Deviants of Giftborn (The Etherya Series Book 1)

by Amarcya, Zuri

  Della chucked. “The baby is always worth it. You’ll see when you have your own.” She wriggled a key into her door and it sprung open.

  The smell of roast meat, vanilla and mild fenyac wafted out.

  “I’m not sure I’ll have any, Della. My business takes up a lot of my time.”

  “You will,” Della said, beckoning her to enter.

  Inside, Della’s home was filled with various shades of browns, white and rose with portraits and pictures filling the living area and pots and pans cluttering the kitchen. Children’s toys piled up in one corner and a number of floor cushions covered the floor. It did not look much different from how Clisantha remembered it when she visited a couple of times soon after she had moved from the Arc. Della threw her clothing bundle down on a beige soft-seat and indicated for Clisantha to do the same.

  “When you meet the right person,” Della said, heading to the kitchen, “and you realize you’re expecting, you’ll cherish that child beyond everything else. You care about family, Clisantha, just like your father did. You can’t bring your family line to an end just because you’re… busy.” She poured a tall glass of water and handed it to Clisantha. “Sweet water, your favorite.”

  “How did you know my father?” Clisantha asked.

  Della smiled. “I used to organize weaver shows. Your father knew all the popular weavers and entertainment merchants, so I saw him quite frequently.” She poured a glass for herself and drank deeply.

  “I don’t recall ever seeing a weaver show that you arranged.”

  Della placed a hand on her stomach again. “I probably started having babies before you even started going to weaver shows. I haven’t had any time to go back to it between having and raising children and now I don’t think watching people weave would entertain citizens anymore, no matter how well arranged the movements are or how technical the dance, or how beautiful the end result. The Glass Hearth’s windows are all I hear people talking about. I did used to love organizing them though.”

  “Oh.” Clisantha sipped her water, trying to make sense of what Della was saying. “So how old are you?”

  Della laughed.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Clisantha added. “It’s just I can’t recall you ever working.”

  “No, you probably wouldn’t.” Della drained her glass. “I’m nearly fifty-three.”

  Clisantha couldn’t stop her mouth dropping open. She had always thought Della was younger than her. “That can’t be true.”

  Della grinned and winked at her. “I keep my age quiet. Gossips are never kind to me, but I’ve had nine children.”

  “But I only remember three,” Clisantha said, sitting on the white stool behind the counter.

  “You probably wouldn’t have noticed much of what was going on over here,” Della said.

  Clisantha nodded. In fact she had purposely avoided Della while she built her reputation. Scandal did not impress the peerage. But with her new status, she didn’t care. She was popular enough to be friends with whoever she wanted.

  “Your father was an honorable man,” Della was saying. “He helped me with the first two babies and set up a deal with some of the lords to support me.”

  “Why?” It was odd that Father would get involved in this woman’s affairs.

  “We were friends,” Della said. “I helped him and he helped me. I had immense experience in organizing shows, which many of the entertainment merchants that he wanted to promote didn’t have. He gave me the opportunity to still contribute my ideas and creativity to the weaver shows without physically being in the role.”

  “And what did you help him with?”

  Della’s eyes sparkled as she grinned. “You.”

  Clisantha was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

  “He needed parenting advice,” Della explained. “He told me that your mother was inexperienced and that her mother didn’t want to help with you, so I gave him advice on how to raise a young child. We frequently talked about you and the silly things you got up to.”

  A flicker of puzzlement and amusement stirred in Clisantha. “Silly things?”

  “Yes. Like that time you cut up your mother’s dresses so you could make your own Thaide robe.”

  Clisantha smiled. “Father had to replace mother’s dresses before she noticed.”

  “Or the time you ran down the road naked because you didn’t want to be taken to a carer while your parents went out.”

  “I didn’t want them to leave me,” Clisantha murmured, remembering. “That’s where I met Ketzia.”

