The River King

by Kim Alexander

  He smiled with real pleasure. Oh dear. Once we get him on his feet he’ll have to double lock the door. Poor Lelly. He told her that thanks to the gift of his tinted gray eye shades, he had the freedom of being undisturbed and so had been taking the sights, unsure of the protocol on going into buildings. He knew libraries and things like that were open but hadn’t worked out where most of them were.

  “I think I need a map,” he told her. “Possibly a tour guide.”

  She folded her hands and cleared her throat. “I feel there is an elephant in the room.” Before he could ask what that meant, she continued. “There is something unsaid between us. Perhaps we ought to discuss it.”

  “I know Lelet is your friend, but I don’t wish to discuss the details of—”

  “Do you think Rane is guilty?”

  Moth colored and looked away. “My apologies. Two elphantys. The young lady’s body is still at the hostal, in the ice room.”

  “At the hos... Are you the sort of man who takes offense at being corrected?”

  “Yes, of course. But don’t let that stop you.”

  “It is called a hos-pi-tal. And the ice room is the morgue.” She decided to let elphantys go, since the word was unlikely to come up in conversation. “The courts have put Rane in with the mad, not the evil, for which the va’Everly family is grateful. I know you’ll see your poor kinsman safely home to Eriis, but will you look into the circumstance of her death? As Lelet wishes?”

  “I’ll talk to Rane, but honestly I don’t know what else I can do here in Mistra. It’s my hope that my mage will be able to divine the truth, once he looks at her. I am not speaking out of turn when I say Rane is not a paragon of mental stability. I don’t know how the girl got here or how they fell in together, but I know he has a pattern of violence.”

  Althee sighed. Moth was correct, but Rane had been her playmate since they were toddlers. He was volatile and she knew full well of the voices that plagued him, but the last time she’d spoken with him, his eyes had been bright and clear and he swore his head was quiet. In truth, she was more than a little fond of him. She’d been hoping the man at the desk across from her might be able to help. But it appeared he was in need of as much help as Rane.

  With a discreet knock, Angus returned and delivered a folder—the heavy cream paper and glossy, dark garnet and gilt ink of the Rosemound—and disappeared. She sat it on the desk, open. There were at least two dozen cards and notes from everyone from the Historical Society to banks offering lines of credit, to Lyric Hall, with tickets to an upcoming opera performance. She watched his face as he realized what it meant and how he’d missed it. He wasn’t really her type—tall enough but too slender and too pretty—but it was easy to see how Lelet had fallen so quickly and so hard. Once again, she wondered what could have driven them apart. She made a decision.

  “As you may know, I am a Third.” She paused. “Do you know what that means?” He nodded. “Good. Well. My father and my eldest sister run our business. I find I have some free time. May I offer my services as your assistant? And tour guide?” And then, impulsively: “You needn’t pay me, as such. Agreeing to use the services of my family company—something I rather hoped you’d do anyway—would be sufficient.”

  He sifted the letters through his fingers. “An assistant. I appear to need one.” He looked up at her and gave her a sudden smile. “I don’t suppose there’s a guide book? Or ambassador school?”

  She smiled back, but asked, “What did they tell you, when you left to come here? What do they expect you to do?”

  Moth tapped the edge of a card against his desk for a moment. “That’s the thing. We haven’t had a need for ambassadors or emissaries or anything of the sort for my entire lifetime. There was no one I could ask, no one who’d done it. I think...I think this was planned for me as a sort of early retirement.” He set the card down and shook his head. “It’s complicated, and my own problem to sort out. Meanwhile, here I am. Tell me, what does an ambassador do?”

  “Well,” she said, “let me think.” Her mind raced. When picturing their meeting, she’d imagined lunch, documents, her sage advice, and leaving with a fat contract in her purse. This was an opportunity unlike anything she’d imagined. “Let’s start with what you need and what we can offer.” She pulled a notebook and pen from her bag. “You, meaning Eriis. Lelet tells me there’s very little by way of luxury goods. Your people must hunger for fine things. Let’s start with clothing, fabric, food—wine! I hear that your local drink is...not as nice as wine. Also, furniture, art—”

  “Miss Althee, might I ask what business your family is in?” The way he smiled let her know he already had a good idea. He was merely inexperienced, not stupid.

  “As it happens, you can think of the Sechelle family as middlemen. All the things I just mentioned, we can find them for you, the best quality and best prices. Then while we work out taxes and tariffs, after all, the Fifty have to get their cut, we have places—warehouses—to keep everything. And then we’ll work out a delivery schedule. Olly can help with that. And we can talk about payment.”

  He looked at her blankly.

  “Payment? You have a budget, I assume?”

  Moth shifted uneasily in his big chair. “Well, we have what I’m told is quite a lot of gold.”

  “Good, that’s excellent. With which bank are you established?”

  “Bank?”

  “How does Eriis intend to pay?”

  He looked at her helplessly.

  “Moth, may I ask who is responsible for this suite? For your meals and so on?”

  “The hotel contacted the Guardhouse, as far as I know, and invited me to stay here.” He ran a hand through his cropped hair. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  Althee tapped her pen against the open notebook. “Indulge me. Tell me how finances are handled on Eriis.”

