It was well after noon when she reached home. Delicious smells filled the back hallway, drawing her to the kitchen, where Leofus presided over three huge pots bubbling on his stove. “Bread and cheese,” he said.
“What? This all smells so good!”
“It’s for the feast tonight. Master Tersus is hosting friends. And yes, I’m feeding you lot, too. But I don’t have time for a midday meal. So—bread and cheese.”
Sienne grumbled, but helped herself to both. “Where is everyone?” she asked, feeling vaguely disgruntled that her friends weren’t there to listen to her news.
“Out. I don’t know where. Nobody tells me nothing.”
“That’s not true. We told you we were going after Reva Nocenti’s treasure.”
“I suppose so.” Leofus stirred one of the pots, then tasted its contents. “Perrin might have said something about registering a treasure trove for provenance.”
“Oh. Yes, we were supposed to do that.” She sat at the table and munched in silence. Even the bread and cheese were excellent. Master Tersus loved the finer things in life. “So what’s for dinner?”
“Standing rib roast, broiled rosemary chicken, poached fish in lemon sauce, sautéed vegetables, herbed rice, and sweet rolls. Dates in spiced honey for dessert.”
“Sounds delicious. But it can’t be what’s in those pots.”
“I’m rendering beef stock for the roast and testing a new lemon sauce. You’re not really interested in the details, are you?” His voice had the same resigned tone it always did when he tried to get them to appreciate his genius in any way other than the gustatory.
“I’m not. Sorry.” She bit into her bread and cheese fiercely. What could she do? She wanted to spill her story to her friends and maybe weep a few self-indulgent tears, but she could hardly roam Fioretti looking for them. She ought to see about selling the spell pages, or even figuring out what the mystery spell was, and that would use up a few hours of waiting time…but no, if Perrin was registering them as treasure trove, they weren’t here to be disposed of. Which left her, once again, stuck at home with nothing to do but think unpleasant thoughts and glare at Leofus. She ought to go upstairs before she inflicted her bad mood on him.
The back door opened, and Sienne heard Dianthe say, “…even if it is a little strange.”
“We’re used to strange,” Alaric replied.
Perrin said, “I am intrigued by the possibilities of this job,” and then they were all crowding into the kitchen. Leofus waved his spoon at them.
“No sneaking bites,” he said. “Dinner will be at seven. Bread and cheese on the counter, then take yourselves off, if you please.”
“We won’t disturb you,” Alaric said. He dropped into the chair next to Sienne and kissed her soundly. “You look like you’ve had a terrible day, and it’s not even full afternoon yet.”
“You have no idea,” Sienne said, scooting closer so she could lean against his comforting bulk. “Did you register the treasure already?”
“We did, and the Crown took their percentage out of the coin, all of which they bought. No haggling needed,” Alaric said. “At a better than fair price. A little more than ten thousand lari, after taxes.”
Sienne’s eyes widened. “Ten thousand? Just for the coin?”
“We were right that this would make our fortune,” Dianthe said. “And some of those objects will go for a lot of money. Not to mention the gems.” Her eyes gleamed at the idea.
“What did they say about the mystery spell? Did they put a price on it?”
“It was the one thing I wasn’t sure of,” Dianthe said. “Neither were they, though. We had to go through the records of similar findings and agree on a historically-determined value. I don’t know which of us was cheated, but we probably won’t know that until we find a buyer. They also valued the wand higher than I’d expected. But we’re not selling that, are we?”
“Not until we figure out what it does. It might be a useful spell. And if one of you can use it, even better.” New spells. The scholar in her, buried deep, sat up and cheered at the prospect of being named the discoverer, or recoverer perhaps, of something that had formerly been lost to history. “What was Perrin saying about a new job?”
“Don’t you want to tell us what happened with your family?” Alaric asked.
Now that they were actually there, she found her desire to share the story was diminished, as if refusing to talk about it could make it not true. “That’s…a long one,” she said. “Job first.”
“Someone left us a message while we were gone,” Alaric said. “I forgot to mention it last night, because I was…preoccupied…and then you left before I remembered it this morning. They said they were looking to hire us, us specifically, for a job out near the Bramantus Mountains. I didn’t think we’d be interested, certainly not immediately, but it seemed polite to at least turn them down in person.”
“That doesn’t sound like a new job. It sounds like a dead end.”
“That is not the peculiar part,” Perrin said, his eyes alight with mirth. “We went to see the gentlemen after dealing with the treasury, and they went straight to Dianthe and asked, ‘Are you the duke’s daughter?’”
Sienne blinked. “They what?”
“It seems you are the draw for them,” Perrin said. “When we explained that you had a prior commitment today, they were very polite, but it was clear they did not wish to discuss business without your presence.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would they care about me? It’s not like I have any special benefits—” She stopped, conscious of her changed status. But how could they have known she was now the heir? Total strangers with no connection, as far as she knew, to Beneddo or her parents?
“I have not seen Alaric so…I do not know the word, but it is when you cannot believe what your eyes and ears tell you,” Kalanath said. He looked as amused as Perrin.
“Mystified, perhaps?” Perrin said. “Perplexed? Flabbergasted?”
