by Sharon Shinn
Marguerite shook her head. “I am closely watched. We all are. If I were to suddenly disappear, they would look for me.”
“And Nico and his uncle know that you consider the temple a safe haven,” I said. “They would come here immediately.”
Marguerite slumped back in her chair. “There are no safe havens,” she said in a weary voice. “Not for me.”
Taeline squeezed her hands more tightly, then released her. “We will find one,” she promised, coming to her feet. “We will discover a way out of this mess.”
The rest of us stood up as well, though I didn’t make my usual effort to mimic Marguerite’s movements. I was trying to decide if I should offer to leave them alone so they could talk in private, but I couldn’t think of a casual way to phrase it. There wasn’t time, anyway—we heard voices in the hallway and it was clear a group was arriving.
“We have to leave,” Marguerite said. “I fret if I’m gone from the palace too long, in case there’s news while I’m away.” Her voice broke a little as she added, “But it was so good to see you and to share this terrible burden! I know you’re leaving in a few days—I know you might not be able to help me—but just being able to tell you all of this …”
Taeline threw her arms around Marguerite, and for a moment the two of them rocked together like lost sailors who had finally found solid ground. I turned to face the wall—and Patience and Purpose followed my lead, not Marguerite’s, so the three of us had our backs to the two of them. “I’m so glad I’m here,” I heard Taeline whisper. “I wish I had been here sooner. I don’t know what I can do for you, but I promise you, I will not make you endure this alone.”
There was a moment of silence—there might have been a quick kiss—and then the sound of the door opening. I turned around to see Taeline exiting into the hallway, Marguerite at her heels. The echoes and I followed.
We had only taken a few steps toward the stairway when we encountered a woman whom I immediately took to be the abbess of this temple. She looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties, with thick gray hair piled on top of her head in a neat bun. But it was more the expression on her face that led me to guess her station. It was hard to describe it—a cross between kindness and implacability, I thought. This was someone who knew how rough the world could be, who had seen every imaginable transgression, yet still believed that there were unshakable moral principles that would guide all of us along the rocky path. She would forgive, I thought, but she would not yield. I wondered what she would say if she knew all the particulars of Marguerite’s situation.
It seemed unlikely she would learn them today, though Taeline did pause to introduce Marguerite, and Marguerite did bow her head to receive the traditional benediction from the formidable woman.
“How much longer do you plan to be in Camarria?” the abbess inquired civilly.
When she answered, Marguerite’s voice was as steady as if she hadn’t been sobbing just a few minutes ago. “About three weeks. Perhaps longer if the prince invites any of us to extend our stay.”
The abbess bestowed a shrewd glance on her at that answer; my guess was that court gossip made its way to the temple with commendable speed, so she was aware that Marguerite was considered the top candidate to be Cormac’s bride. “If you are here through the end of the year, we will expect to see you on Counting Day.”
I knew about Counting Day, of course. Once a year, early in winter, all the nobles with echoes were commanded to appear at the nearest temple so the goddess could get a complete record of all the echoes in the kingdom. It was said that if any nobles failed to comply, their echoes would simply disappear the following day. As Nico had told me, the echoes were considered gifts from the goddess, and what she had given, she could also take away. I had no idea if any of the nobles had ever ignored the directive and, if so, whether their echoes had really vanished. I knew that if I had been a noble, I wouldn’t have taken the risk.
“If I am here that long, I will certainly do so,” Marguerite answered. “I have never been outside of Oberton on Counting Day, so it will be strange to observe it at a different temple.”
“Come early,” the abbess advised. “It will be crowded.”
Taeline spoke up. “I have never been outside Oberton on Counting Day, either, but there are only a few dozen nobles with echoes in all of Orenza. Are there so many more in Sammerly?”
The abbess nodded. “When I was a young priestess, more than thirty years ago, the numbers of echoes had dwindled to the lowest point in history. It was quite easy to count them, since there were so few! The kingdom had been at peace for so long that there seemed to be very little reason for the goddess to continue producing echoes for their original purpose—that is, keeping the leaders of the country safe from harm. But lately—” She paused and gave a little shrug.
“You have seen an increase in echoes?” Marguerite prompted.
“We have. Family after family coming to the temples with newborn babies and their attendant shadows. This has caused me to wonder if there is some threat to the kingdom in the making, and the goddess is preparing for it.”
“Although I don’t know how much help babies will be in defending the country,” Taeline said practically.
The abbess smiled. “No. Of course not. But some of those echoes are adults by now, since their numbers started rising about twenty-two or twenty-three years ago. So perhaps the threat—if there is a threat—is almost at hand.”
Marguerite’s face showed a faint alarm. “I don’t like to gainsay you, but I hope there is no danger in the offing!”
“I hope the same, naturally,” the abbess said.
Behind us, we heard a woman’s voice call out, and the abbess nodded to us formally. “I must go. I enjoyed the chance to meet you, Lady Marguerite. Perhaps in the future we will have the opportunity to speak again.”
