The Deep and Shining Dark

by Juliet Kemp

  “This room is mostly for the older generation,” she told Jonas. “House Heads and their cronies, the Guild Masters, and so on. Heavily political. We must circulate here to be seen, and I should greet the hosts, but after that we can move to the other room and relax a little.” Except for how she was intending to speak to Daril, and could not afford to relax at all, even if she were capable of it.

  “Is there anyone I need to know about?” Jonas asked.

  “Not yet,” Marcia said. “It’s fine; I can introduce you. No one will expect you to know anything about anyone.” Another advantage of his dress; a clear and immediate indication of his foreign status.

  Jonas inclined his head in easy agreement, and she wondered anew how much political practice he had at home.

  She spotted the Salinas ambassador, Kia t’Riseri, across the room, making her way towards them. Dammit. She didn’t want to discuss the matter of pricing right now – but no, on a second look, it was Jonas, not Marcia, on whom the ambassador was focused. The Salinas wear did stand out.

  “Jonas,” she said in an undertone, leaning in to him. “Your ambassador approaches. Do you wish me to deal with her? I can think of some excuse for your presence or for our acquaintance if you wish?”

  Then she realised that Jonas had been announced, just now, as t’Riseri, as well. That didn’t mean family, in Salina, she remembered that, but she couldn’t think what it did mean. Did they know each other already? Demons, she should have thought of this.

  Jonas gave a bare head-shake. “That ship won’t sail. I will manage it.”

  The ambassador gave a quick nod to Marcia then launched into a rapid-fire flurry of Salinas. Marcia maintained her social smile and tried to pretend that she wasn’t both curious and slightly infuriated, as Jonas bowed and spread his hands, smiling as he replied.

  “My apologies, Fereno-Heir,” Kia said, returning to common dialect. “I have not seen young Jonas since we were last ship-mates, and I did not know he was visiting.”

  “I didn’t want to create a fuss,” Jonas said. His smile was only a little forced, but he held himself tensely. Marcia might not have noticed had she not seen him so relaxed on the walk here. “Where would be the point of coming all this way merely to ride on your anchor, ne? I have been having a very interesting stay in Marek, and it is delightful of Sr Marcia,” he bowed slightly to Marcia, “to introduce me now to Marekhill society.”

  “Of course, of course,” Kia agreed. “Sr Marcia is no doubt a delightful guide to the city. You are here simply to explore, then?”

  “Marek is a fascinating city,” Jonas agreed, “and after passing through it so many times as a child, well.” He spread his hands, and Marcia wondered if Kia had noticed that he had not, strictly speaking, replied to her question.

  “I am glad to hear you are enjoying your stay,” Kia said. “Will you be leaving after New Year? Your pardon, Sr Marcia, Mid-Year I should say, given where we are.”

  Jonas shrugged, but his shoulders had tensed again. “Most likely. I have not decided for certain.”

  “Well, then you must of course come to visit me so we can catch up properly, before you leave,” Kia said. “Welcoming though Marek is, it is always pleasant for me to speak Salinas. And I would be distraught to miss the opportunity to reminisce given our past, t’Riseri. Tomorrow, perhaps? Since there is so little time now before Mid-Year.”

  Jonas twitched, and Marcia frowned, catching his tension. Something about the use of that shared last name had changed the tone of the invitation. She had no idea what currents were flowing here. She hated that.

  “That would be wonderful,” Jonas said, after a long moment. He was almost convincing.

  “Tomorrow, then,” Kia said. “I will look forward to it.”

  She turned to Marcia.

  “While I am discussing social arrangements, I wonder whether I might pay a visit soon to you and your delightful mother? I gather that there is some concern over trading prices.”

  In other words, she knew about the expedition and its outcome. Well, after the announcement in the Chamber, of course she did. It was her business to know.

  “It has been a bad season, indeed?” Marcia said noncommittally.

  Kia spread her hands. “Not a matter for discussion now, when our host wishes us to enjoy ourselves. But I am sure we could both benefit from it another time.”

