Now, this was interesting. Scilla hadn't mentioned it in her notebook. “You spied on her? For how long?”
“About three months.” Aelle burst out laughing. “It is not funny!”
“You watched through her window?” He nodded. “While she dressed? And slept?”
He looked at his hands. “And while she was . . . intimate with a young man.”
“Hmm, I wonder why she was upset.” She folded her arm and looked at him curiously. “But why didn't you just tell her yourself? It would have been less appalling coming from you, no?”
“That made it even worse. I had the chance and I didn't tell her. I didn't want her to know.”
“You're right. There was no way to make this less appalling. But you still should have told her, obviously.”
“I wanted to. No, I didn't want to. I never thought she'd find out. And then I was too embarrassed,” he admitted.
“Ah, the cover up!” She pointed at him and nodded knowingly. “The cover up is always worse than the crime. That's what got Sir Edward in the end. He should have taken the Duke’s necklace and left town on the next horse.” He gaped at her. “Well just because I didn't like your book doesn't mean I didn't read the stupid thing!”
“Hmm, I suppose.” He had long since tired of defending the literary merits of his book. They watched a firewhirl tear itself apart in the distance. “Ilaan’s come a long way since he began spying for my mother. I figured she might be the one to move against Lelet, but she didn’t. Ilaan did this because he wanted to.”
Aelle looked calmly at the grey horizon. “Are you certain of that?”
“You weren't there. The last time I spoke with him . . . it wasn't pleasant. He told me to forget his name, as if I could do that. He blames me. And he secretly came to the city while I was gone, or one of his agents did, and gave Lelet the candle.” He glanced at her suspiciously.
“Oh, don't give me that look. When I want to make trouble, believe me, you'll know it.” She held out her hand and he pulled his bottle out of his coat and passed it to her. She took a sip and handed it back. “Ilaan feels that if you hadn't been so dead set on going through The Door and mucking around with the humans, none of this would have ever happened. Your mother would be on the Seat, you and I would be properly wed, our family would be intact, and he'd still have Niico.” She paused. “It is difficult to argue his point.”
“It was your father, Aelle. I wasn't even here when Niico was sent away.”
“Sent away,” she repeated. “What an interesting way of putting it. Ilaan calls it cold murder no matter how Father tried to justify it.” She sifted some pebbles through her fingers. “But it was for you. It's always been for you, everything Ilaan ever did. And now there's no Niico. Or Father.” She tossed the last bit of rock over the ledge and they watched it roll down the incline, coming to a stop in some powdery grit far below. “How long until she forgives you?”
“She never will. I broke her trust.”
She thought that, generally, when you were done with a tool you put it away and didn’t sigh over it, but it appeared Rhuun was now paying the price. This had started well but was turning out to be much less entertaining than she'd hoped. “Well, I think she will call for you to come back to her.”
“But after what she found out—”
“Well, the cart is out of the horse, all we can do is move forward.” He looked at her curiously. “These humans have a sort of ferocity that I think we have lost. Or perhaps we never had it. Maybe they are a younger race and so their brains are hotter. I'm not a scientist. But they love and they rage with equal vigor. I find them quite diverting. I see why you like them.”
“One in particular, I do recall that.”
She smiled fondly and gave a little sigh. “We aren't talking about me. Think of what that girl did for you. How many fingers did she go home with? A little spying and lying won't keep her away forever. Let her anger burn itself out. She will call you back in her own time.” She hoped this was true, because dinner had been an interesting start. She found she wanted to see Maaya again. To torment her? To befriend her? She supposed it would have to wait.
“And what am I supposed to do until then?” asked Rhuun.
She considered this, chin in hand. “Well, you could drink and mope, you've certainly elevated that to art form.” He glared at her. “I am saying this as someone who loves you dearly, but you are the most self-absorbed person I have ever met, and that includes your mother.” He looked shocked but she continued. “Let's review. Niico and Daala are dead. Rhoosa is also dead. My brother is now your enemy. My father, your mother, that little girl and the Zaal are all missing, and I am willing to bet they are not vacationing together. There is a city full of people wondering who will be in charge when the dust rises tomorrow morning. Congratulations, you won the election.”
