“My husband is hoping to find sorcery work.”
“What about you?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Kalan Jherin needs talented telepaths more than anything else. You could work with us. Someone ought to teach you how to be a proper Halnari.”
Velsa certainly didn’t want to be a proper Halnari.
It was a tantalizing idea however, that she might actually have a job and money of her own. But working around other telepaths seemed very dangerous. As they got to know her, they would surely sense her nervousness when her past was discussed. How long before they figured out what she really was?
“Your talent lies in reading emotions,” the woman murmured. “Very useful indeed.”
“I don’t know about that,” Velsa said. “I haven’t developed my powers.”
“It doesn’t matter. Your affinity is apparent, even without training. Your telekinetic skills are weak. Maybe that makes sense. You don’t have a real body to develop a connection with physical things.” Velsa heard faint disdain in her tone.
“You cannot have any children to occupy your time, so it seems to me you would be dishonoring your new home if you didn’t work for Kalan Jherin,” the woman said after a moment of consideration.
Velsa looked at the door, panic rising. Would the woman not let her go unless she swore to work for Kalan Jherin?
She already hated that Grau had to work for such a man, to be able to pursue his desire to be a potion maker.
“I just got married and followed my husband here; I haven’t thought about much beyond that.” Velsa moved to the door. “You’re done with me, aren’t you?”
The Halnari woman grabbed her, her fragile beauty belying her strength. “I’m sure your mother would be proud of you if you made something of your powers. Don’t tell me you’re content to be a Daramon man's wife, with no other purpose in this world. No Miralem woman would be satisfied with that.”
Does she know I’m not really a Miralem woman?
But I’d rather have no purpose than serve Kalan.
The woman raised an eyebrow like she heard Velsa’s thoughts.
The door burst open and Grau appeared. The Halnari woman took her hand off Velsa.
“Sir,” she said, stepping forward with her careful gait. “Who told you you could come in here?”
He ignored the question. “Are you finished with my wife?”
“Yes,” the woman said primly. “But this is the women’s area.”
“My apologies,” Grau said, but he didn’t sound that sorry. “I passed through customs some time ago, and we have a busy day ahead.”
“Very well.” The woman dismissed them with a bow, but her eyes didn’t leave Velsa.
“Are you trying to get us both in trouble?” Velsa asked, as they hurried out, but she couldn’t be too upset with him. “How did you know where I was?”
“Ever since you did that telepathic thought-sharing thing, I seem to pick up on your thoughts occasionally. Not all of them, not the way you keep picking up on mine, but particularly when you’re distressed. And I wondered what was taking so long. What was she saying?”
“She wants me to work with her, but even if I didn’t have to worry that they might find out the truth about me, I wouldn’t want to be like a Halnari lady.”
“No indeed.” He raised an eyebrow, and she knew he found them as strange as she did. He hoisted their bags onto his shoulder and motioned to the double doors leading outside. “Let’s head to the palace complex. They said there’s a bus heading that way every quarter hour.”
Chapter 2
The street outside was bustling; a line of private carriages accepted the incoming ship passengers who had money, while the poorest of travelers set off down the sidewalks on foot, laden with bags. A few vendors offered meat pies and sausages, the same as one might see in Nisa or Atlantis. The sidewalks were wooden and the road was paved with cobblestones, giving it a very sophisticated appearance compared to the rutted, muddy streets of the other cities she knew. Most curiously, workmen were building some sort of elevated platform and track that led away as far as the eye could see. The sounds of clanging hammers and equipment rang out near and distant.
A small crowd had gathered by a sign to await the bus. Grau leaned a hand against a lamppost. “I overheard some guys talking when I was filling out my papers,” he said. “If you display a gift for elemental sorcery, they won’t let you make potions. They’ll send you to the borders to be ready for war.”
“Where we just came from?”
“Yeah. And they won’t let you come with me now that you’re my wife. So I’m going to have to downplay my elemental skill. Learning potion-making was the whole point of this endeavor. Besides, I can’t handle killing another dragon.”
“More secrets.”
“It’s not a secret, exactly. Just withholding information.”
“Which I’m pretty sure is the definition of a secret.”
He shrugged.
The bus came along then, an elongated carriage that seated a crowd on rattly benches. Bold advertisements for soap and flour were posted on its sides. Velsa already missed riding with Grau on his horse, just the two of them, but they had to leave Fern with a friend of his in Atlantis. They boarded in a confused rush, with families trying not to get separated and a few of the travelers struggling to understand the fare.
Nalim Ima seemed to be a land of noise and product. As the bus maneuvered down the streets, everyone pressed their noses to the windows. Most of the buildings were between six and eight stories tall, and crammed together like one continuous structure. When a building did have an exposed side, an advertisement was painted on it. The ground floor always belonged to a shop or other business, offering everything Velsa could imagine—even phonographs. An entire store, just for phonographs, with a dozen on display in the glass window.
“Look at that!” She hadn’t realized that so many phonographs existed in all the world, much less that anyone could buy them.
“No trees, I notice,” Grau said. “Have you seen a tree since we got here?”