  “By all means,” Marcia said. “I will send a message.” Hopefully not by Jonas. She suppressed the twitch of her lips. Although if there was any way to use the link with Jonas, given his apparent closeness to the ambassador… Something to consider later.

  Kia t’Riseri had evidently accomplished her aims; she excused herself a couple of moments later.

  “You know the Salinas ambassador,” Marcia said, turning to Jonas. “She’d clearly have put you up in the highest of style if you’d come straight to her, but you’re living out in the squats and scraping farthings together for your dinner.”

  Jonas hunched a little more, not meeting her eyes. “What would I find out about Marek if I was living up here?”

  Marcia flushed slightly, and Jonas looked over at her then away again.

  “That’s – you live here, you’ve always lived here. You get to choose.”

  “Really?” Marcia asked, slightly bitterly.

  “I would have been kept in a visitor’s cage. It is different.”

  It might be the truth, but Marcia was damned if it was the whole of the truth. But she wouldn’t get more out of him just now.

  She shrugged. “As you will. T’Riseri, though? She is family?”

  Jonas shook his head. “She belongs to my mother’s ship, the Lion. Or did, the last time she sailed.”

  “She is a family friend, then? Your family is of high status?”

  “My mother is well known.” Jonas was looking a little awkward

  “And so you are obliged to visit…” She stopped herself. “No, my apologies. I should not be interrogating you like this.”

  Jonas smiled suddenly at her. “Indeed, I understand your interest, and plan only to take advantage of it by returning the favour and interrogating you about the habits of Marekhill.”

  Marcia smiled back. “Perhaps another time? We do after all have another aim tonight. I should circulate a little more, introduce you to our hosts, and then we can go to find the younger crowd. I have some friends here, and it will be a good bridge to,” she hesitated, and hated herself for it, “the other thing.”

  “Lead on,” Jonas said, and took her arm.

  k k

  Marcia recognised some bankers from the Crescent Guild cities, with their olive skin, and braided dark hair, but didn’t want to speak to them; House Fereno wasn’t in need of money at the moment and she didn’t want to discuss the current trading situation with them. She always left a conversation with any of them convinced that she’d given away more information than she realised she had. A couple of Guildmasters were in earnest conversation with one of the Crescent Guilders, which was potentially interesting information; were they seeking investment, and if so, could House Fereno make anything of that?

  The Warden of the Jewellers Guild, one of the most powerful Guilds in Marek, was obviously doing the rounds. She was a sharp political operator, and had been the driving force behind the deal that finally got Guild representation on the Council, ten years ago. She herself was one of the Guild Council members, and Marcia had a great deal of respect for her. She’d also been in the Chamber earlier, so was aware of the results of that damn expedition. And Jewellers Guild wares were exactly the sort of thing that might be able to go across to Exuria via that goat-track that the expedition captain had mentioned. They exchanged a few polite words, Marcia introduced Jonas, and when Marcia suggested that it might be useful to meet later in the week, the Warden was happy to agree.

  The Teren Lord Lieutenant, the party’s guest of honour, was standing with Haran-Head towards the back of the room, and she really ought to at least greet
her, and indeed Haran-Head as their host. Marek’s relationship with Teren was always slightly tense; Marek governed itself in practice, but notionally was a part of Teren, and as such the Lord Lieutenant in theory could make decisions. In practice, the Council was polite to the Lord Lieutenant, and the Lord Lieutenant refrained from attempting to exercise their theoretical power.

  “So,” Jonas asked a while later, after they had exchanged social niceties with Haran-Head and the Lord Lieutenant and moved on again, “your friends are elsewhere?”

  “In the second ballroom,” Marcia said. “There’ll be livelier music, and less overt politicking. More space. Fewer of our parents watching us.”

  “You prefer to keep older and younger separate, then?”

  Marcia shrugged. “It depends on the situation, but often yes, socially speaking. It’s not obligatory, you understand, but as it tends to fall that way anyway, it is easier when hosts plan for it. Why, is it not so with you?”