  “He wanted me to look out for you when you came Torak,” Della continued, “but… your mother…”

  Clisantha nodded. “Yes, she was very controlling.”

  “She was very bitter about your father’s death. She changed the subject every time I brought him up, and then asked me if my interest in him stemmed from him having fathered any of my children.” Della’s mouth tightened. “Which he did not.”

  “I’m sorry,” Clisantha said. “My mother didn’t socialize well.”

  “I thought maybe you had taken on that trait,” Della said. “When your mother married and moved out I thought we could build a friendship, but you have been so focused on your career, you have hardly had time to accept an invitation to dinner.” She padded around the counter and took Clisantha’s hands in her own. “I hope now that things have settled, you could spend some time with me?”

  Clisantha smiled at her and nodded.

  “So, I know you were heading out but will you stay for dinner?”

  Clisantha glanced at the sky. She had planned to spend the evening drinking and chatting at the Glass Hearth, but sitting among false people at the tavern did not appeal to her anymore. Della was more genuine than the citizens she normally socialized with and it lifted her mood to talk about father with someone who knew and liked him.

  “Actually I have eaten,” Clisantha said, “but I would love to try that pepper-root cake.” She pointed to the large round cake sitting on the far counter with round slices of pepper-root decorating the top.

  As the evening lengthened, the women shared tales of Carrick interwoven with stories of their experiences of the merchant world in Torak. Although she had eaten, Clisantha's mouth watered when Della ate her dinner; sticky roast goose with fried breaded rabbit ears, boiled roots and mashed buttered onions.

  “How have you found working with Telmar?” Della asked, after force feeding Clisantha a crispy ear.

  “It’s a necessary evil.” Clisantha shrugged, though her chest squeezed again at the thought of his murder. She licked the crumbs from around her mouth. “I suppose I brought it on myself by seeking his help, but I didn’t think he would end up being involved in my business. Hopefully after this trial period, the High Priest will trust me to run it myself.”

  Della shook her head. “No, Telmar will always be involved.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “The Arc needs someone who can keep a close eye on everything that goes on in Torak so that they can stay separate. If Torak becomes severely corrupt, it will take significant Arc resources to set it right and the High Priest won’t want to waste his Thaide.”

  “Is Telmar involved in every merchant business?” Clisantha asked. That seemed unlikely.

  “He has stakes in the major ones that make a lot of money and has some kind of personal control over the merchants that run the mid- and small-scale businesses.”

  So the High Priest had an interest in keeping Telmar attached to her business. She would never get rid of him. Unless he was dead. “The High Priest is happy about him blackmailing citizens?” Clisantha asked.

  “An agreement between adults isn’t a crime. Neither are threats. It’s only if they’re carried out that the Sovereign’s Justice applies. And anyway, Telmar has covered his tracks so well it would be difficult to prove any of his crimes.”

  Clisantha stared at her. Telmar had committed crimes? “Like what?”

  Del
la crunched into another ear and waved a hand. “I don’t want to spoil our evening by going into that.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “As a mother, I can’t even…” Della shuddered. “No, let’s not discuss it. Just avoid making any agreements with him.”

  Clisantha thought back to everything she knew about Telmar. Nothing stood out as being illegal, but she hadn’t paid attention to everything. Telmar would not risk doing anything criminal in his position, would he? But why would Della lie? She did not even want to talk about it. Telmar was power hungry enough to risk doing whatever it took to give him more control over Torak.

  Clisantha sunk into deeper thought as Della lifted the cake from the counter. If Telmar had committed crimes, maybe she could use that to get him to leave her alone. It would save Riyen from the Sovereign’s Justice. Or at least save the city from having to be uprooted from its current circumstances. She had to consider that her business may suffer if Telmar died, and that was unacceptable. The question was how to get him to withdraw his threat when she did not actually know his crimes. She wouldn’t have time to find out more and she was not going to force Della to talk about it.

