by Sharon Shinn
The seer shrugged. “It is only what some people say.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to discover about the Lalindars. Zoe pretended to cogitate a moment. “Who is left to talk about? Oh—the Serlasts. When I lived here last, Damon Serlast was the prime of the family. Is that still the case? Or has the title passed to that Serlast man who advises the king? For some reason I cannot keep his name in mind.”
She didn’t know why she said that. Of course she remembered very well what the king’s advisor was called. She couldn’t understand why it pleased her so much to hear his name on someone else’s lips.
“Darien Serlast—Damon’s son,” the seer said. “No, Damon is dead, but the title has gone to Damon’s sister Mirti. She is not the richest of the Five Families, but she has a great deal of influence at court. She and the king’s first wife are close allies. She has also befriended Nelson Ardelay in an attempt to repair the king’s breach with that family.”
“Why would she do that?”
The seer shrugged. “She is a practical woman, and she always advocates balance, or so she says. If she has other motives, who knows? But hunti and sweela make for a tricky alliance, for fire can burn wood and bone can batter brain. There is always a chance at great turmoil when those traits are brought together in a room.”
“That is a chance that exists whenever a sweela man or woman is invited through the door,” Zoe said, unable to suppress a smile. “No matter if it is torz or coru or elay on the other side.”
The seer smiled back. “I thought I sensed some sweela energy in you,” she said, “though it is burning very low.”
“Brighter every day,” Zoe replied.
“But not all fire, all mind,” the sister said thoughtfully. “You are a woman of blood and water, as well, unless all my senses have been blunted.”
“My mother was coru,” Zoe acknowledged. “But coru supplied none of my random blessings.”
“It is better that way,” the seer said. “Each energy has its own strength and its own weakness. It is best to be in balance.”
Zoe remembered Darien Serlast and how every blessing he pulled from the temple barrel had been some hunti variation. She supposed there wasn’t much balance in his life. But she was not up to asking about him today. “Indeed, I strive for just such a thing in all my dealings,” Zoe said and rose to her feet.
“Come back when you have more questions.”
“Sister, I will.”
SIX
Zoe was making a brief detour through the shop district before she went home, admiring the merchandise she could not afford to buy, when she was approached by an agitated man. He looked to be a year or two older than she was, dark-haired and wild-eyed, and he appeared to have spent at least the last day in the same stained overrobe. But the cut of the cloth was expensive and the set of his face bespoke intelligence, and Zoe felt no fear when he reached out as if to take her arm, although he did not actually touch her.
“My wife has had—two of them, babies, two—and I must get blessings for both,” he said, stumbling over the words. “I—can you?—and for each of them? Or must I find six people? I don’t know, I don’t know.”
She wanted to laugh but she also wanted to soothe him. “Blessings are easily come by,” she said in a reassuring voice. “Are the babies healthy? Or is some of your concern for their well-being?”
For a moment, his anxiety disappeared behind a beaming smile. “Oh! Quite healthy! Beautiful! Both girls, you know, and I love them so much already, although I had thought—and the one has already smiled at me, though the nurse says I am mistaken. I did not want to leave but they are five hours old and I must find strangers—how does one do this? It is so very odd.”
Zoe would have had to ask him to be sure, but she had to think this was an elay man, all air and spirit, entirely ill-suited for mundane, everyday tasks. She had never done this, either, but she understood how the ritual was supposed to work. She gently took his arm and guided him down the street, under the colorful shop awnings, back toward the Plaza of Women.
“I know where a temple is,” she said. “There are sure to be people there meditating. We will draw all the blessings for your little girls.”
Indeed, when they stepped into the small shrine, there were five or six others sitting on the benches, their eyes closed and their breathing slow as they attempted to restore themselves to a state of harmony.
“Oh, but I can’t disturb any of them,” the new father whispered in a voice loud enough to carry.
“It will be all right,” Zoe said quietly, and led him to the blessing barrel. “Which daughter was born first?”