“Oh, no, it’s different now. Without her, I can't—”
“Keep the seat warm until your mother comes back, burn it down and build something different, declare war on the sun and moons, but do something, Rhuun.”
He was silent for a while. “Just so we're clear, you're saying you don't want to get married”
She rolled her eyes. “It just gets funnier every time you say it.”
“Sorry. When I thought of it, it seemed sensible.” She figured that was most of a bottle ago.
She laughed. “Go home. Change your face. Get some rest. And tomorrow go see a man named Zaii, he was my father's administrative assistant. But I think he could care less who sits in the seat as long as the transports go in and out on time. He's clever, he'll help you.”
“When you talk to Ilaan . . .” he began.
“Ilaan prefers not to hear your name,” she said. “So I won't be ferrying apologies.”
“Hardly,” he replied. “When you speak to your brother, tell him as far as The High Seat is concerned, sand has covered his face.” He stood to leave, and taking the last swallow of sarave, threw the empty bottle over the edge. It shattered, returning to dust.
She sat and watched as he walked back towards the city, until he was nothing more than a vanishing speck on the dusty grey horizon.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mistra
“I'm exhausted. Are you exhausted?” May leaned back against the glossy leather seat of the coach and waved out the window at her father. “Bye! Love you!” She pulled the curtain and rubbed her forehead. “I can't wait to get home.”
Rane had already unscrewed his flask and offered it to her. She shook her head. “You make yourself crazy,” he told her. “And I know a thing or two about that.”
Despite herself, she giggled. “You shouldn't talk like that. Anyway . . . oh, let me have it.” She took a sip, made a face, and passed it back. “Anyway, you liked it here, didn't you?”
He pulled the curtains back, since the manor house—it could hardly be described as a farm, despite how they referred to it in the va'Everly family—was now out of sight as the coach rounded a bend. There was nothing but cool, grey-green mountains and pale sky. “You know I wanted to kill you all, but…” He paused, and she thought he looked strange, even for him. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this, but with Father and his friends and everything so busy in the house…”
It had been an unending stream of guests, May couldn't fathom where they all came from. The farm was supposed to be remote. But it seemed that her father had put out the word, and everyone who even thought they might have a chance with a Second had come to call. She'd made a comment over breakfast about charity work, and he'd looked over his spectacles at her with his typical combination of pity and disappointment. At her age, as he liked to remind her, she had best stop scowling and slouching, and asked her in a rather pointed tone who exactly she thought was performing the charity. Their eldest brother, Pol, was no use; all he did was read scripts and hide in his room. Father had met their mother in the little theater group he'd belonged to at University, back when he was a Second, and so h
e found this admirable, his “devotion to art, what have you done for the community lately, May?” And of course, according to Father, Rane could do nothing wrong at all.
She rubbed her head again. It was true that she and Rane barely had a free moment to talk, and that was after a week of her tiptoeing around, afraid he might attack her with a salad fork for the crime of sending him away. But you couldn't make a threat against Rane and then not carry it out. She'd been vastly relieved to find he not only had forgiven her, in his mind he'd turned it into an exciting vacation. And now there was something more.
“This is going to sound so strange,” he said, taking another swallow from his flask.
“What?” May was curious as to what her brother might consider strange.
“It got quieter. Here.” He indicated his head. “All the background sort of got turned down. And then it was gone. No more voices.”
“Darling, you still hear voices?” She thought that had ended years earlier.
“Not anymore.” He leaned back and fiddled with his flask. “I just stopped talking about it, is all. I didn't want to get locked up or something. No, I just did my best to ignore it, and figure out what was a real voice and what was…just voices. It got really bad, though, before I left. Do you know,” he laughed and shook his head. “I actually thought I saw a ghost? It seemed so real, I imagined I spent the whole day getting drunk with it. I was pretty far gone. No, I think you and Pol did me a favor, though it pains me to…He frowned at her. “What's the matter?”
