She changed the subject. “The fountain in the courtyard. You should destroy it. People are talking about the Alanga returning. You know it’s not just a fountain now. It’s an artifact that might be used against you should they return.”
The woman on her father’s arm paled.
“You’re not the governor yet,” he said lightly. “The eyes closed. Nothing has happened. It’s been part of the courtyard for generations. It’s the Emperor’s job to keep the Alanga away, and the Sukais have done a fair job of that for hundreds of years. I’m not sure why we should stop trusting them now.”
Where she would have normally shrugged off her father’s complacency, now it bothered her, like an itch she couldn’t scratch. “I should go,” Phalue said, pushing herself to her feet.
“Already? You’ve barely eaten.”
“I’m meeting Ranami in the city. We’re visiting the countryside.” The truth, yet not the truth. They weren’t visiting. They were stealing caro nuts. The thought made her belly churn and swoop, a wave crashing over rocky ground.
“I’m so glad you’ve made amends with her,” her father said, reaching for a banana. “I’d rather you married another noble, but I suppose urging you to that would be a bit hypocritical of me.” He pressed his lips together as he focused on peeling the fruit. “But you should get married, foster some children, choose an heir. I won’t live for ever.”
With the way he drank and hid in his palace, it would be a fair bit shorter than “for ever.” Phalue shook her head. “I’m not having this conversation again. I’ll get married in my own time.” Which apparently was when Ranami was ready. If she ever was ready. “I’ll try to be back for dinner.”
“If you see your mother,” her father said, “tell her to come visit.”
Phalue only shrugged at the suggestion and strode out the door. Her mother hated to visit.
Ranami was waiting for her at the door of her home; Phalue barely had to knock before she answered.
“You’re late,” she said, her cheeks flushed. She stepped out and shut the door. It was quietly done, but sharply, in a way that made Phalue very aware that she’d angered Ranami.
“I was held up at lunch with my father.”
“You’re not taking this seriously.” Ranami looked to the sky, peering at the clouds in a vain effort to find the sun. “We need to hurry. It will take time to get to the farms, and we need to avoid being seen by any of the overseers.” She shoved a rough brown cloak into Phalue’s hands. “Do you have to wear the sword? It’s going to stick out.”
The cloak was a little small for someone of Phalue’s size, brushing just below mid-calf when she put it on. And the sword did stick out. “I can strap it to my back.” She unbuckled her belt and refastened it around her shoulders like a bandolier. “There.”
Ranami only gave her an exasperated, skeptical look, and then grabbed her hand. “It’ll have to do.”
They walked out of the city together, and despite Ranami’s irritation, she didn’t let go of Phalue’s hand. Stone streets turned to dirt and mud; tiled roofs turned to thatch. The buildings diminished into the trees and brush of the forest.
It was an adventure of sorts, or at least as close to one as Phalue would ever get. She’d agreed to help the Shardless reluctantly, but what harm would stealing a few nuts do? And what could possibly happen to her if she got caught?
They paid an ox cart for a ride out to the farms. The cart swayed and creaked at each pit in the road, and Phalue watched Ranami stare into the trees. A breeze caught at her long, dark hair, and the backdrop of cloudy sky made Ranami look like a storm goddess. Even wrapped in a rough brown cloak, she was beautiful. It was the determination in her jaw and the set of her lips, the slight bit of worry at her brow, her dark and solemn eyes. “I’ll read those books you wanted me to. When we get back,” Phalue said.
“You always say that,” Ranami said, her voice distant.
Phalue reached out for her, putting an arm about her shoulders, pulling her in close, kissing the crease between her brows. I’m sorry. She willed Ranami to understand. This was important to Ranami so Phalue would have to make it important to her. Ranami let out a little sigh and leaned in. They fit together like two sides of the same nut. At times like this, everything felt so right between them.
It began to rain just before they got to the farms. Phalue didn’t remember what a wet season was like; it had been seven years since the last one. Somewhere in the closet back at home was an oilskin coat that no longer fit her. The rough cloak did a fair job of keeping the moisture out, and the rain would only help them avoid being seen. As soon as the orchard appeared ahead, Ranami rapped her knuckles against the cart. “We’ll get off here, thank you.”
