by Patty Jansen
It was rare that Ellisandra had tea with both her brothers, and it had become more common that she had it alone in the kitchen while Riana bustled at the stove, or did the day’s washing up. Today, she was kneading dough. When Ellisandra came in, she wiped her hands on her apron and went to pour tea.
“I’m sorry mistress, but dinner will be a bit late. I had to cook sweet cakes for master Enzo’s visitor.”
“It’s all right.” She was hungry and cranky, but there was no need to snipe at Riana.
“Where is Jintho?”
“He’s gone out.” She pounded the dough with flour-covered hands. “I worry about master Enzo, mistress. The friends he has scare me a little sometimes. They drink far too much.”
“They do.”
“I’m worried that he might do something with this group of his that will get him into trouble.”
Ellisandra sipped from her tea. “Raedon Tussamar isn’t someone you want as a friend.”
“Do you know that the rumour says that he was meant to go to jail, but his uncle bought him out?”
“I’d heard something about that. Wasn’t that for kicking an old vagrant?” That was supposed to have happened at the square, where a group of vagrant men usually came together in the boarded-up entrance to merchant Ranuddin’s shop.
“Yes, but his uncle went and bought the man a cloak and he withdrew his complaint.”
“For a cloak?” She met Riana’s eyes. “That seems a very small payment.” The court would certainly have asked for more.
“The man was afraid, simple as that.” Riana punched her fist into the dough. “He didn’t want to push his point, and didn’t want it to go to court at all. That boy is bad news. The drinking is bad news. That group is bad news. I told Kalit about it and he said, ‘If he’s going to be in one of those groups, maybe we should start looking for another place to work.’ ”
“No, Riana. I don’t want you to go.” They’d already lost so many servants because of Father.
“I don’t want that either, mistress, but my man, he’s afraid. He worked for the Dolisar family and he was glad to be out of there.”
That family had started the vigilante movement that had later become the Citizen’s Groups. For the good of Miran, they said, to stop subversive elements taking hold in the city. In practice, the groups were full of angry young Endri men wanting to impress councillors so that they could fast-track a more powerful position in the council. They did this by providing the council with all kinds of information about Miran’s citizens that the council couldn’t get through legal means. The groups had no official status and, when things went wrong, when leaks, break-ins and illegal access issues were discovered, no official protection from the council either. That was how these men ended up in jail. Or how their families ended up buying their sons out of jail.
She wanted Enzo to leave the group. He was the Takumar family heir. He should start acting the part.
Ellisandra finished eating and then took a tray upstairs for Father.
In the hall, the door to the living room was closed, and now she noticed the unfamiliar cloak—heavy and mottled—and similarly high-quality boots. The faint sound of voices drifted through the door.
If she was not mistaken, the visitor was Asitho Bisumar. He had said yesterday that he wanted to speak to Enzo.
Hopefully Enzo was aware of the methods the man employed, that he’d be recording every word said in that meeting, and playing it back whenever it was most inconvenient.
Maybe not. Maybe he reserved the spying devices only for his daughter.
She stopped at the door and leaned close to it.
“I’m afraid that it’s only the start of our problems,” Asitho Bisumar was saying. “I need to arm-wrestle the Accountkeepers to find out just how much was in those accounts, but I’m certain that it’s enough to create a serious problem. I would appreciate any help you could give me.”
“I told you I’ve already asked her, but she went all proper and lawful on me, and she was right, so I couldn’t argue the point.”
That was about him asking for access to the council’s financial system, wasn’t it?
“Hmmm,” Asitho Bisumar said. “We need to approach this in a different way. Is there something she wants?”
“Well . . .” Enzo hesitated. “You got me there. She’s getting married in long spring, but to be honest, I’ve not heard her talk about it in a way that suggests she’s looking forward to it.”
“A nice house would be something she’d want.”
“Jaeron’s already bought a house.”
“Surely there has to be something.”
“Yeah . . . You know, I think she would be interested in a position in the council.”
“What? In the assembly? I thought we were done with women having notions of running the country.”
There was a silence, in which Ellisandra was afraid that they could hear her heart thudding through the door.
“I’m sorry. You asked what she’d want. My sister is a pretty happy person. I don’t think she wants anything badly enough.”
“Then we make her want something.”
Another uneasy silence.
Then Enzo said, “I feel she might help if she can be informed what it’s for.”
“Tell her of council business?”
“That’s what she asked, and she was pretty insistent about it, too.”
“I think, young man, your sister has slipped from your control.”
The tray was heavy in Ellisandra’s hands, and any moment she kept standing here someone was likely to come past and see her snooping at the door. She badly wished for some excuse to go into that room so that she could scream I heard that! She wanted to make it clear that she wasn’t a slave they could control, and oh, that she wasn’t interested enough in politics that she wanted to go into the council, although it was intriguing that Enzo thought she would. Most importantly she wanted them to understand that she didn’t think it was fair to be asked to do something against the terms of her contract with the theatre without knowing what it was for.
