by Sharon Shinn
“And why did Darien Serlast want this—this Zoe Ardelay?”
The quint-gold had loosened the blind woman’s tongue. “He thought she would make a suitable fifth wife for the king. He was still out of the city when Sarone stepped forward to claim Zoe was prime. All the gossips anticipated a clash of wills between Sarone Lalindar and Darien Serlast—”
“Why?” Zoe interrupted.
“Because the king cannot marry a prime, of course. All of a woman’s property is forfeit to the king when she marries, so no family ever would allow the heir to go to the royal household.”
“And did Darien Serlast find the missing girl?”
“He says he did, but he cannot produce her. He claims the Lalindar heir is alive and living in Chialto, but no one has seen her and no one knows if he is telling the truth. So the king has no fifth wife and the Lalindar house sits empty, and no one knows if the Marisi has, in fact, anointed the next Lalindar prime or if Sarone Lalindar was lying.”
Zoe slowly gathered her feet below her and stood up, pleased that she was actually able to stand. “I have a message you can give to Sarone Lalindar and Darien Serlast and anyone else who may care to hear it,” she said.
The seer tilted her head to one side, her face brightening in anticipation. “Yes?”
“Zoe Ardelay is not dead. Darien Serlast found her and brought her to the city, but she slipped away from him. She is still here, and she is trying to decide exactly when to make her presence known.”
It was the first time Zoe had seen one of the sisters dumbfounded. Her blind eyes fluttered; her wide mouth parted slightly as if otherwise she could not draw in enough air. “You’re certain,” she said, but not as if she had the remotest doubt. Zoe supposed she must have an extraordinary ability to determine when someone was telling her the truth.
“Entirely,” Zoe replied.
Without speaking another word, the seer reached out for Zoe’s hand. She returned all the coins Zoe had given her, folding Zoe’s fingers over the smooth, round edges. This was information worth more far more than gold.
It was a short enough walk to the temple, and Zoe felt the need for a quiet space to sit and think. But even when she paid her tithe at the door and collapsed onto the blue coru bench, she could not calm her jangled nerves or slow her racing mind. She was numb with disbelief, stupid with shock, but she was surprised to find that her dominant emotion was rage. Against Christara Lalindar, for being too stubborn to maintain relations with Navarr Ardelay after her daughter died. Against her Lalindar relatives, who had made no effort to locate Zoe and inform her of her inheritance, hoping instead to find some way to win it for themselves.
Against her father, who, she was beginning to suspect, had known all along that Zoe was Christara’s heir. It is time that you remembered that you are part of your mother’s family as well, he had said to her, only a few days before he died. Not simply part of it, oh no. The head of the family. The Lalindar prime. He had known, and he had said nothing, because he was careless or because he was vain or because he felt so much spite for Christara he wanted to make her suffer.
Zoe could not calm herself enough to sit there and meditate back into a state of balance. Already, the dozen or so other people who had taken up contemplative poses around the temple were sending her glances of irritation as she kept squirming on her pew and clenching her hands and shaking her head as if to shake away her anger and befuddlement. Abruptly she got to her feet and headed for the door, then changed her mind and strode back to the blessing barrel in the middle of the room. Plunging her hand deep into the pile, she churned the coins with such vigor that she earned a few more dark looks. She let her hand close over three coins and pulled her arm free. Not until she was outside the temple doors did she pause to see what blessings she had wrested from the fates.
Travel. Change. Surprise.
All three coru virtues.
All three perfectly suited to her mood.
When Zoe returned to the cobbler shop the next morning, her main purpose was to tell Ilene that she would be quitting soon for reasons she could not discuss. But Ilene had more pressing matters on her mind.
“Barlow will be back tonight,” she said, fluttering around the shop, happiness brushing color into her face again. “Of course, he leaves again in two days, but it will be so nice to have him nearby tonight.”
“Yesterday I pulled the blessing for travel,” Zoe said. “You may tell him that I will extend that blessing to him as well.”
“Oh—why don’t you tell him yourself?” Ilene said. “Join us for dinner tonight. It was so pleasant the last time you ate with us.”
Zoe opened her mouth to refuse, then a sudden inspiration made her change her mind. “I will,” she said. “Thank you.”
Accordingly, in the hour between closing the shop and returning for dinner, she strolled through the Plaza of Women, looking for specific items. The first was a dramatic red tunic that fit snugly over her bosom and fell to her knees; gold embroidery around the hem and the neckline drew attention to her figure. The second was a gold clasp for her hair, and the third was a set of cosmetics that the vendor’s daughter agreed to apply for her, since Zoe still had few skills in that area.
Naturally she had to buy chocolate drops as well, since the last time they had all dined together, Barlow had liked them almost as much as his parents had.
She wanted Barlow to like her.
“Don’t you look pretty!” Ilene exclaimed when she admitted Zoe to the kierten.
“I probably spent too much, but I just couldn’t resist this tunic.”
“And a good thing you didn’t! It’s perfect for you.”
Soon enough, they were all seated around the table, handing around dishes and listening to Barlow talk. This time, Zoe thought, she was paying even more attention to Barlow’s words than his mother was, as she waited for him to drop information that she could use. She wasn’t too interested in his account of his recent trades, but when he started describing his upcoming journey, oh, she couldn’t hear enough about that.
