by Mary Corran
‘Are you sure?’
There was only a brief moment of hesitation. ‘Yes. He’s not my enemy.’
Essa looked relieved. ‘Then I’m glad. And sorry to have been the one who had to tell you.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Asher forced a smile. ‘Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow evening, when I get back from Carob’s.’
‘Good night, Asher. May Lady Fortune favour you.’ But Asher was already halfway through the door, and Essa sighed.
Asher unlocked her own door, blessing the good salary which allowed her to afford a space of her own so she did not, as so many of the other women did, have to share her quarters. Tonight, she could not have borne the casual presence of a room-mate, nor any other impingement on her private thoughts.
The room was dark and she paused, waiting until her eyes had accustomed themselves sufficiently for her to find the candlestick and light the stub. She wondered if she had the energy to perform her usual checks, or if she dared leave it, just for once; after all, Essa had been in the next room all day. But she could not. There were too many incriminating documents which would, by their mere presence, ensure at best a lengthy term of imprisonment if they were discovered by some unfriendly hand.
Shutting and locking the door, she moved to the cupboard that held her few clothes, the three dark-coloured divided skirts of the working woman which changed according to season, the tunics and underclothing, boots and sandals. They were all as she had left them. Her room was similar to Essa’s in its lack of adornment, for what spare funds she possessed were all donated to the use of the group; apart from her clothes, she had only a small chest containing her few personal belongings. She opened the lid and counted the spare seven-sided brooch, the necklace made up of flat silver moons which had belonged to her mother, two scarves and sewing materials. No one, as far as she could judge, had moved them during her absence.
Lastly, she pushed the chest aside and lifted the loose floorboard underneath, revealing the cache in which she kept a little silver, blank forged travel passes and identity papers, for use by escaping slaves, and her own papers: the real ones, which bore her true name and place of origin, unlike the ones she carried, which named her only Asher of Venture, born to that city. They were still there, untouched.
I wish ...
She was too tired to clarify the thought. She moved the chest back into place and went across to the narrow bed, but instead of lying down she changed her mind and opened the wooden shutters of the window to the right of the bedstead. She shivered as cold air filled the stuffy room, but the cold was preferable to her thoughts; she stared out on to the empty stableyard at the rear of the hostel.
Why now? she thought rebelliously. Her life was full, intensely satisfying. She had work she enjoyed, and an existence she had spent years establishing. Why should Mallory come back now to upset her hard-won peace?
Six years ago, she had been reborn. The Asher of the past, the Asher of Harrows Farm, was dead; she had killed her herself, joying in her destruction. Asher of Venture had no links with that younger self. Except for Mallory, appended her treacherous mind. If she had believed in such things, she might have thought a malign Fate pursued her, to bring Mallory to Venture, to place herself in a position where she must meet him or change the whole direction of her life once more, giving up all she had built.
I can’t, I’m needed here. It was reassuring to be certain that, at least, was the truth. But in any case, there was nowhere else for her to go; she knew of no other organization like Essa’s in any other city, no other group which would accept her into its midst, provide her with a new identity and home and friends.
Memories of the distant past forced themselves upon her, not all of them painful. She had been a happy child of loving parents who had never allowed her to feel for an instant they had rather her twin brother had lived when they were born. She had been educated to a far higher level than her village friends, a gift for which she blessed her family often, for it had given her a freedom few women possessed by allowing her to earn her living through other than menial labour. But those happy memories were tarnished by that other remembrance, the shadow on her life which had led to her flight, and which bound her to Venture and Essa and the other women; for they were all she had, now.
I’ve changed, I’m not the same person Mallory knew. Will he really recognize me? She was thinner than she had been, and her thick hair, worn in a long plait, was now dyed a mid-brown, disguising its natural wheat-fair colour; but her features had not altered. Her eyes were still the same hazel, her looks very much her father’s. It was impossible to believe he would not know her again. Lacking siblings, she had adopted Callith and Mallory as her own sister and brother; she had missed them both dreadfully when she first came to Venture. But that time, too, was long in the past.
