by Sharon Shinn
“Did you tell Darien you were going to do this?”
“It just now occurred to me.”
“Maybe you should wait. Maybe you should see if he would prefer to handle this matter another way.”
Corene’s smile had grown to a wicked dazzle. “I don’t feel like waiting,” she said, limping straight toward the raised platform that held the sisters, her cane making a staccato sound against the hard ground. Josetta trailed helplessly behind.
It was less than five minutes before one of the blind women was free, and Corene climbed carefully up the stairs, then plopped herself down in front of the seer. Josetta followed more slowly and knelt behind Corene, a little to one side. Corene and the blind sister both sat cross-legged on the warm wood of the planking, Corene staring fiercely at the sister and the large woman staring sightlessly back.
“I have a story to tell you,” Corene said. “Do I just say it while you listen?”
“What do you want to buy with your story?” the woman answered in a deep, peaceful voice. “Is there something you want to know in return?”
“I don’t think so,” Corene said. “I just want you to spread this story to anyone who asks.”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s a man named Dominic Wollimer,” Corene said, her voice confident and precise. “He’s married to a woman named Alys, and I used to live with them. Whenever he caught me alone in the house, he would back me into a wall and put his hands all over me. Twice he came into my room at night and climbed into bed with me, but he was so drunk that I could run out of the door before he came after me. After that I had one of the maids sleep in my room. A few days ago he tried to kidnap me. I don’t know what he would have done with me then. He’s bad. Everyone should know just how bad.”
Josetta was staring at her, dumb with horror, but the blind sister just nodded, her face still serene. Josetta imagined the old woman had heard worse atrocities over the decades. In fact, Josetta had, too, during the quintiles that she had worked in the slums, but she hadn’t heard anything so bad that had happened to Corene. Well, since that time five years ago when Vernon had tried to marry her off to the corrupt old viceroy of Soeche-Tas . . .
“As it happens, I have a story it might interest you to hear,” said the old woman. “I think the price of the two pieces of information is relatively equal, so no money needs to change hands.”
“All right.”
“This Dominic Wollimer. He has just purchased a very large share in a factory down by the southern port.”
“A factory that supplies elaymotive parts?” Corene asked. Most of the manufacturing down at the docks was centered around the smoker cars; anyone who hadn’t already bought into the transportation business was desperately trying to rectify the omission now.
“No. A textile plant that processes cotton. His partner didn’t think Dominic’s credit was good enough, so he had to put down cash. All in gold pieces.”
“Darien will want to know that,” Josetta whispered, and Corene nodded. Social ruin, financial ruin—any way they could harm Dominic sounded appealing.
“Thank you,” Corene said, using her cane to push herself to her feet. Josetta rose more nimbly. “Don’t forget to tell everyone what I told you.”
The two princesses had turned toward the stairs when the sister said, “One more thing.”
They both looked back at her. “Yes?” Corene asked.
“His wife. Alys. She’s expecting a child.”
For a moment, Josetta thought Corene had turned to ice, she stood so still and turned so cold. When she spoke, her voice was as chilly as the Marisi in winter. “Really? When is the baby due?”
“At the end of Quinnasweela or the beginning of Quinnelay.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll do everything in her power to make sure the baby is born in Quinnasweela,” Corene said. “She wouldn’t want anything but a child of fire.”
“Sometimes the baby has something to say about that,” the sister replied.
“You don’t know Alys,” Corene said. “Thank you. Do I owe you anything for that piece of knowledge?”
The blind woman waved a hand. “Soon enough everyone will know. It is information with very little value.”
Corene fumbled in her pocket anyway, and leaned over to press one of her silver coins in the old woman’s hand. “Value enough for me,” she said. “Thank you again.”
Josetta thought Corene looked a little unsteady as they climbed down the stairs, back into the color and gaiety of the Plaza. She wanted to hover close, take Corene’s hand, suggest they sit down a moment, perhaps find a refreshment stand. But Corene’s pale skin had flushed; the ice had melted in a fiery surge of temper, and Josetta figured she wasn’t safe to touch.
Probably not safe to speak to, either, not if she didn’t want to cause a scene right there in the middle of the Plaza. Alys pregnant! It seemed like such a stupid, careless thing for the queen to do, because a baby complicated everything. It tied her inextricably to Dominic, so she would not be able to cast him off if news of his sins spread far enough to turn him into a liability. It limited her freedom, during the duration of her pregnancy, at least, and Alys hated to be left out of any plan. It diminished her political power, because there were always people who considered a pregnant woman or a new mother to be vulnerable and soft. Those people didn’t know Alys, of course, but they could be excused for discounting her during her maternity.
But Alys was never stupid or careless. Alys never did anything by accident. Could it be that she wanted this baby, that she loved Dominic Wollimer and was choosing this way to show it? And did that mean she would love the baby, too, smother it with delighted kisses, shower it with unfettered affection? As she had never smothered or showered Corene?
Josetta took another look at that set, sad, angry face, and decided she wouldn’t say a word.
