by Sharon Shinn
Ilene took the box from her hand. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then. I hope it doesn’t rain.”
Zoe laughed. The sky had been threatening all day, with low clouds bunched in angry gray clusters, and the wind had picked up considerably since they had closed the windows for the night. “I hope so, too, but I think it will,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Not until she was hurrying home, head bent against the wind, did it occur to her that Ilene had set a trap for her. Certainly Ilene could have added the coins for just the reason she gave—but just as easily she could have seeded the box to see what Zoe would do. A quint-gold matched to no receipt! Surely that would be a powerful temptation to most girls with little money and few prospects. Ilene still didn’t trust Zoe; there might be other tests like this in the future.
Zoe shook her head, smiling faintly. If only Ilene knew how unlikely it was that her new shop worker would steal money or shoes or anything . Ilene might find a few things in Zoe’s life to surprise or displease her, but larceny wouldn’t be one of them.
EIGHT
The Quinnahunti changeday dawned sunny and calm after three days of miserable weather. Even Zoe, who liked rain, had found it unpleasant to camp on the river flats in the unending wet. About half of the squatters disappeared in stormy weather, seeking shelter in alleys and under bridges or with friends and family members who would take them in briefly. Through Annova, Zoe had met a severe and silent older woman named Barra who owned a tent big enough to hold three people. On rainy days, Zoe and another young woman brought their mats to Barra’s to sleep, paying three coppers for the privilege. It was better than sleeping in a downpour, but barely. The quarters were cramped, the company unfriendly, and the nights long.
If Zoe planned to spend much more time on the riverfront, she would need to invest in her own tent. But such a commodity was expensive, a couple of quint-golds at least. Not at all worth it if she would be living somewhere else before the year was out.
But would she be? And where?
Zoe closed her mind to the questions and simply handed over her coins.
And Quinnahunti changeday was so gorgeous that she didn’t have to think about vexing problems like tents. She took advantage of the mild weather to immerse herself in the river, getting wholly clean, then put on her favorite purple top to celebrate the day.
Ilene had been right—the city turned into one big festival on changeday. The Cinque was just as crowded as the Plazas, brimming with vendors selling food and hats and hunti trinkets like wooden whistles and fantastical animals carved out of bone. There was no hope of catching a ride on one of the omnibuses, which were so full that people seemed to spill out of the open sides anytime the wheels hit a bump, and certainly no horse-drawn vehicle could force its way through the pedestrian crowds. Performers of wildly varying levels of sophistication stood on corners and offered music, magic tricks, and acrobatics, while thieves wound through the watching crowds and lifted jewels and purses.
Zoe allowed herself a handful of quint-silvers to spend on the day and wandered happily through the streets, watching more often than spending. She did make one wholly frivolous purchase, a small, twisting fish carved of white bone and painted an iridescent purple. She liked its color as well as the happy flirt of its body. Besides, it was lucky to buy a hunti object on Quinnahunti changeday, and a fish was coru, which made it luckier still for Zoe. And anyway, it made her smile. She threaded a cord through the closed loop made when its tail touched its glimmering side scales, and she wore it for the rest of the day.
She returned by nightfall, loaded down with candies, and found the whole expanse of the flats turned into one grand feast. Every campfire simmered with some special meal, and the air was so laden with smoky spices that it was a treat just to inhale. Following Annova’s advice, Zoe carried her own plate from site to site, asking to taste whatever was cooking. In payment she offered a handful of candies or a quint-copper, whichever her hosts preferred. She ran out of candy first, but by then she was so full she only made it to three more campfires before deciding she could not eat another bite.
It was nearly dark, anyway. She made her way back to Annova and Calvin’s tent, where maybe a dozen of their friends already were sprawling on blankets and passing around bottles of wine.
“Any of those lemon sweets left?” Calvin asked hopefully, but she laughed and shook her head.
“Next time I’ll buy twice as many,” she said.
She lolled back on her own mat, dropped off hours ago for just this purpose, and watched the sky overhead darken to true black. Around her, at varying distances, she could hear bursts of laughter and snatches of music, and now and then a rhythmic clapping that she supposed indicated dancing, though she was too lazy to sit up and strain to see through the dark.
She had been lying there for nearly an hour, growing increasingly sleepy, when she heard Calvin say, “There it goes,” right before the collected crowd produced a murmur of delighted approval. So she sat up and turned her attention toward the palace, ensconced high above them in its mountain nook. Normally, by this time of night, the whole building was set with flickering lights at enough windows and turrets that its shape was visible as a series of white dots against the grainy darkness of the mountain. But tonight virtually all of those lights had been doused and there was nothing to see but the hulking, undifferentiated bulk of the mountain itself.