While she was at it, she hated how the council was making changes to the law important enough to get Father all fired up, but no one would tell her what they were, because politics was boring and women weren’t supposed to ask or be given answers.
Maybe politics was boring, but these men were deciding the future in her name.
She was getting really angry about this.
Getting angry in this slow, simmering way was not good, because it made her do things she later regretted. She had been in that state when she had yelled at Enzo about Father—because she was angry about his indifference to his own father. The slow anger was the reason why she planned to make the last scene of the play gory—because she was angry that the council’s art committee never asked the women of the theatre what play they would like to perform. And because Nemedor Satarin was playing games with her.
It was a type of anger that led to stupid acts, deliberately planned and meticulously executed. Things that left old folk tut-tutting and shaking their heads. Things that made her a wilful woman.
Maybe she was a wilful woman, and maybe she should just accept that. The things she’d just heard Enzo say about her made her feel proud of Enzo, never mind his stupid friends and the stupid Citizen’s Group and the fact that Enzo seemed to be trying too hard to please Asitho Bisumar.
Clearly, they really wanted to get into that financial system without anyone being able to track their visit. And that brought her to her second-worst vice: curiosity.
Slowly, Ellisandra carried the tray up to her father’s room.
He sat in his usual chair by the fire but, unusual for him, he turned his head and cast a sharp glance at the door the very moment she came in.
“It’s only me, with your dinner.”
His shoulders slumped as if he’d been holding a straight-backed and upright position for too long. He’d been expecting someone else?
Ellisandra crossed the room and put her tray down on the little table next to him, but when she went to sit down, she noticed that he clutched the fire poker in his hands. “Father? What is the matter?”
“War is coming.” His eyes were wide. “They will fall from the sky in flaming ships. They will kill all of us.”
What had gotten into him? “No, they won’t. Believe me. Give that, before you drop it on your toes.” He’d done that before, too, and, being old and frail, his toes were likely to break, and Ellisandra could really do without Healer Eydrina Lasko telling her that her father’s eyes should be rinsed six times every day—six times!—and he should be made to get up at least three times a day to walk around the room.
The healer was welcome to try and tell Father what to do, and besides, where would she get the time to do all those things? She was a theatre director, not a nurse. And it was not as if they hadn’t tried employing a nurse either.
She prised the fire poker out of his white-knuckled hands. It normally stood inside the wall recess that held the firebricks, and as she put it back, she wondered how he had managed to get his hands on it. He must have been pretty determined.
“You’re mistaken.” He pointed at her, his hand trembling. “Did no one tell you, child? There will be a second invasion, and we’ll all be killed. We had no mercy on the Coldi prisoners and they’ll have no mercy on us.”
Where did this come from? He’d been reading the text of the play? “Don’t worry, we’re here to protect you. It’s been a long time since the invasion. Like us, the Coldi will have stopped these barbaric acts.” When he was like this, disagreeing with him only made him worse. The best thing was to pick out one bit of his statements, somewhat agree with it, and slowly change the subject.
“War is coming! Their spies are already amongst us.”
Only today, that didn’t seem to be working. “War will come if you don’t eat your dinner.” Ellisandra broke the bread into pieces for him.
He was too agitated to eat much and kept trying to get up. “I have to go. The spies are already here. Look out the window.”
“I know about the young man rebuilding the Andrahar house. We are keeping a close eye on him.”
“No, look out the window!”
Ellisandra went to do as he said, but apart from falling snow, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. The builders had put up two additional frames and sleds had delivered more blocks of stone, which stood in neat rows, all with a cap of snow. There was no one in the yard at the moment, but a faint glow of light came from the shelter against the wall, which was invisible from here. Was Vayra still at work?
“Yes, I see what you mean.” She sat down.
Father had either calmed down or forgotten about what had spooked him so much. While he ate, she glanced around the room for clues for why he was so out of sorts, but she found none. After he finished, she wheeled him into the bathroom and washed and changed him ready for bed.
He had never been of sturdy build, but now he was so thin that she feared rough handling would break his bones. She’d been told that old people could break bones just from sitting.
It hurt her to see her strong father so frail and no longer with it. But for the time being he was warm and safe, and when she tucked him into bed, he put a paper-skinned hand on hers.
“You’re my girl. You’ll always be my girl.”
She kissed him on his forehead. “Good night, Father.”
At the door, she realised she was crying. Who would look after Father when she had moved into Jaeron’s house?
In the downstairs hallway, she bumped into Enzo, who was just coming back from the door, presumably after having let Asitho Bisumar out.
“Do you know what happened to Father?”
Enzo frowned deeply. “What do you mean what happened? What’s wrong with him?”
“Something scared him out of his wits. He was talking about war and spying.”
“I have no idea.”
“Did you see him at all today?”
Now he looked defensive. “This is not going to be one of your lectures, is it?”
