There were plenty of friends out there. They were nice to have for a time, but they drifted away once something better came along, like a relationship or an assignment. It was the way of the world.
It wasn’t as though Keifon would stay forever. He’d find another Kazi, someone who wouldn’t break him again, and she’d see him on holidays or happen across him at the market. That was all she could ask for. She was in the outer circle, well-regarded, but ultimately unnecessary. And that was all right. It wasn’t as though she expected, or secretly hoped, that he would stay.
Her smile at Keth felt brittle. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”
* * *
Agna went to bed before it was dark, feeling wrung-out and disconnected from herself. The windows were open to let in the summer night air, but she felt grimy and small, tossing and turning in her too-warm sheets.
They’d agreed from the beginning that he’d come to Wildern to get his own place and find a spouse. That was the entire point of coming here. It wasn’t fair of her to feel upset about it now, months after they’d arrived.
And she’d always known about Kazi. It had taken Keifon a while to speak his name, to tell her exactly what weighed on him, but she’d known for a long time that his last partner had left him out to dry. She’d always vaguely resented him out of loyalty to Keifon, but this hot, shivering anger was terrifying. It was too much. This was Keifon’s history, his business. What did it mean to her?
Staring at the ceiling, she allowed the thought in. Half of it was childish, but at least it was simple: you hurt someone I care about; how dare you stroll into our city like you have a right? The other half made her feel as though she couldn’t face Keifon tomorrow, or ever. I hate that you meant more to him. She remembered the warm spring night and the lantern they’d set on the studio floor, right where she kept her crates of notes now. His voice had gotten soft, talking about Kazi, and she remembered the look in his eyes — regretful, but also nostalgic. There were things he still missed about Kazi. There were experiences they’d shared and bonds between them that she could never understand.
Someday he’d find out that Kazi was back in town. Maybe he’d be angry. More likely he’d be torn, angry and curious at the same time. Right now, at the end of her rope, Agna wasn’t sure she could be a supportive friend as he worked his way through it. She could only keep her opinion to herself for so long.
Nothing good could come of challenging such thoughts, of asking herself what was wrong with her, or asking him why he loved Kazi more. It wasn’t fair to ask, and it wasn’t fair to want to ask. She wanted away from it, away from the need to talk about it. The pass project was supposed to drag on for months, into the winter. If they began in the south and worked their way north, as it seemed they would, then someday they’d be over the Yanweian border and far enough away. Still, she couldn’t escape herself.
She wasn’t sure how to face him, how to chat over dinner while these doubts roiled in her head. He’d know that something was wrong. He always did. But what else could she do? It wasn’t as though she could escape him until her traitor mind — heart — whatever — recanted its betrayal. Where else was she supposed to go?
She’d sent letters to Nessiny not long ago, one each to Papa and Marco, her would-be counterpart in her aunt’s agency. She’d chatted about their acquisitions and dodged her father’s requests to come home to discuss the future of the Despana Agency.
It wouldn’t cost much to send another letter. It wasn’t a good time. Perhaps it would never be a good time. But it was her only escape route.
In the morning she wrote her letter, fighting a headache with every line. It went out with the first mail, and sealed her decision.
Papa,
I’ve given it some thought, and you’re right. It’s important to discuss the agency’s future in person. I’ll only need some time to meet my investors and get my affairs in order here.
I’ll be home soon.
All my love,
Agna.
Agna: The Gathering
“It does look rather like a dry-goods store, doesn’t it.”
Agna kept her smile steady as Quasta Kalen, the heir to the West Pine Company, peered past her. “I suppose, but we’ve begun repainting, and once we have the collections installed…”
“Oh yes,” said the Tufarian priest, Sister Sulli, setting her wine glass on one of Agna’s floor plans. “I remember coming here when I was just so high. Wiric would always give us those little maple candies.”
“Hm.” Quasta turned to take in the scoured and repainted front room. It was lit with every candle and lamp that Agna and Jaeti had been able to press into service, but even that could not make a gallery appear out of thin air. “An unusual choice for an art gallery. One would hope to have a purpose-built location for any respectable collection.”