  The pepper-root cake was spongy, spicy and moist with a dark honey aftertaste. Clisantha had three helpings.

  “Save some for me,” Della laughed. “The baby seems to like that particular recipe.”

  Clisantha was amazed at Della’s culinary skills. She could throw a dinner gathering the women of Torak would be envious of. “Who taught you how to cook and bake?”

  “My mother,” Della said. “Who taught you?”

  “I paid the chef at the Golden Pantry in the first quarter to teach me for a month,” Clisantha said. “After that I just started experimenting. I’m not a very good baker though.”

  Della bit into her cake and chewed. “It’s a shame that you had a mother but still had to learn those things for yourself. Not everyone has their mother with them when they’re young.”

  Clisantha put down her half-eaten slice. “Do you hope the next child will be non-Gifted?”

  Della shrugged. “I hope she’s healthy. That’s all.”

  “But if she’s taken from you, you won’t see her again. Like the others.”

  “We aren’t meant to own our children, Clisantha,” Della said, “only keep them safe from harm and teach them how they can navigate the world. I feel I have managed to do that with all of my children.”

  “But shouldn’t they be with their father?” Clisantha asked. “Why send them into the Arc alone and afraid if they have a father that can look after them.”

  “The orphans in the Arc are nothing like the orphans in Torak. They are looked after, taught to read, write and count. They are clothed, fed, played with, and taught about the basics of their Gift until they are ready to be taken to the Academy. They’re generally happy children.”

  The children playing in the pile of leaves in the Arc came into Clisantha’s mind.

  “Their father would be much too busy to provide that for them so they’re better without him for now,” Della continued.

  “But don’t you think they should know him?”

  “They will,” Della said. “They’ll meet him when they’re older and he will look out for them when he can. I’m sure he has already met the oldest two.”

  She sounded so sure. A pang of sadness resounded in Clisantha. Whatever lies this magien had spun to keep her faithful and deluded must have been powerful. He was likely married and living in the Arc with a family of his own.

  “I know it doesn’t sound like the best family life,” Della admitted. “But I can’t deny that the Arc will provide the children with opportunities I couldn’t have so I must be grateful.”

  “But you could have that life and be with your children if their father married you and took you to the Arc.” Clisantha regretted the words as she said them.

  Della abruptly got up from the chair and busied herself clearing the plates and glasses from the counter.

  Clisantha stood up and nervousness rose in her throat. “Della… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.”

  Della waved her hand and shook her head. She started washing up the cake plates. “It’s nothing less than the gossips say.”

  “Della, I…” Clisantha didn’t know what more to say. “I should go.”

  Della turned. Her eyes shone with tears. “Only if you promise to come back in a few days for dinner.”

  “Of course,” Clisantha said.

  Leaving Della’s home, Clisantha dug her fingernails into her palms. It had been a beautiful evening and she had spoiled it. She made a mental note to cook something nice to take over to Della when they had dinner next and thoroughly apologize. As she let herself into her home, her mind turned to Telmar.

  ***

  Clisantha’s stomach lurched as Telmar entered his meeting room. He had dressed formally, his dark blond hair braided in rows along his scalp and into one. She had arrived at sun-rise and he had made her wait for an hour, possibly hoping that she would be seen leaving his residence.

  He sat on the chair opposite her and lifted the juice jug sitting on the table next to them with a selection of honeyed toast and pastries. His expression was grave. “You left it late to call this meeting, Clisantha. I have already arranged to meet with the High Priest.”

  Clisantha sat rigid in her chair. “You’d better cancel it.”

  “So we will marry,” Telmar stated, pouring juice into a glass.

  “No. You will retract your threat and leave me alone to run my business.”

  Telmar took a sip and picked up a glazed pastry. “I’m disappointed with your choice, Clisantha.”

  Clisantha kept her face a mask as her heart pounded. “I was disappointed also, to hear about your crimes.”