We may meet at any time.
The thought held an unreal quality. She wondered what she would tell him when they met; the truth, or only a part of it? Shame flooded through her. It was not that he was incapable of understanding why she had run away, but whether she could ever bring herself to explain how she felt, tainted by an evil no one could forgive, not even him. Only forgetfulness had brought her peace; now, even that was at an end.
She lost control over her thoughts; they crowded in on her, bringing pain in their wake. Shakily, she sat down on the bed, clutching the cloak she had thrown down earlier much as the little girl in Carob’s had clutched at her ragged toy.
It was a long time before cold forced her into action, and she undressed, undoing buttons with numbed fingers, then huddling under the blankets, still shivering. She did not dare to sleep. She knew that if she did, she would dream.
We may meet at any time.
The thought recurred often as she lay awake, in the dark, aching for the coming of day and the end of the long night.
Chapter Two
The parlour faced east, catching the morning sun, but neither light nor the restrained opulence of the decor could improve the atmosphere between its three occupants, which was chill in the extreme. Mallory, glancing from his sister-in-law’s ominously quivering lower lip to the seeress’ impersonal regard, wondered whether it might not be wiser to make some excuse and retire; then realized, with rising irritation, that he had already left it too late.
‘If you order us to go, we shall of course do as you command,’ Honora said icily, blinking back the threatened tears. ‘But I know nothing about the running of a country estate, and all my family are here in the city.’
‘It was only that I thought a stay at Kepesake might be good for your sons,’ Mallory said patiently, for the third time that morning. ‘I have no desire to separate you from your family, and of course you are welcome to remain here.’ Could his brother really have been happy with this weeping woman? It seemed unlikely, although Kelham had never said anything to suggest discord between them. Yet she appeared genuinely grieved by his death, and he knew her to be a good mother to his niece and nephews.
‘Kirin is too young to serve the clan, but he should be here, learning what is necessary,’ Honora continued shakily. She was a conventionally good-looking woman, fair, who had kept her figure despite three successful pregnancies; the daughter of a rival merchant clan, Mallory saw she had every intention of protecting the interests of her elder son, a boy of only eight, against imagined depredations.
‘Honora, Kirin will take his place, as we have all done in our time, when I judge him capable of shipping out on a long voyage, which will not be for another five years at least.’ Mallory’s patience was wearing thin; he was not accustomed to having his orders questioned, least of all by a woman. ‘For the moment he is best suited to the company of his tutors, learning the languages and mathematics he will need if he is ever to take his father’s place.’ He hoped the last comment would be enough to satisfy her.
She rose to her feet, her features strictly composed as she dealt her strongest card. ‘Very well, I agree. But here, in Venture. H
e needs the comfort of familiar surroundings at present, now that his father is dead!’
Mallory stood politely as she made her exit, allowing her to have the final word. In a month or so he would make the suggestion again, and she would comply; he needed someone at Kepesake now that Perron, his younger brother, was to take his own place, travelling with the fleet, dealing with their agents overseas. The estate had an excellent steward, but it was bad policy to have no member of the family in residence. He sighed. Far more than Honora, he wished Kelham had not died so untimely. He had no desire to live a settled existence in a household with another man’s woman and children; he could only be grateful that those same children were still young enough to be confined to the nurseries.
‘You will find it harder than you imagine to persuade her.’
He gave the seeress a startled look; she had sat so silently he had temporarily forgotten her presence. ‘You think so, Oramen?’ he asked uneasily.
‘She believes that if she remains here, she will be able to safeguard the future of her sons. She is quite certain you intend to usurp Kirin’s rights, and will immure her in the country until you remarry and have sons of your own.’ The seeress had a surprisingly beautiful voice, a rich contralto at odds with her appearance. She was a strong-featured woman, with a wide jaw and unconventionally short hair, black streaked with silver; her extreme thinness and deep-set eyes gave her an air of authority which had always impressed Mallory favourably. She had served the clan well for over fifteen years, and he valued her opinion.