“The northwest provinces seem so far away,” she said. “How long does it take to travel there?”
Barlow laughed. “Much less time than it used to! My partner and I just invested in one of those new elaymotives. You can hitch two carts to it—one to carry your merchandise and one to carry your own gear. When the weather’s good, you can cover the ground in almost half the time it used to take.”
“And when the weather’s bad?” Melvin asked.
“Well, then you slow down, just like everyone. You still have to be careful getting through the mud. You still have to clear away trees and branches in the road. You can’t ford a river any faster than the ferry runs. But on the open road—” Barlow held his hand out flat in front of him and then moved it through the air to indicate smooth and rapid progress. “Nothing slows you down. We’ll be at the headwaters of the Marisi in a nineday.”
“I didn’t know you had a partner,” Zoe said.
Barlow nodded. “We sell different products to different buyers, but we split travel expenses and earn a higher profit percentage. He won’t be ready to leave until the day after tomorrow, which is why I’m stuck here until then.”
“We’ll be glad of your company,” Ilene said.
“So it’s just the two of you traveling all that way?” Zoe asked.
Barlow’s face clouded over. “We used to bring Jaker’s nephew along until he took a job with a sheep farmer. It’s a help having a third person on the trip, because you have to leave someone behind with the merchandise. If it’s just the two of us, we have to take turns doing our business. You lose time. And the trade business is all about time.”
Zoe made her face laughing and her voice light. “I’d love to see the northern provinces! Too bad you can’t take me with you!”
Barlow’s eyes narrowed; he gave her one long, analytical look. Zoe had the thought that her careful choice of clothing and makeup had been wasted, and Ilene�
�s subtle matchmaking as well. He wasn’t looking at her as a prospective mate. He was trying to determine how hard she worked, how honest she was, how successful she might be at fending off thieves who tried to rob his wagons.
“And why couldn’t I take you with me?” he said slowly.
She pretended to be unnerved, at a loss, a woman who had not meant her little joke to be taken seriously. “Well, because I—I have a job and I—you’ll be gone so long and—”
“Two ninedays,” he said. “Three if the weather is impossible. That’s not so long.”
Zoe glanced nervously at Ilene, whose face was drawn into a frown of concentration; she was thinking hard. “But your mother and your father need me! I could never leave them so abruptly.”
“You’ll be back,” he said. “They’ll hardly notice you’re gone.”
Ilene had made up her mind. “It’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “It will be good for you to see some of the world, Zoe. A pretty girl like you wasting her life away on the river flats! Go with Barlow. Visit the northern lands. Then when you get back—well—we’ll see, won’t we? Maybe a lot of things will have changed by then.”
Maybe my son will have fallen in love with you, Zoe knew she was thinking. The possibility seemed more remote all the time, but Zoe wasn’t about to say so. “If you’re sure,” she said uncertainly. “I would hate to feel like I’ve abandoned you.”
Ilene smiled and put her hand on Zoe’s arm. “You’re hardly abandoning me when I’m pushing you out the door.”
Zoe turned back to Barlow, trying not to seem too brisk about it, as if she had successfully completed a first, inconsequential task and was now getting to important matters. But that was how she felt. “Then—what would my responsibilities be while I traveled with you?” She paused, trying to imagine the journey itself. “Do you camp out along the way? Stay at inns? Stay with clients?”
“We camp out or sleep in the second wagon,” he said. “Quarters are tight, but you could sleep in the merchandise wagon, where Jaker’s nephew used to put his mat. We all take turns cooking. If you know how to drive a vehicle, you could take your turn at that, too. But mostly we just need you to stay behind and watch the merchandise when we’re off trading.”
One part of this speech had caught her attention in a wholly unexpected way. “Drive an elaymotive?” she repeated. “A smoker car?”
Barlow grinned. “It takes some getting used to,” he admitted. “But I like it.”
“I’d love to learn,” Zoe said, wholly sincere for the first time tonight. “I can’t wait! I’m ready to leave tomorrow!”
There were goodbyes to say, loose ends to tie up, but all in all Zoe estimated that she could have packed her belongings and been ready to depart the city within twelve minutes of receiving Barlow’s invitation to join him on the road. The whole conversation had gone more smoothly than she’d anticipated; she’d thought she might have to convince Barlow to take her and overcome Ilene’s disapproval. But everyone, for radically different reasons, had been pleased by the plan.
Annova and Calvin also were wholly in favor of Zoe’s trip. “Good for you. You need some fresh excitement,” Annova said. “And traveling with an eligible young man! Nothing could be better. Don’t just concentrate on being beautiful. Show him how indispensable you can be. A workingman looks for a partner, not just a lovely face.”
“I will be traveling with two eligible men, though I don’t know anything about this Jaker,” Zoe said. “So my chances are doubled.”
“I don’t know this Jaker, either,” Annova said. “But stick with Barlow. His parents are good folks. He can be trusted.”
Impulsively, Zoe gave Annova a fierce hug. “If I don’t come back before the end of Quinnatorz,” she said, “assume I have found somewhere better to stay.”
