by Chad Huskins
The Qoriai smiled. “I see. The Senate will listen to us, and so you need to sway me and my colleagues to your way of thinking.”
Drea put in, “We simply ask that you consider our staging-down plan.”
The Qoriai looked at her mistrustfully, then looked at Daedron. “What would be the first stage?”
“The immediate suspension of slavery—not outlawing, just a suspension—to peform a trial run of our new system. The ex-slaves would then be paid the smallest of allowable wages.”
“Our Collegium would see an immediate loss in profits—” the Qoriai began.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Daedron said.
“How do you figure?”
“Because,” Drea said, “my husband and I are going to donate a large portion of my inheritance towards the Collegium, as well as the other companies, to compensate them for the first year.”
“And after the first year? What happens if we’re still seeing massive profit losses a year after this ‘suspension’ of slavery?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
The Qoriai eyed them suspiciously, then shook his head. “I would need something else. Some other guarantee or offering.”
“Like what?”
“Your shares,” he said to Drea. “Or, rather, your father’s shares.”
Daedron looked at her.
Drea gave it some thought. “I can give you one or two shares, but not so much that we don’t have enough to remain on the Qoria ourselves.”
Daedron looked at the Qoriai. “One or two shares, my friend. If I’m not mistaken, that would put you just a smidgen over your colleagues, which gives you the greatest controlling share of the Steamwright Collegium.”
The Qoriai’s tongue touched his lips, like a wolf slowly licking its lips before a feast. “All I can do is take it before the rest of the Qoria,” he said. “I can make no promises.”
“And we don’t ask for any,” Drea said.
After a moment, the Qoriai slapped his knees and stood up. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a few more meetings and I’ll want to bring this to the Qoria board before the day is out.”
“Thank you,” Daedron said, rising to shake the man’s hand. “I’ll have one of our servants see you out.”
Once the man was gone, Daedron turned towards Drea, smiled, and said, “We don’t make a bad team, you and I.”
Drea rose to her feet. “We need to speak with the priests next. If we have them in our pocket, then, along with this Qoriai’s endorsement, and the threat of more violence from slaves, it should be enough to pressure the other Qoria into going along.”
Daedron walked slowly over to her, and looked down into her eyes. “Where has that pretty little mind of yours been hiding all this time?”
Drea couldn’t help it. She smiled.
: Let the Birds Fl y:
The day of their formal wedding, Daedron Syphen and Drea oda Syphen were brought before the Temple of Hyra. The sun was shining and the sky was clear. Representatives of all the Major Houses were in attendance. How could they miss it? It was the permanent union of two of the Four Patron Families—House Syphen and House Kalder.
After receiving the blessings of the priestesses, Drea and Daedron stepped outside together and descended the steps. People marveled at Drea’s long, flowing, red-and-white dress made of kudrai silk.
A Priestess of Hyra stood at the foot of the stairs with a cage filled with doves. With a gesture from Daedron, an augur stepped forward and opened the cage and let the doves fly. They drew a zigzagging line in the air, then shot east. The augurs, who Daedron had paid to train the doves, had done their job well.
The Priestess of Hyra whispered a secret into each of their ears, a gift from the temple. Drea and Daedron thanked her, and they both handed the priestess a purse filled with coins—a donation to the temple, if anyone asked.
There was a massive banquet, at which Drea was met with her and her husband’s new partners in the Collegium Qoria. Each Qoriai stepped forward in togas laced with silver and gold, and gave the newlyweds gifts and congratulations. The greatest gift was a brand-new clockwork carriage, with horses lashed to it by diamond-studded reins.
The Qoria met Drea and her husband with begrudging smiles, but at least they were smiles. They shook the groom’s hands, and kissed the bride’s cheeks.
One of the Qoriai muttered into her ear, “It’s good to have a Patron Family back among our council.”
“My husband and I will do everything we can to assist you and the other Qoria in this new transition. And in the coming year, should you suffer serious profit losses due to the new laws, I shall dedicate a portion of my inheritance to help you recover.”
“We thank you, Lady of Drith.”
The new couple knelt before a Priest of Mezu, and were anointed by fresh cow’s blood smeared across their faces. These priests, too, received a donation to their temple, but only after they released a flock of songbirds, which the augurs witnessed fly in a circle before resting in a nearby tree. The augurs deemed this most auspicious, a sign of proper nesting for the newlyweds.
The whole day followed like this, with food and wine being served up and down the Avenue of Gods. As per Drea’s instructions, no pauper was turned away, no former slave rejected a meal.
Everywhere they walked, flower petals were tossed in front of their feet. Baskets of fresh fish and vegetables were handed to them, and the couple had to hand them off to Fengin and Kulisa, the former slaves who were now paid servants to House Syphen.
Now and then, the guests would shout, “Kiss! Kiss!” and Drea and Daedron would laugh and give one another a lasting kiss, during which Drea always thought of Thryis.
At the Hour of the Ram, a dance was held on the Avenue of Song. Bards, singers, jugglers, acting troupes, and tumblers all convened to give off a great display. It wasn’t just a wedding celebration; it was the city’s rejoicing of a new day.
