by Robin Hobb
Desperation vied with cold ruthlessness in the Chalcedean’s eyes. This was a dangerous man. He had come, empty-handed, to Leftrin’s vessel, but the Rain Wild Trader now perceived he had not come without weapons. Leftrin cleared his throat and said, “We will now set a reasonable price for the grain, and then I think our trading will be done.”
Sinad smiled at him. “The price of my grain, trading partner, is my passage up the river and that you speak well of me to your fellows. If you cannot procure what I need, then you will see that I am introduced to those who can.
“And in return, I will give you my grain and my silence about your secrets. Now what could be a better trade than that?”
BREAKFAST HAD BEEN delicious and perfectly prepared. The generous remains of a meal intended for three still graced the white-clothed table. The serving dishes were covered now in what would be a vain attempt to keep the food at serving temperature. Alise sat alone at the table. Her dishes had already been efficiently and swiftly cleared away. She lifted the teapot and poured herself another cup of tea and waited.
She felt like a spider crouched at the edge of her web, waiting for the fly to blunder into her trap. She never lingered over meals. Hest knew that. She suspected it was why he was so frequently late to the table when he was home. She hoped that if she sat here long enough, he’d come in to eat and she’d finally have the chance to confront him.
He deliberately avoided her these days, not just at the table but anywhere that they might be alone. She did not agonize about it. She was glad enough to be left to eat in peace, and even gladder when he did not disturb her in her bed at night. Unfortunately, that had not been the case last night. Hest had stridden into her room in the small hours of the morning, shutting the door with a firm thump that had wakened her from a sound sleep. He’d smelled of strong tobacco and expensive wine. He’d taken off his robe, tossed it across the foot of the bed, and then clambered in beside her. In the dark room, she saw him only as a deeper shadow.
“Come here,” he’d said, as if commanding a dog. She’d stayed where she was, on the edge of the bed.
“I was sound asleep,” she’d protested.
“And now you’re not, and we’re both here, so let’s make a fine fat baby to make my father’s heart rejoice, shall we?” His tone was bitter. “One is all we need, darling Alise. So cooperate with me. This won’t take long, and then you can go back to sleep. And wake up in the morning and spend the day giving my money to scroll dealers.”
It had all fallen into place. He’d been to see his father, and been chided yet again for his lack of an heir. And yesterday Alise had bought not one but two rather expensive old scrolls. Both were from the Spice Islands. She couldn’t read a word of either of them, but the illustrations looked as if they were intended to depict Elderlings. It made sense to her; if the Elderlings had occupied the Cursed Shores in ancient days, they would have had trading partners, and those trading partners might have made some written record of their dealings. Lately she had turned her efforts to seeking out such old records. The Spice Island scrolls had been her first real find. Even she had blanched at the cost of them. But she’d had to have them, and so she had paid.
And tonight she would pay again, both for their childless state and for daring to expand her research library. If she had not stayed up so late poring over her latest acquisitions, she might have simply accommodated him. But she was tired and suddenly very weary of how he treated this portion of their married life.
She said something she’d never said before. “No. Perhaps tomorrow night.”
He’d stared at her. In the darkness she’d felt the anger of his gaze. “That’s not your decision,” he said bluntly.
“It’s not your sole decision either,” she’d retorted and started to leave the bed.
“Tonight, it is,” he said. With no warning, he lunged across the bed, seized her by the arm, and dragged her back. With the length of his body, he pinned her down.
She struggled briefly but as he dug his fingers into her upper arms and held her down, it was quickly apparent that she could not escape him. “Let me go!” she whisper-shrieked at him.
“In a moment,” he replied tightly. And a moment later, “If you don’t struggle, I won’t hurt you.”
He lied. Even after she had acquiesced, her head turned to one side, her eyes fixed on the wall, he’d held her arms tightly and thrust hard against her. It hurt. The pain and the humiliation made it seem as if it took him forever to accomplish his task. She didn’t weep. When he rolled away from her and then sat up on the edge of her bed, she was dry-eyed and silent.
He sat in the quiet dark for a time, and then she felt him stand and heard the whisper of fabric as he donned his robe again. “If we are fortunate, neither of us will have to go through that again,” he said dryly. What had stayed with her the rest of the night was that she had never heard him sound more sincere. He’d left her bed and her room.
Unable to sleep, she’d spent the rest of the night thinking about him and their sham of a marriage. He’d seldom been so rough with her. Sex with Hest was usually perfunctory and efficient. He entered her room, announced his intention, mated with her, and left. In the four years they’d been together, he’d never slept in her bed. He had never kissed her with passion, never touched any part of her body with interest.
She’d made humiliating efforts to please him. She’d anointed herself with perfumes and acquired and discarded various forms of nightdress. She had even tried to instigate romance with him, coming to his study late one evening and attempting to embrace him. He had not thrust her aside. He’d risen from his chair, told her that he was quite busy just now, and walked her to the door of the room, and shut her out of it. She’d fled, weeping, to her room.
