by Patty Jansen
"My thought, too, Mother, but we may not have a choice—"
"You don't have a choice? What are you? Pambies? Did Father and I teach you nothing?"
"We don't have any money to pay them."
"Then you make money."
"We're not allowed to work."
"But you are allowed to sell things, right?"
Taerzo's expression changed to one of horror. "Surely, you don't mean . . ."
"In lean times, tighten your belt. That's what Father and I always did, and if you think we've been this well-off all our lives, think again. Why do I have such spoilt pambies for sons?"
She breathed out through flaring nostrils.
"Where is Iztho?"
"I don't know. I can't raise him on the system," Rehan said. "Either he has turned off his beacon or he's ignoring my calls." He left the third option unspoken.
"Keep trying. He's bound to send some form of communication." She seemed very cool for someone whose son was missing. "As for the money, sell one of the aircraft. Sell two. Sell the office. We do not accept charity from the council, especially not that man. If you want a loan, get it only from someone who you have to go and beg for it, not someone who offers, because that person has other motives. That's all I have to say about it." She turned to go.
"Mother," Braedon said.
She turned around, annoyance on her face.
"Did you know anything about Iztho getting married?"
Her face twitched. Her eyes met Mikandra's, the expression in them sharp. "How many times do I have to tell you that I do not care about gossip? We need to pay our debts and get the court off our backs. Then we can worry about marriage." She looked at Mikandra again, but there was no emotion, or even recognition in her expression. "Ancestors know he's fussy enough. One would be forgiven to think that he wasn't interested at all."
She turned and was gone. Her shuffling footsteps disappeared in the hall, into the living room to the other side of the house.
"Sell the aircraft," Taerzo muttered. "I sure as hell am not selling mine. If I need to move the family—"
"You do this victim stuff very well, brother," Rehan said.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean who the fuck couldn't keep his dick to himself in the first place? Whose fault is this family of yours?"
"Those boys are our heirs."
"Yes, for the time being. And now stop asking for special considerations because of them. We all suffer equally." Rehan rose. "Mother is right and I don't know why I didn't see it before." He dug in his pocket and threw a bundle of access keys onto the table.
Mikandra looked into his face. The expression of pain she saw there made her eyes prick. He breathed out through flaring nostrils.
Braedon said, softly, "Are you sure?"
"Sure. Someone needs to get us out of this fucking mess."
Neither Braedon nor Taerzo touched the keys on the table.
Rehan continued, "Sell it, because we're getting nowhere. Wherever the money has gone, the trail is covered up well. I suggest that you try to get some sleep. The accounts will still be a mess tomorrow morning."
Braedon said, "But if you sell, you can't work—"
"Just take fucking the keys out of my sight, before I change my mind."
Braedon finally took the keys and slid them in his pocket. "If that's what you want."
"I still think we accept the council's offer," Taerzo said.
"And I think you're a fucking idiot. Now go to bed before I strangle you. No one will be talking to Nemedor Satarin or the council on our behalf, is that clear?"
A tense silence followed.
Braedon nodded. "I think you might be right. Still, brother, if I still think of how hard you worked to be able to afford that thing—"
"It's getting old. I could use a new one." But the pain showed in his face. He met Mikandra's eyes. "If you want to be successful, you have to make sacrifices."
This statement was followed by another pointed silence.
Taerzo rose, his mouth twitching. "I'm going to take the boys to school." He left.
Braedon rose, too, and Mikandra followed him, feeling lost and scared. Rehan went to the hall and took his cloak off the stand.
Braedon said, "Where are you going, brother? The bedrooms are that way."
"I'm going to chase the accountant. I think there is more to his story."
"Go to bed. Do you really think you'll get a reply out of him by waking him up early?"
"The fuck with the time. He's screwed us around and I want to know why. I'm going to go to the office and bring all his books here so he can't get his grubby hands on them. Then I'll go through everything, and I'll wring his neck for every mistake I find. When I come back, I'll make a budget for how much we need and what we'll sell to cover it."
He met Mikandra's eyes, and she asked the question that had bothered her since Nemedor Satarin came in. "How do you think Nemedor Satarin knew about the suspended licence? Isn't Trader Guild correspondence meant to be private?"
Rehan said, "This is Miran, people talk all the time. In fact, no one in this damn town can keep their fucking mouths shut."
"Who would have told him?"
"Any of his friends in the Guild. Antho Tussamar and his cronies—and they are our competitors who would like to see us bound by some sort of deal."
He turned on his heel and strode through the hall. A blast of freezing wind came in when he opened the door and stopped again when he slammed it shut.
Braedon sighed and looked at Mikandra. He looked pale, sad, wrung-out. "It's probably best if you go home."
But she couldn't go home. Her father would kill her. "What time do you want me to come back?"
Braedon shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know if there is any point—We'll have to wait until the court case."
Please, no. That was too long. "I can come back and keep checking the books." Please.