“Oh, Rane. The ghost. We have to talk. Well. Where to begin.” She started with ghosts being real, or not ghosts at all, and finished with Lelet’s second trip to Moth’s home world.
At first, he simply didn't believe her. Then he was furious for being kept in the dark. If he hadn't blamed her for his 'vacation,' he wouldn't forgive her for this. They made the last part of the journey back to the city in stiff silence, and as soon as the coach stopped at their gate, he jumped out and said, “Someone will be around for my things.” Then he disappeared.
Two weeks later, she opened the door to find Lelet, blank-eyed, silent, and alone. She wouldn't say a word of what happened or where Moth had gone, only that he was fine, it was over, and she didn't want to discuss it. She vanished into her room and no amount of knocking or pleading would gain a reply. It was like living with a ghost again.
Stelle said, “Give her time. I'll bet you anything we haven't seen the last of him. And when she gets hungry, she'll eat.”
A week went by, and then another. Finally, as May expected, not having his sisters around to antagonize proved too much, and Rane couldn't stand it anymore. He sent May a note asking her to visit his new little flat on a side street between the Park and Lecturer's Roost. “I hear our wandering sister is home. Bring a nice gift,” the note read, “and we'll talk.”
“Well, when was I going to tell you?” May wanted to know. She handed him a heavy crystal decanter she'd swiped from a set they no longer used. “Ghosts and demons and people from other worlds. It's too much for a letter, and you weren't home.” And, she suspected, he wasn't ready. “How was I to know you saw him also?”
“Where are they now?” Rane asked. He held the crystal to the light and nodded approvingly. “I want to talk to him myself, if he's real. If.”
“That's the thing. You know she's back. He stayed behind. I don't know what happened. I knew she'd come home, but I thought she'd bring Moth back with her. That place he's from, Eriis, it sounds absolutely dreadful.”
“Moth,” Rane repeated. “He never told me his name. Or I don't remember. So, they ran off together and you and Scil have been keeping this from me and Father for all this time. And Pol too, I suppose.”
She colored. “It sounds bad, I know. I just wish I knew what happened. At one point, I thought they might marry. He was so kind, and she seemed so happy.”
“Queen Lelet,” he sneered. “She must have loved the sound of that. Well, that explains all the gossip. I figured she was doing something ridiculous, and with everything Billah's been saying I assumed her mind was starting to go. I just never figured it was all true.” He got up and began poking through the boxes spilling their clothing and books, scarves and gloves on the floor, muttering that he absolutely must make time to finish unpacking. He found one of several labeled 'bar etx' and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He held a glass up, and she shook her head.
“I was going to try and explain. I had a story ready to go.” She frowned. “Does he believe it? Has he said anything?” She thought her father would prefer to forget Lelet existed. She’d tried several times to talk to her father about her sister and the foreign prince, but he’d wave a hand and said it was taken care of. Taken care of, it would appear, by Rane.
“We talked. It was when you were busy playing cards with your friends.”
She dropped her head into her hands. “You sound just like him. Those were father’s friends and he insisted I entertain them. But what did he say? About the gossip?”
He looked at the ceiling, making her wait for her answer. “You know you could have avoided this whole thing if you’d told me what was going on. Fortunately, I was able to convince him it was all just a lot of talk, that Billah was going around making trouble.”
“You’re saying you had a chance to make it worse for Lel, and you didn’t take it.”
“Wonders never cease, do they? Anyway, he was happy to hear another va’Everly hadn’t gone soft in their wits. But,” he added, pouring a drink for himself, “I told him in order to handle everything I needed my own place. I'm to 'report back’ in case Billah—or anyone else—makes another run at the family.” He chuckled and sat again. “So, our Lelly's misfortune worked out for me. Nice place, right?” May made a face. “Oh, I think that girl owes me, after everything that happened. But if I'm to report back, I'll need that story you mentioned. So what should I tell him?”
