“Well.” If she were to make any headway in this conversation, she would have to barrel ahead whenever Keth took a breath. “There are a lot of art forms in Nessiny; it’s just that opera is the best-known outside the country. I don’t know much about music, but I went to the theaters plenty of times. Murio’s prose theaters are splendid. Though so is Crescendo! I saw your production of The Spymaster’s Plot when I visited Wildern, before I moved here. A friend and I came into town from the caravan for the day, and that’s what we decided to see.” Of course, it had been a matter of chance that she and Nelle had seen that play instead of the Dawnlight Players’ production. Still, she wasn’t bending the truth about the quality of the play. She and Nelle had enjoyed it enormously. Meeting Jaeti and launching the idea of the gallery had been the main highlight of the day, but the rest of their trip into town was still one of Agna’s most cherished memories of her travels.
“Ahh! I did props on that play! Oh my goodness.” Keth latched onto Agna’s arm as they walked. “If you liked that one, we have one coming up two more plays from now that you’ll love. It should be right around the Golden Anniversary. They’re auditioning right now. It’s going to be amazing.”
If all went well, she might be in Murio at the Golden Anniversary — not that she normally celebrated it. But it hadn’t been decided, in any case. Agna hitched up her bag’s strap and asked Keth about the upcoming play. Skating over the torrent of words wasn’t so hard, once she got used to it. And Keth was happy to hear whatever she had to say about the topic whenever Agna began talking. Gauging by the questions she lobbed at Agna, she was sincerely listening.
The pair left the Vogal estate’s grounds and walked past their neighbors’ estates, outlined with fences along the road — wood, iron, wood again. Agna heard about the upcoming production, the state of the auditions, and the friendly rivalry between the Crescendo Theater and the Dawnlight Players. She settled Keth’s curiosity about Keifon’s rumored skill with the nanbur and convinced her that he wasn’t the type to play in a concert hall, almost certainly. Keth asked about Agna’s travels around Kavera with the caravan, her studies at the Academy, the state of her father’s agency, her art-dealing contact in Murio, and her own artistic pursuits, temporarily sidelined until she could clear enough time and space to set up a studio in her apartment.
“I’m not much of an artist, anyway,” Agna said, rolling the bottle of tea between her palms. “I mostly draw plants and landscapes. My mother’s a nationally known landscape artist, though, so I know I’m no great talent.”
“Ohhh, still! You should exhibit some of your own stuff someday. Both an artist and an art collector! I’ve never acted in a play properly, I get too nervous and they say I talk too fast. I’ve only done a couple of monologues for fundraisers. I’d love to see some of your art sometime.”
“Hm. Sometime, sure.” Most of what she’d drawn had been medicinal plants, long since sent to her sister, and the rest wasn’t worth sharing. Feeling as though she’d begun to get her feet in this conversation, she risked a drastic change of subject. “That’s a lovely shawl, Keth. Did you get it in town?”
Keth laughed and unfastened one corner of the shawl, fanning it out like a sail. “Nope, I made it!” She began to tell Agna about the pattern she’d used and how she’d learned — from one of the costumers at the theater, and counter to her grandparents’ wishes, apparently. Agna had finished her tea and stashed her empty bottle in her shoulder bag. It seemed that Keth was more given to waving hers around like a baton as she spoke. The first houses of the city proper rose up on either side.
The first businesses they passed on the way into town advertised “Builders’ Specials,” and it seemed every house had a sign in the window reading “No More Rooms Available” or “Half Room Available, Ask for Rates.” Agna had noticed that the boarding house across the street from the hospital had been packed to capacity for over a month, and rumors sneaked through the halls that the Benevolent Union might take on non-Benevolent lodgers. Not for the first time, she mulled over whether she could get anything for the side rooms in the gallery. It wasn’t as though they were using them for anything else yet. Of course, the rooms were completely unfurnished, except for notes pasted to the walls. Perhaps when the weather turned, even an empty gallery would seem more comfortable than a tent. She could speak from experience on that.