A few moments later, the five of us had climbed the metal stairwell and emerged into the sanctuary. Taeline carefully closed the door behind us, and once again the central column looked like nothing more than a highly decorative closet in the middle of the temple.
“Peace follow you and the goddess rest your soul,” Taeline said, touching her fingertips to Marguerite’s forehead, heart, and lips. “We will stay in touch. Something will occur to us to get you out of this trouble.”
“Thank you,” Marguerite whispered. “Just for being here.”
Taeline turned to me and I bowed my head for my own benediction. “Goddess watch over you,” she murmured, and then, even more softly, “and please, you watch over Marguerite.”
“I will,” I replied, my voice as quiet as hers. Then I followed Marguerite and the echoes out of the building and into the sunshine.
Once we crossed the bridge, I fell in step beside Marguerite, while the echoes trailed behind. Marguerite had seemed very calm as she spoke to the abbess but now, as we walked along, her breath would occasionally catch, as if the memory of grief had caught her unaware. This time we didn’t detour through the flower market, but headed straight back toward the palace.
We had traveled in silence for about ten minutes before I asked, “How long have you loved Taeline?”
Marguerite gave me a quick sideways look, but seeing no judgment in my expression, her own face relaxed. “For years, I think. Before I even knew what love was. I met her when I was sixteen because it had become fashionable for the nobles of Oberton to give their daughters a religious education. Taeline was twenty and still an acolyte, but she came to the palace once a week for a year to teach me about the goddess. We talked about everything. We stayed in touch once my studies were done, though we didn’t get together as often. At first, I didn’t understand why I was so unhappy in the weeks when I didn’t see Taeline. I didn’t even know it was possible for a woman to fall in love with a woman. I didn’t know what love felt like.” She gestured. “And then I did.”
“And she loves you, too?”
Marguerite nodded. “For all the good it will do eith
er of us.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if you can’t be together—even if you know it won’t have a happy ending—you have to be grateful for love every time it’s in your life. It’s so rare and precious. It’s something you share with one other person, and no one else understands how you feel or what you have. It’s like a language that only two people will ever know, and you can’t ever be sorry you learned it, even if you never get a chance to speak it again.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the small smile on her face. “I like that description,” she says. “I have just been used to thinking it is such a great and terrible tragedy of my life, that I cannot be with Taeline.”
“How much more terrible would it be if you’d never known her?” I said. “Now you’ll have this memory forever to carry with you wherever you go. To warm you on cold nights and give you strength when you’re feeling weak. I think that’s what love is supposed to do, even if you can’t have it as long as you like.”
Marguerite took a deep breath. “Yes. You’re right. I will hold on to it like a jewel and wear it against my heart the rest of my life. Even if my life isn’t very long.”
“Don’t say that.”
She was silent for a moment, thinking something over. “Did you hear what the abbess said? About the echoes?”
“Counting them, you mean?” I replied cautiously. I knew that wasn’t what she referred to.
“No. About how there have been so many more echoes born in the past few years. About how the goddess knows the kingdom is heading for trouble.” She took a deep breath. “Headed for war, maybe. War that will happen because I did a terrible thing and so I could not marry the prince and I failed to unite the provinces—”
An echo would not have done it, but I briefly laid my hand on her arm in a comforting gesture. “That’s not the way I interpreted her comment.”
“There’s no other way to interpret it!”
“Oh, yes, there is. When did she say the echoes started increasing in numbers?”
Marguerite frowned. “I don’t remember.”
“Twenty-three years ago. What was happening at that time?”
“I was born! And all the goddess did was look at me and she realized I was dangerous.”
I couldn’t help laughing, but I shook my head. “Twenty-three years ago, King Harold married Queen Tabitha.”
She glanced over at me, an arrested expression on her face. “Why would that have put the kingdom at risk?”
I shrugged. “Nico told me they hate each other. The king thinks she might have killed his son.”
“But she didn’t.”
“No, but if Harold believes she’s capable of murder, what else does he think she might do? What would he do to stop her? If the goddess is trying to prepare the country for war, I think she’s looking at events that happened long before you encountered Jamison on the road.”
She dropped her gaze to the road before her and walked on for a while in silence. “Maybe,” she said at last. “I can’t judge. I’m having a hard time thinking about anything beyond my own situation.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. “But we’ll get through it. We just have to be careful. And clever. And brave.”
“And lucky.”
“And lucky,” I repeated. That was the attribute that worried me most. So far, we’d been clever enough to make it through, even when we weren’t careful; so far, we had managed to summon courage when we had to.
But you never have any control over your luck. You never know when it will gather you close with a reassuring whisper or fling you away with a jeering laugh. And the longer we were in Camarria, I feared, the more fickle our luck would become.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The afternoon was quiet, but a few of the nobles had exerted themselves to make the evening agreeable by organizing an impromptu musical evening. There were no paid musicians on hand, but it turned out that a number of the royal guests could play an instrument or hold a tune. And so could their echoes. I was surprised and impressed when Nigel and his two shadows each took up small stringed instruments and settled themselves on the low stage to play. From what I could tell—not being a musician myself—they all produced identical notes, all at the same time, but the addition of the echoes’ instruments gave the piece resonance and depth.