  Jonas hesitated. “No,” he said, finally. “Social events are surely to support bonds between all ages, ne? So that all understand one another.” He sounded suddenly more Salinas, just as when he was speaking to Kia.

  “Yes, well,” Marcia said, “you may have the right of it.” She sighed. “It’s all changed in the last ten years or so, you know. When my mother took office, it was after my grandfather had done his twenty-five years – it was twenty-five years at most by law, you understand. The Council voted that down at the same time that they voted the Guild representation in. So I – and my peers – we are all waiting on the decisions of our House Heads when they choose to step down. Something which none of them seem terribly enthusiastic to do.”

  She was surprised to find herself putting it that bluntly. Mostly she tried not to think of it quite like that. Surely it was reasonable that Madeleine wanted to wait a little longer before she stepped down. Surely it was reasonable that she wanted Marcia to prove herself a little more?

  They were nearly at the doors to the second ballroom, and Marcia could hear the music drifting out.

  “Are any of your friends also involved in politics, then?” Jonas asked.

  “Not – well. Not really. They’re all younger, or not yet named, or…” Suddenly she didn’t want to talk about the situation any more. “Here we are. I will find them and introduce you.”

  She took a breath, raised her chin, and swept through the doors into the smaller ballroom, holding Jonas’ arm. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the slightly lower light in the smaller room. A handful of couples were dancing in the empty space at the back, but most of the room contained little groups of low chairs and tables, all occupied with people leaning in to talk and laugh, or to play dice or cards.

  She scanned the room, looking for her own friends, and noting the absence of Daril. She still had no idea how to approach him. A servant with a jug came up to them, produced two glasses from a basket tied at their waist, and filled them. Marcia sipped hers; a decent kick, but nothing outrageous, which was doubtless for the best. Jonas was smiling and nodding thanks to the servant. He did have a nice smile. Nisha was going to be all over him.

  Her eye fell on Nisha’s dark head in a far corner.

  “Ah,” she said. “There they are.”

  These were the friends she’d known from childhood, and yet she couldn’t tell them about what she was doing this evening. Her throat felt oddly tight. As they got closer, she saw red-haired Aden, in his customary dark green, stand up and say something that set the half dozen in the group laughing uproariously. Aden took a step back, turned, and saw her. His eyes crinkled cheerfully, the concentric rings painted around them highlighting the movement.

  “Marcia! You join us at last. Duty done?”

  “For now,” Marcia said, smiling round. “This is Jonas t’Riseri, who visits us from Salina.”

  After initial introductions, Marcia chose a seat where she could see the doors without being too obvious about it; then annoyed herself by tensing up every time she saw someone new about to enter. None of them, yet, were Daril b’Leandra.

  Several of her friends were already a fair few glasses down. Dark, pretty Nisha, to Marcia’s total lack of surprise, definitely had her eye on Jonas. For a moment she thought Jonas was hooked, but in the end he chose to deflect the implied offer. Nisha seemed unbothered, smiling ruefully but cheerfully enough.

  Aden came to perch on the arm of Marcia’s chair, telling her a convoluted tail about his latest sailing trip. Halfway through, she saw another group approaching the door – but this time there was a tall, thin man in the middle, his dark hair cut close at the sides with a single long lock tied at the back and falling down his back. She saw his slightly pointed nose as he turned to say something to a woman beside him. Her stomach flipped. Daril b’Leandra. She saw Jonas, watching her, tilt his head very slightly to one side.

  She realised, a little too late, that Aden had reached his punchline, and made herself laugh. Aden, unsurprisingly not fooled, followed her gaze.

  “Ah,” he said. “Our compatriot of Leandra. Does he owe you money, or something, the way you’re looking at him, Marcia?”

  Marcia forced herself to smile and lean back in her chair.

  “Nothing of the sort, Aden,” she said easily. “Just that my mother and his father actually exchanged words yesterday, and I got the impression his father might finally consider dealing with the Heirship.”

