Troubled Waters

by Sharon Shinn

  “You just feel farther away when you’re down here. Why did you want to leave the palace? No one will say.”

  This was certainly one of those secrets Darien Serlast would not want her to reveal. Zoe temporized. “I had a disagreement with Alys. I thought both of us would be more comfortable if we didn’t have to worry about running into each other in the hallway or the kierten every day.”

  Josetta made a scoffing noise. “Everyone disagrees with Alys. No one would be living at court if that was a reason to move out.”

  “Perhaps my quarrel with her was more bitter. But don’t worry. I’ll be there for the important events. I understand the viceroy of Soeche-Tas will be here in a few days.”

  “Yes, and I can’t wait.”

  “You’re looking forward to seeing him?”

  “No, I can’t wait for him to take Qeesia and all the rest of them back to Soeche-Tas! I can’t stand them. They’re so—odd. And they stand too close. And they touch me all the time. Me and Corene. It gives me the shivers. And it gives Corene nightmares.”

  “I thought Corene rather liked it when they paid attention to her.”

  “Her mother told her to encourage them, but I think she hates them even more than I do.”

  Zoe couldn’t think of a delicate way to phrase the next question so she just asked it. “Do you like her? Corene?”

  Josetta shrugged. “Sometimes I do. She can be so spoiled and sure of herself and mean. Then other times she’s nice. Everybody else brought me flowers the day after the regatta, but Corene brought me a doll because she thought I might be having trouble sleeping. She’s so smart, and she can speak so sharply, that sometimes you forget she’s just a little girl.”

  “Whose mother isn’t very nice.”

  Josetta nodded. “Trying to be what Alys wants Corene to be would make anybody mean, I think.”

  “Well, if you ever want to bring her along to go swimming, I’m sure Sarone wouldn’t mind.”

  “No,” Josetta said, without pausing to think about it. “That’s something I want to keep just for me.”

  The day was so fine that, once they left Sarone’s house, neither Zoe nor Josetta could bear the idea of going back inside. So instead of having the driver take the Cinque toward the palace, they instructed him to follow a slow, narrow, snaking roadway that paralleled the Marisi on the eastern edge of the city. When they neared the river flats, Zoe had him stop the car so they could climb out. The guard Foley immediately scrambled out after them, but he maintained a respectful distance as they picked their way to the overhang above the hard, broad expanse of the squatters’ campground.

  It was entirely empty now, of course, with the transients moved to some less visible spot while the Soechin visitors were in Chialto. The river that rushed by an open, echoing arena was much higher than the one Zoe remembered from when she had taken refuge on the flats. She lifted her eyes to gauge the volume of water pouring down the rock face behind the palace. Harder to tell from this distance, but the falls seemed plumper, too, gorged with excess and roaring joyfully down the side of the mountain. It seemed the Marisi approved of Zoe’s continued presence in the city.

  She and Josetta settled on the lip of the rocky bank, dangling their feet over the flats below. Foley stood a few yards behind them, close enough to dive after Josetta if she fell—close enough to hear their whole conversation, Zoe thought. “All year long, but mostly during the warm seasons, people live down here,” Zoe began.

  Josetta nodded. “I can see them from my bedroom window. My mother says they’re dirty vagrants, but sometimes I think—it would be nice to live down here. Maybe. For a little while.”

  “I don’t think it would be the right life for a princess,” Zoe said with a smile. “But if—if something ever happened to you. If you ever felt you had to get away from the palace, suddenly, in a hurry, telling no one where you were going. You could come to the river. And once I knew you were missing, I would come here to find you.”

  Josetta turned to give Zoe a searching look. “Why would I ever need to suddenly get away from the palace?”

  “I don’t know. Sometimes scary things happen. It’s good to have a plan.”

  “Would I be safe down here? With—with the vagrants?”

  Zoe smiled and glanced over her shoulder at the guard, who was listening intently. “Bring Foley with you. He’ll take care of you, I think.”