  Telmar choked on his food, sparking a series of coughs. He leaned forward spluttering and heaving and Clisantha watched him until he had calmed. It was not clear from his reaction whether she had spoken the truth.

  Telmar met her gaze, bemused, his eyes watery. “My crimes?”

  “Well, I should say your crime,” Clisantha said, taking a risk. “We both know there is only one worth speaking about.”

  Telmar shrugged, smiling. “And what is that?”

  Clisantha fixed him with an expression of, what she hoped was, severe disgust. Knowing how long Telmar had been in business, she guessed there was one crime he was most worried about being discovered. “The one you wouldn’t want anyone to find out about.”

  Telmar watched her, inclining his head and Clisantha could feel the suspicion coiling in him. If she couldn’t convince him she knew what his crime was, he would make her life a nightmare. She had to give him something more substantial.

  “If you are finished making idle unsavory claims, Mss Saraethien, I have a meeting to prepare for,” Telmar said, his voice cold. He rose from his seat, looming over her.

  Clisantha grasped for something to say, panic surging. She had spent almost the whole night preparing what to say and now she could not remember any of it. She thought back to her conversation with Della. She had said, as a mother… “I’m talking about your crime with the children,” she said. “The one too disgusting to grace my delicate mouth.”

  Telmar’s confident stance transformed. His fist clenched, his body stiffened and a snarl twisted his lips. He lowered to his chair. “Who have you been speaking to?”

  Clisantha ignored her pounding relief. “I want you to leave me and my business alone. Otherwise the whole city will find out about your dirty secret.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” Telmar said, his nostrils flaring. “I know you can’t. And I’m not as concerned about my reputation as you, Clisantha. I don’t care if citizens believe you. It won’t affect my status in the city.”

  “Children are dear to the hearts of many,” Clisantha said, leaning forward. “But even if the city doesn’t care, as you know, all accusations have to be investigated.”
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  Telmar paled. “You wouldn’t involve the High Priest,” he breathed.

  Clisantha’s lingering nervousness burst into glee. She had him. “Do I need to?”

  Telmar looked as though he was deciding between yelling at her and pleading with her. In the end he rose from his seat and walked to the door. Turning, he said, “Get out.”

  Eighteen

  “I wasn’t trying to be disobedient. I wanted to help her.”

  “But why,” Terris raised his hands. “She threatened a top-rank. She has some serious mental problems, Isa, and you released her from a force-bind.”

  “She didn’t threaten him,” Nemma scoffed. “Just because she doesn’t agree with everything that comes out of the mouth of a top-rank doesn’t make her insane.”

  Terris banged his fist down on the table between them. “Be serious. This is serious!”

  Nemma stood up, anger rising. “What gave you the impression that I’m not being serious?”

  Terris rose from his seat. “Do you think flippant remarks about the integrity of magiens are going to help you right now? I’m here to try and persuade them that you’re not as crazy as Abranya but you don’t seem to want to help yourself. I can leave if you would prefer?”

  He had a wild look in his eyes. A layer of stubble covered his chin and his robes were crumpled. He breathed hard, staring at Nemma with fierce determination.

  She took a deep breath as the anger fled. “No. Please stay.”

  Breaking eye contact, they lowered onto their chairs. “Why did you help her?” asked Terris.

  “I didn’t think it was fair for her to suffer that pain just because she was upset about her family,” Nemma said, matter-of-factly.

  “So you think your judgment is fairer than a top-rank magien’s?” Terris asked.

  “Terris, we are told constantly in training to use our judgment, and that’s all I did. Standing by and watching someone suffer when you can’t do anything is bad enough, but when you can, why not?”

  Terris was silent. He closed his eyes and long moments passed. His looks had matured quickly even over the last two months. His face had slimmed, and his jaw had squared and become more defined. The extra conditioning had widened his shoulders and his hair had grown to his neck. “Do you realize how difficult it is to gain control over energy that another magien is controlling?” he asked, opening his eyes. “Especially a top-rank?”