"I think it's settled. I don't think there is any point in looking for that missing money. It's going to take too much time." His mouth twitched. "I'm sorry about this. But at the moment, we are in so much of a mess that I can't make any promises. I'll try to do my best to honour Iztho's promise to train you, but if it all falls to pieces . . ." He shrugged. "The case may take a long time. Court cases often do. If it drags out and we have to suspend business operations for longer, we might not have money to train you. We may have to spend it on lawyers instead."
Mikandra filled with panic. She wanted to scream I'm homeless. I defied my father so that I could be here and he's not going to let me back into the house but that made a poor argument and was her own choice—a poor one as it turned out. She wanted to argue But Iztho trusted me. He said I had courage, but that would sound like whingeing, especially in the light of what Rehan had just done. In fact, she was deeply impressed with his action. Never mind the swearing. He took no nonsense and was prepared to go back to basics to solve his problems.
And she should take her inspiration from his actions. She was not a pamby. She said, "No matter what has happened, I really want to take up this apprenticeship."
"I understand."
"I don't know that you really understand." She hesitated and then said, "This acceptance is my only way out of misery. Would you marry Geonan Takumar?"
The brief look of horror on his face was worth more than any words. "Look, I promise I'll do my best. That's all I can offer right now." He seemed genuinely sad.
Mikandra nodded. There was nothing more left to be said. There were not going to be any heroic deeds for her.
She left the house and trudged through the snow-covered yard, through the gate and into the street. Small flurries of snow drifted from the uniform grey sky, whipped up by the wind which was cold enough to come straight from the highlands. Passing people hid their faces in the upturned collars of their cloaks.
What now? She was too tired to go to the hospital. She had already given her acceptance to the Guild. She couldn't
possibly go home to face Father's anger. If she went to Aunt Amandra's house, her father would be told. Eydrina would be angry with her.
There was no one in the city whom she trusted and who didn't have a connection with her family or the hospital. And the only person who had shown any confidence in her ability to sort things out for herself had gone missing.
She believed Iztho about his marriage and the more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that he had eloped.
With all the pressure on him to get married, he might have snapped. He might have had a lover for quite some time and had been delaying an official wedding with some approved Mirani girl. He might have become complacent about rules and made a mistake about the imports.
So, while the brothers sorted out the business side of things, how about she tried to find him, since none of them seemed to be overly concerned with his wellbeing.
If he had eloped, it would clearly be with this woman, and it might help her to find out who she was and where she was from. If Rehan was willing to sacrifice something he had spent years working for, surely she could spend whatever savings she had in trying to find the man who had offered to be her tutor.
It might not be easy, but she did have an idea for a starting point. And for that, she would use her own connections.
Chapter 10
The Andrahar accountant's wife, Zimana Estredin, was the librarian for the theatrical society, and she happened to be a woman who was widely known as a terrible gossip. Since Rehan had sent the husband to the Andrahar office, the wife would be at home alone. A perfect time to go for an innocent chat.
The Estredin family lived in the merchant quarter above a bakery, in a dark but comfortable apartment on the third floor of a block that was four floors high. These buildings were very old, made from local dark granite, rather than the lighter sandstone brought in from Bendara, with high ceilings and elegantly-carved door frames. Mikandra's footsteps echoed in the stairwell with its well-worn tiles. A man dressed in a heavy merchant robe came the other way.
"Good morning, lady."
Mikandra nodded, bending her head and hoping that he wouldn't recognise her. She stood out with her typical Endri cloak, and her silver curtain of long hair—yes, it's loose, Mother, no matter how annoying that was. Being a noble woman was not about comfort.
She reached the apartment, knocked and Zimana opened the door a fraction. Her eyes were wide—frightened about something? Then her expression cleared and she opened the door further. "Mikandra! Not working today?"
She was a middle-aged Nikala woman, short with big hips, wearing an apron over a thick felt dress.
"I'm on my way to the hospital. I'm working a late shift," Mikandra lied, and wondered why the wary face when she opened the door.
"Come inside where it's warm. The snow is so early this year."
Mikandra stepped into the hall. Zimana shut the door behind her. The entire wall on the right-hand side of the hallway was one bookshelf full of folders. When she was little, Mikandra had been mesmerised by all those books, until she found out that they were all texts of plays.
"What can I do for you?"
"Mother asked me to pick up the text of a couple of plays she's been considering for the company when The Invasion is done."
Zimana frowned. "Oh? I don't know anything about that." She looked worried. "Did she tell you what these plays were called?" She turned to the shelves.
"No, I'm sorry. She just asked me to drop past before or after work because you'd have it ready for her."
"I must be getting old. It's completely slipped my mind. How stupid of me."
Mikandra cringed inside. She didn't mean to make the woman feel horrible or guilty. "No, forget about it. I think I must have mis-heard what she said. Sorry to disturb you." Mikandra turned to the door.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you. Do you have time for tea?"
"I've really got to rush to the hospital. By the way, I saw your husband this morning. He was in an awful hurry. He didn't look very well. Is everything all right?"
Zimana's cheerful demeanour slid from her. She sighed and stared into the distance before meeting Mikandra's eyes. "To be honest with you, no. He had a bad day with his employers yesterday. I'm afraid he's going to lose his job."