  Leaning back on her fists, Josetta swung her legs a couple of times and then stuck them straight out in front of her. Her feet were clad in lacy slippers as delicate as spiderwebs. “All right. But I’m not sure how far I’d get trying to come down here without a coach or an elaymotive. My shoes would wear through before I was halfway down the mountain.”

  “Don’t you have anything sturdier than those?”

  “I used to have boots, but I’ve outgrown them, and my mother says I don’t need new ones again until next winter.”

  Zoe jumped up, catching Josetta’s arm and hauling the princess to her feet. “Now, this is a problem I can take care of,” she said. “Let’s buy you some walking shoes.”

  The instant Zoe and Josetta stepped through the cobbler’s door, the shopgirl called out for Ilene, who had made it her habit to wait on Zoe personally whenever she dropped by.

  “And what can I help you with today, Zoe?” Ilene asked in her usual brisk style. “Or shall we be looking at shoes for your companion?”

  “For my companion,” Zoe said, wondering how quickly Ilene would recognize Josetta. Foley was waiting outside, so there wasn’t much pomp to tip her off, but Ilene was a smart businesswoman. A princess in the shop meant money, and Ilene never overlooked money. “She might need a couple of pairs.”

  “Casual? Formal? Custom-made? Ready-to-wear?”

  “Definitely something casual,” Zoe said. “Something with a bit of a sole that could stand up to hard usage. Ready-made would be fine.”

  “Sit here and let me examine your feet,” Ilene said to Josetta, and proceeded to take very thorough measurements. “I think we have some choices that would be quite suitable.”

  In fact, Josetta was delighted by two pairs of sturdy shoes and one pair of knee-high boots, the latter heavy enough to withstand a wade in the Marisi. “Can I have them all?” she whispered.

  “If you want them, you can.”

  “Oh, I do.”

  “Excellent,” Ilene said, carrying the collection of footwear over to the counter and tallying up prices before the customers could change their minds. “Would the princess like to take them with her now or send a footman to pick them up later?”

  Zoe and Josetta laughed at that. “How did you know?” Josetta exclaimed.

  Ilene gave her a prim little smile. “It is my business to know,” she said.

  “We’ll take them with us,” Zoe said. “I’m sending her straight back to the palace as soon as we leave here.”

  “I wish you were coming with me,” Josetta said, her expression as close to a pout as she ever allowed it to be.

  “Well, I’m not. You can make it through dinner just fine without me.”

  At that, Ilene looked up from her task of wrapping the shoes in fine brown paper. “Oh—if you don’t have other dinner plans—perhaps it’s too forward of me to suggest it, but Barlow will be eating with us tonight,” she said. “If you were free, we’d be happy to have you join us. I wouldn’t want to presume too much, of course.”

  “Of course you’re not being too forward!” Zoe exclaimed. “I would love to have dinner with your family tonight. Nothing would make me happier.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  The royal carriage dropped Zoe off at her hotel and continued on toward the palace. Zoe hurried inside, already wondering what to wear that evening. Ilene would be disappointed if Zoe didn’t dress to her station, but court clothes would look ridiculous in the small apartment above the shoe shop. Something elegant but simple would be required.

  “Annova, I went by Ilene’s today, and she invite
d me to dinner,” Zoe called as soon as she stepped into her suite and knocked on the connecting door to the servants’ quarters. “Barlow will be there, too. Annova?”

  But Calvin was the one who opened the door, his face alight with mischief. “Good, you’re finally back!”

  She stepped into their room, impressed as always by how quickly Annova managed to turn a bland, ordinary space into something personal and inviting. There were bright rugs on the floor, dried flowers on the nightstand, rich and relaxing scents hovering in the air.

  Annova turned away from the window, where she was tacking up a gauzy red scarf to turn plain sunshine to fire. “He’s been waiting all afternoon to talk to you.”

  “Did something happen? Something good or bad?”

  “Something interesting,” Calvin said. “Sit down.”

  “I don’t have much time. I have to change clothes and be back in the shop district in an hour.”

  “You have time for this.”

