The Emerald Sea

by Richelle Mead

  A memory of our first night here flashed through my mind. “Is that why the doctors here are women?”

  “Yes,” he said, delighted at my deduction. “Healing is a woman’s domain. So are weaving and dyeing. But tanning and cobbling are men’s.”

  “And let me guess. Writing is a man’s domain?”

  “No. In fact, the teaching of essential worldly education—writing and arithmetic, for example—is a female domain. Whereas spiritual education . . . ” He gestured grandly toward himself. “. . . is a male domain. That’s why I told you not to say anything about this plan. It could be misinterpreted.”

  I picked up one of my corrected pages. “Because I can help you improve your craft so long as I’m not actually doing it.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s ridiculous—er, sorry,” I added quickly. Gideon was so personable that I became too comfortable around him sometimes, forgetting his role as a minister in Constancy. “But if someone gets hurt, and you’re the only one around, you can’t help? Or if you do, are you going to have to stay up all night copying out scripture?”

  The angelic smile took a rueful twist. “When you put it like that, it does sound ridiculous. Yes, I could help—there are always allowances for special circumstances. But in general? We follow the domains in everything we do.” He glanced longingly at the pages.

  “In a home like this, discipline and minor infractions fall to the lady of the house to manage—Samuel and I have no say. Something bigger—say, if one of you tried to recruit followers to a new god—would threaten the larger spiritual well-being of the town. That’s a male domain and would fall to Samuel and me.”

  “You said teaching grammar and writing is okay for a woman, right? Then think of me as being your instructor. All my proofing and editing are just teaching aids, showing you ways to improve your craft. And you can read over what I did to make sure I really didn’t change any of your meaning. If so, change it back.”

  “That’s a bending of the rules worthy of Jacob Robinson,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “But I suppose it’s okay if you aren’t actually inserting new or radical messages . . .” His eyes drifted again to the sermons, and I found his moral conflict oddly endearing. Most people wouldn’t have thought twice about accepting work that would boost their image. “But we still can’t tell anyone just how much you helped,” he said after long moments. “And that’s what I hate—the dishonesty. Holding back secrets. Though I truly don’t think any domains have been broken here . . . I just worry others might misread it.”

  “I can certainly understand why you’d worry about that.”

  Catching my tone, he stood up and patted my shoulder. “Stay strong, Tamsin. You’re doing wonderfully here. Although . . . I have to ask, was there any reason you mentioned staying up all night to copy scripture? Were you just using it as a random example of punishment?”

  I didn’t answer immediately, but something in my expression or body language must have given me away.

  “Tell me,” he said gently.

  I sighed. “Well, it started with the paper you gave me . . .”

  He listened to me recount Damaris’s story, his face remaining neutral. “I see,” he said when I finished. “Well, I’m sure Dinah thought she was doing what was best for you girls.” He sounded doubtful, though.

  “Do you think it was best?”

  “It’s not my place to say. You’re dependents in her household. Decisions about your well-being are in her domain. Here.” He handed me some blank paper from the stack I’d been using. “To replace the last batch.”

  I started to reach for it and then felt angry on his behalf. “Dinah should give back what she took!”

  “I’m not going to undermine her authority.”

  I scrutinized his mild expression, trying to discern the truth. “But you do think she was out of line.”

  “Do you want it or not?” He moved his hand to take the paper, but I was faster and snatched it away.

  “Oh, I’ll take it. But I do hate that you’re wasting yours on me. Especially when I’ve got plenty in my luggage. This would be so much simpler if I could just get into it.”

  “I don’t think it’s a waste, and it’s better that the cargo remain undisturbed. Aside from the council’s decision about it, constantly getting in there and rifling for this and that would be a hassle.”

  Hoping for casualness, I asked, “Are the goods that hard to get to? I know exactly where the paper is in my trunk.”

  “Finding your trunk might be the difficult part. It’s all spread out in different places.”

  “Wait—I didn’t realize our things weren’t all being stored together. I hope none of it gets misplaced.”

  “No, no. It’s quite secure, and the council has a list of how many boxes and trunks are being kept where. Some’s in the meetinghouse, some in the school . . . I can’t recall the rest. But they’re all safe places.” After collecting the rest of the pages, he walked over to the mantel and surveyed the books atop it. He plucked out a slim volume and handed it to me. “This is my own copy of The Ruvan Followers. It’s where a lot of our ideas about the domains came from. Take a look at it in your free time.”

  “Free time?” I could barely say it with a straight face, and as if to emphasize how far-fetched that notion was, Dinah suddenly entered.

  She put her hands on her hips. “Tamsin, I could really use your help washing some bedding. You’ve spent quite enough time lounging around out here—and worse, you’re distracting poor Gideon. I knew this wouldn’t end well. Gideon, if she hasn’t finished copying, I’ll do it for you.”

  Gideon gave her a beatific smile, and it almost knocked her over. Damaris was right. “No need, Dinah. Tamsin’s done plenty. She’s done more than I imagined.” He stood up and looked me over, and the spark in his eyes seemed to come from more than just his new and improved sermons. “She’s more than I imagined.”