Phalue took Ranami’s hand and helped her from the cart. Rain weighed down the hood of Phalue’s cloak, the cloth sticking to her forehead. Back in the city, the children would be running about in the streets, amazed that so much water could fall from the sky. As the years wore on, they’d begin to long for sunny, clear skies. For now, though, the rain was something to be welcomed.
Mud squelched below their feet as they ran for the nearest hut, where Gio said he’d meet them. Phalue had to knock twice at the stoop before the door swung open with a creak.
“You’re late,” Gio said when he opened the door.
Phalue did her best not to roll her eyes. “I’m here, and this place isn’t exactly close to the city. I agreed to help, so let’s get this done.”
Ranami and Gio exchanged glances.
“Come in,” Gio said finally. “You’re getting soaked to the bone out there.”
As they strode inside, Ranami loosed her hand from Phalue’s grip and took a step away. Phalue had the odd sense that Ranami was somewhat ashamed of her. But she couldn’t address that now.
The hut turned out to be only marginally drier. The floor was of rough-hewn boards, with gaps in places wide enough to fit mice through. The thatch leaked in a few spots, and a man was in the middle of putting bowls down to catch the falling water. The droplets tinked against the clay, creating a strange symphony.
In the room just off the main one, Phalue saw a young woman with a baby cradled in her arms. She swayed back and forth and cooed to the child, the floorboards creaking with each shift of her weight.
The only lavishness in all the hut was a thick rug. Worn and faded in places, but with an intricate vining pattern.
Ranami nodded to Gio, and then went to the man setting the bowls down. His hair was streaked with silver, his dark eyes almost as large as Ranami’s. He had a gentle slope for a nose, generous lips and a strong, pointed chin. He stood up and opened his arms to her.
When they’d finished embracing, Ranami turned to Phalue. “Phalue, this is my brother, Halong.”
Phalue felt the world go still. Ranami hadn’t mentioned any family. As far as she knew, Ranami had grown up alone on the streets.
“Not by blood,” Halong said, a fond smile on his lips. “But when you’re scrounging for meals in the gutters, if you find someone you can trust, you’ve found something more valuable than gold.”
“It’s good to meet you,” Phalue said. She pressed her hand over her heart in greeting, and Halong did the same. His smile faded when he did so, though.
For the first time in a long time, Phalue felt out of place. What was she doing here, with the leader of the Shardless Few and a caro nut farmer? Was this really what Ranami wanted? She was the daughter of the island’s governor – didn’t that mean anything? When she let her hand fall back to her side, she felt it curl into a fist. To them she must seem a gilded brute, fed from her father’s generous table, her simple clothes still sporting embroidery at the cuffs and collar. She tugged the rough cloak tighter around herself, heedless of the rain that still clung to it. “My name is Phalue,” she said.
“I know who you are, Sai.” Halong raked her over with his gaze.
Ranami placed a hand on his elbow. “She’s here to help.”
Gio stepped forward, his thumbs hooked into his belt. “The plan is simple, and only needs a few people. Phalue, you distract the overseer and his underlings when he counts the boxes for shipment. Halong works at the warehouse. He’ll trade three out for dummy boxes while you’re distracting everyone. Ranami will take the real boxes and give them to one of the farmers.”
Phalue was shaking her head before Gio had finished. “I don’t like it. It risks Ranami too much. Everyone expects to see this man at the warehouse, but if they catch her with the boxes, she’ll be in trouble that even I don’t think I can save her from. And who is this farmer she’s taking the boxes to? Can we even trust him?” The introduction of these people that Ranami knew that Phalue had never even known about – it put her off balance. She was fumbling, trying to find her way back to solid ground.
“I know this isn’t a game,” Ranami said, her voice clear, her chin raised. “If there are consequences, so be it.”
“Are we doing this now? Do I at least have the chance to meet this farmer who is holding your life in his hands?”