  She glanced at Annova, who shrugged. “He won’t tell me.”

  Both women settled on the bed, made cozy with extra blankets and a mound of quilted pillows. “So tell me,” Zoe said.

  Calvin was too excited to stop pacing. “Today I was wandering through the Plaza of Men, and I saw one of the palace carriages pull up. Not one of the royal carriages,” he clarified. “Not one the king would ride in, but one of the vehicles that carries servants to market and back. I thought I might know whoever had come to the Plaza, so I waited while he got out, and I heard him tell the driver to come back for him in an hour.”

  He paused for dramatic effect, so Zoe asked, “And did you know him?”

  “Recognized him,” Calvin said, “though he probably wouldn’t remember me. He was the king’s valet.” When this didn’t elicit much of a response, he added, “The king’s own man. Who takes care of all of his most personal needs.”

  “All right,” Zoe said, still not enlightened. “So did you talk to him?”

  “No, but I was curious about what he might be doing in the Plaza, so I hung back a little and followed him. But he didn’t stay in the Plaza. The minute the carriage was out of sight, he hurried out to the Cinque and caught the first tram that came along. I was barely in time to jump on behind him. I made sure he didn’t see me,” he added, pleased with himself.

  Zoe glanced at Annova, trying to hide her amusement. “Where did it take him?”

  “He got off by the southern canals,” Calvin said.

  That did make Zoe raise her eyebrows. “What would the king’s man be doing in a district like that?”

  “That’s exactly what I wondered! So I kept following him. He was a little nervous, you could tell, because he kept glancing over his shoulder like he was afraid a thief would pick his pockets.”

  Zoe kept a straight face as she said, “I hope he didn’t notice you.”

  “No, he did not! I walked on the other side of the street and kept bending down to adjust my shoes whenever he looked back. And I ducked into an alley when he finally went into a shop.” He said with heavy emphasis, “An apothecary’s shop.”

  Now he really had Zoe’s attention. “He was buying drugs for King Vernon? In a seedy shop down by the canals? Why?”

  “He could have been buying something for himself,” Annova suggested. “Something he didn’t want anyone at the palace to know he smoked or swallowed.”

  “That was my first thought,” Calvin admitted. “But still. I thought it was curious. So I dawdled along the street until he came out—trying to make sure no one robbed me!—and then I waited a few minutes and dashed into the apothecary’s like I’d been running. It was a dreadfully dirty place,” he added, shaking his head. “Smelly and dark. There was only one man working there and he looked evil. I wouldn’t want to buy my drugs there.”

  “So what did you do?” Zoe asked. “Bribe him to tell you what the king’s man had bought?”

  “I pretended he’d sent me,” Calvin said, clearly proud of himself for having come up with this subterfuge. “I said, ‘My master says I’m to buy another half order of the prescription, if you’ve got more on hand. We’ll have a need for it.’”

  “That was smart,” Zoe said.

  “Yes, and it didn’t make him suspicious, like he would have been if I’d started asking questions,” Calvin said. “He just shook out something that looked like dried dirt and rolled it up in paper and said, ‘Three gold pieces.’”

  “Three golds?” Zoe demanded. “I don’t even carry that much with me most of the time!”

  “Well, I’d thought to shop at the Plaza of Men, so I had a pocket full of coins,” Calvin said. “Even so, I was astounded. What could cost that much?”

  “Well? What could?” Annova said.

  Calvin threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! I could hardly ask him after I’d bought it pretending I knew what it was.”

  “Of course I’ll repay you,” Zoe said. “But let’s see this expensive medicinal! Maybe one of us will recognize it.”

  Calvin perched on the bed beside them and carefully undid the twist of paper. Indeed, the finely ground dried leaves resembled nothing so much as dirt, except for their pungent, unpleasant smell. As of rotted fungus sprinkled with urine, Zoe thought, wrinkling her nose. Gingerly, she poked at the brown dust, but she was too leery to touch her tongue to her fingertip and take a taste.

  “Can I borrow this?” she asked Calvin.