  “They aren’t. At least, not by me.”

  She raised a brow.

  “Inside the Arch—where my family and our friends and retainers live—inside the Arch we do not discuss finance. It is considered vulgar.”

  “Hm. How does one pay for a thing? If I wanted to buy a dress, for instance.”

  “You would go to the merchant in the Quarter, or more likely they would come to your home inside the Arch, and they would transform the sand to your liking. And you would promise to transform or create or perform something for them in exchange or arrange for someone else to do it on your behalf.”

  She already knew from Lelet about how the demons of Eriis transformed sand into nearly everything they needed, but this was interesting and new. A barter-based economy, one where the ruling class never saw money. It was like something from a fairy tale. And if the gold was sitting around over there, well, that was just one more import for her family to take their percentage. “I believe I can assist you in the ins and outs of Mistran finance.”

  Althee had an elderly, rather eccentric professor of economics in mind. Moth was young and beautiful but talked and acted like a gent from an old book. The two of them would get on famously.

  He went to the mahogany bar, and she nodded. It was early for a cocktail, but this might turn out to be a day to celebrate. The bottles were all just half-filled decanters, provided by the hotel. She made a mental note to take care of that.

  Moth handed her a glass with a half inch of something brown in it. “Did Lelet ask you to do this? Assist me?”

  “No. She just asked me to look in on you. And she hopes you’ll make inquiries regarding Rane.” She sipped. Bottom shelf whiskey, as she feared. “But I’m afraid she’ll be annoyed with me for this. Well, perhaps she won’t find out.”

  “Really? I assumed you’d recount every detail as soon as you left here.”

  “I could try, but...” She made another impulsive decision. I am full of surprises, today. “Her new beau—that is, the gentleman she is involved with—”

  “I know what that means.” He went back to toying with the cards on his des
k. “I saw them at that dinner. What about him?”

  “He doesn’t approve of me. He doesn’t like women who speak their minds, I think.”

  Now Moth looked up. “Then why is he her bow?” She thought it must be because he was so new to the world of human expression that he didn’t look surprised at all. But the way he said it made her think she ought to answer the question as he asked it, no matter what was in his mind.

  “She was looking for something…without risk or surprise.” She waited for his reaction. If he recognized himself as the risk and the surprise that wounded Lelet, he didn’t show it. He watched her with that same guarded look. “But he seems to have convinced her he knows her own mind better than she does. She’s changed. She never used to be anxious and afraid all the time. He…I’m not certain he is entirely trustworthy.”

  He tossed a card down. “I didn’t take you for a person who sifts sand to find stones.”

  “You mean a pot-stirrer, I think. I’m not. Do you know what he calls her?”

  He shrugged.

  “He calls her Letty.”

  Moth laughed. “He does not! And he hasn’t been incinerated?” He turned serious. “If we are discussing her, it must be for a good reason. “

  Althee nodded. “I don’t like him, that’s true. But she’s been involved with other young men I haven’t cared for, and it’s not my business. This feels different. I think...”

  “You’d might as well tell me.”

  She took a big swallow of the cheap liquor and said, “I think she still loves you and that he means her harm.” Stupid, Al. He’s going to chuck you out of here. She waited for him to yell at her to leave at once, but he stared at his drink without answering. She sniffed and frowned. “Do you smell something?”

  He looked over her shoulder. “Rushta.” He raced around the desk to the bar, where a tall glass vase of roses was ablaze. He grabbed it by the base. “Get the door—over there—the bath.”

  As he made to throw it into the tub, the fragile glass exploded in his hands, from the heat of the fire or from the force of his grip. She screamed and ducked behind the door of the bath, out of the way of the shower of glass shards. The scorched petals disintegrated under the tap, and the bits of glass glittered as they swirled down the drain.

  Althee poured herself more of the whiskey and dropped onto a couch on the far side of the room from the desk and windows. He joined her at the other end.

  “Does that happen often?” she asked.

  “No, fortunately, or I’d find myself on the curb, I’m sure. I’m very sorry. You aren’t injured?”

  She shook her head and leaned forward, reaching for his hand. He looked surprised but extended it, and with her long fingernails, she plucked a sliver of glass out of his palm. Two drops of blood, and it was nothing but a pink dot. As he held out his arm, she noticed his wrist, which seemed to be of a different texture than his hand. Was it a bracelet or adornment of some sort? With a shudder, she realized it was a thick, uneven scar. She looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed. The way he drew back his hand made her think he had.

  “Well,” she said brightly, “this has been a most informative meeting.”

  “I need another,” he muttered, this time bringing the glass decanter with him on his way back from the bar. “Those were called roses. The flowers, I mean. I liked them.”

  “We will have them replaced.”

  Moth cocked his head at her. “We?”

  “Of course, it would be preferable for you to maintain a residence near the other embassies, closer to the river. A hotel,” she shook her head, “of course they want you to stay here.”

  “They? Who is they?”