Later that month, when he’d come to her bed, she had shamed herself again. She’d embraced him when he mounted her, and strained to kiss him. He’d held his face away from her. Nonetheless, her hungry body had tried to take whatever pleasure it could from his touch. He hadn’t responded to her willingness. When he had finished, he had rolled away from her, ignoring her attempt to hold him. “Alise. Please. In the future, don’t embarrass us both,” he’d said quietly before he shut the door behind him.
Even now, her face reddened as she recalled her failed attempts to seduce him. Indifference was bad enough; but last night, when he had proven that he not only could but would force her if he wished to, she’d had to recognize the ugly truth. Hest was changing. Over the last year, he’d become ever more abrupt with her. He had begun to deploy his little barbed comments against her in public as well as in private. The small courtesies that any woman could expect from her husband were vanishing from her life. In the beginning, he had taken pains to be attentive to her in public, to offer his arm when they walked together, to hand her up into her carriage. Those small graces had vanished now. But last night was the first time that cruelty had replaced them.
Not even the precious Spice Island scrolls were worth what he had done to her. It was time to end this charade. She had the evidence of his infidelity. It was time to use it to render her marriage contract void.
The clues were small but plain. The first had come as an invoice mistakenly placed on her desk instead of his. It was for a very expensive lotion, one she knew she had never bought. When she had queried the merchant about it, he had produced a receipt for its delivery, signed in Hest’s hand. She had paid the bill, but kept the papers. In a similar fashion, she had come to discover that Hest was paying the rent on a cottage half a day’s ride from their home in an area of small farms, mostly settled by Three Ships immigrants. And the last was the item she had noticed last night; he wore a ring she had never seen before; she had felt the bite of it as he had gripped her arms so cruelly tight last night. Hest enjoyed jewelry and often wore rings. But his taste ran to massive worked silver; this ring had been gold, with a tiny stone set in it. She knew with certainty that it was nothing Hest would ever have bought for himsel
f.
So now she understood. He’d married her only to keep his family content, so that they might show to the world their son’s proper Trader wife. The Finboks would never accept a Three Ships girl into their family, let alone recognize her child as their heir. The lotion, she was sure, had been a gift for his mistress. The ring he now wore was her pledge to him. He was unfaithful. He had broken their contract, and she would use his broken vow as a way to free herself from him.
She would be poor. There would be a settlement from his family, of course, but she didn’t deceive herself that she could live on it as she did under his roof. She would have to retreat to the little piece of land that had been her dowry. She’d have to live simply. She’d have her work, of course, and—
The door opened. Sedric entered, laughing about something and speaking over his shoulder to Hest. He turned and saw her and smiled. “Alise, good morning!”
“Good morning, Sedric.” The words came out of her mouth, a reflexive pleasantry.
Then, as Hest glared at her, annoyed at still finding her at the breakfast table, she heard herself blurt out, “You’ve been unfaithful to me. That voids our marriage contract. You can let me go quietly, or I can take this to the Traders’ Council and present my evidence.”
Sedric had been in the act of seating himself. He dropped abruptly into his chair and stared at her in white-faced horror. She was suddenly ashamed that he had to witness this. “You don’t have to stay, Sedric. I’m sorry to make you a party to this.” She chose formal words, but her shaking voice ruined them.
“A party to what?” Hest demanded. He raised one eyebrow at her. “Alise, this is the first I’ve heard of this nonsense, and if you are wise, it will be the last! I see you’ve finished eating. Why don’t you go and leave me in peace!”
“As you left me in peace last night?” she asked bitterly, pushing the hard words out. “I know everything, Hest. I’ve put it all together. Expensive palat lotion. A little cottage in the Three Ships district. That ring you’re wearing. It all fits together.” She took a breath. “You have a Three Ships mistress, don’t you?”
Sedric made a small scandalized sound as if he gasped for air. But Hest was unfazed. “What ring?” he demanded. “Alise, this is all nonsense! You insult us both with these wild accusations.”
His hands were bare. No matter. “The one you wore last night. The little stone on it scratched me. I can show you the mark, if you’d like.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like less!” he retorted. He flung himself into a chair at the table and began lifting the covers on the dishes. He scooped up a spoonful of eggs, glared at them, and then splatted them back into the dish. He leaned back in the chair and regarded her. “Are you sure you are well?” He almost sounded concerned for her. “You’ve taken an odd collection of small facts and made them lead in a very insulting direction. The ring you saw last night belongs to Sedric. How could you imagine it was mine? He’d left it on the table at the inn. I put it on my hand so it wouldn’t be lost. And I gave it back to him this morning. Are you satisfied? Ask him if you wish.” He lifted the cover on another dish, muttering, “Of all the idiocy. Before breakfast, too.” He speared several small sausages and shook them off on his plate. Sedric hadn’t moved or spoken. “Sedric!” Hest snapped at him abruptly.
He startled, gaped at Hest, and then turned hastily to Alise. “Yes. I bought the ring. And Hest gave it back to me. Yes.” He looked acutely miserable.