“One of my lectures? He’s your father, too. I could be forgiven to think that you don’t care about him at all.”
Enzo stared back. He didn’t care, but she was still trying to get him to say it out loud so that she could then take it to the Lawkeepers and get the inheritance of the house transferred to her. Because whoever the house belonged to, Father would stay in the house, and that way she got to care for him after she married.
“Don’t worry about the old man.”
“I do worry. Who will look after him when I’m gone?”
“There will be someone to look after him. I think I have my wedding plans sorted out.”
She gaped at him. That was the first she heard of it. “You’re getting married?”
“I thought I just said so.” He seemed smug about it.
“Who is this woman?”
“I’ll announce it when it’s ready to be announced.”
Then another thought. “You’re willing to subject your wife to Father’s groping?”
“She’ll come with experience.” He gave a smug smile and went upstairs.
Ellisandra continued to the kitchen with the tray. Her head was reeling. Ever since he had so publicly rejected an offer from the Tussamar family, everyone had assumed that it would be a long time before he married.
If Enzo wasn’t joking—and he did sometimes tell deliberate lies about things like this just to see how people reacted—this house would soon belong to him and his new wife.
Jintho sat at the table in the kitchen, eating soup. He met her eyes and smiled.
“Brother. Riana said you were away.” She crossed the kitchen and put the tray with Father’s dinner things on the bench.
“Change of plan.”
“Oh?” With Jintho, changes of plan often meant that he or one of his friends had a run-in with their family.
“We were going to meet at Milohan’s house, but his parents decided to stay at home so we decided to forego the meeting.” Milohan’s parents, of course, were very traditional and highly disapproved of their son’s arty friends.
“You could have had the meeting here.”
“And run into Asitho Bisumar instead? No, thank you.” He laughed a hollow laugh.
“What are you doing? What is going on? Is this still about the shop?”
He nodded.
“Is there a problem?” She didn’t know what to think about the fact that he hadn’t forgotten about it yet.
He spread his hands. “Is there anything that isn’t a problem? Enzo thinks I’m crazy—”
“Well, then he isn’t the only one.”
“Yes, but I could sweet-talk you into signing my application, but you are not the one signing.”
She put her teacup on the table with a clunk. A good amount of tea sloshed over the edge. “No, I’m just a stupid woman!”
His eyes widened. “I didn’t say—”
“Yes, you did, and so does everyone else. We can’t tell you about politics, because you’re a woman and therefore you can’t possibly be interested. We want you to flirt with this man, and your fiancé is going to be as jealous as hell, but this is all right because you’re just a pretty face, and this guy is going to tell you everything about himself just because you’re a pretty face.”
He stared at her. “Who said that?”
“It’s about the guy next door. I’m sick of it. Either tell me what it’s about or shut up! I’m not just a pretty face.”
“But you are very pretty, sister.”
“Shut up, shut up! You don’t get it at all, don’t you?”
The door to the dining room opened, and Darma appeared in the doorway. Riana and Kalit were behind her.
Ellisandra looked from her brother to the workers. She rose from her seat with such force that her chair fell over, and she strode through the room, pushed herself between Darma and Kalit and ran to the st
airs.
Riana called after her. “But mistress, your dinner!”
“I’m not hungry anymore.”
12
ELLISANDRA RAN into her room and slammed the door behind her. She stopped a few paces into the room, her chest heaving with deep breaths.
Why was everybody in her life so infuriating? Why did they talk about her behind her back? Why did they act like she was stupid?
She strode over to the window and yanked the curtains shut, then stuck her head between them to look outside. The glow from the shelter behind the wall was clearer from here. It was a greenish kind of light, a puddle in the darkness.
She thought of how she’d met the stranger there this morning—Vayra, she should call him by his name. He turned out to be pretty smart, and yes, he would probably tell her more than he’d tell the guards if she turned on a pretty smile.
But you know what? She wasn’t going to do that. She was not the kind for pretty smiles and girly giggles. And certainly she wasn’t going to do that to deceive someone, never mind that he was a foreigner and could probably not be trusted.
She let the curtains fall shut again. It was really a pity about her temper and dinner, because she was quite hungry. This silly behaviour of hers would mean that she’d have to get Riana out of her room later tonight to fix her something, and that would just be embarrassing and cause more gossip. She could already hear Gisandra’s mother.
That Takumar girl is much too free. She just says anything that comes into her mind. That’s going to cause her problems when she marries.
Yes, probably it would.
Poor Jaeron.
Or poor her.
Asitho Bisumar had hit his first wife. That was why she had run out on him. Was that what these men were telling each other when they met behind doors that were closed to women? If your wife is wilful, then bring her into line with threats or violence?
That little word, wilful was really starting to make her feel sick.
But most importantly, these men were doing something to Foundation Law, and they were doing it in her name. Enzo was going to vote for it as the holder of the family’s seat in the council, and she wanted to know what he was voting for.