“I hope to give us all a better picture of it when we discuss the plans.” Agna refilled Quasta’s wine and swept into the side gallery, where Aines Shora, the leader of the Benevolent Union base, chatted with Keth, the Vogal Lumber Company heir. She was absorbed entirely in telling him about a book she’d read recently. Agna made eye contact with Agent Shora and raised the bottle enough to suggest a refill, and he waved it off without breaking Keth’s concentration. Agna thought she ought to start taking notes on his technique. As Agna returned to the main room, Jaeti sidled up to prematurely deliver her history museum speech to Sister Sulli. Wishing she could joggle Jaeti’s elbow without being obvious, Agna set down the wine bottle on the counter. They’d all hear Jaeti’s speech soon enough. In fact, they’d had a chance to meander around and drink wine for a while; she may as well start.
She stood before the counter with her hands clasped. “Everyone? If you’d gather in the main hall, please?” Dry-goods store or not, it would be her main hall someday.
Agent Shora emerged from the side gallery at Keth’s elbow, while Keth cut short her recounting of plot points. Quasta Kalen took one of the kitchen chairs lined up along the wall, while Jaeti and Sister Sulli stood.
“Thank you so much for coming. As you all know, I’ve gathered you here as distinguished citizens of Wildern with an interest in the cultural future of the city.” She had practiced her speech over and over, to herself, to Keifon, and to Jaeti. She had given dozens of speeches at the Academy and had won the bronze medal in the city-wide debate championships, but those speeches had been in another language and another life. Still, the old skills came back to her. It was a small group; even if they and their interests controlled half the money in Wildern, there were only four of them. Plus Jaeti, but she was a collaborator, not the audience.
Agna continued the part of the speech about bringing the unique culture of northwestern Kavera into the future. When she reached the point where Jaeti was supposed to take over, she gave a grand wave in the historian’s direction. “Jaeti, if you will?”
Jaeti’s wine glass hit the counter, and her speech was off and running. Despite a tendency to digress a bit, Jaeti made good points about connecting the new residents and their influences to the history and traditions of the city. She admitted that the newcomers were, in the aggregate, here to stay. This drew a sigh from Sister Sulli. But, Jaeti went on, the newcomers only seemed to disregard the history and culture of Wildern because they had never been properly introduced to it. The same was true of the young people of the city; so many of them had moved away because they did not realize the value of their birthplace. Jaeti thought that by opening a history museum, dedicated to educating the public on the origins and character of Wildern, they would build a better appreciation for the city among its transplants and its children.
At this point, as they’d orchestrated, Agna joined in to suggest that the two goals could work in concert. Art was a form of communication, and their exhibits could coordinate along themes as well as providing another means of demonstrating the value of the region.
“Local art, perhaps?” Agent Shora asked.
Agna picked
up the thread. “Possibly, or, say, if we have an exhibit on women painters, the history museum could coordinate a display about some notable women in Wildern’s history. Or exploration, or scientific discoveries, or the influence of the Church. There are so many themes that can tie everything together.”
The group hmm-ed and rumbled amongst themselves.
“Who will decide these exhibit themes?” Sister Sulli’s eyes roved around the walls. “I’m sure we could come up with so many interesting ideas just in this group.”
“I’m sure,” Agna echoed, and went on before the priest went too far into that direction. “And thank you for the segue; that brings me to my next point. While Jaeti and I hope to be driving forces in this endeavor, we also hope to have active participation from the leaders of Wildern’s cultural community. Which is why we’ve brought you here today, to hear what you have to say so that we can serve the community.” And because they were the most likely allies in their respective factions. She had already sussed out Agent Shora’s interest in her project. The rest of the Vogals were hard to reach, and Keth had an overabundance of enthusiasm; Sister Sulli was the primary decorator and collector among the Tufarians; and no one blinked within West Pine without Quasta’s permission. “And while it’s still early, if we know of someone who might want to serve on our first board of directors, I would be delighted to speak with them.”