“Anna,” the man replied. “She’s the one who smiled at me.”
Zoe skimmed her hand across the surface of the coins, sleek and cool and sliding away from her fingers. It seemed to Zoe that she should choose a coin from the very top layer of the barrel to bless an infant so newly brought into the world. Before she could think about it too long, she closed her fingers over a disk and pulled it out. It was pristine and freshly minted, as if it had never been culled from the barrel and tossed back in, as most of the blessing coins were, over and over.
“Grace,” she said with a smile and handed it to the young father. “That is a lovely gift for Anna to have at the beginning of her life.”
“Yes! Perfect. Grace,” he repeated, holding the coin as if it were struck from gold.
“Perhaps you should put Anna’s blessings in your left pocket, and your other daughter’s in your right pocket, so you do not get them mixed up,” Zoe suggested.
“Excellent! Of course! How thoughtful—well, then—and for Elle?”
For the second twin, Zoe drew a blessing of serenity. The girl’s father seemed much impressed by this.
“Yes! Of course! For Anna has been . . . very vocal—crying, you know, even though she is fed—but Elle seems much more peaceful. From what I can tell after five short hours,” he added hastily.
“I am sure both of them will have their moods,” Zoe said, smiling. “Now, would you like me to help you choose two more people to bestow the other blessings?”
“I would be so grateful,” he said. “I don’t know—I mean, how can you tell who would be pleased and who would be annoyed at such a request?”
To Zoe, one choice was fairly obvious. A short, matronly woman had opened her eyes and come hopefully to her feet as soon as she realized that random blessings were being handed out. She had probably participated in such a ritual dozens of times, Zoe thought, and seemed like the type of woman who would enjoy it even more if she could actually cradle the newborn in her arms.
“The woman in the black tunic—yes—the one smiling at you,” Zoe whispered to the young father. “Gesture to her and I’m sure she’ll come over.”
Indeed, the motherly woman moved with alacrity to join them in the center of the temple. “I do love to bestow a blessing, but I’ve never had the chance to do it for twins,” she said, cheerfully rummaging through the whole barrel. “Oh! See that? I pulled up two coins with one hand. And they’re both joy,” she said, smiling even harder. “Two girls blessed with joy! It could not be better.”
“I don’t suppose you’ll get those two mixed up, no matter which pocket you put them in,” Zoe said.
She studied the other people sitting quietly in the temple, while the young father earnestly thanked the matron and she exited through the nearest door, still beaming. Two of the visitors still had their eyes closed and seemed oblivious to any other activity, but the other three were watching them, openly or covertly, ready to do their duty if they were called upon. One was a man about her father’s age, dignified and thoughtful; another was a harried-looking woman who probably had a houseful of her own children waiting for her. Either would be a safe and reasonable choice, but the one who caught Zoe’s attention was the skinny redheaded boy who looked to be about thirteen, wide-eyed, fascinated, and burning with curiosity.
“Pick him,” she whispered
to the father. “He will choose some interesting blessings for your girls.”
Surprised but clearly incapable of making any choices on his own, the twins’ father beckoned the youth over. He practically bounded through the temple, almost knocking the barrel over.
“I get to pick blessings? Really?” he demanded. He was obviously trying to keep his voice down, in deference to the place and the occasion, but he was so excited he didn’t quite succeed. “I’ve never done it before! What must I do? What if I pick the wrong ones?”
“There are no wrong blessings,” Zoe said tranquilly, when the father looked at her with a quirk of nervousness. “Every random blessing is the right one for that child at that moment.”
She nodded at the father, who said, “Please pick first for Anna.”
The redhead drove his thin arm deep into the barrel and pulled out a slightly battered coin. “Wealth,” he said, handing it over. The relief in his voice was palpable. He must realize everyone welcomed this particular coin.
“Wealth! Wonderful! My aunt has money, and she has not decided on an heir—of course, Anna is just a baby—and, anyway, I mean, Elle should certainly have as much as Anna, not that I expect them to be identical—”
“And for your other daughter?” Zoe prodded gently.