No trees, just a lot of wooden poles with wires strung between them. She was not sure of their purpose.
Grau’s relief was obvious when the carriage bus approached gates that must mark the Palace of Blessed Wings. Kalan Jherin’s red banners hung from the stone walls, and the tops of trees were visible over the top. Inside the walls, elegant brick buildings flanked squares landscaped with trees and bushes. It was winter, so everything was bare and dead, but they would likely be beautiful in spring when they blossomed. These squares of green pointed the way to a distant palace, impressive even from afar, with more than a dozen towers lifting their sharp, elegant edges to the sky.
The atmosphere inside the palace walls was serene compared to all the construction and bustle just outside, but it was still curious in how orderly everything was. Velsa had never seen such a large area that was obviously planned and built at once so that it looked the same. It had trees, yes, but certainly it was no untamed landscape like the marshes Grau loved. Strange as this place was, the symmetry appealed to her.
They got off the bus at the Magical Arts Building. Applicants skilled in magic who wanted to work for Kalan Jherin had to undergo tests here, to determine where they fit in. Velsa wondered if Grau would even be accepted as a potion maker since he had no prior training.
Inside, Grau filled out more papers and then someone waved him inside a door. “Please, wait here, madia,” the man said, addressing her as a married woman. “This will probably take an hour. There is a lounge across the hall with newspapers and complimentary tea.”
Velsa stepped into the hall. She had never been apart from Grau so often, and it was hard to shake the constant feeling that she was missing something, that she was vulnerable to the unwanted attention she received as a concubine.
A girl was standing in the hall—a very striking girl, lean and tall with dark brown skin, wearing cloth of shimme
ring red pinned at her shoulder and a shorter fur shawl over that. Her hair was cropped close to her head and she wore earrings that were large discs of gold—both strange to Velsa’s eyes, because only men wore earrings in the Atlantis region, and no woman cropped her hair. It was only recently that some men did. Velsa had always seen long hair as the privilege of every flesh-and-blood person. She envied the locks of real women, as her own hair had to be purchased and thus was only shoulder-length. But this young woman somehow looked like royalty, short hair and all. She was beautiful in a way Velsa had never seen before.
As Velsa looked at her, she saw Velsa, and her eyes widened. “Doka kom’ma?” she gasped.
Velsa spread her hands, trying not to look threatening. “I’m sorry…maybe you’ve never seen a Fanarlem before.” She knew very little of the lands where dark-skinned people came from, especially beyond the Balumi Islands, and this woman didn’t look like an Islander.
“Fanar…lem,” the regal young woman repeated.
“Yes.”
“You are not dead?”
“No… I’m waiting for my husband.”
“You are a wife…? A cloth person wife?”
“Why would you ask if I was dead?”
“Where I come from, we have a cloth person in the knowledge house…” The girl spoke slowly, reaching for words. “The dead come back into the cloth person when they have something to say. Then they go back to the spirit world. The doka kom’ma is tied up so they can never leave the knowledge house. That is forbidden.”
This sounded quite disturbing. “Lots of people here have artificial bodies,” Velsa said. “Most of them are slaves, but not all. And we’re as alive as anyone else.”
The girl didn’t reply now, but just stared at Velsa like she didn’t quite trust her. Velsa started to turn away, but the girl said, “Wait—I—I was impolite.”
“It’s all right.” Velsa gave her a friendly smile. “You don’t seem like you’ve been here very long.”
“I just arrived.” The girl’s shock was slowly fading away into a hesitant curiosity that Velsa couldn’t help but share.
“Me too. Where are you from?” Velsa asked.
The girl’s large eyes swept down. “I—I am from nowhere.”
“Princess Irik!” A man came striding toward them from down the hall, and if the short-haired girl was not enough to look at, he was truly a sight, standing almost seven feet tall in heeled boots. His red hair was already rare, but the color particularly stood out against his emerald green cape, which was embroidered with shimmering thread that shifted hue as different lights caught it. He wore a tight jacket of black velvet and such tight pants—striped, no less—that Velsa blushed to look at them. His black boots had red cuffs that flared so wide, a cat might have used them as a shelter in the rain.
“The carriage is waiting,” he told the girl—the Princess Irik. He seemed in a hurry, but still paused to look at Velsa. “And who are you?”
“Velsa Thanneau.”
“Are you married to that young eastern fellow applying for a sorcery placement?”
“Yes.”
“Very cute,” he said. “I’m familiar with your maker. Lavan, right?”
“I—yes.” Velsa twisted her hands. Not an optimal occurrence, to meet someone who knew her maker.
“Well, I’m sure I’ll see you again. I just got back from my trip south. Normally, I oversee the magic departments. The Peacock General, at your service.” He bowed to Velsa, and then waved for Irik to keep moving. She was huddled in her fur cape, with a cool, unreadable expression. They departed, his heels clacking on the polished wood floors and her soft leather shoes almost soundless. Velsa couldn’t help but watch until Irik was out of sight, wondering what made the girl say she was from nowhere. She reminded Velsa of a beautiful animal trapped in a cage—still as dignified as ever, but somewhat defeated.