"That's terrible. What happened—oh, I'm sorry I probably shouldn't ask. It's none of my business."
Zimana sighed again and shook her head. "It's all right. The theatre people are all friends, right?"
"Please, don't tell me anything you don't want to share."
She sighed. "Everyone will know very soon anyway, if they don't already. You do know that my husband works for the Andrahar Traders?"
Mikandra nodded. "Must be a pretty demanding job. I hear they can be really rude." She smiled inside. I'll get back at you, Rehan Andrahar.
"Yeah, it's not a good idea to be around of any of them are angry. You must also have heard the gossip about them."
"I'm not sure that I have." She smiled as innocently as she could. "I've been pretty busy. Unless you're talking about the rumour that Iztho is getting married to a woman from outside Miran?"
"Oh no, that's not gossip. That one is general knowledge."
"Is it? I only just heard a vague rumour."
"Oh no, it's definitely true."
"Who is she and where is she from?"
"Barresh. Her name, apparently, is Anmi Kirilen Dinzo."
Yes! Mikandra's heart jumped with the joy of success. This was exactly what she needed to know. Let's see what else she could find out. "That doesn't sound like a Barresh name at all. Don't they usually have double names, personal name, family name, like in Miran?" Their names were usually three syllables each, and their last names ended in -u.
"I honestly don't know any more about it, but it's the truth as sure as I stand here."
"How did you find out?"
"The neighbour is a silversmith. He did the arm bands."
The empty box in Iztho's room. That part at least checked out. "Is there a date set?"
"Not that I've heard. But I expect him to announce it soon."
No, Iztho had ordered the arm bands made in Miran and had taken them to be married in Barresh, foregoing the huge traditional ceremony that a marriage of that level would attract in Miran. It was exactly as she had thought.
"Anyway, that's not what my husband's trouble is about. Some sort of thing has blown up about their licence, and my husband has been caught up in all of this, because there is money missing from accounts. He was called to their house and Rehan outright threatened him."
That was not how Mikandra remembered the conversation. "That's terrible. Maybe he should look for other work."
"That's what I told him, but no, they won't even sack him until the missing money has been found."
"That sounds fair enough."
"But Trimon had nothing to do with it."
"Does he know what happened? He can just say his bit and be done with it. They can't make him stay."
"It's not that simple at all. You know, the brothers have been fighting for years. It's Iztho and the old lady against the rest of them. Ever since that mess in Barresh, she's been protecting him. He can do no wrong with her, but his heart isn't in the business, a fool can see that. But she adores him, and she vetoes a lot of the other brothers' decisions. Rehan has been trying to get control of the accounts for ages. Now Iztho has gone and hidden money and my husband is getting the blame. He never worked specifically for any of the brothers. He was just trying to steer his way between the conflicts. Hope you'll never find out what happens if you get yourself on the wrong side of a powerful man." Her eyes glittered. "When they start spreading the reputation that my husband is not trustworthy, he'll never find work again. He did not mess up the accounts, honest." She buried her face in her hands and cried. "What will we do to survive?"
"If your husband has done nothing wrong, then he has nothing to fear." She cringed inside as she said that. Having seen the account
s, the husband had every reason to be extremely worried.
Zimana sniffed and wiped her eyes with her apron. "Anyway, I'm sorry to bother you with my troubles. I know you're a nice girl and believe that truth and honesty rule, and I wish I could share your optimism. I fear the brothers will wring him dry and throw him on the street, just for doing his job. Be glad you're with a nice, happy and stable family."
* * *
Those words still haunted Mikandra while going down the stairs and into the street.
A stable family. Fancy that. Was there any family in the Endri nobility that was stable? Wherever she looked, there was mess behind a thin veneer of civility. Her own family, the Andrahars, Aunt Amandra and her forbidden lover. Antho Tussamar had to resort to training his nephews as heirs because neither of his sons had children. Calliandra Azthunar was an only child and the sole survivor from her branch of the family. She owned the house and she had probably already put the ownership in the name of her sons in case the Andrahar family exploded and Taerzo had nowhere to go. And that wasn't even considering the many families who had members who were crazy and addicted, or crazy because they were addicted. None of them were stable.
And we let these people govern the nation?
A steady drift of powder-like snow blew from the sky. It heaped in mounds on the lee side of walls. It was like a coarse mist and softened outlines of buildings and shrouded the council buildings on the opposite side of the main square in a white haze. The Foundation monument stood deserted, its five fingers pointing up at the sky. The Andrahar office was still closed, and while she walked past, a bored shop attendant in Merchant Ranuddin's empty shop watched her. Eventually, the trouble in the Endri families would hit Merchant Ranuddin, too, when he no longer had customers for his overpriced clothes.
The Miran Exchange, where Mikandra needed to go for the next step of her plan, was to the left of the square, downhill from the Trader Guild headquarters. It was an ugly square building, whose centuries-old halls and stairwells echoed with voices of the past. The draught that descended the stairs smelled of wet stone, from meltwater dripping off people's cloaks. In places, the stone steps were cold enough for it to freeze over.
