The truth of the matter, though, the truth that she wouldn't let herself think about let alone accept, was that she didn't want to have much of anything to do with the House. Some of that was born of pure spite. She had never fit in, and she doubted most members of the House would lift a finger to help her. Why should she help them? She had no illusions about what would become of her if something were to happen to her father. She would hold the rights to his property, but she'd be a House member in name only. The others would exclude her, and she would end up living a life of hostile seclusion in the enclave.
Were she the romantically mercenary sort, she still couldn't hope to escape House Staerleigh through an outside marriage. Marriages between members of different trade Houses were rare, and unions between Adepts were prohibited, no matter how weak their skills. The other Adept clans weren't as picky, but the trade Houses jealously hoarded their Adept members, refusing to allow the possibility that another House might benefit from their Adepts' skills.
There were the occasional unions between non-Adepts—provided the marriage suited both Houses' interests, of course. Even these were exceedingly uncommon, and someone of Cianne's standing within the House would never be permitted to marry into another. No one would even think about suggesting it as to do so would be considered a grave and unforgivable insult against her father.
The one option left to her would be to strike out on her own, and that wasn't without risk either. House Staerleigh guarded its secrets closely, and they wouldn't wish her well and send her on her way. She would have to disappear in the dead of night, taking whatever she could with her before striking out. Staying in Cearova would be impossible. Were she to find someone sympathetic to her plight, they still wouldn't risk hiring her or taking her under their wing for fear of incurring her House's wrath. There were criminal elements that would be glad to have her, due both to her secret skills and the prospect of exploiting her House knowledge, but Cianne was no criminal. She'd borne plenty of witness to the evil deeds people committed against one another, whether they were committed with physical or psychological violence, and she wanted no part of it. No, she would have to leave the city and try to disappear elsewhere in Astoran. She had no other choice.
Letting out a breath that was half sob, she splashed some more water on her face, hoping it might do something to soothe her burning eyes. She dabbed her face dry with the lavender-scented towel Vivie had left for her, crushing it between her hands when it occurred to her that she'd never given much consideration to what it was like to be Vivie. The maid bore an air of perpetual cheerfulness, but what other choice did she have? She was also a non-Adept, but unlike Cianne she had no powerful parent to shield her. Instead, she'd been destined for her role since the day she was born.
The fact of the matter was that there was no escape for any of them, not even Lach, though he was both blind to and content with his own confinement.
Feeling ill, Cianne took care to place the towel neatly next to her washbasin. She had to pull herself together. Lach would arrive at any minute as they were to spend the day together. Solitude had often weighed heavily on her, but between the prospect of spending the entire day with Lach, concealing her distress from him, and having to put on a good show for the assembly that night, she longed to be alone.
Taking in a slow, deep breath, she closed her eyes and centered herself. Picturing the simple line drawings she'd pored over the previous night helped, and her breathing calmed. Once she was in her day dress, hair coaxed into a simple twist, she felt calmer.
"You look lovely," Lach said when he arrived, drinking her in with obvious appreciation.
"Thank you," she said, forcing herself to smile at his words. She didn't doubt their sincerity, but it was past time she acknowledged that she couldn't ignore their significance. "What did you have in mind for today?"
"Ah, now, that is an interesting question, one that offers some distinctly fascinating possibilities." Giving her his best mysterious grin, Lach offered her his arm, and she took it.
Despite the disquiet state of her mind, she couldn't resist his enthusiasm. He was like a child whenever he was particularly pleased with himself. "Something tells me you have a plan in mind."
"I have uncovered a most interesting bit of information."
"Care to share it with me?"
"That would spoil the surprise, wouldn't it?"
"A surprise!" she said, delighted. He excelled at devising wondrous surprises for her, and her spirits rose.
They achieved new heights when she saw the carriage waiting for them. Getting outside of the enclave's walls held great appeal. Lach helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her, settling into the seat across from her. His eyes sparkled, and he brushed hair back from his forehead with a hand clad in a kid glove. He wore a fine frock coat of gray-blue wool with thick silver embroidery along the edges and buttonholes, and black breeches that hugged his well-muscled thighs. His knee-high black leather boots were polished to a glossy shine. His apparel spoke of an outfit assembled with a critical eye, and she knew he had taken such care because he was spending the day with her.
Pain pierced her. She wished she could find the words to end his affection for her without destroying their friendship. She wished she knew what to say that would make him see her the way she saw him, instead of gazing at her with that softness in his eyes.
His face warm with contentment, he smiled at her. "While in Vyramas, I struck up a conversation with a fellow in a tavern. Turns out he was a Performer who was supposed to travel to Cearova to meet up with the rest of his troupe."
"A Performer?" she asked, her curiosity piqued, making her forget about her sorrow for a moment. She adored watching Performers, and though there were some in residence in Cearova, and troupes passed through the city on a regular basis, she hadn't had much opportunity to see them. Daerwyn considered such amusements mere fripperies. What use were such Adept abilities, he had wondered. Surely the gods were better served by those who could work the land, ply the seas, and build impressive structures to their glory than those who had a talent for prancing about singing and pretending to be someone other than themselves.