  Nisha, overhearing, leant forward. “I’d heard that he’s under pressure from the ghastly Gavin to start fitting in a little more. One presumes, as you say, with the Heirship dangled in front of him as incentive.” She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Not that I can imagine Daril ever fitting in, as such. Still, he’s decorative enough to see around a room, and he and his little satellites behave so much more outrageously than the rest of us that it quite takes the heat off the disapproval from the aunties.”

  “Reassuring for you, Nisha,” Marcia said.

  “Of course, Marcia my dear, you are squeaky clean as always and need not worry about such things,” Nisha said. She had a flash painted at the corner of her mouth, which emphasised her smirk.

  Was Nisha just being snippy, or was she referring to Marcia and Daril’s past history? As much as she would know of it. Marcia couldn’t remember, now, what she’d told any of them at the time. She tried not to remember much of that year at all.

  Getting into a row with Nisha wouldn’t help right now, regardless. Nisha was probably just peeved about Jonas.

  “Can’t blame Daril for being a bit irritable,” Aden said, with a roll of his eyes. “At least you’ve been confirmed, Nisha.”

  “Yes, and what earthly good does it do me? I don’t get to sit in the Council.”

  “I might get to sit in but I don’t exactly get to do anything,” Marcia said bitterly, then cursed herself and shut up. She didn’t want to talk about that here.

  “Daril was talking about this the other night,” Nisha said, leaning back. “The way we’re all sitting around waiting for our parents to decide to let us in.”

  Marcia’s eyebrows went up. Daril was trying to recruit sympathy, now, was he? Or just those in a similar position? She wanted to ask more, but she didn’t want to do it right now.

  “Sounds like an interesting person,” Jonas said, and Marcia silently blessed him for keeping his mind on what they were here for.

  “Oh, really not all that fascinating,” Marcia said with a shrug. “Just local gossip.”

  “I’ll introduce you, if you like, Jonas,” Nisha said. Her smile was aimed at Marcia, and it had edges. She did remember something, then.

  “Perhaps later,” Jonas said, and Marcia made a mental note of the potential setup. But not yet.

  Time passed. More drinks were sunk. Marcia drank rather less than she pretended to, and she was fairly certain that Jonas was doing the same. She was equally certain that her friends weren’t pretending, nor was anyone else. The noise level went up, and the inhibition levels went down.
>
  Nisha, now sitting on Aden’s lap, to his amused tolerance – Aden didn’t go for women – brought out a little box and snapped it open. She took a dab of powder from it and licked it slowly off her finger, her expression equal parts distaste and anticipation, then shivered. Aden reached around to take his own dab, then Nisha leant and offered it to Jonas.

  “Ah…” He looked uncertain.

  “It’s pejo,” Marcia said, leaning over to him. “It’s a stimulant. Keeps you awake, makes you feel good.”

  “Thank you, but no,” Jonas said.

  “Oh, go on,” Nisha said. “You’ll like it. I love it.” She rolled her eyes dramatically and laughed.

  “Leave him alone, Nisha,” Marcia said. “He doesn’t have to.”

  “Oh, you would say that,” Nisha said. Her mocking tone had the same undercurrent it had done all evening. “You being all pure and clean, eh?”

  This. This was her opening. She narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she said, got up, and took the box from Nisha’s hand. “I’ll take some, and then you can leave Jonas be, how about that?”

  Nisha raised her eyebrows and settled back onto Aden’s lap with a little toss of her head. Marcia listed a little drunkenly – mustn’t overdo it – as she balanced the box in one hand, and dabbed, angling her hand so in the dim light, Jonas was the only one who could see that her finger stayed clean. She licked at her finger, and pulled a horrified expression. Everyone watching laughed. The sense-memory of the bitterness was bright in her, for a moment. It was a long time since she’d taken pejo. About ten years, in fact. But she still remembered it well enough to fake it.

  “Devils and angels, I’d forgotten how vile that stuff tastes,” she said, then shivered the same way that Nisha had.

  She snapped the box shut and handed it back to Nisha, who passed it on in the other direction. Jonas gave her a shiver of a wink. She just hoped he’d be ready for his cue in a couple of minutes.