Royal Airs

by Sharon Shinn

  “Cozique was quite striking, at least along the coastline,” Ghyaneth answered, almost unwillingly. “But the food was terrible.”

  One of the first comments he had made to her when they met was that the countryside of Welce was dull; perhaps he was particularly sensitive to the beauty of his surroundings. “I’ve heard that Malinqua is a lovely place, especially in the spring.”

  His handsome face chilled with anger. “We do not visit Malinqua, or even speak of it,” he said darkly.

  Oh, she’d stumbled into that one! “I’m so sorry,” she said quickly. “As I told you, I’ve done so little travel that I don’t know what—”

  “We used to trade with them,” he burst out. “Until their ambassadors proved to be completely untrustworthy. Utterly without honor.”

  She was torn between the desire to change the subject and the hope of learning something useful. Darien had said he expected to entertain Malinquese visitors within the quintile; it would be good to know exactly how their dishonor manifested itself. “I’m horrified,” she exclaimed, hoping she didn’t overdo it, though Ghyaneth seemed immune to melodrama. “What did they do?”

  He folded his lips and shook his head. “My father wouldn’t wish me to speak about it,” he said at last.

  Too bad. Josetta sipped from her glass of fruited water and tried a smile. “Then let’s talk of more pleasant things,” she said. “Tell me what you do to entertain yourself in Berringey.”

  • • •

  The dinner finally ended, though there had been moments when Josetta had thought it might not. She escaped home with her mother to gossip for a couple of hours before going to bed. Unfortunately, there was a full slate of events lined up for the next day, but she thought it might not be so bad if she could manage to avoid any more one-on-one conversations with the sulky prince.

  Ghyaneth had expressed a desire to tour Chialto, so Darien had arranged for a fleet of elaymotives to circle the Cinque and pause at some of the more interesting sights. Because they were to be in such public places, Ghyaneth insisted on being accompanied by twenty of his guards, so they formed quite a cavalcade as they made a slow circuit around the city. They also created a stir at the Plaza of Men when the prince decided to patronize a few of the booths, and his guards closed around him in a tight phalanx. Even so, he managed to visit some of the more famous attractions. He even wrote his name on a document at the booth of promises, though he refused to tell anyone what vow he had committed to paper. But he seemed pleased with himself when he emerged and climbed back into his elaymotive.

  Josetta had managed to avoid being in the lead conveyance with Darien, Zoe, Ghyaneth and two of his advisors, which meant the trip was much less stressful than dinner had been, but also less interesting. She found herself staring out of the window a great deal and playing idly with the fish charms on the bracelet Rafe had given her. She probably should have been attempting conversation with Romelle, her carriage-mate, but the queen seemed just as happy to be left to her own thoughts.

  A traffic snarl stopped them for nearly twenty minutes when they were traversing the southernmost leg of the Cinque, and Josetta amused herself by wondering how Darien was explaining away the ramshackle buildings and desolate alleys visible even this close to the road. Then she spent time wondering what Rafe Adova might be doing at this exact moment. Was he still sleeping at this early afternoon hour? Was he awake and carrying out the mundane tasks of ordinary life, mending clothes or laying in groceries? Or was he already sitting downstairs in Samson’s tavern, shuffling his cards and waiting for the first customer to arrive? The bar wasn’t that far away. She could slip from the carriage and walk there within fifteen minutes. It was possible no one would even notice she was gone.

  Almost as soon as she had the thought, the smoker car jolted to life again and the caravan moved forward. Josetta sighed and leaned back against the cushions. It was starting to feel like a very long day.

  • • •

  Quinnahunti changeday was even longer, but at least it was more fun. The royal festivities were held at the palace, of course, where both the courtyard and the kierten had been transformed with banners, ribbons, flowers, colored lanterns, and other decorations. In fact, the courtyard seemed a miniature replica of the Plaza of Women because it had been filled overnight with dozens of merchant booths selling clothes and jewelry and other trinkets; dancers and jugglers moved through the crowd, offering entertainments. There was even a small stage that had been erected right beside the lake, and a dozen benches set up before it. Seterre told anyone who would listen that she had personally selected the actors who performed a series of short comedies to the delight of the crowd.