In silence, they examined the goods at a few more stalls, moving more slowly as Corene began favoring her wounded leg more obviously. Finally, after Corene paused to rest against a merchant’s broad table, Josetta said, “I’m getting tired. Are you ready to go back?”
Corene nodded, then said, “Could we stop at a temple first?”
“You want to pull some blessings?”
Corene gave her a swift, unhappy smile. “It seems like the sort of day when I should, don’t you think?”
“I think any day is a good one to seek out blessings.”
“I don’t know how to find the nearest temple.”
Josetta grinned and put a hand to her heart. “Elay, remember? I know where every temple in the city is.”
They took the elaymotive as far as they could through narrow, tangled streets until it became easier to get out and walk the last few blocks. The brief rest in the car seemed to have given Corene renewed strength, and she barely limped as they made it to the temple.
It was a small, pretty one made of veined gray stone and covered with vines. In the front played a dainty fountain decorated with butterflies; a smoky oil lamp hung just outside the door. All five elements subtly laid out to greet visitors before they’d even stepped across the threshold.
Darien’s guards stayed outside, but Foley followed them in, ducking his head at the low lintel. There were only three other people inside, all of them congregated on the torz bench, which wasn’t uncommon. People frequently paused at a temple to meditate themselves into a state of balance, which theoretically meant they would spend equal time contemplating each of the five elements. But there was something comforting about the element of flesh and earth, something that made you feel whole and alive and connected to everyone else in the room, in the city. People tended to strike up spontaneous friendships with other visitors; there were dozens of stories about romances blossoming at the torz station in some temple or another. Almost no one lingered on the sweela bench, but the torz section alway
s collected a crowd.
Corene dropped the last of her coins in the tithing box and headed straight for the barrel in the middle of the room. Then stood a moment, staring down at the tumble of blessings. She lifted her hand as if to plunge it in, then let it settle back down at her side, empty.
“You pick for me,” she said to Josetta in a low voice. No one liked it if anyone spoke above a whisper in the temple.
But Josetta was staring at Corene’s hand, bare of all jewelry for the first time Josetta could remember. “Corene—where are your rings? Your blessings?”
Corene gave her a saucy smile, the first sign of spirit she’d shown since they’d left the seers. “I gave them to Rafe Adova.”
“You gave them—”
“Because he didn’t have any of his own.”
Josetta stared at her, too stunned to reply.
Corene tossed her head. “Maybe he can sell them. Or maybe he can keep them. It was just—I mean, who doesn’t have blessings? It was too sad.”
“But Vernon had those made for you. When you were a girl.”
Corene’s face hardened. “My mother had them made for me. Anyway, they were getting too small for my fingers. I’ve had them enlarged three times already. It’s time for new ones.”
“New blessings?” Josetta had never heard of anyone denying their original random blessings and acquiring a whole new set. Of course, people liked to draw daily blessings as often as they could, hoping for a little insight into whatever vexing problem faced them at the moment, but that was different. That wasn’t an attempt at a wholesale makeover; that was just a wish for guidance. A little worried, she glanced around the temple. “If that’s really what you want, maybe we should find three strangers. Or maybe we should wait till a propitious day—Quinnahunti changeday, for instance—”
“No. Now. You.” Corene smiled at her again, though Josetta read strain in her face. “Elay, remember? You always draw the right ones.”
Josetta nodded, hiding her sudden surge of anxiety, and slowly dipped her hand into the pile of metal disks. Each one was a blessing, after all; no matter what she chose, Corene would have something uplifting or encouraging to cling to. Unless she pulled a ghost coin. Unless she came away with only a mystery in her hand.
She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling the coins slide through her fingers, slippery as koi, cool as winter. Most people, she knew, just dug casually through the barrel, snatching up any old blessing, but she had always found the process to be a more mystical one. Her hand would encounter dozens of coins, all of them friendly and eager, like curious puppies, but her fingers wouldn’t close around any of them. And then suddenly a metal edge would brush against her palm, so hot she would almost gasp. That was the blessing, she knew, the right one for this person at this time.
Her hand had pushed its way almost to the bottom of the container when she felt the first molten disk burn against her skin. She grabbed it and quickly pulled it out, but Corene shook her head when it was offered to her.
“I want to see all three at once,” she said.
So Josetta pocketed the first one and laid her hand gently on the top of the mound of coins. A second blessing instantly smoldered against her skin, and she hurriedly dropped it in her pocket with the first one. It took a little longer to uncover the third blessing, stubbornly tucked against the side of the barrel, but blazing with a defiant, unmistakable energy of its own.
Josetta collected all three—inexplicably cool now, or maybe they had only seemed warm—and held them out to her sister. “You read them,” Corene said.
“Clarity,” Josetta said, examining the first one.
Corene made a face. “That would be nice.”
“It’s a sweela trait, though. The blessings still recognize your fiery soul.” She held up the second one. “Change.”
Corene nodded decisively. “Good. I’m ready for something new to happen.”
“A coru trait. Not something I ever associate with you.”
Corene laughed. “That’s why it’s called change.”
The third coin held a much more familiar sigil. “Courage,” Josetta said with a smile.