"A Performer," Lach confirmed, his smile widening. Her response pleased him, as it had all their lives. Her attention had long been his currency, but she wasn't quite certain when his feelings had shifted from childish pleasure at having astounded a companion to romantic pleasure at feeling he understood her better than anyone else.
"What happened?"
"He had arranged to travel with a caravan, but a lamed beast delayed their departure for so long that the caravan had to reroute. By the time the fellow found out, it was too late for him to arrange alternate overland passage."
"And so you took him aboard your ship?"
Lach's teeth flashed as he nodded. "He was hesitant to accept at first, said he didn't want to offend Cearus. In truth, I think he feared the sea but didn't want to admit as much to a Seafarer. I assured him that Cearus is best pleased when happy sailors pay homage to him and said I would consider it a personal favor if he were to join us aboard and entertain my crew during their off-duty hours. What could he do then but agree?"
"So you becalmed the seas in order to make his passage as smooth as possible," she said, unable to resist teasing him.
With a modest shrug, he said, "Cearus favored us. We didn't run into a single squall on our way home, and the winds and currents were favorable without much urging on my part. Perhaps it was the offering you made to the Lord of Water."
His words weren't in jest. No Seafarer or fisherman took the whims of Cearus lightly. Lach was a devout follower of the god, ever aware of the favor Cearus had shown him by gifting him with such considerable Adept abilities.
Cianne, on the other hand, couldn't help but regard the god with some measure of cynicism. For what purpose had Cearus decided that she, daughter of two respected Adepts and resident of a House that set all its store by the Lord of Water, should not be so
gifted? She knew the bitterness in her heart that prevented her from paying the god his due deference was evil, but she couldn't seem to overcome it. She still paid a dutiful visit to Cearus's majestic temple to make an offering whenever Lach set out to sea, but she did so more for his sake than out of any sense of religious devotion.
"Or perhaps you so pleased Cearus that he saw fit to reward your efforts, which is the more likely case," she said.
"You always turn it back to me, but your dedication means a great deal to me," he chided gently. "I wish you would not undermine the important role you have to play in the House. Loyalty and devotion are what Cearus requires of us, and in serving our House faithfully you are certain to please the Lord of Water.
"Whatever the case, I delivered Auron Raxford safely to his troupe, and by way of thanks he asked if I might be interested in an advance peek at his troupe's performance."
"A private performance?" she asked, her eyes widening.
"Not only that, it's a new show. You and I shall be the first to see it."
"Oh, Lach, that's brilliant!" she exclaimed, throwing herself forward so that she could embrace him.
She heard his shuddering intake of breath as her arms circled his neck, and it was all she could do to prevent herself from pulling away from him at once. How she hated moments like this, when it seemed she would lead him on without having the least intention of doing so. She should have been able to embrace her friend without fearing it might appear as something more.
It would be better for him as well if I left.
Chapter 6
"You are punctual," Burl grudgingly acknowledged when Kila met her at the front gate of the Staerleigh enclave. Her tone suggested she intended to hold this against him as well, and he spared a moment to puzzle over what would have pleased her, not because he cared one lick about appeasing her, but because it was such a perplexing conundrum. Surely she would have been vexed had he arrived late. Did that mean she would have preferred him to be precisely on time, or fifteen minutes early rather than ten?
"I do my best. I wouldn't wish to offend anyone."
Her lip curled, as if his very existence offended. "That's wise. The Council of Elders takes social consideration quite seriously."
He wondered why she was being helpful but then decided she must have deduced that it might not reflect so well on her if he were to offend anyone. No doubt she had no intention of bringing him into her inner circle, but she had to be anxious about protecting her reputation. Enforcers' pay was modest at best, so chances were she was hoping for Staerleigh patronage to help ease her through her golden years. Kila hadn't forgotten the lavish homes of the former liaisons who had succeeded at ingratiating themselves with their House.
"I shall follow your lead," he said.
"Do."
Showing him her back, she headed through the gates, and he trailed along behind her.
The Staerleigh enclave was impressive, but then they all were. All three trade Houses had enclaves in the city, each in a prime location. House Staerleigh was closest to the coast, of course, but their enclave was set well away from the wharves, the better to enjoy the sea air and the view without being troubled by the dirtier, less savory aspects of the docks. House Mallay's enclave was closer to the gates, spread out over a low rise that gave the impression that they were looking down upon the rest of the city—which might very well have been the case. The House's proximity to the gates and their vantage allowed them a bird's-eye view of the comings and goings of their caravans. House Rolland's enclave was located in the center of the city, not far from the Enforcement headquarters. They would hardly consider the Enforcers illustrious company, despite that Enforcers were as gods-gifted with Adept abilities as the Coin Masters were, but their situation placed them squarely in the heart of the city's thriving business district.
Other Adept Houses were represented in the city as well, but their landholdings tended to be smaller, single grand manors instead of sprawling miniature cities within cities consisting of multiple glittering homes. The trade Houses liked to think of Cearova as the dazzling jewel of the realm, an attitude that didn't much endear them to the residents of the other four main cities in Astoran.