Here, Drea met with Thryis, who was dressed in a beautiful red silk stola and palla, with two new clockwork legs that moved so well one hardly noticed they were false.
They danced.
They kissed.
Some saw it as a bit more than friendly greetings, but few remarked on it.
“I did all of this for us, you know,” Drea whispered to her. “All of it.”
Thryis smiled. “That’s nice.”
Drea recognized something in her voice. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Thryis.”
Thryis looked at her. “You say you did it for us. Those are nice words, but we both know it isn’t true. It’s only part of the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
Thryis didn’t answer.
“Thryis, tell me what you mean—”
“Smack your bottom! You don’t order to me tell you anything!” she said. “But, as it happens, I think you should know it about yourself.”
“Know what?”
Thryis looked at her critically. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Thryis, what are you talking about?”
“You killed that boy on the Street of Wares, Drea. You felt some remorse, but you killed him. And now you’ve killed again. And you’ve encouraged ex-slaves to revolt and kill in your name—”
“What are you getting at?”
“Look how fast you moved to gain control! Just as soon as Daedron came to you with the offer, you listened to him, you began plotting with him!”
“I did it so that we could survive.”
“You’re good at this, Drea,” Thryis said. “And no one is this good at something unless they enjoy it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But I do, she thought. I just can’t admit it. I can’t say it out loud.
“I wish I never convinced you to turn yourself in to the Syphenus,” Thryis said. “All this is my fault. But I didn’t know…”
Drea searched her face.
“My love?”
Thryis started to say something else, but then came the shouts from the crowd, “Wish! Wish!”
Thryis pulled away from her. “Go now. Play your game.” Drea watched her walk away through the crowd.
“Thryis—”
“Wish! Wish!” the crowd cried.
Drea played bashful as her husband weaved through the crowd to find her. He grabbed her by the arm, laughing, and dragged her to the center of the street, where he lifted her up onto the edge of the Fountain of Loraci.
“Wish! Make a wish!” the crowd cried. “Today is your day! We are at the service of a Lady of Drith!”
Drea cupped her hands in front of her, all manners, and waited for the crowd to die down before saying, “I shouldn’t like to ask anything of a city that has already given me so much, and yet has lost so much of its own.” Her words brought a solemn silence. Everyone knew what she was talking about, though her words were just neutral enough that one could say she was talking about any kind of loss. Profit loss. The loss of slaves’ lives, or the loss of nobles’ lives.
“I won’t ask any of you for anything that would put you out,” she continued. “And I don’t ask for anything for myself, for you’ve all given me so much already. My husband gave me a home among his family. The Ardenkus have given me their lifelong friendship. The former slaves of this great city have given me humility, and a sampling of their courage.”
A few cheers went up from the most shabbily-dressed people in the crowd. Former slaves who had no money to afford nice clothes, but were not turned away from the celebration, as per Drea’s orders.
“Today is not truly for me,” Drea said. “Today is for Drith. Today is for change. That is why my husband and I first paid respects to the Temple of Hyra today. It’s time that Drith changes. Just as the power of steam brought on revelation, so too must a new philosophy and charity bring revolution.”
A smattering of applause, some of which came reluctantly from the nobles in the crowd.
“So today, I ask only for a humble gift—not to me, but to Drith. I ask that each Major House bring a dozen pigeons from your cotes, and a dozen sparrows from your eaves, and hand them over to the former slaves of House Syphen before the day’s end. With these simple gifts, you show that you are ready for change.”
A few people looked puzzled by this request, including Daedron, who began applauding for her. This encouraged others to join in.
Soon, a cake was brought down the Avenue of Song, one so large it required six men to carry it. Drea was given a knife to cut it, and she and Daedron shared the first piece. Then, they ordered people to form a line, so that the poor stood with the rich. One at a time, they handed out pieces until the entire cake was gone.
While they served their guests, Daedron sidled up beside her. “A dozen pigeons and a dozen sparrows,” he muttered. “I must admit, I don’t see the point in that. You might’ve used the wedding gift as a chance to get something we truly needed. Money, gold—”
“Oh, but I did get something useful, husband,” she said, smiling and keeping up the ruse of the happy couple.
“Care to clue me in?”
“Not at all.”
“And why not?”
“Because,” she said, “I wouldn’t want to break the Third Precept. And you wouldn’t respect me if I did.”
He lifted a humored eyebrow. “Perhaps I wouldn’t.”
For the rest of the evening, they danced and they kissed, they made the rounds through the crowd, shaking hands and kissing cheeks, making sure that everyone felt their attention.
As night began to fall, Hirgus became dominant in the sky. There was as procession on the way back to their house on the Avenue of Gods. They passed beneath the critical gazes of Mezu, Loraci, Domas, Sora, Yanuus, Hyra, and Uda. Being married to a godly House, Drea stopped at each statue and gave praise to the gods and goddesses.
When she looked up into Loraci’s stony eyes, Drea vowed, If you won’t give me justice, then I’ll just have to take it for myself. She then offered a quiet apology to Loraci, should she take offense.