‘What do you suggest?’ he asked seriously.
‘Do you ask me as seeress, or as a member of this household? Because my answers will be different.’
He considered. ‘For the moment, as one of the clan.’
‘Then leave her be.’ Oramen spoke more acidly than was her wont. ‘Try to see matters from her point of view. She may inconvenience you, but she has taken your brother’s death to heart, and will bear you ill-will if you force her to leave her friends and family so soon.’
‘Do you really think me so impervious to her feelings that I would send her away just to suit myself?’ But, prudently, Oramen made no response, and Mallory shrugged and his smile faded; she was, after all, in his employ. ‘Then I shall do as you suggest. But tell me, in your other capacity, where should I direct the Endeavour? To Javarin, or Petormin? Which would be the more favourable?’
The seeress’ manner altered perceptibly at the appeal to her professional talents. ‘I will consult the omens, master. Is that the ship you wish your brother Perron to captain?’ Mallory nodded, although he still found it hard to see his youngest sibling in his own place; Perron had been a dreadfully sickly boy for the first ten years of his life, even if he was now large and hale. ‘Then I shall ascertain the optimum sailing date at the same time from — when — one or two months?’
‘My thanks.’ He sipped at the cup of thin ale served in the household for the morning meal, comparing it unfavourably with the stronger brew served on board ship. Oramen took her leave, nodding a brief courtesy, and he was alone. Grateful for the respite from feminine company, he stood and walked across to the windows fronting the balcony and looked out, over the city and down towards the harbour.
Kelham, what have you done to me?
He had arrived in port only the previous afternoon, having made good speed from the Islands of Ishara to the south, but already he was depressed by the change in his circumstances. As a second son, it had been left to him to captain the merchant fleet, to be the active member of the clan while Kelham performed the civic duties in Venture and organized the inland distribution of their trade-goods. At thirty-two, he had spent most of the last seventeen years at sea, a masculine albeit solitary existence that suited him well; there could be only one captain of a ship. His good fortune had enabled his clan to maintain its wealth and prestige while others failed, their ships broken in storms or commandeered by the Kamiri to transport troops from place to place. As he looked out over the city, Mallory felt an unnatural depression settle over him, perceiving it as his prison; he could only hope the mood was the forerunner of some good news, as custom would have it.
The house and gardens of the clan had been constructed on high ground in the west of Venture among others belonging to the merchant-venturer caste, and gave him a full view of the city, from the maze of the old quarter to the north-east, through which flowed the River Sair, sweeping east past the deepwater harbour to the shallower inlet beside which stood the warehouses of the clans, then inland once more to Scribbers in the south. Directly below his viewpoint lay the square of civic offices at the centre of the city, an impressive collection of buildings constructed during the height of Venture’s affluence fifty years before. Mallory, however, regarded the whole with a jaundiced eye, having no love for the urban life, the teeming streets and noisome air. He had no ties to bind him to Venture, for, other than Honora and her children, the remainder of his family and friends were spread far and wide across the Dominion; Callith, his favourite among his relatives, lived in Fate, Darrian’s capital, with her husband and sons. He had, of course, enjoyed female companionship in other ports, but none of the women who had shared his bed had he been attached to in more than a purely physical sense, and he had paid them off without much regret.
What must be, will be, he thought resolutely, but was glad when a knock at the parlour door offered a disturbance. The arrival was a plump young man of about twenty who had been his brother’s personal clerk; he came nervously into the room, as if he expected Mallory to bite.
‘If you please, master, the Chief Councillor is below, asking to s-see you.’ He spoke with a slight stammer.
Mallory smiled, trying to put the clerk at his ease. ‘Thank you, Pars. Tell him I will be with him shortly.’
The youth ducked his head eagerly and sped off on his errand. Mallory followed at a more leisurely pace, descending the two flights of stairs to the ground floor where his private office was situated, both flattered and surprised Avorian should pay a visit so soon. He had met him casually on a few occasions, and been much impressed by his astuteness regarding both mercantile and civic affairs; he was by far the wealthiest man in Venture, and his good fortune was proverbial throughout the Dominion.