  The nighttime light show was the best part of Quinnahunti changeday, though, and everyone happily gathered outside to watch the wild colors play over the sturdy canvas of the palace’s pale stone walls. The light show had been a tradition for six or seven years now, ever since Kayle Dochenza had invented a way to mix pigments into some kind of gaseous medium. Josetta knew Kayle considered it the most minor of his inventions, but she had to admit that it might be her favorite. Bright colors wreaking glorious havoc against the dour night—naturally such a contrast would appeal to her elay soul.

  “There’s another dinner tomorrow,” Darien reminded her once the display was over and they were all bundling themselves back into carriages or heading inside, if they happened to be staying at the palace overnight. “A smaller group this time—we won’t even use the main dining hall. I’d like you to come a little early to talk to Ghyaneth.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I have a commitment tomorrow night.”

  Darien looked at her as if she had just spoken in Soechin and he’d never learned a word of the language. “Then break it,” he said. “It couldn’t be more important than dinner with a visiting head of state.”

  She just laughed at him. “It is to me.”

  THIRTEEN

  There had been any number of small crises at the shelter while Josetta had been trying to charm Ghyaneth Werbane Kolavar. Callie had handled most of them with her usual brisk efficiency, but there was a banking tangle that Josetta had to straighten out personally and a handful of thank-you notes she had to write to a few particularly generous donors. Then there were just the ordinary, everyday tasks that always piled up and never got done because there simply weren’t enough hands. So Josetta spent several hours restocking shelves in the main room, changing sheets in the infirmary, putting away laundry that someone else had washed and folded, and working beside Callie in the kitchen to assemble a particularly fine dinner.

  Because it was firstday. And dinner on firstday was special.

  • • •

  As he had last time, Rafe Adova showed up early and stayed late. He spent the first two hours meekly doing Callie’s bidding, carrying pots and platters to and from the dining room, helping to serve the masses of people who must have come to the city for changeday and had not yet mustered the energy to head back to their homes. Rafe was more cheerful about the extra work than the rest of them, Josetta thought. She herself was tired and irritable, and the imperturbable Callie actually snapped at a little girl who asked for another piece of bread. But Rafe worked without pause and without complaint all through the long evening.

  Eventually every person had been fed, every pan had been washed, and the workers could take the time to sit, relax, and devour their own meals. Josetta had to admire Rafe’s casual canniness: He waited until the others had clustered together at one of the tables before carrying his own food to a different one. When Josetta joined him a moment later, they finally had an opportunity to be alone. Well, alone in a large room with a half dozen people near enough to eavesdrop, if they were so inclined. But it still felt like privacy.

  “If you ever decide to give up gambling, you can come work for me here,” Josetta told Rafe as they finished eating. “I don’t pay a lot, but you
could live in the dorm, too. Think of all the money you’d save on rent.”

  “I don’t pay Samson that much, to tell you the truth,” Rafe answered. “You’d need a better incentive than that.”

  She laughed. “Oh, would I? What kinds of inducements are you looking for?”

  He laughed back. “Opportunities to meet all your rich and powerful friends, of course. I can’t think of anything else that would draw me back here on a regular basis.”

  She felt a little breathless. She half wanted him to say A chance to see you every day, and half feared how she might feel if he spoke the syllables aloud. Even unsaid, the words glittered in the air between them. “Kayle told me that you came to see him.”

  “Did he? Should I be flattered that you and the elay prime were talking about me?”

  “Well, we were at an excrutiatingly boring dinner when we were having the conversation, so we were desperate for any topic that would get us through another five minutes.”