“At least we can finally ship lumber north when this is over,” Keth said, waving her bottle toward the mountains. “Right now we have to ship down the canal for everything. Yanwei pays ridiculous prices for everything because they only have a little patch of timber on their side of the mountains. They say we’d mess up their market for a while, crash their prices, but it’d equalize. Ughhh, I am not looking forward to dealing with this stuff every day, you know what I mean?”
It was the first time Keth had mentioned the lumber business, Agna noted. “Well. I guess I do, since I’m opening a gallery instead of taking over my father’s art agency outright.”
“See?” Keth’s out-flung gesture made Agna jump back to avoid getting hit with the bottle. “You have to carve your own path! Excuse the bad pun, considering that’s exactly what they’re doing today and everything, but you know what I’m talking about! It’s not right to just follow exactly what’s come before you! Nobody’s going to grow that way! And it’s boring. It’s so boring.”
Agna couldn’t resist a bit of a smile. At least someone understood. “I’m just trying to add my own spin to it. I can’t leave it behind entirely, and just work in the hospital. The art world is too important to me. But I hope I can have a little of both.”
“Yes yes yes! Exactly. I mean, I don’t know how you combine lumber and theater. Uh, except for building a theater, I guess. But I’ll do what I have to to keep Vogal running, and everything, but I can’t go without theater. I’d die. It’s vital.”
“I hope you can do both, then. I’m sure it can all work out.”
“I know it will.” Keth left off there, beaming into the distance. It was far and away her shortest speech of the day.
They had reached the central corridor that ran from the pass through the center of Wildern to the canal, where the theaters and the largest of the town squares were located. The groundbreaking was set to take place at the northern end of this road. Though the groundbreaking site was still a short walk away, kiosks had opened in the square to sell flags and ribbons and other festival souvenirs, along with the usual food and drink. Agna glanced at the courthouse’s clock tower. They still had an hour to kill. “Have you had lunch?”
“Not yet. Hey, where have you tried in this neighborhood? There are so many good places. What do you like?”
After an intense discussion of Agna’s preferences and Keth’s summary of every restaurant’s merits, they settled on a cafe on the square, to watch the crowds gather. As they waited for their food, Agna considered bringing Keifon back here sometime. It was too bad that he had taken a double shift, but he needed his rest now. Agna herself had switched with Fulvia so that she could set up this meeting with Keth, and she’d likely regret this tomorrow. In the meantime, she’d do her best to keep up with Keth Vogal after working a night shift, on a couple of hours’ sleep. But it was turning out to be a better day than she’d hoped, and she’d get to witness a piece of Wildernian history, besides.
The lunch revived Agna and refueled Keth, and sitting still wound up Keth’s fever-pitch energy. She was off again as soon as she’d paid for lunch, over Agna’s protests, following the flow of foot traffic toward the ceremony site. Agna watched the crowd for some of the few faces she knew; she spotted Jaeti and waved, though Keth bore her on toward the heart of the crowd before she could stop to talk. She thought she saw Gaspare, one of the other healers at the hospital, but it was too far to tell for sure. At a distance, a tanned Nessinian could pass for a light-skinned Kaveran.
When the band began to play and Wildern’s luminaries climbed up to the stage, she saw a few more people sh
e recognized. Among the half-dozen people who lined up silently at the back of the stage was Quasta Kalen. One of the two in the center was the mayor of Wildern, going by the descriptions Agna had heard — a woman of about Jaeti’s age with her hair up in a bun, dressed in a tailored wool suit. The other, at the mayor’s side, was Aines Shora. Agna had never seen him any less than perfectly dressed and coiffed, but in front of a couple hundred people he seemed completely in his element.
Keth craned up on her toes to see past the spectators in front of them. Agna studied the others lined up behind Agent Shora and the mayor: Quasta, a man with a string of Tufarian prayer beads, and two Yanweians. One of them wore the green cloak of an Eytran priest, and the other wore a familiar uniform. Agna had watched Keifon box up one just like it several months ago: deep red wool with tall black boots. Keifon hadn’t carried a sword on his belt when he was in the Army, though, and he hadn’t had so many insignias across his chest. Everyone in town had heard that the Yanweian National Army would help with logistics and engineering on this project — dozens of letters to the editor and street-posted fliers had made clear the dissatisfaction that some Wildern residents had with the idea. Arguing about it had kept the townsfolk busy until the players in the pass project assembled. Now, it seemed, their complaints were moot.
