by Mary Corran
‘Perhaps she’s been delayed by the weather.’ Although several years younger than Asher, Mylura, or Mylla as she was known, was most commonly chosen to escort the escapees to the frozen land north of the border; she had an uncanny ability to avoid the Kamiri guard who patrolled the road. She always said she could smell them. Unlike Asher, however, Margit did not seem overly concerned by the younger woman’s non-appearance.
‘Is everything all right here?’ Asher asked, a little irritated by Margit’s nonchalance.
‘Essa wants to see you. She’s better tonight, no fever, and she ate some supper.’
‘Good.’ Essa owned the hostel and was its oldest inhabitant. When she was a young woman and newly married she had set up an agency specializing in finding employment for women and girls in domestic service, which was how she first had dealings with Carob. When her husband died she had sold their home and bought the inn, then derelict, turning it into a hostel for single women, knowing how scarce was such accommodation in Venture. It was she who chose the residents of her hostel, though not all the women who lived there were members of her private group; as she often said, some companions she chose for practical reasons, others simply because she liked them.
‘Go on up,’ Margit advised. ‘You’re the last in, so no one need keep door-watch. You look tired.’
‘Thanks a lot!’ Asher walked past the older woman and on into the common room.
Most of the other inhabitants of the hostel were still up, talking, or sewing, or making candles, and Asher greeted various friends as she passed through the room. The large hall had once been the main taproom of the inn, and still contained the benches and trestle tables with which it had originally been furnished; the women had added various items of their own, and it was now a cheerful, homely place. A fire glowed in the hearth, and tallow candles in sconces on the walls provided more light. Bright-covered cushions added a further touch of colour, and, with contributions from all of the women, Essa had bought a silky red and gold rug, imported from Petormin, the most easterly land of the Dominion, which now lay luxuriously on the polished-brick floor before the hearth.
At the far end a door led on to the stairway leading up to the two floors of private rooms. Asher went through and took the steps two at a time, wondering what Essa could have to tell her; there had been a steady stream of visitors for Essa in her illness, bringing small gifts as well as a regular supply of information.
Asher knocked at Essa’s door which stood at the rear of the building, next to her own, and looked out over the stableyard.
‘Come.’
The voice sounded much stronger than for days. Asher obeyed the summons with a lifting of the heart; Essa’s high fever had worried her greatly.
‘Margit says you’re much better,’ she observed, perching herself on the end of the bed.
‘Do you like my present? A gift from clan Formin, no less,’ Essa replied, stroking an unfamiliar blue blanket which covered her narrow figure with an unexpectedly sensual gesture. Asher stared, for the moon-pattern edging proclaimed it a costly gift, out of place in its plain surroundings, bestowing on the square room an elegance out of keeping with the austerity favoured by its owner.
‘It’s beautiful. Why such generosity?’
‘I think they want another cook. They’ve lost the last four I sent them — the third told me no one but a madwoman could work there for long!’ Essa laughed. ‘Would you bring me my candle, please? Margit put it out of reach in case I fell asleep before you came in.’
Asher got up and lifted the heavy candlestick from the wooden chest and placed it on the table beside the invalid, the cheap tallow candles which were all Essa ever used smoking slightly. Everything in the room was serviceable but plain, the bed, the flat-topped cupboard, the chest; Essa had been a rich widow, but had given most of her wealth away after she bought the inn and converted it into the hostel, claiming others — single mothers, widows with large families, deserted women and children — needed it more. In a city that lauded the family and expected women to be provided for by fathers or husbands, it was forgotten how many had no family, through ill luck or because none would own them. Margit, Asher knew, was one, for her family had turned her away when she was pregnant with her employer’s child.
‘You do look better,’ Asher observed. ‘How do you feel?’ She divested herself of cloak and scarf and sat down again, glad of the colour in her friend’s face. Essa was close to sixty, and had looked much more during her illness. Now, however, her blue eyes were alight with amusement, and she had lost the air of apathy so unnatural to her active spirit. With her silver hair neatly plaited and wound about her head, she looked very like Asher’s own mother, a strong woman, capable, with a durability of spirit displayed in the sharp eyes and firm expression.