The other Houses comforted themselves by whispering that the trade Houses would be nothing without them. After all, what reason could the Seafarers have to brave the waves if not to carry other House-made goods to far-flung locations? What reason would the Caravanists have to send their carts, wagons, and beasts of burdens out onto the roads if not to distribute throughout the realm the bounty of the Agromancers' labors? What would the Coin Masters count without the Ore Masters and Distillers to craft goods that commanded such a high price?
But wait! How could any of them hope to exist without the Battle Masters' prowess to ensure they were all safe to engage in their fabrication, their performing, their trade?
Bored. That was how Kila felt whenever conversation amongst Adepts degenerated into these tired, worn out squabbles. He had no idea if the Adepts of Myrsha, his native land, had put together a better system, but he didn't much care. Adepts in general seemed to overlook the fact that, special though some of them might be, they would be nowhere on their own. What would the Coin Masters eat? Gold? Who would the Battle Masters beat into a bloody pulp? One another? The fact of the matter, as Kila saw it, was that they were all tied together, Adepts and non-Adepts alike. The world as a whole was a codependent organism, and everyone would be the better for it if they would wake up and realize this.
It wasn't a view he shared with many.
Following a couple of steps behind Burl, Kila took in the elegant stone and marble abodes of House Staerleigh. The structures were light and graceful, their façades appearing to consist of layer upon layer of lace, so elaborately worked was the stone. Every last one boasted a balcony or two with balustrades of iron wrought by the Shapers, but each was unique. One home's bore a woodland scene, while another's depicted a flower garden, and still another's brought to mind a sky replete with stars. The main gates had been wrought into the forms of crashing waves that gave Kila the creepy sensation they were about to sweep him away, and the farther they proceeded into the enclave, the more he felt like he was being sucked into a current.
Burl came to an abrupt halt and gestured curtly to the building before them. "This is the Council Hall," she said.
It was the tallest building in the enclave thanks to the spire that soared up into the sky, piercing the inky darkness. The outside of the building bore carving upon carving of figures, and Kila was willing to bet the Hall was meant to tell the history of House Staerleigh. Ships and roiling waters figured prominently, and looking at them made him queasy.
"And those homes?" he asked, pointing to the five largest.
"Council members' homes," she said. Was her tone naturally that clipped or just when she talked to him, he wondered. "I haven't the time to tell you whose is whose, but tomorrow we will study a map of the enclave and you will memorize the location of each home and to whom it belongs."
"Stellar," he murmured, and pushed an expression of utmost innocence onto his face when she frowned and examined him.
Don't get cheeky, he told himself when she finally looked away. You don't know the extent of her gifts, and it would certainly behoove you to determine that.
His own gifts were quite strong, a fact that he liked to keep mostly to himself. Then again, it could be that he thought so because his former colleagues' performance hadn't been much more impressive than that of very discerning non-Adepts. During his previous tenure in Cearova he hadn't had much opportunity to develop an informed opinion of the extent of his colleagues' gifts, and he hadn't been in the city anywhere near long enough this time around to form anything like an accurate picture. He could imagine one of two scenarios, and it would be to his benefit to uncover which theory, if either, was true. Did the trade Houses do their best to keep the most gifted Enforcers in Cearova, believing it was in their best interests to popula
te their department with those who would be most capable of controlling the criminal elements in the city? Or did they prefer to send away the most gifted in order to maintain a firmer grasp on the less able, more controllable Enforcer Adepts?
Kila followed Burl into the Council Hall, which was no less impressive inside than out. A beautiful fresco depicting Cearus's benevolent reception of offerings from the faithful covered one wall. It was one of the most exquisite frescoes Kila had ever seen, so lifelike that he half expected Cearus to step out of the wall and begin mingling with the guests. Squinting at the signature, Kila made out the name of one of the most celebrated Composers in history and was duly impressed. Even the palace in Vyramas could boast only a few small paintings created by the same Composer.
Tapestries lush with vibrant colors covered the other walls, interspersed between the graceful arched windows. The intricate hangings were a testament to the skill of the Weavers, as were the wondrous garments worn by several of the ladies and gentlemen present at the assembly. Stunning silver chandeliers with faceted crystal drops twinkled with hundreds of pure, white tapers, casting a warm, burnishing glow over the room.
Smell the gold perfuming this rarefied air, he thought, resisting the urge to inhale deeply.
His gifts kicked in, making him pick up subtle details that would escape the notice of most who lacked Enforcer abilities. Seemingly disparate elements coalesced in his mind, cluing him in to the identities of several of the Hall's occupants, as well as things they might mistakenly believe secret.
A semi-concealed jewel winking from one woman's bodice hinted at an assignation with someone other than her spouse.
The scuff marring another man's boot suggested either his valet was lax or he was trying to appear wealthier than he was. No, Kila decided, the man was wealthy, but he likely had a gambling problem exacerbated by drunkenness, as indicated by the still-small broken capillaries lining the man's nose, the slight ruddiness to his complexion.
A House Divided (Astoran Asunder, book 1) Page 4