Hest suddenly relaxed. Nonchalantly, he rang the bell for a servant. When a maid came to the door, he gestured at the table. “Bring some hot food. This is disgusting. And make a fresh pot of tea. Sedric, will you have tea?”
When Sedric just stared at him, Hest snorted in exasperation. “Sedric will have tea, also.” As soon as the door closed behind the maid, Hest spoke to his secretary. “Explain the lotion, if you would, Sedric. And my supposed ‘love cottage.’”
Sedric looked ill. “The palat lotion was a gift.”
“For my mother,” Hest cut in. “And the cottage is a place that Sedric uses, not I. He said he needed some privacy, and I agreed. It seemed a small accommodation to make for him, as well as he has served me. And if he chooses to entertain there, and who he has in to visit him, I consider none of my business. Nor yours, Alise. He’s a man, and a man has needs.” He bit off a piece of a sausage and chewed and swallowed it. “Frankly, I’m shocked at all this. You are my wife. To imagine you shuffling through my papers, digging in the hope of discovering some nasty secret; well, it’s dismaying. What ails you, woman, to even think of such a thing?”
She found she was trembling. Was it all so easily explained away? Could she be that wrong? “You’re a man, too.” She pointed out in a shaking voice. “With needs. Yet you seldom visit me. You ignore me.”
“I’m a busy man, Alise. With concerns much more profound than, well, your carnal desires. Must we speak of this in front of Sedric? If you cannot spare my feelings, can you at least consider his?”
“You have to have someone else. I know you do!” The words came out of her as a quavering cry.
“You know nothing,” Hest retorted in sudden disgust. “But you shall. Sedric. As Alise has made you a party to our nasty little squabble, I shall avail myself of you. Sit up and tell the truth.” Hest turned suddenly back to her. “You will believe Sedric, won’t you? Even if you consider your wedded husband a lying adulterer.”
She locked eyes with Sedric. The man was pale. He was breathing audibly, his mouth half ajar. What had ever possessed her to speak out in front of him that way? What would he think of her now? He had ever been her friend. Could she salvage at least that? “He has never lied to me,” she said. “I’ll believe him.”
“Alise, I …”
“Now, quiet, Sedric, until you hear the question.” Hest put his forearms on the table and leaned on them thoughtfully. His voice was as measured as if he were stating the terms of a contract. “Answer my wife truthfully and fully. You are with me almost every hour of my working day and sometimes far into the night. If anyone knows my habits, it’s you. Look at Alise and tell her true: Do I have another woman in my life?”
“I … that is, no. No.”
“Have I ever shown any interest, here in Bingtown or on our trading journeys, in any woman?”
Sedric’s voice had grown a little stronger. “No. Never.”
“There. You see.” Hest leaned forward to help himself to a slice of fruit bread. “Your foul accusations had no foundation at all.”
“Sedric?” She was almost pleading with him. She had been so sure. “You are telling me the truth?”
Sedric took a ragged breath. “There are no other women in Hest’s life, Alise. None at all.”
He looked down at his hands, embarrassed, and she saw that the ring she had seen on Hest’s hand last night was now on Sedric’s. Shame scalded her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Hest thought she spoke to him. “Sorry? You insult me and humiliate me in front of Sedric, and ‘sorry’ is the best you can manage? I think I’m owed substantially more than that, Alise.”
She had come to her feet, but she felt unstable. Suddenly she just wished to be out of the room and away from this horrible man who had somehow come to dominate her life. All she wanted now was the quiet of her room, and to lose herself in ancient scrolls from another world and time. “I don’t know what else I can say.”
“Well. There’s isn’t much you can say, after such a grave insult. You’ve apologized, but it scarcely mends the matter.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, surrendering to him. “I’m sorry I ever brought it up.”
“That makes two of us. Now let this be an end of this. Don’t ever accuse me of something like that again. It’s beneath you. It’s beneath both of us to have conversations like this.”
“I won’t. I promise.” She nearly knocked her chair over as she left the table and hurried toward the door.
“I will hold you to that
promise!” Hest called after her.
“I promise,” she repeated dully and fled from the room.
NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN. Even in summer, the days seemed short. The towering trees of the rain forest carpeted the wide flat valley and gave way only to the river’s gray swathe. Daylight trickled down only when the sun was high enough for its light to strike the narrow alley of water and land between the brooding walls of trees that hemmed the river. Evening began its slow creep when the sun moved past it. Bright daylight was short, and twilight dominated their lives. Four years had passed since the summer she had emerged from her case. Four years of thwarted hopes, poor food, and neglect. Four summers of too much shade, four winters of rainy gray days. Four years of no life save eating and then sleeping, sleeping far too many hours of every day. Instead of feeling as if she slept too much, Sintara always felt vaguely weary. Swampy land and dimness was the province of newts, not dragons. Dragons, she thought, were creatures of strong sunlight, dry sand, and long, hot days. And flight. How she longed to fly. Fly away from the mud and the crowded conditions and the gloomy riverbank.