“It is all of those,” Kalanath said. “He has the look of a man whose dog sits up and asks with words for a seat at the table.”
“It wasn’t that funny,” Alaric said. “But I’ll admit I’m not used to being passed over when I’m not actively pretending to be stupid.”
“I wish I’d been there to see it,” Sienne said. “Though I guess if I had, it wouldn’t have happened. So will we meet with them later?”
“We agreed on a time tomorrow morning,” Dianthe said. “Unless you need to be with your family.”
The mention of her family brought back everything she’d experienced that morning. Alaric frowned. “Something happened, I can tell,” he said. “Can you talk about it? It might do you good.”
Sienne let out a deep breath and took his hand. “I don’t know where to start.”
“Then let’s go to the sitting room and get comfortable, and you can start from the beginning.” Alaric helped her rise and kept hold of her hand afterward.
“All right,” Sienne said, “but I’m afraid this is the kind of story where no one will be comfortable no matter where we sit.”
6
Sienne held up a skirt to her waist and surveyed herself in the mirrored surface she’d created on the wall. It was more wavery than an actual mirror, but the image was clear enough for her purposes. She sighed and tossed the skirt on the bed. It was the only one she owned, but she hadn’t worn it in seven months because it made her look like a street vendor, selling oranges off a cart.
“Wear the dress,” Alaric said. “You look beautiful in the dress.”
Sienne picked up her red dancing dress and held it up to herself. “What if it’s too fancy?”
“Then you’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”
“All I know is I can’t wear my usual clothes to supper with my family. Mother always insisted we dress nicely for dinner, which for us girls meant a dress. But this—” She brandished the dress at him—“is too formal, and it’s the wrong kind of formal, too.�
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Alaric sighed. “Which would be worse, being underdressed, or overdressed?”
“You ask impossible questions.” She thought about it. “Being underdressed would be worse.”
“Then it’s either the orange-seller skirt, or the dancing dress.” Alaric eyed her and smiled, a wolfish gleam in his eye. “I’ll help you take it off later.”
“The thought of that will get me through this evening.” She shrugged into the dancing dress, which slid over her head and settled perfectly over her hips and chest. One of the advantages to being a wizard with the fit spell was never having to pay extra for made-to-order clothing; she could alter anything to fit her exactly.
Alaric came to stand behind her and put his hands around her waist. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”
“I still don’t know how the rest of my family will react to my returning to the fold. They might feel entitled to be rude, or insulting, and it would just make you angry. Plus, if Rance is there—”
“You’re right. I couldn’t sit through a meal with his smug face staring at me. I still owe him a beating for how he treated you.” He turned her around in his arms and bent to kiss her. “But I’ll have to meet your parents sometime.”
“I know. Just not tonight.” She leaned her head against his broad chest and closed her eyes. “It won’t be so bad. I love my siblings, mostly, and I didn’t realize I missed them until I saw my parents. I wonder if Liliana is still a brat?”
She walked through the noisy streets, which bustled with celebrating people dancing, singing, and kissing in the middle of the road, feeling as if there were a sheet of glass separating her from them, or an invisible wall of force. No one accosted her, which relieved her mind; she was on edge enough she might have used magic on anyone who stopped her, wanting a dance.
A whiff of warm honey caught her attention, and her stomach growled at the idea of honeyed figs, or roasted sausages, or even a mug of ale. Her tastes had become so low in the last year. No doubt her parents would be horrified at the thought of their daughter preferring street food to an elegant four-course meal.
This time, when she rapped at the door of her parents’ mansion, Pagani opened it immediately and bowed low. Did he know she was the heir, or would be soon? She walked past him without acknowledging him, still feeling miffed about her earlier reception. This time, the doors on the left and right were open, and golden light from candles, not magic lights, spilled out into the entryway. Pagani bowed again and extended a gloved hand. “This way, my lady,” he said, and guided her to the second door on the left.
Sienne made it as far as the door before she stopped, stricken with unexpected shyness. It was another drawing room, identical to the first except for the antiques being of an even earlier era, and it was full of people who all stopped their conversations to stare at her. Feeling awkward, Sienne stared back. She’d forgotten how overwhelming the Verannus clan was en masse. Seven brothers and sisters, her parents, and, ugh, Rance…and every one of them no doubt angry with her for having run away.
She found her next younger brother Alcander, standing near another door on the far side of the room, and stared at him in mute pleading. They’d been so close, once, and of all her siblings she’d missed him the most. If he hated her…
She almost turned and left, but pride kept her rooted to the spot, pride that she wouldn’t let them drive her away. Maybe running away had been wrong, but she’d had plenty of good reasons for it, and if anyone should feel guilty, it should be Mother and Papa. And Rance, but she no longer cared what he felt about anything.
“Sienne,” Alcander said. Then he smiled. “Sienne!” He crossed the room in a few swift strides—she’d forgotten how long his legs were—and threw his arms around her, hugging her tight. “Thank Gavant you’re safe. I couldn’t believe it when Rance said he’d seen you. Where have you been? Here, all this time?”