Keth Vogal spoke up for the first time since the group had convened. “I’m on the board of directors for the Crescendo Theater! We have brainstorming meetings once a quarter, and gala openings. Are you planning a gala opening?”
“Absolutely,” Agna said, over Jaeti’s “Well…” She seemed to have won the duel, so Agna went on. “Not just yet. We’re still in the earliest phases. But someday, once we have an exhibit to debut, we will have a grand opening.” The Kaveran words for gala opening and grand opening carried a host of subtly different connotations. Agna hoped her comment would thread the needle between this is important and impressive and we can’t afford gilt-edged invitations and imported wine. “Our first goal is to assemble our team, to direct our first stages of development.” And to fund them. Mostly to fund them.
“What is it you’re expecting from your ‘team’?” Quasta Kalen asked, swirling her wine glass.
Agna trusted Jaeti to avoid saying boatloads of money. “Ideas,” Jaeti said. “Input.”
“Guidance,” Agna put in. “Your voices are important to us.”
“Where will the art come from?” Sister Sulli asked. “Our priesthood has collected a few pieces, but we’re saving them for the new church, and, well…”
The fear of giving up priceless heirlooms passed like a storm cloud over the group. Sensing the turning of the room, Agna raised her hands. “No need, no need. I’ve cultivated contacts with several artists—” —even though most of them were, as yet, unknowns— “and I plan to acquire more pieces on my upcoming trip to Nessiny.”
Quasta Kalen’s eyebrows twitched. “There’s Nessinian art on every wall of the Prisan Grand Gallery.”
“That’s exciting, then,” Keth said.
“Derivative,” Quasta corrected. “Wildern is not a late-coming copy of Prisa.”
Agna’s mind stampeded through her debate training and every psychology class she’d taken at the Academy. “True,” she cut in, before they could get any further sidetracked. “Which is why I hope to curate a collection that does honor to Wildern’s unique character.”
“How long have you been in Wildern, Miss Despana?” Quasta flicked a hand toward the nearest wine bottle, and Keth Vogal leaped to refill her glass. Agna tried to unclench her jaw. She hadn’t noticed that Quasta’s glass was getting low. It wasn’t fair to ask how long she’d been in Wildern, anyway; wasn’t Jaeti a Wildern native? Didn’t that balance things out?
She swerved instead. “I hope to seek counsel from lifelong residents such as yourselves.”
“Hm. One has to wonder what your background brings to the table.”
“Organization,” she said, holding her voice steady. “And connecting artists and works with the collection. Your woodcutters can cut the trees, but who decides which trees to cut, or where to sell them afterward?”
The potential investors relaxed, perhaps understanding their commonalities at last. Thankfully, none of them moonlighted as artists. They’d have her head if they heard her trumpeting the glory of being a middleman.
They’d moved a little; she could still win them over. She only had to be patient, and to demonstrate her abilities. “We’ll take some time to consider it,” she said. “I’ll be in touch with each of you to discuss your particular concerns. In the meantime, do contact me if you have any thoughts on the matter. We shall reconvene after I return from my purchasing trip. You’re welcome to stay and chat. Jaeti and I thank you for coming.”
Keth Vogal pounced nearly as soon as Agna closed her mouth, with a jumble of you’ll have to tell me all about Nessiny and we’re rehearsing a new play, I don’t want to miss it, and left the door ajar in her wake. Agent Shora slid up to Quasta Kalen. Agna closed the door and turned to find Sister Sulli smiling nervously.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but it seemed off track for this meeting. How long is your assignment here?”
“Oh — I’ve finished my assignment for the Academy. I served in the Golden Caravan clinic for two years.”
Sister Sulli looped her long string of prayer beads around her fingers like a game of cat’s cradle. “I see… that’s interesting. What brought you to Wildern, then? The other Nessinians?”