Annova returned the embrace with fervor, but pulled back to give Zoe a long look of appraisal. “You’ll be back, I think,” she said, “but you’ll be changed.”
“Coru girl,” Zoe said. “Always looking for change.”
“Sweela girl,” Annova said. “Too smart to let it destroy you.”
TWELVE
Journeying across the kingdom with Barlow and Jaker was nothing like traveling with Darien Serlast. The only thing their vehicles had in common was that they were powered by compressed gas and they ran on wheels. All similarities stopped there.
For one thing, there was no team of Dochenza drivers on hand to make sure the motor assembly functioned smoothly, and at least once a day the wagons came to an abrupt halt as the supply lines fouled or the ignition system failed or some other problem surfaced. Jaker, the more mechanically minded of the partners, would climb into the small, odorous compartment and curse loudly and make a lot of mysterious banging sounds, and soon they would be on their way again.
Despite Barlow’s boasts, they did not cover ground very quickly. Zoe didn’t know much about such things, but the engine in the Serlast carriage seemed to have been more powerful than this one; at any rate, their own small caravan did not bowl along at the same brisk pace she’d enjoyed on her eastward journey. And the level of comfort between Darien’s car and Barlow’s wagons could not even be compared. The trade wagons jounced along, even on the smoothest roads, as if they wanted to eject all merchandise and passengers with the maximum amount of violence. When progress was slow enough—on highly pitted roads or in heavily trafficked areas—Zoe opted to climb out and walk. It was a far more pleasant way to travel; and she had worked for a cobbler, so she owned excellent shoes.
Despite the unending low-level wretchedness, Zoe enjoyed the trip immensely. Jaker proved to be a lean, long-limbed, and friendly fellow somewhere between forty and fifty years old. His blue eyes brightened a weathered face and bald scalp tanned dark by constant exposure. Everything interested him, from the way a fellow traveler hauled a water keg to news about the viceroy of Soeche-Tas. He seemed happy to talk to Zoe on any subject she introduced without once asking prying questions. He was one of the most comfortable people she’d ever met.
He was the one who taught her the basic mechanics of driving the elaymotive, explaining how to speed up, how to slow down, and how to cut power to the engine if she couldn’t figure out any other way to make the wagons stop. She was fascinated but tentative; she didn’t trust her newfound skills enough to be the driver if there was any other traffic on the road. But on clear days, when they were between towns, Zoe loved to take the wheel and feel the bunched power rumbling behind her in the engine box, loved to know that it was her will, her decisions, that would keep them going forward or tumble them into a ditch.
“You’ve got some aptitude for this,” Barlow said on their third night out as they made camp. Something else Zoe had not known was that campsites existed up and down the main roads of the kingdom, places where all sorts of travelers, not just peddlers and traders, could pull over for the night. These usually offered only the barest amenities—a well-cleared circle of land, a water pump, perhaps permanent privies, and a trash dump. However, a few of the more well-stocked ones sold oats for horses, meat and bread for humans, and canisters of gas for the new engines. “If you ever decide the city life isn’t for you, you could hire on with some merchant and travel for the rest of your life.”
She smiled at him. On the road, Barlow seemed like a different man altogether—happier, more relaxed, more expansive. Torz heritage or not, this was a man with a coru heart. He would never be able to sit still, adding up accounts and fawning over customers at his parents’ shop.
“Maybe I’ll hire on with you and Jaker,” she suggested.
“If you decide that’s what you want, we’d both be glad to have you.”
She was more relaxed with him as well because it had been clear from the very first day that he had absolutely no interest in her as a potential wife. He had no interest in any woman, and neither did Jaker. People who preferred to take lovers of their own sex were a largely ignored subset of Chialto society; she had seen a few su
ch couples down on the river flats but none of them had been her particular friends. Zoe had to hide a laugh at the thought of how disappointed Annova would be that her two unmarried men both turned out to be wholly ineligible.
That first night, she had watched as Barlow set up a small tent, scarcely big enough for one, and Jaker had carried in a single sleeping bag. Her eyes were still wide with a question when Jaker crawled back out. He gave her a barely perceptible nod, his blue eyes considering her; she had replied with a slight shrug and a small smile. Everything had been easy between the three of them from that minute forward.
“Well, if I decide I want to go adventuring across the kingdom with the two of you, I’ll handle my own merchandise,” she said. “Jewelry, maybe, or—no! I’ll sell shoes! I’ll have Ilene and Melvin make up dozens of pairs in fashionable sizes, and I’ll sell them in all the small towns where girls dream of luxuries that their local cobblers can never provide.”
“Not sure you can make much profit on shoes,” Jaker commented.
“Oh, I’ll make a profit. You have no idea how much country girls long to be as fashionable as city girls. They’ll pay twice what the shoes would go for in the city.”
But she was just talking. Spinning dreams she had no intention of pursuing. She was a coru girl, true, who thrived on change and travel. But, strange and surreal as it seemed, she was the Lalindar prime. She would not be traveling the countryside selling footwear out of a wagon. She had no idea what the rest of her life might hold, but she was sure it would be far more complex than that.