  “My guess is it’s the Primes. You got here through unusual circumstances, and I can’t imagine they like that. Meanwhile, security here is non-existent, and don’t think they haven’t looked over every correspondence you’ve gotten and gone through your things while you are out. And not delivering them? Unforgiveable. But,” and here she retrieved her notepad and began to make a list, “we will hire some of our own security and make do.”

  He sighed. “It’s different back home. It’s easier. There are fewer of us, and we know our roles.” He looked at his glass and set it on the side table. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn a new role.”

  Althee templed her fingers. “Let us recap. You have been given a position with no training, no objectives, and no budget. You’re still so in love with my best friend that you set things on fire with your mind. On the other hand, I’ve been told you are clever and it might be said that you present well, so your introduction to society won’t be a problem. On the third hand, you appear to have no ready cash, and you don’t know who pays your bills.”

  “When you say it that way, I sound simple.”

  “Not simple. Set up. Is there someone back on Eriis who would prefer you to appear...less than capable?”

  His expression darkened. “As you may know, I occupied the High Seat for a short time. When my mother brought my uncle and his wife back from the Veil, it was assumed she would take back the Seat and I would step aside. At least, that’s what I thought would happen. But my uncle took the Seat instead, and I did what I thought was best for Eriis. I am not universally appreciated. They sent me here. He did—Araan, my uncle. I don’t think he specifically intended me to fail. I think he wanted me out of sight. My failure is just a bonus.”

  “Well, you know what they say: family trees are planted in discord and watered with tears. I’m sorry you’ve been pushed aside, but perhaps you can prove them wrong. Let me ask you something. Do you want to take the High Seat back from your uncle?” Her voice was calm, but Althee’s heart pounded. She was having a conversation about insurrection. Revolution, even. And she, the shadowy figure pulling the strings.

  He disappointed her by laughing. “No, I think not. Perhaps we ought to stay with the topic at hand, my position and if you can assist me in it. I think you can, providing we don’t accidentally overthrow my family’s government.”

  She nodded. One thing at a time. “Agreed. Let’s go shopping.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Eriis

  Ilaan jumped to his feet, trying to pull his tunic back into shape. “What are... Where... How long...”

  Hellne snickered. “Sit down, boy, you look about to shoot sparks.” She turned back to Jaa and put her hand on the older woman’s sleeve. “It’s time for us to catch up. I’ll call on you later.” She looked back at Ilaan. “Close your mouth. Your teeth’ll get dusty.”

  “But you’re at the palace. I saw you.” He’d just finished up with his clandestine meeting with Scilla and had to hide behind a pillar to avoid her, walking slowly past.

  “Did you? How did I look?”

  Ilaan shook his head, tried to gather his thoughts. “You looked— I saw you walking. Well, it obviously wasn’t you.” He sat down heavily then jumped up and prepared water. “I’m afraid there’s not a chair, so pull up a cushion.”

  “I am very familiar with the comforts Mother Jaa provides.” She settled herself on a fat striped cushion and took a cup of water. They passed their cups back and forth. “She tells me you’ve come a long way. That you can do that Door opening trick she invented almost as well as she can. Did anyone see you at the palace that day?”

  “No,” he replied. “You know I am discrete. But how long have you been here? And who did I see? If it wasn’t you?” He slapped his forehead. “Aelle. Am I right? I am, aren’t I?”

  She nodded.

  “Why?”

  Hellne looked at him, long and thoughtful. “I wish you’d never left the city. We could have used your good mind. But you’re in it, now.” And she told him the story of the queen, the Zaal, and the monsters on the High Seat. Once she was finished, she said, “What were you doing at the palace? Did you sneak into the negotiations with Mistra?”

  Of course he had, and he explained how he’d taken Scilla into his service.

  “Good,
that’s actually quite useful. Here it is: When the time is right, you must make your way back to the city. You must be there when The Door opens. We will be on Mistra, Coll, Scilla, Olly, and Malloy, and all our gifts together may be worth one of you.”

  It was the nicest thing she’d ever said to him. “Do they all know that?”

  “They’re about to. When that Door opens, it must stay open. Coll’s precious dirt will be sent in, and then those creatures will leave Eriis for Mistra.”

  “Then oughtn’t I be on Mistra?”

  She began to speak then faltered. “Your willingness to fling yourself at danger, it won’t be forgotten.”

  Ilaan hadn’t thought about the danger part. He only knew he should be where he could be of the most use, and anyway, what did he have left here? Sand. It was all just sand. But it appeared she had a plan in place that required him in the city.

  Hellne continued. “I did think about bringing you to Mistra. You perhaps could do the thing which is required. But Eriis cannot be left undefended. The Zaal will certainly be overseeing his work. And he will, sooner or later, figure out what we’re doing.”

  “Which is?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “There is a plan.”

  He sat silently and waited, using his father’s favorite negotiating tactic.

  Finally, she said, “You must assume the Zaal still has some of Rhuun’s blood and what that brings.”

  Either there was no plan, or more likely, it wasn’t in place. He strongly hoped for the latter. “Who will be standing with me?”

  “Zaii will be there, and your sister, of course. And Calaa. She’s supposed to be Rhuun’s secretary, but she seems to have aspirations. At any rate, as far as I know, she’s loyal to him.”