She wondered who this representative was, whether Keifon might know him. With the insignia pins and the sword, he looked like an officer. Of course, there were hundreds of people in the army. Keifon didn’t know everyone in the country; that was a provincial way of thinking.
Agna shook off her fascination and retraced her train of thought. That accounted for all of the officials on the stage, so perhaps the Vogal Company hadn’t signed on.
The band finished its fanfare with a long, trilling finale and a cymbal crash. Agent Shora and the mayor stepped up to the edge of the stage. The mayor held up her hands, and the crowd quieted.
“Thank you for coming, distinguished guests and citizens of Wildern.” She added a sentence in Yanweian, aimed halfway over her shoulder at the Eytran priest and the Army official. The officer inclined his head, and the Eytran priest made his prayer gesture.
Agna translated for Keth in a whisper. “Same thing in Yanweian. ‘Welcome, distinguished guests, thank you for traveling such a long way.’”
The Mayor went on. “This project will require much hard work and dedication from our fellow citizens, our countrymen, and our esteemed visitors. But when all has been said and done, it will bring renewed trade, safer travel, and a stronger friendship with our neighbors to the north.”
Applause rose from the crowd, mixed with grumbling and shuffling. Agna watched the faces of the group on the stage. A few appeared to narrow their eyes. They might have been squinting into the sunlight.
“All of us, in the Mayor’s office, the Benevolent Union base, and the united Churches of the Four, trust that you will all join us in welcoming our visiting workers — just as Wildern did not so long ago, when the canal brought faster shipping from the south. We believe the northern passage will continue this vital artery and place Wildern at the heart of international trade.”
Arteries and hearts, to a crowd half-dependent upon the Benevolents’ hospital for their livelihoods. The mayor knew her audience. Of course, the other half of the city was antagonized by the hospital’s supposed takeover of the city. It could swing the crowd either way.
Agent Shora applauded, and the crowd followed his lead. The two leaders changed places; the mayor stepped back and the Benevolents’ leader stepped forward. His voice pierced the residual murmur of the crowd. It was a wonder Crescendo or Dawnlight hadn’t roped him into being an actor, Agna thought.
“My belief, deep down,” he said, clenching a fist at his breast, “is that my city, my Wildern, is destined to grow into its full potential. Already it is being recognized on the national stage as the rising power in northern Kavera. We have the dedication, the ingenuity, and the heart to show the whole world what each and every one of us has always known: that our city is a great city, and our people are great people.”
In the ensuing uproar, Keth bounced on her toes as she applauded. Agna clapped along, watching the crowd as they whooped and waved hats and handkerchiefs. The Benevolents’ leader stood with hands spread, soaking up the outpouring of civic spirit. Eventually the crowd spent its fervor, and the mayor took center stage again.
“We’d now like to introduce the team members leading this project in cooperation with the city of Wildern. Aines Shora you all know, the base captain of the Benevolent Union.” After the revived applause subsided, she went on. “The Benevolents have organized earthbreakers, engineers and laborers from across the country to undertake this intensive project. Quasta Kalen of West Pine Company, here to show their support.” She paused as the lumber heir raised her hand. “Brother Enruth of the Church of Tufar. Don’t worry, Brother, we’ll get your church finished, too.” She turned to catch the priest’s pantomimed show of impatience, and smiled as she continued the roll call. “Traveller Yuzan of the Church of Eytra in Ceien.” The mayor extended a hand downstage, and the cloaked priest stepped forward and offered the Eytran prayer gesture again. “Traveller Yuzan has brought a team of expert earthbreakers to assist our own in excavation and construction. And leading a contingent from the Yanweian National Army, to offer logistical and organizational support, Major Kazi na Furujia.” She added another sentence in Yanweian to the man in the Army uniform, who made Keifon’s salute, one closed fist over his chest, as Agna’s stomach dropped.