  “It’s yours,” he said.

  “I know someone who might be able to tell me what it is.”

  Dinner at Melvin and Ilene’s cluttered, well-stocked apartment was a happy affair. Barlow greeted Zoe with an exclamation of surprise and a hug, demanding to hear what had happened to her once she had left his company. Ilene rarely sat still for more than five minutes, constantly jumping up to fetch another tray of food or to bring Barlow something she was certain he would enjoy, whether it was a book or an item of clothing or a glass of wine. Melvin, as usual, sat quietly and said little, but beamed contentedly at the people gathered around his table.

  Zoe lightly told the more respectable parts of her recent past, then asked after Barlow’s business ventures. “I assume you’re still partnering with Jaker?” she asked. At Barlow’s grin and nod, she said, “Tell him I asked after him. What are you two trading in these days?”

  “Oh, as always, whatever looks unusual enough to command a good price,” he said. “We took some seeds from the southern coasts all the way to the northern mountains and sold them to a few of the farmers who live near Lalindar property. Shipped in from lands a thousand miles from here—kind of thing that only grows in a wet, cool climate. Ought to do really well up by the river.”

  “How long are you in the city? Where are you going next?”

  “We’re waiting for one more shipment to arrive—ought to be four or five days from now, and then we’re off again. Probably going straight west this time.” He smiled. “Well, with detours now and then. You know how it goes.”

  She smiled back. “I remember.”

  The dinner was delicious, the dessert was sinful, and Zoe expressed the belief that she might not be able to waddle home on her own. “Barlow will drive you,” Ilene said. “He’s been using our smoker car while he’s in the city.”

  Zoe was amused. “You have your own elaymotive? I’m impressed!”

  “Bought it a quintile ago,” Melvin said with satisfaction.

  “Of course, it was ridiculously expensive,” Ilene said. Her voice conveyed disapproval, but Zoe could read the truth in her eyes. She was delighted to have achieved the level of wealth that would enable her to own such a thing. “Such a waste of money.”

  Zoe started gathering her things. “I hate to leave, but it’s gotten so late! Barlow, if you don’t mind taking me home, I would love your escort.”

  Once they were in the car and Barlow was carefully navigating the narrow streets of the shop district, Zoe said, “I’m glad to have a few minutes with you alone. I had a q
uestion I didn’t want to ask in front of your parents.”

  He cut her a sideways look, halfway between amusement and alarm. “Something personal?”

  “Not really. I wondered if you could identify a—a drug that came my way under mysterious circumstances.”

  Now he looked alarmed and intrigued. “Probably not, but Jaker could. He’s the one who deals in produce and spices and herbs. And drugs.”

  “Could I ask him? Now?”

  “He’d be glad to see you.”

  In another twenty minutes, Barlow was showing her into a squat, unfashionable building in a crowded neighborhood on the western edge of the city. The district seemed safe enough, just unkempt. “Bachelor’s quarters,” Barlow told her with a grin. “Mostly single men. And men who live with other men. No one spends much effort on upkeep.”

  The door opened onto cramped rooms that were cluttered with boxes of merchandise and stacks of paper—receipts, maps, banker’s notes—but the living surfaces were clean and orderly. Jaker exclaimed with pleasure to see Zoe and he came over to take her in a big hug. She remembered with a rush of fondness how much she liked his tanned face, his relaxed friendliness.

  “Things have certainly changed for you since we left you up by the mountains,” he said, crinkles springing up around his blue eyes as he smiled. “Every time I hear Zoe Lalindar, I think, ‘Is that really our Zoe? She seemed so quiet when we knew her.’”

  “Surely you can’t have heard my name that often.”

  Jaker and Zoe settled on comfortable chairs around a scarred old wooden table while Barlow fetched drinks from a tiny kitchen. “There was some story about the king’s regatta,” Jaker said. “It sounded pretty exciting.”

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose that tale was repeated often.”

  Barlow joined them, handing drinks all around. “You’ll like this,” he said. “Cost a fortune if you were to buy it in some tavern.”