A performance by the Banchura triplets was even more impressive. They ranged themselves on the dais, the sisters in front, their echoes behind them, and proceeded to sing a wistful ballad in close three-part harmony. Their echoes did not sing, of course, but they hummed along with their originals, note for note; their unearthly, inhuman voices gave the entire piece a haunting, unsettling quality. Even the bored nobles in the audience were moved by the presentation, and everyone applauded madly once it was over.
“I’m glad I have no pretensions to musical ability,” Marguerite remarked to Darrily when it was over, though I was sure she was really letting me know that we would not be the next ones up on that stage. “I would not like to try to follow such an act.”
Elyssa, sitting with Deryk a row behind, was close enough to overhear. “No, indeed, they are quite talented,” she said in her usual hateful way. “If their father ever loses his fortune, they could go on the road and sing for money. I’m sure they would be quite popular.”
Darrily gave her one brief, cool glance. “Let’s hope your father is never impoverished,” she said. “Since I can’t imagine how you would earn your keep.”
Marguerite never enjoyed such sparring, so I was not surprised when she soon made her excuses and headed up to her room. I helped her undress and get ready for bed, even though it was relatively early. The emotional stresses of the day had left her drained.
“I think I’ll swing by the kitchens and see if I can learn anything new from the servants,” I said casually. This was a partial lie, since I had not been entirely truthful with Marguerite about how much time I was spending with Nico. She knew that I had spoken to him a few times, but not how long the conversations had lasted or how often they had ended in a kiss. I didn’t want her worrying that I might be tricked into an indiscretion; she had so much else to worry about.
“You’ll stay in your own room tonight?” she asked.
I nodded. “I must do so sometimes. I’ll be back early in the morning.”
“All right, then. Goodnight.”
I did stop by the kitchens, but just long enough to see if the cook had any gossip to share. Not ten minutes later, I was out the side door and hurrying toward the garden. Night had fallen some time ago, but the air was still warm with the sticky heat of late summer. Between the moonlight and the faint illumination spilling from the palace windows, I had just enough light to see my way down the path and up the sloped wooden arch of the white bridge.
Nico wasn’t there and I was more tired than I’d realized, so I sank into a sitting position and rested my back against the latticework supporting the railing. It was the first moment of solitude I’d had all day, and I spent it thinking over Marguerite’s relationship with Taeline. Despite my encouraging speech to Marguerite, I could see no way that situation didn’t end in heartbreak, particularly if Marguerite married the prince. I thought perhaps Taeline had requested the transfer to Thelleron with the hope that starting a new life would help her endure the heartache once Marguerite married Cormac or some high noble. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that, among the priestesses, romances were fairly common. Taeline might have realized long before Marguerite that she was falling in love where she had little chance of happiness. But that didn’t mean she was any more prepared to endure the pain of its inevitable ending.
I drew my legs up and rested my cheek against my knee. And how will she endure the pain of her lover being arrested for murder?
But that wouldn’t happen. We would be clever and careful and lucky and brave …
I saw no one exiting from the palace, heard no footsteps approaching, but I felt a slight vibration in the bridge as some
one began to climb it. I lifted my head and saw a shadow moving through the darkness. “Nico?” I called in a low voice.
“So you are here,” he said, finishing the climb and dropping down beside me. “I didn’t see you, but I thought I would come up and wait for a few minutes anyway.”
“I was too tired to stand,” I said. “Lately, every day seems three days long.”
“It has been a hard stretch,” he agreed. He slipped an arm around my shoulders and leaned in for a quick kiss before settling back against the bridge. I liked the casualness of the kiss, the fact that it seemed natural and expected. I liked that he pulled me against him almost absentmindedly, and took my hand in his free one, and played with my triskele ring as if these were all just normal parts of his day. I liked thinking that this was what my life could be like.
If my life was utterly and completely different than it was going to be.
“Did something happen to make today particularly hard?” I asked in a sympathetic voice.
He hesitated, then nodded. “They’ve found another body.”
I scrambled to a more upright sitting position, but managed not to dislodge my hand from Nico’s light grip. “Another body? Another murder? Oh, no! Where?”
“In the lake. Where they found Jamison.”
Goddess have mercy on my soul. They’d discovered Prudence. “I don’t understand,” I said. “Is some crazy person just killing people and throwing them into the water?”
“It’s certainly a possibility,” he said. “But my uncle believes the deaths are related in some fashion.”
“Why?”
“The bodies seem to have decomposed at about the same rate. Meaning they were probably placed in the water at about the same time. And therefore killed around the same time.”
“Maybe they killed each other,” I suggested. “Although I don’t know how they would have ended up in the water, then.”