At the door of their house, Daedron swept Drea off her feet, right in front of an adoring crowd of mostly lower-class people. They cheered for the newlyweds as the iron door spat steam and opened, and Daedron carried her across the threshold.
Already, there were golden-cloaked messengers arriving with letters of congratulations from their noble employers, and also bringing cages of a dozen sparrows and a dozen pigeons, just as asked.
“Please, take them to the aviary,” she said to her servants. “But do not take them out of their cages.”
“Of course, Mistress Drea,” said Fengin.
At the Hour of the Wolf, Drea went upstairs to change into an evening gown. As she passed by the statues of past Syphenus, she saw the resemblance, and had the eerie feeling that Phaedos Syphen was looking back at her from ages past. Even as she walked through these halls, which now partially belonged to her now, she felt like a trespasser.
But I’m not. This is my home now. Hyra agrees with new seasons of life, as well as the acceptance of change.
Drea accepted the home, and she expected its spirits to accept her, too.
She joined guests assembled in the back yard, where tents had been erected and yet more food and wine had been provided. There was another, quieter celebration, one filled with minstrels playing lighter tones. Someone in the crowd mentioned that they’d heard that Drea could play the harp, and so the crowd begged her to play a piece.
After politely refusing, she once again took center stage, and bashfully took her place at a harp. Drea played a song she had composed herself, one she said was meant to welcome a new age. She played well, she thought, and the crowd seemed to agree.
When she finished, she received her applause and was swept up in Daedron’s arms. He looked at her lovingly, and the crowd bought it. They cheered when he kissed her again.
Drea spotted Thryis and her father and brother in the crowd. Thryis smiled, but it looked false.
Finally, the party wound down, the guests were politely bid a good night, and Drea and Daedron gave each and every one of them a handshake or a kiss on the cheek. Drea touched the hands of Nippus Titung, patriarch of the Titungus, a new member of the Triumverate, and, according to Lord Dustrang’s last words, a member of the Hidden Door.
Drea kissed cheeks with the other conspirators in her parents’ deaths. There was fat Harkonex Det, also a Triumvir. Senators Grezzit Yorpus and Jarkon Ebits. Senator Dariun Falgrate and his brothers, Bariun and Blarun. Senator Vadorr Denzin, the Skatarri brothers, and Welhelm Fioriux.
Drea was forced to smile and play nice with all of the Thirteen Heroes, and it took all her will to conceal her rancor.
Among the last to leave were the Ardenkus. Drea thanked each of them for coming. Lord Ardenk coughed harshly, and young Thrayton bowed low out of respect for the lord and lady of House Syphen. Thryis only smiled, and said, “Drea luv. I congratulate you on all your success.”
Drea watched her go, feeling a lump in her throat.
When all their guests were gone, Drea watched Fengin shut the door, and she turned to Daedron. “How do you think it went, husband?”
“I think it went well, wife,” he said.
Now that their guests were gone, they were no longer required to remain touching. They stood in the foyer and looked at each other. They were more like business partners now than newlyweds.
“Well,” Daedron finally said. “I’ll bid you goodnight. Tomorrow is another day, and we’re going to find ourselves very busy when we start converting the Qoria to our way of thinking.”
Drea nodded. Before he disappeared, though, Drea called after him. “Daedron?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve heard it said that all these old houses have secret passages. Corridors left over from an age when Drith used to be constantly invaded, and the people used twisted halls and secret passageways to confuse invaders.”
> Daedron nodded. “That’s true.”
“Is that where you and your sisters trained in the Arcana with your uncle? Is that where Phaedos Syphen and his nieces and nephew disappeared to at night while Drea oda Syphen slept in a cottage across the lawn?”
He nodded. “It was.”
“May I see these passages sometime?”
“You may.” He waved a hand as if to encompass the whole house. “It’s all yours now, Drea. We share it.”
She nodded. “One last question. Have you ever heard of the Temple of the Hidden Door?”
Daedron made a face. “No. Sounds like a group of traveling actors. Who are they?”
She watched him carefully, gauging the look in his eyes. As far as she could tell, he was being honest with her. “Never mind,” she said. “I’m going to visit my new birds in the aviary. I’ll be to my chambers in a moment.”
Daedron smiled. “You don’t have to report to me, Drea. This is your home. You may do as you please.” He went upstairs, and Drea stood there a moment, considering what she was about to do.
As she walked to the aviary, she found Kulisa doing some cleaning in the kitchen. “Kulisa, how do you find your first week’s wages?”
“Very good, Si—I mean, Mistress Drea. Thank you,” the girl said, bowing.
“I’m pleased. Would you mind telling Fengin to assemble all the servants in the aviary?”
“All the servants, Mistress? We have a lot of cleaning to do—”
“I understand. This is important.”
“Of course, Mistress. I will tell them.”
Moments later, Drea stood in the aviary, listening to the soft cooing of all the birds that had been brought to her. She walked from cage to cage, rubbing their heads, petting their wings. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to each of them. “But I have to do it.”
The birds cooed quizzically.
When all the house servants were assembled in the aviary, Fengin approached her and said, “Mistress? You summoned us?”
Drea turned to address them all. “Do you love me?” she asked Fengin.