  He grinned. “He took me out to his aeromotive factory. I can’t tell if he’s brilliant or absolutely insane.”

  “No, that’s the problem with Kayle. With most of the Dochenzas, in fact. But I do like him. When I can understand what he’s talking about.”

  Rafe leaned his elbows on the table and looked like he was debating whether or not to tell her something. “He didn’t actually offer me a job,” he said finally, “but I think he’d give me one if I wanted it.”

  Josetta felt her eyebrows lift. “Doing what?”

  “Piloting his prototype aeromotives.”

  The breath went right out of her at that. “Piloting—flying them? Up in the air?” When he nodded, she said, “But isn’t that dangerous? I mean, really dangerous?”

  He nodded again. “They’ve lost seven fliers. One of his assistants thinks they’ll stop at eight—because, you know, it’s a propitious number.”

  She could hardly believe it. “Are you that much in love with danger?” she demanded. “I mean, the life you lead now isn’t exactly safe and calm. People seem to want to beat you up on a regular basis. But it’s like living inside a banker’s vault compared to flying one of Kayle’s experimental machines.”

  “No, in fact, I think I have a pretty healthy desire to live,” he responded. “But I need to—I don’t want to—” He paused a moment, seeming to think over what he wanted to say. “You see them all the time, southside. Old men, skinny as sticks, sitting in the darkest corner of some dark bar. Shuffling their cards. Waiting for the next stupid torz farmboy to come in and gamble away the profit on whatever crop he just sold at market. They look like ghosts. No, they look like those slimy little bugs you see if you turn over a rock in a garden. Small and squirmy and afraid of daylight.”

  Still leaning on his elbows, he lifted his gaze and trained it on her. “I don’t want to be one of those men. But I only have two choices. Die in some bar brawl when someone accuses me of cheating—or find a way out. What other kind of work can I find? I’m not trained for anything. But I learn fast. I don’t mind danger. And I like Kayle Dochenza’s crazy machines. I keep thinking this might be just the kind of job I need to move me out of here.”

  Josetta held her breath through most of his speech, which was delivered in a quiet and sober voice. Not much posturing with Rafe Adova, not much ornamentation. Although she was petrified by the thought of Rafe risking his life in one of Kayle’s experimental deathtraps, she wholly understood now why he would want to do it. She also, for the first time, understood how Darien felt when she had taken up residence in the slums. Shocked and terrified and, maybe, a little proud.

  She could hardly tell him not to do it. Not when she understood why he wanted to.

  “I think it’s a splendid idea,” she said, “though I’m scared to death for you.”

  “Really?” He looked inordinately pleased. “I thought you might try to talk me out of it.”

  “Well, I won’t agree to go flying with you, so don’t even think about inviting me.”

  He laughed. “Only room for one person in the driver’s box.”

  “When will you go flying for the first time?”

  “I haven’t even asked for the job yet! And I imagine I’d need some training. And that’s assuming Kayle Dochenza is willing to hire me. Maybe I misread him. He’s not an easy man to understand.”

  “No, I think he’d hire you tomorrow. He likes you.”

  Rafe looked pleased again. “I am moving up in the world,” he said. “A prime likes me. And a princess likes me.” He glanced at her. “I think.”

  She smiled back. “I think she does.”

  He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, an exaggerated pose of a man sure of himself and his place in the world. “So that’s what I’ve been doing in the nineday since I saw you last,” he said. “How have you been occupying yourself? How was your changeday? You said you were at a boring dinner.”

  So she told him about Ghyaneth’s visit, and he told her about his trip to see Steff, and they talked a little more about Kayle and his flying machines and what it might be like to live in the port town.

  “But even if you do it,” she said in a warning voice. “Even if you take a job with Kayle and move down by the harbor. You have to come back here on firstday for dinner.”

  “I will,” he said. “I promise.”