Ranami’s lips pressed into a line. “Come on,” she said, seizing Phalue’s hand. “If this doesn’t get through to you, I don’t know what will.” She led her back out into the rain.
“Why are you so insistent that I need to be ‘gotten through to’?” The rain slicked Phalue’s hair to her cheeks, running in cold rivulets to the base of her throat. “I’ll admit, this Halong has a small house – though not as small as yours – and owns little enough. But he seems well fed, and he has a family. He grew up as a gutter orphan, but he did well for himself. He worked hard.”
Ranami wheeled on her, wrenching her hand from Phalue’s. “Is that what you see? A simple life but well enough? Yes, Halong has worked hard and does well for himself. He does better than well by the standard of gutter orphans. Most of the children I knew died. I did things I’m not proud of just to get a bite to eat. So did Halong. And though Halong does have a wife and a family, his firstborn died of bog cough. And yes, he still does well for himself! He farms and he works in the warehouse. He gets up before dawn to work the fields he purchased from your father with his promise of giving all the crops over. And because that’s still not enough, he works in the warehouse too so his family can live in a hut that has more than one room.
“Is well what you see when you look at him? I have to wonder, then, what you see when you look at me.”
“And this is why I always bring coin with me when I go into the city. To give to the gutter orphans. Someday, I hope to adopt one or two. But there will always be suffering. I can’t fix everything!”
But Ranami had already turned and was marching off through the trees toward a larger building down the slope. Phalue wanted to call after her, to tell her what she saw. She saw a stubborn woman. She saw a soft and gentle heart wrapped around an indomitable will. She saw the woman that she loved, forged by terrible experiences – experiences she’d never bothered to tell Phalue about. Instead, she merely gritted her teeth. “You’re impossible.” The wind and rain ate her words. If Ranami heard them at all, she gave no sign.
Phalue had to rush to keep up with her.
At the bottom of the slope, Ranami wrenched open the door to the building and stalked inside.
It looked larger close up. Phalue paused to crane her neck up to the thatch roof. All the windows had been shuttered against the rain. It didn’t look like someone’s house. It looked more like . . . a barn. Phalue ducked inside.
Only two lamps lit the entire space, so it took time for Phalue’s eyes to adjust. She smelled the people before she could see them. It smelled like dried sweat, made damp by the rain again, like breath gone bad, like old soup kept too long on the fire. The dark outlines of them became clear. Beds, piled on top of one another, and people piled into the beds. Someone coughed in the darkness. Phalue stumbled forward, trying to find Ranami. It was like swimming in a dark ocean filled with seaweed. “Ranami.”
And then she was there, in front of her, smelling sweet and clean. Phalue wrapped her fingers around the hem of Ranami’s shirt, clinging to her the way she would a buoy.
“This is where most of the farmers live,” Ranami said. “This is the living your father provides for them. If they want to grow enough nuts, most of the land must be used for the caro trees.”
Phalue had seen the conditions some of the gutter orphans lived in from a distance. She knew intellectually that their conditions were grim. Yet the press of these bodies, all this life crowded under one roof was a world she’d not experienced. She’d never been in the midst of it, asked to do more than to toss a few coins in charity. She glanced to the side and saw a father and son on a bed, all their worldly belongings on a shelf behind them. “Can we speak outside?”
“No,” Ranami said. She was a torch of anger, a burning spot in a sea of gray. “This is what your father does. He builds extensions onto his palace with his money and doesn’t spare anything to provide a better living for the farmers. You think this is much different than how I grew up? But they are not on the streets. They do well enough for themselves.”
Phalue heard the twist in Ranami’s voice when she said “well enough”, and she wished she’d never said it in the first place. There would be no reasoning with her at the moment. She sidled closer to her. She couldn’t be sure in the darkness but she felt gazes lingering on her, tendrils tickling at the back of her neck. “Which farmer is the one you trust?” she whispered.
Ranami looked at her as though she had peeled a banana, thrown it away and then consumed the peel. “All of them, Phalue. I’m bringing the boxes back to all of them.”
“How can you be sure—?”