“Kazi” might have been the most common name in Yanwei, for all she knew.
Something was tugging at her arm. “Hey, what was that part?”
There might be a hundred men named Kazi in the Yanweian National Army alone. Even ones whose personal names came first, like “Keifon the Medic” — marking them as clanless.
“Agna?”
She could translate the name, though. It was a name she’d heard before.
They had another name for me. “Doomcrow.” Keifon Doomcrow. Kazi liked the name Kazi Eagle-eye, so…
Eagle-eye. Furujia.
She turned her chin toward Keth, her eyes locked on the mayor, the Benevolents’ leader, and the man who had broken her best friend’s heart.
“She said ‘Thank you for your support.’”
Kazi waved to the crowd. A polite smattering of applause, underlaid with unease, followed the mayor’s prompting. The mayor then turned and signaled to the Eytran priest, who raised his hands toward the steep slope just up the road. At its peak, two more cloaked figures signaled back.
“And now,” said the mayor to the crowd, “the northern pass project has officially begun.”
The priest lifted his hands, the earthbreakers on the ridge knelt, and a deep, muffled boom reverberated through Agna’s feet. The face of the hill cracked and slid into a pile of rubble. As the rumbling died, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Someday the northern pass would make it easier for Keifon to visit his family. He wouldn’t have to ride a tiny hay cart along steep, winding roads, mere steps from sheer drops into ravines. Agna had always agreed that the pass improvements would benefit his life. And the pass would be built — in part, indirectly — by the same ex-boyfriend who had exiled him to Kavera, away from his daughter, in the first place.
That was him, that stranger with high cheekbones and regal bearing. He had made her sweet companion into the angry, despairing man she’d first met in Vertal, hurt too badly to trust anyone again. It had been a long, hard climb out of that pit for him. Did this Kazi even know? Did he care what he’d done? He’d told Keifon not to contact him again. He’d told him to get out of the country, because Keifon would be in the way of his career. Now that she thought of it, Keifon had spoken of him as though they were equals, in the Army. It seemed as though getting rid of his partner had helped him rise through the ranks after all.
She knew her cheeks were flushing, but it didn’t matter. Even if
Keth had looked, if someone had asked her why she was glaring daggers at the representative from the Yanweian National Army, she wasn’t sure she could answer. Why did she hate someone she’d never met and would probably never meet? Because he’d hurt someone who trusted him, who didn’t deserve it. Because he’d hurt someone she cared about. Because…
Because, in the end, that smug stranger on the stage had meant more to Kei than she ever could.
The crowd dispersed at the edges, streaming away toward homes and shops and alehouses. Agna didn’t hear it very well. The moving bodies were a smear of color, like an overturned palette.
Keth tugged on her arm. “So, where would you like to get down to art business? There’s a great place not too far from your gallery, you know. Little teahouse called the Green Leaf. Maybe you’ve been there. Somebody should write a guide to all of the new places in Wildern. There are so many. Do you think it’d be a good fundraiser, maybe? We could co-sponsor it. Usually the theater does galas and parties, but we’ve produced books of plays before. I have every one, a complete set. So what do you think?”
It was wrong, thinking this way. He said nearly every day that he loved her. It would be alaste in her language, familial devotion, but that was enough. Wasn’t it?
Families were a breakable thing, snapping and re-forming with every romance, with every shift in fortunes. Your loyalty belonged to your spouse and your children, and to the clan whose name you’d chosen. Anyone outside that circle couldn’t expect to be more than a pleasant sideline. She’d seen less of Rone once he found Bakari, and when Esirel and Lina latched onto one another, Agna was notable mainly because of her connection to the other: Lina’s sister, Esirel’s roommate. If she hadn’t been Esirel’s future sister-in-law, would they have bothered writing to one another? Esirel wrote so infrequently now that she suspected it was the case.
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