“Yes! Of course! Will you pick for Elle?”
A little more confidently this time, the boy plucked a second coin from the barrel. His face was drawn into a slight frown as he showed the glyph to Zoe. “I don’t recognize that one,” he said, slightly uneasy.
“Time,” she whispered, as the father took the coin reverently into his hand. It was one of the three extraordinary blessings that belonged to no category and were rarely bestowed. “A marvelous gift for such a young girl.”
“Then I did it right?” the boy asked, bouncing eagerly.
Zoe couldn’t resist reaching out to tousle his already untidy red hair. “You did exceptionally well.”
The father was fumbling in his pockets, searching for more prosaic coins. “Do I—I’m sorry, I can’t recall—should you be paid for your services?” He swiveled around to look with some dismay at the door where the matronly woman had already disappeared. “Except—oh, dear—but I didn’t think of it in time—or is it an insult?”
“You may offer small thanks, but you are not compelled to do so,” Zoe told him. Her father had explained this to her once, fortunately, or she would not have known how to answer. “And those who have bestowed their blessings may accept your thanks, but they do not dishonor you if they refuse. Though some choose then to toss those coins in the tithing box,” she added.
She was not surprised when the hungry-looking boy happily accepted the quint-silver pressed into his hand and then went skipping out the door. But she shook her head when the new father tried to give her the same wages.
“I have been paid,” she said, smiling. “I have been touched with all their blessings, and your happiness, too.”
“Is it—I have heard it was customary—should I pull a blessing for myself as well?” he asked.
Zoe laughed. “I would think you need a blessing now more than you ever did,” she said. And she laughed even harder, trying to muffle the sound against her palm, when the coin he chose was stamped with the symbol for patience.
“No doubt that is something you will have very great need of with baby twins in the house,” she said merrily.
His grin was lopsided but genuine. “Perhaps you should pull a blessing for yourself,” he suggested.
“Perhaps I will,” she replied, and picked up the first coin her fingers encountered. “Clarity,” she said, and smiled a little. It had been the blessing her father coveted most, though she remembered it coming into his hands only once or twice during their ten years of exile. “I do believe my mind is starting to clear.”
The young father looked faintly intrigued by that, and Zoe had the sense he might have followed up with questions on any other day when the tasks awaiting him at home were not so urgent. “I can’t—you have been—thank you,” he said in his disordered way.
She smiled. “And you have been as well,” she said. “May all blessings fall on you and yours for the remainder of your days.”
Zoe had fallen into the habit of joining Calvin and Annova for dinner three or four times every nineday, usually when she had bought herself a treat and was embarrassed to think she might eat the whole thing on her own. On her way home that night, she purchased a shockingly expensive bag of chocolate drops imported from a country she couldn’t even pronounce. Annova almost gasped when Zoe handed it over.
“I know how much these cost, and if you can afford them, you shouldn’t be sleeping down here at the river,” she said. That didn’t stop her from scooping up a candy and sliding it instantly in her mouth. Her eyes closed and she made a small sound of satisfaction.
Zoe laughed. “I had to celebrate,” she said. “I was approached in the streets and asked to bestow random blessings on a set of twin girls. After such an event, you cannot live an ordinary life. You must be extravagant.”
This explanation seemed perfectly reasonable to Annova. “What did you draw for them?”
“Grace and serenity.”
“Excellent virtues.”
Zoe smiled. “Ones that I sometimes wish had been bestowed upon me.”
They had long ago compared their own blessings. Annova’s were all torz and coru, which Zoe would have been able to guess; she was a nurturing sort of woman.
“Your own blessings will serve you well,” Annova said.
“Beauty and power?” Zoe said a little derisively. “They do not seem to have hovered over me so far.”