“I…yes,” Sienne said, stunned at his unqualified happiness to see her. She returned his hug and blinked away tears. “I’m sorry I ran—”
“Never mind that,” Alcander said. “We all want to know what you’ve been doing.”
“She’s a scrapper now,” Giles said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “I never thought you had that kind of courage, to take off and leave everything behind. Are you successful? Do you have a permanent team, or do you hire out on a job by job basis?”
“She probably doesn’t want to talk about that,” Giles’s twin Quentinus said. “Respectable people aren’t scrappers.”
“Oh, shut up, Quent,” Alcander said. “As if you know anything about it.”
“Alcander, don’t be vulgar,” Mother said. “Sienne, your dress is lovely.”
“Thank you,” Sienne said, though she suspected her mother had suppressed a comment about being dressed for a ball rather than a family meal.
“I like it,” young Liliana said. “It sparkles like diamonds. Mama, may I have a dress like that?”
“Trust you to turn a compliment into something about you,” her next older sister, Phebe, said with a sneer. Liliana’s face fell.
“You already have a lovely dress for tomorrow night,” Mother said. “Phebe, don’t be rude.”
“But, Mama!”
“Let’s all go in to dinner, shall we?” Papa said, his deep voice cutting across the rest of the conversations. Sienne turned away from Alcander and found herself facing Felice. Her older sister was as beautiful as Sienne remembered, her honey-blonde hair tawny in the candlelight, her perfect face and rosy lips a masterpiece of the sculptor’s art. She regarded Sienne silently, with no hint of how she felt evident on her face. Beside her, Rance was equally silent. His dark eyes held a question she couldn’t interpret, and it made her feel awkward again, like the interloper who’d ruined their lives, even though none of this was her fault. Then Felice turned and followed Papa into the dining room, with Rance close behind her.
Sienne dithered about where to sit, but in the end it turned out her family’s normal seating arrangements, come to by unspoken consensus over years of Verannus dinners, hadn’t altered in the time she’d been away except to add Rance at Felice’s left hand. Her own usual place midway along the table, between Alcander and Quentinus and across from Erianthe, was empty as if waiting for her. What a reminder, if they’d left it empty the whole time she’d been gone. She sat, and was struck so hard by the familiarity of it all she had to swallow to keep from tearing up. She hoped she remembered her table manners. At least she hadn’t fallen into the habit of propping her elbows on the table in the year she’d been gone.
Servants emerged from concealed doors in the paneling, bearing tureens of aromatic soup. Sienne leaned back for them to serve her a clear, rich beef broth sprinkled with herbs. Her stomach chose that moment to announce its hunger. Liliana giggled. “Liliana,” her mother warned her, “we don’t draw attention to such things.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Liliana said. She didn’t look sorry. She stared openly at Sienne. Sienne ignored her. She remembered Liliana mostly as an infant she’d had to care for, and then as a child she saw once a year at High Winter when she returned home for the end of year festivities, a child prone to giggling when she got her way and pouting and screaming when she didn’t. She couldn’t remember how old she was now—ten? eleven?—but her parents’ policy of training their children in etiquette and good behavior by including them in family dinners didn’t seem to have had much effect on Liliana.
“Sienne, tell us about your adventures,” Giles said. His green eyes, jade-pale and just like their father’s, gleamed with excitement.
“I’m not sure that’s appropriate conversation for the dinner table,” Mother said.
“Of course it is! Don’t we want to know what Sienne’s been doing? You’d ask her to talk about her experiences as…as a wizard at a duke’s court, if that’s where she’d been, right?”
Mother pinched her lips tight and turned her attention to her soup. Sienne glanced around the table. Eve
ryone except Felice and Mother were watching her like a family of foxes surrounding a vole’s den. “Um,” she said. “I…it took me some time to establish myself as a scrapper. It’s hard to find the right jobs and even harder to convince clients to take a chance on you when you don’t have any experience. I was lucky to find the team I have now.” She didn’t want to share the details of how that team had come together, how Alaric had hated her for being a wizard and Perrin had been drunk all the time and Kalanath had been independent to the point of isolation. All that was well in the past.
“But you’re successful now, right?” Giles hadn’t yet touched his soup.
“Yes. Very. We just made a major find, big enough that we can support ourselves for a long time. It will bolster our reputation among potential clients, too.”
“What does a major find look like?” Papa asked. “Money?”
“Old money is actually rare. The ancients used it rather than hoarding it. But yes, we found about ten thousand lari worth of antique coin.”
Rance dropped his spoon. It landed in his bowl and splashed broth on the tablecloth. “How much?”
“Ten thousand. And yes, that’s a lot by any standards. But there was also jewelry, and gems, and…oh, all sorts of interesting things, all worth far more than the coin. And five spells, one of which no one’s ever seen before.”
Alcander whistled, which earned him a reproachful look from his mother. “That’s practically priceless. Did you take it to the university?”
“Not yet. I scribed it into my spellbook and I’ll study it—maybe I’ll be the one to figure it out.”
“But not all your finds are so impressive,” Papa said. He had his eyes on Giles, who looked at Sienne as if she might be God’s seventh avatar come to earth. “There’s lean times, too.”
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