  All in all, it was a lovely interlude, made even lovelier when she finally walked Rafe to the door and he kissed her on the cheek before ducking out into the night. Josetta was smiling in a silly girlish way when she closed the door and turned back into the main room. In the shadows she could just make out Foley standing at the base of the stairwell, watching to be sure she made it safely to bed.

  “Don’t tell Zoe,” she said.

  “I won’t,” he said. He didn’t sound shocked or amused or jealous or even worried. He merely waited until she’d blown out all the candles, then followed her up the stairs.

  • • •

  It turned out Foley didn’t have to tell Zoe about late-night flirtations with attractive vagabonds because Josetta accidentally told her sister herself. Even worse, Corene was in the room.

  They were at Darien’s for the afternoon, “resting up for the horrors to come tonight,” as Zoe put it—another formal dinner, followed by a theatrical production Seterre had helped put together. It was supposed to feed the visiting prince the whole history of Welce in two dramatic and entertaining hours. As far as Josetta had been able to ascertain, only Seterre was looking forward to the performance.

  The three of them were lounging in the room Darien had specially built for Zoe. It featured windows on three sides to let in oceans of sunlight, and it was decorated in the aqueous blues and greens that soothed the coru soul. But its primary attraction was the low circular fountain that ringed the room like a tame indoor river, gurgling over rocks and hissing through simulated rapids. On hot days, Zoe had been known to wade through the fountain or actually plop herself down on one of the larger boulders and get soaking wet. Corene and Josetta were more likely to dangle their feet in the water by sitting on the small metal bridge that connected the room to the rest of the house. They had become less excited about this activity once Zoe introduced fish into the river.

  “I can’t believe we have to endure another dinner,” Corene complained. “Isn’t the stupid prince leaving soon?”

  “The day after tomorrow—but he’s coming back,” Zoe informed her. She glanced over at her baby, sleeping beside her on a sofa cushion, but making little mewing noises in her dreams. “Don’t you wake up, Celia darling. Not yet.”

  “He’s coming back? Why?”

  “When he leaves, he’s only going as far as Soeche-Tas. And when he returns, he plans to meet with Kayle and talk about some of his inventions. Elaymotives, mostly. Apparently he’s asked Kayle to come visit him in Berringey, but Kayle re
fused outright. I think he’s happy to export his ideas to other countries, but not if he has to cross the sea.”

  “I don’t think Ghyaneth will enjoy visiting Kayle’s factories,” Josetta remarked. “They’re hot and loud and full of these awful smells.”

  Corene, who had been lying on her back on a low divan, turned over and propped herself up on her elbows. “You went to visit Kayle’s factory? Why? I can’t imagine anything more dull.”

  Josetta didn’t have a lie ready and she stumbled through her reply. “I was taking—someone I knew wanted to meet Kayle, so I said I’d introduce . . .” Him. “This person,” she ended lamely.

  Now Zoe rolled to a more upright position, clearly intrigued. “Some person you know? From the slums? Because I would think everyone else you’ve ever met in your life has been acquainted with Kayle as long as you have.”

  Corene’s eyes grew wide with speculation. “Is she right? Truly? Someone you met down at the shelter? Tell us everything about him. It’s a him, right? Who else would care about a stinky old factory?”

  “There were plenty of women working there,” Josetta said, hoping to turn the subject. The fish bracelet on her wrist had never seemed so heavy. She held her hands absolutely still so the charms didn’t chime together and draw her sisters’ attention, eliciting another spate of questions. “Not all of them were elay, either. I think there are plenty of sweela folks who are just as entranced as Kayle is with his elaymotives.”

  “We don’t care about those people,” Zoe said. “Who did you take to meet Kayle?”

  Josetta glanced at Corene and gave up. She’d always been a hopeless liar. “Rafe Adova.”

  Zoe looked bewildered, but Corene bounced to a sitting position, positively delighted. “Rafe!” she crowed. “So you’ve seen him since that night?”