Annova reached up to fool with the untidy locks of hair falling into Zoe’s face. “You are not a conventional beauty, it is true. But neither am I, and I very much like the way I look,” she replied. “I’m sure your father was a fine man, but it usually takes a woman to help a girl learn how to enhance her looks.”
“And my mother died when I was eleven,” Zoe said.
“Let me cut your hair and show you how to wear cosmetics,” Annova said. “Different ones from the kinds I use. Your skin is much fairer.”
Zoe widened her eyes. “That’s kind but—” She gestured at the whole expanse of the river flats, filling up with their nightly quota of transients. “Who is there to impress with my new beauty?”
“You will not spend all your life camping here,” Annova said with conviction.
“Even if I don’t, why is it that suddenly today you think I need to improve myself?”
Annova’s voice was gentle. “Because suddenly today you are laughing, and I see what a pretty girl you could be.”
Zoe was so surprised that she simply sank to the ground, reviewing the state of her heart. Yes—she had felt deep amusement once or twice as she consulted with the seer, and she had felt actual delight as she participated in the blessing ritual. She would not have gone so far as to say she was feeling joyous, but she felt looser somehow, limber, as if the joints of her soul had warmed up after seasons spent locked immobile. She was beginning to remember what it felt like to be herself.
Clarity.
The coin she had pulled from the barrel was, like every blessing, proving itself to be true.
A middle-aged woman named Sima helped Annova cut and style Zoe’s hair, though Zoe had not been so certain about the cutting part. “Nonsense, you’re as ragged as an alley cat,” Sima had said so matter-of-factly that Zoe couldn’t bother to be offended. And apparently there was no cutting without washing, and if you were going to wash your hair, you might as well scrub your whole body. So the day of Zoe’s transformation began with the three of them flinging themselves into the chilly Marisi during the morning hours reserved for the women to bathe.
It was the first time Zoe had wholly immersed herself since arriving at the river flats. A few of the more enterprising residents set up bathing tents along the banks every day, and a couple of times every nineda
y she had paid her five coppers for a tub of clean water and a modicum of privacy. But Sima and Annova had no inhibitions about completely disrobing and stepping into the water, staying close enough to the bank that they were never more than waist deep. Dozens of other women were already bobbing in the current, some of them holding babies and toddlers, others swimming out with long, sure strokes into the deeper, faster waters.
Annova’s body was long and sleek; Sima’s was full and pendulous, the pale stomach showing stretch marks and scars from numerous child-births. It didn’t bother them that anyone could stare at them, note their imperfections—and their attractions—judge their weight, their health.
“Come on, coru girl!” Annova shouted when Zoe lingered too long on the bank. “You cannot be afraid of the river.”
Zoe took a deep breath, then dropped all her clothes on the ground and stepped into the Marisi.
She had expected it to be icy from its plunge down the mountains, but apparently its long, somnolent pause in the pool beside the palace allowed it time to heat up under a strengthening sun. Not that it was actually warm. Zoe felt her skin prickle with goose bumps as she held her breath and ducked her head under the unquiet surface.
For a long moment, it was as if she had suspended the need to breathe.
The water swirled around her, almost as if gathering her in an embrace. She felt as though silken hands brushed along her bare arms, stroked down the length of her thigh. Muffled voices murmured at her ears, speaking words just outside of her ability to comprehend. She felt buoyant, liberated, energized, and at peace. She felt, for a brief, glorious stretch of time, as if she belonged.
Then her lungs burned with protest and her mind clamored with alarm. She shot to the surface, taking in great gasps of air, and beating her arms against the water to warm up her skin.
Sima and Annova were splashing over with big, messy footsteps. “How can you stay under so long?” Annova demanded. “I thought maybe you’d been swept away.”
Zoe was still panting, but she felt incredible. As if she had run swiftly down a mountain, as if she had spun herself into dizziness, as if she had drunk glass after glass of wine, suffering no effect except euphoria. She laughed. “Coru girl,” she said, because really, there was no other explanation. “Water is my natural element.”