‘Oh, I’ll be back on my feet in a day or so. Whatever you may say,’ she added, seeing Asher’s reproachful look.
‘We’ll see. You were quite ill, Essa.’
‘And you’re very late tonight. Was there trouble?’
‘Not really. I was at Carob’s, and the guard came just before curfew. Playing their silly games. I was out after the second bell, but I was lucky.’
Essa frowned. ‘Really, Asher! You must be more careful. And I take it Mylura did not come?’
‘No.’
Essa’s lips curled in the indulgent smile Mylura’s name often invoked. ‘Never mind, she’ll turn up soon.’ Asher wondered in exasperation if she were the only one genuinely worried; no one else seemed to doubt Mylla’s safe return. ‘Give her till tomorrow night. She’s never failed us before, and I don’t suppose she will now. I never knew anyone as capable as Mylla of looking after herself.’ She shot Asher a shrewd look. ‘You worry too much.’
‘I know. A bad habit.’
‘It suggests you think no one but yourself capable of performing the simplest task,’ Essa observed reprovingly. ‘We work together, Asher, remember that. You’re far too young to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders!’
‘Yes, Essa,’ Asher agreed solemnly, managing to keep a straight face.
The older woman smiled, reluctantly. ‘Oh — wretch!’ You’re young enough to be my daughter after all,’ she protested, adding more soberly, ‘I sometimes think you take far too many risks. When Carob and I began, we only meant to provide a service no one else cared to; we had no interest in politics, only in helping young girls who needed friends.’
‘But would you go back to that, if you could?’ Asher asked, hiding her dismay. ‘When we can do so much more?’
‘Oh, no,’ Essa assured her hastily. ‘Not when every day I see slaves mistreated, and there are times it makes me very angry to see how my girls are misused and underpaid, and I think it a wonderful thing to be in a position to help people like you, Asher.’ She paused, perhaps remembering their first meeting, then went on: ‘It seems strange it should be the invasion which has given us so many chances to do more than simply provide a few coins or a bed or baby clothes, but it’s true; with so many men gone or in the internment camps we women have gained a great deal. Your post at the Treasury, for example.’
Asher nodded. ‘I know.’ It was an old discussion. ‘Margit said you had news.’
‘Indeed, I had several visitors today. The first — Derna, one of the Administration clerks, you know — tells me it’s certain the Dominus is dying. Poor man, his luck has deserted him to the full now, though he may linger another year, they say. He had another seizure when they brought him the news that Colum was dead.’
‘To have lost both sons must be hard,’ Asher agreed. ‘But he’s been a sick man since the invasion.’ Colum, the younger son, was rumoured to have died in a fall from his horse, but no one in Darrian believed the story; the Kamiri had every interest in seeing Lykon’s children dead and his line eliminated. His family had ruled Darrian for fifteen hundred years, since the Oracle of Venture had named Lykon’s distant ancestor the first Dominus, and their fortunes were so deeply entwined with those of t
he land they ruled as to be indistinguishable.
‘The balance of luck is unsettled. It’s Lykon’s daughter who should concern us now; it’s more imperative than ever she be found, Asher. Otherwise Amrist will place his henchman on the throne, and we will never be free of him!’ Essa spoke urgently. ‘A dreadful imbalance entered our world when Amrist rose to power; wherever he goes, he seizes the good fortune of conquered lands for himself. Already the Kamiri are draining our own country dry — of our gold and our luck.’
‘I know.’ A shadow crossed Asher’s face. ‘I keep the tribute returns in the Treasury, and it’s clear there’ll be a shortfall in Venture this year. The import of slaves keeps wages too low, and they pay the women little enough as it is. A tenth of nothing is still nothing. Our merchant councillors will be unhappy at the amount they have to make up, but it can’t be helped. And it can’t go on much longer, or even they won’t have the resources to pay.’