“I’m afraid not, I’ve only gotten acquainted with them since I moved to town.” She weighed the mess of hopes, guesses and attachments that had swayed her decision, and cut out any words reminiscent of ripe market for expansion. “It seemed like a place with a lot of potential. I grew up in Murio, which is a beautiful city. It will always be close to my heart. But everything that could be done there has already been done. I wanted to create something new.” Seeing misgiving in the priest’s fidgeting, Agna tacked in a different and no less true direction. “And my roommate found it ideal for visiting his family in Yanwei. So that was part of it, as well.”
“Oh yes, Dr. Rushu’s apprentice. Right?”
“That’s right.” She silently dared the nervous priest to ask anything else. At the moment she would enjoy biting someone’s head off over a stupid question about her relationship with Keifon. It wouldn’t do much to relieve the heavy ball of frustration sitting under her diaphragm, but imagining it was gratifying.
But the priest only said, “Is he a Tufarian, then?”
If only their religious leanings made that much sense. She’d always thought that a medic-training-as-a-doctor should fall under the jurisdiction of the god of learning and medicine, but what did she know. “He’s a Daranite, actually. Quite devoted. He served in the military back in Yanwei.”
“I see.” She ducked past Agna. “I really must be going. Thank you for the invitation.”
“I’ll stop by the…” Click. “…new… church. Sometime.”
She turned. Quasta, Aines, and Jaeti formed a loose circle in the middle of the front room. Agna wondered how long they’d all known one another. Jaeti was the eldest of the group, but Quasta, Agent Shora and Sister Sulli were roughly of an age with one another, in their late forties. Had any of them ever left Wildern?
All the more reason to bring some new life into this place. Sneaking up at Jaeti’s elbow, Agna turned the circle of three into four, willfully ignoring the fact that she was a generation or two removed from the rest of them, and had been born halfway around the world.
“—in due time,” Jaeti was saying. “We’ll want to honor the industry leaders, I’m sure. Someday.”
“It’s well overdue,” Quasta said coolly. The comment seemed neutral, but her eyes never left Aines Shora’s. The Benevolent Union leader smiled with an equally steady gaze. After a moment, Quasta stepped away to set down her wine glass, and adjusted
her shawl. “I will review our budget. But the hour is late, and I can’t stay and chat.”
Agna broke from the circle to see Quasta’s way to the door, half disappointed that the strange tension in the air had broken. She might have learned something about the dynamics here from it. She would have to keep digging. “Thank you so much for coming. We’ll be in touch.”
“We’ll talk then. Good evening.”
After seeing her out, Agna found herself alone with Jaeti and Agent Shora, whom, she realized, had been silent through most of the meeting. Jaeti launched into action at last, gathering up the plates and wine glasses. Agent Shora joined in over Jaeti’s protests.
“Now now, Jae, let’s not argue. The moneymakers are gone; it’s just us idea people now.” He seemed to share Quasta’s trick of misdirection, because his comment seemed mostly addressed to Agna.
Shaking off a tickle of unease, Agna ferried an armload of dishware to the work sink in the back room. Agent Shora carefully deposited a second load. “That’s the rest of it.”
“Thank you. You really don’t have to—”
“I am aware of that.” He laid a hand on the pump handle as she began to push. Agna stepped away and lined up the pot in the sink to catch the stream of water.
At a loss for an answer other than another thank you, Agna unbuttoned her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves. The sooner she got cleaned up and got rid of these two, the sooner she could make her notes about this mess of a meeting, and start planning her next move.
When the pot was full, she hefted it out of the sink, resolutely shouldering Agent Shora aside, and carried it to the fireplace. She reached for the tinder box, but Agent Shora was already stooping to light the tinder. At a loss, Agna folded her arms and waited.
Her path had hardly crossed Agent Shora’s since her initial interview. He was always in the background at the base, running off to meetings, watching over his empire of healers and teachers from a distance. He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave her kitchen now, for some reason. Agna bit back a snappish Don’t you have somewhere to be? as they waited for the water to boil.
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