“Good news!” Grau burst into the waiting room about an hour later, dangling two keys in his hand. He pressed one into her palm. “One for you.”
“What do they go to?” she asked.
“Our new apartment, where we will live while I’m studying potion making.”
She put her arms around his neck. “It all worked out?”
“Yes. I’m only a novice, but I’ve been accepted. Let’s go see our new home.”
They crossed the square and walked quite a ways, to the buildings farthest from the palace. A sharp wind made Grau’s teeth chatter but he was still talking excitedly. “It’ll be wonderful not to pack up and leave at the end of the night. And once I learn potion making, I can find good work no matter where we go. Keep my little marsh toad in style.”
“I’m not sure I really wanted that to be my nickname for good.”
“Too late now.” He pointed ahead. “That’s our building.”
It started to sink in that this was real. A permanent home. Velsa had never wished to be the type of concubine called a Little Wife, who cooked and cleaned for her master while he was at work, but she wasn’t a Little Wife, she was Velsa Thanneau, a real wife who shared Grau’s name, and here she could imagine herself happily baking bread. Although it might help if she had any idea how to bake bread.
Inside the door was a vestibule leading to a wooden staircase and a hall with four apartments. The interior of the building matched the outside of the palace grounds, simple but clean and well-kept. Their apartment was on the third floor. Grau rushed up the stairs while she was a little more careful; her body was not quite as coordinated as his. One of the dark green doors bore the number 12, the same as was printed on their keys.
“Do the honors,” Grau said.
She unlocked the door.
It swung open to a narrow little room with one window. The windows and floor were bare. A picture of Kalan Jherin hung on the wall but otherwise it was completely spartan with simple wooden furniture. Without a fire going, the room was bitterly cold. Spiders had taken up residence in the corners. However, it did have some modern amenities: a cast iron stove for cooking and warming the room, a sink with a spout that produced cold fresh water on command, and even one of the glass lights that turned on with a magic knob. There was a pan containing ice in the pantry, dripping into another pan below. Most of it had melted.
“Hey, good news,” Grau said when he saw it. “You wouldn’t know it, but it’s warm enough for ice to melt in here.”
“What is this for?”
“Keeping food fresh.” Grau took out his crystal to focus his magic and waved his hands to refreeze the pan of melted water into ice again, then switched the pans so the ice was back on top.
He poked in the other doors. “I know you hate toilets but this is worth seeing.”
“I don’t hate toilets. I know they can’t be helped.”
“It says this tank of water flushes everything away when you pull this chain.” Directions for using the toilet were posted to the tank. “No chamber pots or walking outside in the freezing cold. Nalim Ima is truly a wonder.”
She swatted him. “Okay, no more talk of chamber pots and toilets out of you. Let’s keep some romance.”
In short order, he had a fire going in the stove, and it seemed more home-like. And most importantly, they could make love in their own bed and fall into sleep, alone and safe. Lately, since she had been thrown into the river by Flower, the other concubine at the border camp, Velsa had been plagued by nightmares, but that night she slept soundly with Grau’s arms around her.
In the morning, he slipped out of bed early. He seemed to be trying not to wake her, but she woke anyway. Snow was falling outside. It almost never snowed in Nisa, so for a moment she simply stared at the white fluff gliding by the panes before joining him by the fire. He was making tea with some of the last of their supplies, and scribbling a few lines on paper.
“I want to bundle you up,” he said. She was wearing the same underwear as she would at any other time of year. “I’m not used to this cold. Truly, you are the superior race, aren’
t you?”
“If only everyone thought so.” She glanced at the picture of Kalan Jherin again. She wanted to take it off the wall but she worried someone might see that she had done so and accuse them of disloyalty.
“I’m writing Preya to tell her we’re here,” he said. “Do you want to say anything?”
As much as Velsa missed Grau’s sister, she said, “What if your father opens the mail?”
“Preya and I made up a sibling code when we were kids. Admittedly it’s not a very hard code, but I know Papa. To him this might as well be ancient picture writing. The only risk is that he might throw it away, but Preya usually gets the mail herself. And I hope he doesn’t hate me that much.” He frowned. Grau’s father had paid for Velsa as a gift to Grau, but they had not left on good terms after Grau insisted that Velsa be treated as an equal.
“You’re up so early,” Velsa said.
“When I finish this, I have to report for my first day. I should be back in the afternoon.”
“What should I do?” The reality of this new life suddenly hit her—that she would be alone in a tiny apartment all day while he was off learning to make potions.
“You want some money for groceries? That’s one of the things wives usually do during the day. Go shopping. Bake bread.”
“I don’t know how to bake bread.”
“I heard there’s a library not far from the Magical Arts Building. I’m sure they have cookbooks. You’re free now, bellora, you don’t have to sit at home and wait for me. You can do anything you want. You can spend all day reading novels if you like.” He put some coins in her hand. “Just remember, this has to last the week. Get some rice and eggs.”
Her mind flashed back to seeing him hand coins to Dalarsha, to buy her. And now he was putting money in her own hand.
The Sorcerer’s Wife Page 2