  CHAPTER 13

  BY THE END OF THAT SNOWBOUND DAY, I WAS MORE exhausted than if I’d done my usual laundry regimen. But oh, that house sparkled. Dinah had had us scrub and polish every corner of it. When I dragged myself up for bedtime, the other girls immediately noticed the new paper.

  “How’d you get that?” asked Winnifred.

  I set it and the book down. “Gideon gave it to me when he heard what Dinah did.”

  Damaris winked. “Nice work. Remember, it’s for the greater good.”

  “He gave you a book too?” Vanessa perked up. “What kind?”

  “What kind do you think, around here?” I held up The Ruvan Followers. “It’s not a book of sonnets! And he lent it to me.”

  I didn’t need my friends to warn me about protecting the paper. I slid it under my mattress, keeping one piece out for that night’s letter. When I finished it, I held it a moment, wondering when it and the others I’d been accumulating would ever get out of this town. Who could say? I didn’t even know when I’d get out.

  I hid the letter with the paper and used my last bit of free time to read Gideon’s book in bed. While it did lay out some of the domains, the sections he’d underlined tended to be about helping others and improving one’s character. It was like peeking into his mind, which seemed to imagine a purer way of life that didn’t require so much of the Heirs’ strictness. He’s wasting his time here, I thought. We all are.

  * * *

  “We won’t be going to church today.”

  Samuel’s somber face was even more somber than usual as he delivered that greeting the next morning. Gideon, also subdued, explained, “We didn’t quite finish clearing the road yesterday. And then we got a little more snow last night. Nothing like that storm—but enough to be a nuisance. The carriage might get stuck.”

  He looked so crestfallen, I couldn’t stop myself from blurting out: “Could we walk? I don’t mind.” Vanessa gave me a horrified
look.

  “I considered it,” said Samuel. “But some places still have more than a foot of snow. It’d make for hard travel—especially in your dresses. So. Uros’s will is what it is. We’ll have a devotional day at home.”

  Winnifred peered at the empty kitchen table. “When’s breakfast?”

  “No breakfast on holy days,” said Dinah. “We don’t eat until midday.”

  As that depressing thought settled over us, the faint jingle of bells suddenly sounded from outside. The other girls looked puzzled, but I knew immediately what it was. Samuel moved swiftly to the door, and we scurried in his wake. He flung the door open, just as Jago pulled his sleigh up in front of the house.

  “Good morning, good sirs and misses.” Jago bowed with a flourish before hopping to the ground. “I thought you might be stranded, so I came to help you get to church today.”

  Stunned silence fell. At last, I asked, “For how much?”

  He grinned. “This one’s on me.”

  Samuel’s shocked expression slowly transformed to one of wonder. “Why, Jacob, you have no idea how thrilled I am to hear you’ll finally be attending services. Though I don’t think it’s appropriate to wear that flamboyant scarf into church. We focus on the spiritual, not the material.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m aware of that, but I’m afraid I’m not actually going into the church. Just taking you since I know how important it is to you. I’ll find other ways to amuse myself while you’re busy.”

  Samuel’s brow furrowed, but Gideon preempted any protest. “As you said, Samuel, Uros’s will is what it is, and it looks like it has provided for us.”

  We quickly fetched our coats and cloaks. Samuel and Dinah sat in the front seat with Jago while the rest of us piled into the hold in the back, which could have held a few more people. Then we were off to town, the sleigh nimbly flying over the snow. The only thing that slowed us was a fallen limb across the road, but it was soon moved.

  “You’ve done two good deeds, Jacob, one upon the other,” Samuel remarked when we arrived. He paused to help Dinah down. “It’s given me hope that something might be changing within you, that the truth might be speaking to you after all. Are you sure you won’t join us?”

  Jago politely declined again and held out his hand to the rest of us girls. Vanessa, Winnifred, and Damaris rewarded him with pretty thanks and well-honed Glittering Court smiles as they alighted. When it was my turn, I whispered, “What are you playing at?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I held back as the others shuffled into the building. “You know what. You don’t do anything out of pure altruism.”

  “Except that time I saved you from wandering off in a blizzard. And if you must know, you’re also the reason I came by today.”

  “Whatever for?” I stroked the mane of one of his horses, hoping it would look like they’d been the distraction. They were a lovely team—silvery gray with black manes and tails.

  “I’ve been thinking about your sad, sad situation. And I decided to help.”

  I spun around. “You’ll sell the seats?”

  “No, of course not. But I might be able to get you someone else’s space.”

  “Whose?”

  “There’s a trapper who lives near the Icori border. They like him, he’s traded with them, and he’s sending some furs down with the expedition. We’re old friends—I could probably talk him into postponing his shipment. I’m pretty good at deal making, you know. But it’d cost you.”

  “Of course it would.” Knowing what I knew about him now, I wasn’t surprised. “How much do you want?”

  “Not me. I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. But my guess is it’ll run what you and I were discussing—about a hundred gold or so. Up front.”

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  “Aren’t you sitting on all sorts of wondrous objects?”