‘And if we can’t pay the tribute, we become a subject people,’ Essa finished bitterly. ‘Already the Kamiri whittle away at the few freedoms we still have. If we in Venture fail to raise our share of the tribute, there’s no city in Darrian which can make up our shortfall. If we fail, the Kamiri won’t merely send governors but take all power from the city councils, and reduce us to virtual slavery, as they did in Asir and Gorm. Amrist has never broken a treaty, but he must have known he could not bleed us this heavily for long. When we can no longer pay, we lose everything.’
‘He can afford to play a waiting game. Who would Amrist choose, if the Dominus dies before the girl Vallis is found?’
‘There’s a cousin — Ensor — in the internment camp to the south.’ Essa closed her eyes in recollection. ‘He’s the obvious choice, and a bad one for us; he’s a fool, and after fourteen years as hostage, no doubt a Kamiri tool as well. No. I know you won’t agree with me, Asher, but I think we should try to look for this girl ourselves; we have as much chance of finding her as anyone.’
‘You know what I think: that it’s a waste of our time,’ Asher objected, without much hope. ‘There are resistance groups, political organizations in all the cities of Darrian, but here in Venture only we try to care about what happens to ordinary people on a daily basis. Let the resistance look for Vallis; we’ve more than enough to do already. No one has ever found any clue as to where she might be. She could even be dead.’
‘No.’ Essa’s denial came instantly. ‘The Oracle has said she still lives.’
‘And so you believe it?’ Asher could not quite keep the cynical note out of her voice; she had never forgotten her feelings of betrayal on the day she learned of the invasion, nor her sworn promise to herself. Alone among the women of Venture, the city of the Oracle, she had never sought its advice.
‘The Oracle does not lie.’ Essa stated the fact much as Asher’s mother had once done, leaving no room for argument. ‘The girl is alive, and since that is so, she can be found.’
‘But not by us,’ Asher countered. ‘Remember why you and Carob joined together in the first place, and what we try to do. Remember how stretched we are for funds because no one on the city council cares what happens to a few women and slaves with no money and no influence! Do you think the resistance would lift a hand to help us? Of course not. They would say we must suffer in a greater cause, as if people’s lives were unimportant and politics all that mattered.’
‘Perhaps so.’ Essa sighed. ‘But I want us to try to find Vallis, even if it does take valuable time. I’m sorry, Asher.’ But the apology did not negate the order; there was steely determination beneath the courtesy.
‘But you have tried. You spoke to her nurse years ago, when she came back to live here, because you’d known her when you were girls. And she knew nothing,’ Asher protested. ‘It’s not that I don’t agree she must be found, Essa, only that I don’t see what we can do that no one else can.’
‘She is our only hope.’
‘All right.’ Asher sighed, accepting defeat. ‘Very well. I’ll let Carob and Cass know, and Margit.’
Essa lay back against the pillows, looking wearied, and Asher stood to pour her a cup of water from a pitcher standing nearby. ‘Drink this,’ she ordered. ‘You should always drink plenty of liquids when you’ve had a fever.’
Essa took the cup and drank, then handed it back. ‘I am better, but a little tired, I admit. I shall be glad when I can get back to my agency, and spare you that burden, at least.’
‘It’s no trouble. Margit helps too, and Sara, and some of the others.’
‘But you’re tired, too, and tiredness makes you careless. Margit tells me that only yesterday you almost forgot and brought a bunch of ivy into the hostel. That was foolish, as you well know, and would have brought ill luck down on us.’
Asher made a gesture of impatience. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not enough to be sorry,’ Essa went on irritably. ‘I have never envied you, Asher, even though occasionally I think it would be pleasant not to have to worry about attracting ill fortune by some small chance action. For you, it seems the Fates themselves are a question of belief, and you choose to deny them for reasons I cannot understand.’
