, Pathen. Where on the World did you find it?"
"In het Kabbanil," I said. "Making money." I laughed. "Quite a lot of it."
"I can't imagine otherwise," Thesenet said, shaking himself. "At least I'm absolutely sure now that the project's in good hands."
"Hesa is competent," I said, pouring him the last of the wine.
"Competent!" Thesenet exclaimed. "More like brilliant!"
"And I don't have to pay it a coin," I said, sipping from my cup.
Thesenet stopped in the act of reaching for his.
"What a bargain!" I said. "Imagine if I'd had to pay it. I probably couldn't afford competence like that. Of course, it turned eperu before the empire came, so at least it hadn't grown accustomed to an emodo's salary." I set my cup down. "How fortunate for us!"
Thesenet grimaced. "All right. All right, you've made your point. But you're right about not being able to afford to hire someone like your pefna easily."
"No," I said. "But if I gave Hesa a salary can you imagine what it would do with it?"
I had seen Thesenet's face when he was imagining great and wonderful potentials before. There was a touch of avarice there for that exceptional future.
"I suppose I could just give it my money and let it invest it for me," I said.
Thesenet growled. "You are horrible, Pathen. Just horrible." He wrinkled his nose. "Also, you should do that."
I chuckled. "Maybe I will." As he rose, I said, "They're meant to be our partners, Minister. What have we lost by relegating them to the role of slaves?"
He winced and sighed. "Later, please. Batter me with your painful ideas later. The pefna's already filled my head to bursting."
"All right," I said and stood. "When will I see my eperu? The one you're holding for the dreadful crime of buying a spice cake."
"I'll send him as soon as I get back," Thesenet said. "And it was a bowl of boiled beans."
"Compounding its terrible sin by eating something healthy," I said.
"Ugh!" Thesenet said, but he was trying not to laugh. If it was a tired laugh, well... at least it was honest. "We're done, Pathen!"
"Minister," I said, bowing. "Stop by any time."
After he'd left I summoned Darsi, Abadil and Hesa to the common room, where supper had already sped though several Jokka lingered over their empty bowls and cups. We took our usual table in the back and I disclosed what had brought Thesenet to the House, keeping my voice low.
"Someone caught one of our eperu buying something... with a single coin? The only coin it had?" Abadil said, ears flat. "What are the chances? It's hardly believable."
"Unless someone's been watching us," Darsi said.
"That eperu," Hesa said. "The one you gave the coin... one of the ones you favor for message running, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said. "Maybe someone's watching our runners to see who we trade messages with most often."
"But who's responsible?" Abadil mused. "It's too soon for this to be about the leaf."
"Is it?" Darsi asked. "Gossip travels fast. Besides, it doesn't have to be about the leaf. It can be because the minister likes us, or because we're rich, or because we're new and have this enormous estate... I could start counting the reasons people would resent us, but I'd run out of fingers. And toes."
"Hyperbole," I murmured.
"Maybe," Darsi said. "But one of us needs to be paranoid and I have the most practice." He grinned and we laughed.
"We'll be more careful," I said.
"And no more money for eperu," Hesa said to me. "We have work to do here, Pathen. Let's not draw Thesenet's eye toward us too often."
"All right," I said, and then a hush spread into the room. We looked toward the door... and there was my messenger.
I was across the room before I realized I'd pushed back the chair, had clasped it on the shoulders. I searched it for bruises, cuts, for any sign at all that it had been abused... and it touched my arm. "No," it whispered. "No, ke emodo. I have not been harmed. They... they didn't even tie me."
"Not a scratch?" I said, willing it to tell me the truth.
"Not a hair out of place," it said, though I could feel it trembling beneath my hands. "I'm fine. I... I really am fine."
"All right," I said quietly.
"Ke emodo," the eperu said, and its trembling became more marked. "They didn't punish me."
"No," I said. "Because I won't ever allow it. Never, ke eperu. There will be no fear in my House."
It closed its eyes, shoulders sagging.
"Go," I said. "Go have something to eat and drink. Get some rest."
"All right," it said. And added bravely, "though it's going to be a long time before I feel like eating!"
I laughed and said, "I'm sure there are some honeyed nuts left in the kitchen. See if those renew your appetite."
"I think I'll try," it said. And drew back from me so it could bow. Not the salute that connotes respect... but a true bow, one leg stretched before it, the other bent, and its arms crossed over its chest. I watched with a hammering heart until it rose and departed... and realized then that the silence in the room was absolute. Everyone had been watching, and while there hadn't been many to see there were enough.
I sighed. That story would be all over the House before dawn.
I retired early but couldn't sleep and gave up the attempt in favor of reading over the House's accounts in my office. When at last those ceased to hold my attention I returned to the antechamber where I'd spent most of the day with Thesenet and sagged into one of the chairs, putting my foot up on another. Someone had left me a jar of warmed wine... who? And why? I had never expected to be waited on. I hadn't been born to power... far from it. This role wa
s the first time I'd had it in any honest measure. I eyed the jar, then sighed and poured myself a cup.
I was still sipping it when Darsi peered into the room. "Ah, you're awake."
"Yes?" I said, rousing myself. "Do you need something?"
"No," he said. "But Hesa does, so be expecting it."
"What?" I said, straightening, but Darsi was already gone.
Then there truly was no hope of sleep. I left one dim lamp on the table so it could find its way and went to my bed, sitting on its edge. There I waited in agitation until I heard the whisper of the eperu's passage through the front room, the pause near the table. Then the light came with it to the bedroom.
"Hesa," I said. "Are you well?"
"Yes," it said, setting the lamp on my clothes-chest, then turning to consider me. I wondered what I'd done to earn such an enigmatic look but knew better than to press. And at last, it sighed and looked down. "Pathen. Do you know what the law says is the punishment for an eperu caught with money?"
"No," I said quietly.
"Death, Pathen," Hesa said. "Eperu caught earning money are killed, and their employers are whipped." It crouched in front of me to meet my eyes more directly... to show me its own. "One of my eperu was caught with money today and it wasn't executed."
"Things are changing," I said.
"No," it said, voice tense. "Things are not changing. You are changing them, Pathen. You are responsible for saving the life of my eperu—"
"A life I recklessly endangered," I said, rueful.
It lifted a hand and said, "I won't deny that. But by cultivating the minister, you protected it from your mistake. You..." Its voice cracked and it looked away to compose itself, then finished, "You stayed the hand of the empire, Pathen."
"I couldn't let them hurt it," I answered.
"I love you," it whispered, and slid into my arms. "Gods, Pathen, how I love you."
"I love you too," I answered, mystified by what moved it but willing anyway. I touched its cheek, just below the eye where once a red-gold curl had hung. "Why are you surprised? Did you think I would let the Minister hurt one of our own?"
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