  “Not literally. It’s all locked away.” No one stood near us, but I dropped my voice. “I don’t suppose . . . you’d want to break into the meetinghouse for me, would you?”

  He scoffed. “With you? Yes. For you? No. I’m barely tolerated as it is around here. If they caught me breaking in alone, there’s no telling what they’d do.”

  “Are you saying it’d be better if you were caught with me?”

  “Well, then I could claim ignorance and say you’d asked me to help and that I did it unwittingly. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll at least have company in the stocks.” I couldn’t acknowledge anything so ridiculous, so I turned toward the church. “Wait, Tamsin.”

  “What?” I asked warily.

  Jago leaned close to me, like he was adjusting the horse’s bridle. “If the weather’s clear, they’ll let you go outside and get some air during the luncheon. I’ll wait behind the meetinghouse.”

  Before I could question that incredible statement, Dinah ordered me into the church. Jago climbed into the sleigh with a wink, and I hurried to Dinah, rattling off excuses about admiring the lovely horses.

  The Coles, as a minister’s family, had a designated pew near the front of the congregation, but my companions and I were sent to the back rows. I didn’t mind this at all, as it gave us a reprieve from Dinah’s watchful eye. Several other Glittering Court girls had made it through the snow and sat nearby, so we had a small reunion until we were shushed when the service began.

  It opened with announcements and short prayers, and my mind wandered, wondering if Jago had been serious about helping me. I believed he was. What I didn’t know was why. I set those musings aside when Gideon took the podium. His sermon lasted almost a full hour—and it was one of the ones I’d revised for him. As strange as I found the Heirs, it was a thrill to have my words delivered to such a large crowd. And he delivered them well. I’d seen him falter and stammer when he was unsure of himself, but when he was confident in his message, he was a commanding force. The warmth and genuineness that infused his everyday actions amplified his words and made others want to listen. And his face alone made some of them want to listen too—if my companions’ dreamy expressions were any indication.

  Seeing the uplifting effect his closing had on the congregation made me swell with pride—for him and, yes, me. The program that followed was far less inspiring: a mix of community business, small prayers, and lectures. It was a relief when recess was called for the luncheon, but it left me with the sudden decision of what to do about Jago. The congregation rose and stretched their legs, some going to help set up the food and others walking outside.

  “Thank goodness,” said Damaris, rubbing her back. “I thought I’d faint with hunger.”

  My eyes fell longingly on the food table, but from what I could gather about the process, we wouldn’t be among the first served. Quickly, I refastened my cloak. “Cover for me. If anyone asks where I am, say I went out to walk to get some air until we could eat.”

  Three astonished faces stared at me. “Um, what else would you be doing?” asked Vanessa.

  “Just help me,” I hissed, squeezing between the benches. “I’ll explain later. Maybe.”

  After the stuffiness of the packed church, the frigid cold hit me with a jolt, sharpening my thoughts and making me reconsider my choice. Staying in the church was warmer and wiser. As I wavered at the building’s threshold, a group of small children scampered past, their laughter stirring the old ache in my heart.

  Could I pass up any chance to get to Merry faster? I plunged forward, trying to look as casual as the others who mingled and walked about the square. No one paid me especial attention, and I easily slipped unnoticed from the open area to a more private section behind the church’s neighboring buildings.

  Constancy’s meetinghouse, I’d learned, was a recent addition. Early settlers had used the church for all gatherings, and it wasn’t until the town had flourished more that a proper hall had been commissioned. By then, the
square was ringed with other businesses, and so the meetinghouse was being built two blocks away, some of its timber still only sealed and not painted.

  A few snowflakes drifted by, and I squinted upward, panicked. But the clouds that stretched overhead were white, only lightly tinged with gray. There was no sign of the dark, billowing masses that had marched across the sky during the blizzard. Exhaling, I continued on and didn’t see a soul until I rounded the back corner of the meetinghouse. There, Jago waited for me, his lanky form leaning near a window.

  “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.

  “I didn’t think you would either. I thought you might be tricking me.”

  “Not about breaking the law.”

  “I’ve heard you break the law quite a bit.”

  “Have you?” He straightened up and looked supremely pleased. “I don’t break it so much as bend it.”

  I studied the imposing building. “Yes, I heard that too. Does that mean you can get us in without doing anything illegal?”

  “Eh, not so much.” He shoved his hands in his coat’s pockets and followed my gaze. “For all their talk about focusing on character and morals, they’re not a very trusting lot. These windows are locked from the inside, and breaking the glass out would be noisy.”

  “So how do we get in?”

  With great drama, Jago pulled a key ring from his pocket. “Through the door.”

  “You have a key? Why didn’t you just mention that earlier?”

  “Well, I didn’t have it then.” After trying a few keys in the small back door, he finally found one that let us inside. “One of the councilmen was so moved by my generosity in getting you all to town today that he kindly lent me use of his stables and kitchen while I waited. And it just so happens he owns one of the town’s master keys.”

  “And he kindly lent it to you?”

  “I found it after a little exploration of the rest of his house.”