Corene’s expression relaxed into a mix of relief and delight. “My favorite of all my old blessings,” she said. “I’m glad I got to keep one of them.”
“Corene—”
“Don’t,” Corene said fiercely. “I wanted new ones. I’m happy with new ones. Let’s stop somewhere so I can buy charms. This time I’ll wear my blessings on a necklace, like you do.”
“All right,” Josetta said helplessly.
Corene turned to Foley, who had waited patiently this whole time. “What about you, Foley?” she asked. “Would you like a new blessing?”
“I’m always happy to receive a daily blessing from a princess’s hand.”
“Then we’ll each draw one for you,” Corene said.
Josetta dipped her hand in the barrel and almost instantly found a single metal disk, warm and insistent against her skin. She knew before she pulled it to the surface what the glyph would show.
“Loyalty,” she told him with a smile. Every time she pulled a blessing for him, this was the coin that came into her hand. If she pulled three, sometimes one of them would bear the symbol for honesty or steadfastness, but those were rare. “Keep it or toss it back?”
He grinned in return. “Toss it back. I have plenty of those.”
Corene was already digging through the barrel, and she laughed when she looked at the coin she’d pulled out for Foley. “It’s a coru kind of day,” she said, showing them the symbol. “Travel.”
He nodded at Josetta. “Maybe you’re about to embark on a journey.”
“Back to the shelter. That’s the only trip I plan to take.”
“Now you,” Corene said to Josetta. “Do you want us to pick, or do you want to choose your own?”
“I’ll draw one, but each of you should, too. I like it when my blessings are influenced by the people around me.”
Corene wasted no time plunging her hand in the barrel and bringing out a coin. “Strength,” she said. “If it means strength of will instead of physical strength, I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”
Josetta nodded at Foley and, as seriously as he did everything else, he bent to the barrel and sorted through its contents until he found a coin that felt right to his hand. “Surprise,” he said.
Which, in and of itself, was surprising. Josetta didn’t remember ever receiving that blessing before, although it fell on Zoe practically every time she visited a temple. “It is a coru kind of day,” she said. “Though I suppose everyone’s life holds a surprise now and then.”
“Now you pick one,” Corene said.
Josetta slid her hand back into the delicious coolness of the stamped disks, feeling them frisk across her wristbone and along the delicate skin of her forearm. Without warning, one of the coins came to life against her palm, hot as a brand; when she pulled her hand out, she wasn’t surprised to see her skin slightly reddened from the contact. Well, she supposed it made sense that a sweela blessing would burn any hand it came to.
“Love,” she said, showing it to her companions.
“A very good blessing! One we should all receive from time to time,” Corene pronounced.
Josetta nodded and prepared to throw the coin back. But she could still feel a fugitive heat under the stamped surface of the metal, like a lump of coal still glowing with the promise of fire. Hoping neither Corene nor Foley noticed, she slipped the disk into her pocket.
“Time to go home, I think,” she said.
“Oh, yes,” Corene agreed. “We got everything we came for.”
FIVE
The small elaymotive was even more crowded for the return trip to Darien’s, since they were sharing it with all their new purchases. Josetta directed the driver to take th
em to the servants’ door at the back of the house, where they handed their bundles over to Calvin. He was one of the two attendants who had come with Zoe upon her marriage, though he and his wife were clearly more Zoe’s friends than servants. A thin, white-haired, irrepressible old man, Calvin still looked like a vagabond despite nearly five years of living in the regent’s well-appointed mansion.
He was invariably cheerful and full of gossip. “Corene’s mother is expected to arrive in about five minutes, and Darien’s waiting in the kierten,” he told them as he took charge of their packages. “I think everyone in the whole house plans to hide in the hallway or on the stairs so they can hear the fight.”
Josetta glanced at Corene, not sure how she’d take this news after the revelations of the day, but the other girl was smiling. “Well, I want to hear it, too,” she said.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Josetta said.
Foley stayed behind, but Calvin led them through the narrow service hallways to a small waiting room just off the kierten itself. Corene had relinquished her cane, but now and then she leaned a hand against the wall to improve her balance as they walked.
Zoe was in the waiting room already, and she grinned widely when they stepped inside. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make it back in time,” she whispered. “Come stand over here—you should be able to see everything.”
Holding back giggles, Josetta and Corene joined her at the door and peered out into the kierten. Every house had one, of course—an empty area just beyond the entrance, a place to greet visitors or display subtle reminders of wealth—but Josetta particularly loved the one in Darien’s house. It was an open well of space, as high as the three-storied building, topped by a cupola of leaded glass. Today sunlight poured through the glass in blinding columns of light; on stormy days, the rain rattled against the panes like gravel kicked up by a wagon’s passing. On nights when the moon was full, if you timed it just right, you could see the heavy globe make an arc over the apex of the glass and then majestically sail out of sight.
The rest of the kierten was outfitted with small graceful touches—a miniature fountain, a red rug, a flowering plant with long, trailing leaves—but no one ever noticed those. The glass, the light, the very design of the space was what caught and held everyone’s attention. It was a kierten made for an elay soul, and Josetta still believed Darien had bought the house to please her.