‘If I’d been born blind, why should I believe in sight?’ Asher demanded in turn. ‘My identical twin brother died when we were born, but no one has ever been able to explain to me why that should make me different. Why should the circumstances of my birth make me now immune to the twists and turns of the Fates? They say it makes you favoured, a child of Fortune, to begin life with such a piece of luck, but my life has not been so easy and so blessed that I believe that either. That’s why most of these charms and signs seem pointless to me, wishful thinking rather than Fate.’
‘You know that’s not so, Asher. You’ve seen for yourself how charms and wards can help or harm. And even you credit how fine is the balance of fortune in our land.’
‘But charms and wards have physical properties, just as a telescope helps you see further, or magnets attract iron. And I can accept a natural balance of good and ill fortune, that Darrian has always been lucky because the climate is good, the soil is fertile, and we have metal to mine and people to work the land, and I can see that these advantages may be stolen from us, and some of them lost forever. I can believe that people are born more or less fortunate, for I can see that myself. But not that the caprices of the Fates rule all our lives, nor that they dictate all we do, that it’s all decided from the moment of our conception. And I don’t believe it is possible to tell the future.’
‘I won’t argue with you tonight, I’m too tired. Just remember, it’s not safe to be visibly different. You’re still in hiding here, after all.’ But Essa must have seen she had said enough, for she did not elaborate on the topic.
‘I should leave you to sleep. It’s late.’ Asher got up, trying to disguise her irritation, but Essa put out a hand to stop her.
‘Asher, I’m sorry for being tiresome, but please don’t go yet. I’ve more news for you.’
There was a strong note of pleading in her voice and, unwillingly, Asher sat down again. ‘What is it?’
‘I know you don’t like to be reminded of the past, but I must tell you.’ Essa looked at her anxiously. ‘Asher, I had a visitor from the old quarter. She told me three of Mallory’s ships arrived today. He’s here.’
‘I see.’
Asher got to her feet and turned away so Essa could not see her face, filled with a jumble of wildly conflicting emotions. Part of her would be happy to see Mallory again. She had known him all her life, and they had been friends for most of that time; but part of her wished he had stayed on his ship and never come to land. She had known he must come, but not that the confrontation would take place so soon.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You could resign your post at the Treasury,’ Essa persisted. ‘Otherwise you’re bound to come across one another, and from what you’ve said, he must recognize you. He�
��ll be second on the city council once he takes his brother’s place.’
Silence ensued. It was not the easy silence between friends but a separation, which had its roots in a day six years in the past, a day Asher would not think of, would not remember. Feelings long suppressed threatened to rise up, but she fought them down. The past was dead. ‘It won’t be necessary,’ she said distantly.
It was left to Essa to break the coolness between them. ‘I always wondered you didn’t know Councillor Kelham, the elder brother, when you were young,’ she said tentatively. ‘Surely you must have seen him occasionally?’
‘Only once or twice, and he never paid any attention to me; he was twelve years older than Callith, and seven older than Mallory. He spent most of his time here, in Venture.’ Asher maintained a semblance of calm. ‘I was sorry when he died, he was a good and honest man. But as the eldest of his clan, it fell to him to take his place on the council when his father retired to Kepesake, while Mallory travelled and maintained the trading links overseas.’
‘Your friend’s very successful, they say. Only the Chief Councillor’s luck is more proverbial. His ships come safely to port, and always find favourable winds.’
‘At least he’ll be able to afford to remain on the council — not like Councillor Cavan.’
Essa nodded. ‘Last year’s tribute ruined him. But he’s no great loss. I sometimes wonder if wealth should be the only criterion for membership of the Council of Twelve.’
Asher shrugged. ‘What other choice is there? Who else can be relied on to make up the tribute shortfall but the rich? And who else has such a strong interest in maintaining our autonomy? The Kamiri don’t care where the gold comes from, but if it ceases, the merchants lose everything. Whereas we have little left to lose. Except the rest of our freedom.’ She gave a bitter laugh.
‘Perhaps.’ Essa steeled herself. ‘So. What will you do?’ she asked again.
‘I don’t know! Mallory won’t hurt me. His coming is an inconvenience, but no worse. He wouldn’t expose me as a fraud.’