“Because I’m just like them. I got lucky, if you could call it that, taking an apprenticeship with a bookseller who taught me to read because it made me more valuable to him. Treating me just like one of his books, putting his hands all over me in places I couldn’t grab back fast enough. But without that, I would have taken your father’s stupid bargain just to get off the streets. These people here have all lost people they love. The bog cough, other sicknesses, falling from trees while harvesting. How long will it be until you are governor?”
Guilt trickled into Phalue’s chest. “When my father is ready to retire.”
“And as long as he decides he’s not ready to pass on his title, you wait, patient and comfortable, while these people die,” Ranami said, her face thrust into Phalue’s own.
Phalue couldn’t hold her gaze. She couldn’t bear to be here, stifled among the beds and the coughing. She whirled, striding to the door like she was coming up for air. The rain hit her face, and even the chill of it couldn’t wash away the shame. But these people had chosen this. They’d made a bargain with her father. The land and a small cut of the profits for the caro nuts and the work. No one had forced them to it.
And then she remembered the meal she’d had before leaving her father’s palace. The cold noodles in peanut sauce, the rich and spicy goat curry, the greens cooked to the translucent shade of jade. Everything festooned with flowers, artfully painted on the side with sauces. The wooden beams above her head painted in gold and red.
If not for the apprenticeship with a bookseller, Ranami could have been one of them. Perhaps she would have worked her way into a position like Halong’s.
Perhaps not. She couldn’t believe that every one of these people crammed into this space were lazy.
So either her father dealt with these people unfairly, or they were simply worth less. And knowing Ranami, loving her, Phalue couldn’t wrap her mind around the latter.
Yes, she helped the orphans when she went into the city. Perhaps there would always be orphans. Phalue did what she could with her allowance, but it would never be enough. What would be enough when she was governor?
Ranami’s righteousness made her vulnerable. Phalue had sat in her father’s court. She knew the vagaries of human nature. Being leader of the Shardless and spouting ideal
s did not make Gio virtuous. Being poor did not make these people trustworthy.
But none of this changed the fact that Ranami was right: what Phalue was doing now was woefully inadequate. If she was to rule these people, she had to truly fight for them. And she’d never backed down from a fight.
She took in a few deep breaths, the air cooling the heat in her chest. She’d rather have faced a thousand swords. Nonetheless, she pivoted and plunged back into the darkness of the farmers’ home. It took her a moment to find Ranami, who was speaking to a farmer sitting at one of the few tables in the building. The dim light cast them in faded shades, like a rug that had seen too much sun.
In two quick strides, Phalue was at Ranami’s side. She took her hand. If Ranami would not protect herself, then Phalue would have to do it for her.
Ranami let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you trying to propose to me again? Every fight we have doesn’t mean I’m about to leave you. And if I were about to leave you, I’d just leave.”
“No.” All the words she wanted to say were tight in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. “I want to help. I really want to help.”
Ranami brushed the wet hair back from Phalue’s cheeks, her touch a caress. “I know.” She squeezed Phalue’s hand. “This has to happen soon. We’ll need a distraction.”
Phalue coughed in an attempt to hide the tears in the back of her throat. “Yes. I’ll give you one. A large enough one for you to steal a hundred boxes of caro nuts.”
Ranami laughed and seized Phalue’s ears, bringing her face down to eye level. “Just the few, love. That’s well enough.”
20
Jovis
Somewhere in the Endless Sea
I dropped the children off on Unta, with the woman from the Shardless Few. She glanced at my tattoo, more than a little awe in her gaze. “How did you do it?” she asked. “How many did you have to fight?”
“A dozen,” I told her glibly before turning to leave. It hadn’t occurred to me until the island was out of view that she might not have known I wasn’t serious. I made good time, gliding through the Monkey’s Tail like a feather in a stream, even without witstone. Everything seemed to come easier – hoisting the sails, trimming and hauling up the anchor after we’d made port. Mephi took his turn at the sail a couple of times, though he seemed to tire quickly. The isolation on the ocean gave me time – perhaps too much – to think things through.
The Bone Shard Daughter: The Drowning Empire Book One Page 16