“Tell him what Stelle and I are telling everyone, and what Althee is saying. What I was planning on telling him. You were on the right track, pinning the talk on Billah. We’re saying he’s hanging with a bad crowd and making up tales to hurt the reputation of a family that only showed him kindness. When his relationship with Lel ran its course, instead of being a gentleman, he fell back into the habits of his people and lashed out.”
Rane looked impressed. “His people. That is classist, elitist, and best of all, a complete lie. Father will love it.”
“And as far as what Lel's been up to, she was involved with the son of a noble family in the Southern Provinces. There were rumors of a coup, and she came home. Sad, but a real opportunity for her to learn about the world. No madness, no demons, nothing to be ashamed of.”
“That sounds pretty close to the truth.” Rane sipped his drink. “So, she was never hearing voices, and there really is another place?”
“Neither she nor Scilla heard anything that wasn't calling them. And that place is real.”
“Then what about me?” He leaned forward. “What have I been hearing? And why did it stop?”
“I think I'll take that drink after all, if you have port.” She watched him move around the room. “Stelle thinks our family is somehow…connected. To the demon world. She thinks we've been hearing shouting through a wall, sort of. Through the Veil. Some of us.”
“Mother,” he said, and raised his glass in a toast. “Like Mother.”
She nodded and tapped his glass with her own. “We think her Gentleman was one of them. We may even know which one.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eriis
Yuenne had always been a firm believer in respectful distance, so in all his years of service, Zaii had spent little time with the Counselor's family. Beyond fetching a gift for Siia or ferrying the children about when they were still young enough to need an escort, he only knew them well enough to smile and nod. He found Siia pleasant, if quiet, and as the children grew, he came to think Aelle was somewhat plain in her ambition. He
felt the boy Ilaan was something of a show-off, although he clearly had been graced with many of Aa's gifts, so perhaps that was proper. Either way, Zaii kept his opinions to himself. Yuenne treated him rather like a piece of furniture, perhaps a coat hook; to be used when necessary and then ignored. And so just by hanging behind the man's elbow, he came to learn the Counselor's thoughts on many things. The Queen, for instance. They shared the opinion that she was vain and not as clever as she liked to believe. (Again, Zaii kept his unsolicited thoughts in his mouth.) As for her son, Zaii couldn't help but wonder how the young man, according to Yuenne's many muttered curses, could be both simple in his wits and crafty enough to put a foot through every plan. He had little enough to do with the prince to have no opinion at all other than the commonly shared perception; a drunk, a cripple, a shame. And of course, ugly enough to scare the whiskers off a jumpmouse.
A good while after Yuenne's departure, and shortly after the Glass Girl vanished from Eriis, Zaii was surprised one afternoon to receive a summons to meet with the prince. He put on his fourth best tunic and set off for the palace. It was late when he returned to his home.
“Well?” His husband Liim handed him a cup of sarave and raised the light of the glowstones in their study. “Half the night's gone, you two must have had a lot to talk about.”
“He was…unexpected.” Zaii took a sip and tried to arrange his thoughts. “Once one gets acclimated to his looks, it appears there is a quick and active mind at work. I may have been wrong about him. Do you know, he asked me to stay for dinner? Asked me.”
Liim folded the fourth best tunic over a chair and snorted a laugh. “How many times did you sit for dinner with Yuenne? Did he ever 'ask' you?”
“Certainly not. But Yuenne had a wife and a family. The prince has neither.” In fact, Zaii had to hide his surprise at Rhuun's empty office and equally empty suite of rooms. They had been recently remodeled. Once the Glass Girl had departed, the prince had fled the top floor gallery the two had shared and finally bowed to tradition, taking up residence in the family wing of the palace. It was a large, airy space that reflected the prince's peculiar taste, colors that hadn't been seen in a generation. Zaii found it distressing to the eye, but things the prince had picked up from the humans he was reluctant to set down. Compared to the constant stream of guests and petitioners in and out of the queen's court, and Yuenne's busy household, the prince seemed quite abandoned. Zaii saw a large, strange man in a large space full of strange things. It felt like an opportunity.
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