*
Daniel was sitting in the window seat when she came in. “Where in all the Empire have you been?”
“Doing my job.”
“Trading? This is not your job.”
“Right now, it is.”
“Eleanor–”
“It is. I don’t want to blow our cover.”
Daniel looked unimpressed. “Do you not think your time would be better spent in planning for tonight?”
“I’m sure you carried on without me. You’ve probably already worked out that the third floor balcony gives the easiest route across.”
“I had assumed the roof.”
Eleanor smiled. “You never were a climber. The balcony gets us closer, and gives us good anchors for our ropes.”
“Then you believe we are ready?”
“It’s just an initial exploration. When we get back we’ll have enough information to make real plans, but now, all we can do is wait for darkness.” She was standing by the fruit bowl and started to pick out different varieties one by one, lining them up along the edge of the sideboard. “Have you found any of these that are edible, yet?”
“Edible, or pleasant to eat?”
“You’re a pedant, Daniel, you know. I did assume they wouldn’t have given us anything completely indigestible.”
“You should say what you mean. But no, I have not found any to my liking.”
“Sha’on took me to see his friend who sells local produce on the market here. They don’t have a lot of choice. He was suggesting we should import fruit and vegetables.”
“Really, Eleanor. You take it too far. You do not even have the authority to trade.”
“What does that even mean? That Anna can overrule me? Of course she could, but she’s not stupid.”
“Why do you think you know better than her? This is her life.”
“And for just a few days it’s our life, too. This has to look real until the delegation goes home and we go east.” She sat beside him and glanced down into the street, fingers digging into the flesh of the fruit she’d picked up. “And Sha’on had some good ideas.”
“About fruit.”
“Yes. And this friend sells fruit from his parents’ land. Don’t you find it interesting? Sha’on shares his father’s job, Bel sells his father’s fruit. It must be so strange to grow up like that.”
“They would find our ways strange.”
“Of course.”
“They would ask why you would have a child, only to give him up.”
“Good question.” She tore a mouthful of the fruit, chewed at it, and spat it out. “I certainly don’t want to go through that.”
“You would not wish to give up your children?”
“I don’t want to have any. Pregnancy, birth... it sounds horrible.”
“You should not say such things.”
“Why not? I don’t want to be out of action for a day, let alone months. There are plenty of other women to produce children.”
“I am serious – do not say these things when others can hear you. You do not wish to be marked as a rebel.”
“We’re risking our lives out here in the drylands for the Empire. What more can they possibly want?”
“Others may not see it that way.”
Revolution (Chronicles of Charanthe #2) Page 5