Avorian stood as he entered the office, holding up a hand in greeting. He was a man of about fifty, of striking appearance, as tall as Mallory, with a high brow and patrician features tempered by eyes the same warm gold as his hair; he looked much younger than his years, the few threads of silver-white at the temples barely perceptible. His physique was still as powerful as Mallory’s own, a reminder of the years spent at sea in his own venturing days, but, behind the evident strength of character, the narrow lips were unexpectedly generous, as though the integrity for which he was famed was allied to a capacity for humour.
‘Councillor Mallory.’ A warm smile accompanied the words. ‘I am pleased you arrived safely, and so soon. May I present my companion?’
For the first time, Mallory saw he was not alone, but accompanied by an attendant dressed from head to foot in black. There was something odd about the man, and it was a moment before Mallory realized that it was neither his round figure nor deformity which made him so remarkable; it was simply that his puffed-up face and protruding eyes gave him a close resemblance to a toad.
‘I should be pleased,’ he said, politely averting his gaze.
‘Then allow me to present Lassar, my diviner.’ The odd man bowed, but kept his eyes on Mallory’s face, bright black eyes meeting blue; the diviner licked his lips, accentuating his resemblance to the amphibian. ‘I apologize for the intrusion, but I go nowhere without him, as you may have heard?’ Again, a smile invited Mallory to have pity on this minor, if costly, eccentricity; a personal diviner was an expensive luxury.
‘Indeed.’ Mallory found himself warming to the older man; there was a lack of pretension about him rare among the wealthiest clans. He wondered what were Lassar’s particular tal
ents. ‘Please, be seated. How may I serve you?’
Avorian complied, although Lassar remained standing behind his master, looming over him like some dark beast of legend. The two men presented a startling contrast. ‘Why, at first I want only to make your better acquaintance,’ Avorian began pleasantly. ‘And to welcome you to Venture, and warn you of some of the difficulties we face in Council at present.’
Mallory inclined his head. ‘I’m very grateful to you. As you can imagine, I feel like a landed fish at present.’ He remembered, suddenly and irrelevantly, that toads were said to represent wealth, longevity, and money-making; small wonder Avorian had chosen Lassar for his diviner.
Avorian seemed to have caught the errant thought, for he looked amused. ‘Perhaps I should begin with the subject of tomorrow’s session,’ he suggested. ‘It concerns the tribute, due in a matter of weeks. Are you familiar with the situation?’
‘I know very little of Venture’s affairs.’
‘Then let me tell you that this year there will be a significant shortfall in the city’s contribution; considerably greater than last, when the amount was only ten thousand gold pieces,’ Avorian advised. ‘You are aware that Amrist will seize on any shortage to curtail what little freedom we still possess — indeed, he has always believed it would be only a matter of years before we would accept the inevitable and become a subject people. Venture has always paid a large share of the total, by reason of our wealth which is second only to that of Fate itself. However, I have a proposition to put before the Council which I think may interest you.’ He paused, waiting for Mallory to make some response.
‘Please continue.’ Inwardly, he sighed, wondering if this was how his time was to be spent henceforth, the boredom of city politics. Outwardly, however, he displayed every show of interest; which became more genuine as he listened to what Avorian had to say.
*
Asher paused as she crossed the main street leading from the north-west of the city down to the docks. For the first time in weeks the skies were clear, and a misty sun shone down on the city, silvering the grey stone into an illusion of beauty. The air felt fresh, not salt, and for some reason Asher saw the world as wider and brighter than usual. She wondered if she dared go down to the harbour to look at the ships, for she enjoyed watching the activity on the quays, then remembered the tide was on the turn; sailors and fishermen often refused to put to sea if they encountered a woman on the way to their boats. Regretfully, she restricted herself to shading her eyes, trying to make out some of the different ships in the harbour.