Then a sudden wash of blue light played over the palace, illuminating it and shadowing it in almost equal measures before just as abruptly fading. A moment’s pause, and then its shape was exposed in a burst of scarlet light that turned orange as a blast of yellow overlaid the red. The first color disappeared, leaving behind a twinkling golden glow that did not seem to vanish so much as evaporate like steam from a heated stone.
“What is that? It’s so beautiful,” Zoe murmured as patches of sapphire and amethyst and emerald bloomed along individual towers and doorways in rapid succession before just as quickly fading.
“Some Dochenza invention,” Calvin answered. “They make light out of gasses and pigments, but it doesn’t last very long, as you can see. Amazing to watch, though.”
“They’ve been doing this for the past three or four years on Quinnahunti changeday,” Annova said. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I could sit here all night and watch.”
And, in fact, they did. At some point, the broad strokes of color gave way to more complex and intricate patterns, punctuated at times by great swooping shadows that looked like animals—a diving hawk, a running fox, a lumbering bear. It was all quite extraordinary. The show went on till nearly midnight, and even then nobody was ready for it to be over.
Changeday fed straight into firstday, and most of the city had a two-day holiday. Zoe slept till almost noon and found herself disinclined to do much even after she’d rolled to her feet and slipped off to the river to wash up. She was not the only one. There was very little activity along the flats from sunup to sundown. Zoe spent her time making small repairs in her clothing, napping, and staring idly at the river. It was a very good day.
The first two ninedays of Quinnahunti were unremarkable except for the slow heat that began to build in the little shop—enough so that Zoe started to look ahead to oppressive Quinnatorz with a certain amount of apprehension. “It won’t be so bad on the street level,” Melvin told her one afternoon when he saw her fanning her face with her hand. “Upstairs, that’s where it’s sometimes so hot you can’t sleep, even with every window open and a breeze blowing through.”
“That’s the time to be living down by the river,” Ilene added. “We’ll be envying you by the middle of Quinnatorz.”
Zoe smiled. “Buy yourselves a couple of mats and come sleep down there by me,” she invited. “I’ll cook you dinner.”
She could only make such an offer, even in jest, because her relations with her employers had warmed up considerably since the holiday. Specifically, her relations with Ilene—Melvin didn’t seem
to have strong feelings for Zoe one way or the other. But Ilene had started to like her, and she had demonstrated this fondness by bestowing small, practical gifts on Zoe. One day it might be a sleeveless tunic in a bright color. I saw this on the Plaza—they were practically giving it away! Of course it doesn’t fit me, but it will look very good on you. Another day, it was food. I made this last night and there was so much left over. Why don’t you take it for your dinner tonight? There had been no more tests of Zoe’s honesty, though now and then Zoe had the sense that Ilene was trying to determine how well Zoe met her qualifications on other key measures.
For instance, one afternoon they had the responsibility of watching after Ilene’s niece, Darray. The girl was nine, skinny and shy, and Ilene insisted she stay out in the front room with Zoe all day “because there’s just too much trouble to get into on this side of the curtain.” Zoe figured there were at least as many risks in the front half of the shop—such as the open front door, which might seem inviting to a little girl when her keeper was busy with a customer—but she didn’t voice the thought. Instead, she kept Darray close at all times, pinned behind the counter with her, amusing the little girl with whatever tasks and games she could think up.
“If only I had someone who could count all the quint-coppers for me!” Zoe lamented early in the afternoon. “There are so many, and I need to keep track.”
“I can do that!” Darray piped up.
“Oh, would you? That would be such a help.” Quint-coppers were worth so little that even if Darray lost a dozen of them, it wouldn’t cost Zoe much to make up the difference, and the chore kept the little girl occupied for nearly an hour.
After that, Zoe had her count the blue shoes on the shelves and draw portraits of some of the customers who came in and demonstrate how long she could hop on one foot and tell her the names of all her friends. Frankly, it was an exhausting day, and Zoe was glad when, near sunset, Ilene’s sister came to fetch her daughter.
After seeing Darray and her mother off the premises, Ilene came to rest her elbows on the counter. “Isn’t she precious?” she asked Zoe, who was straightening up the day’s receipts.
It was obvious how to answer that question. “Adorable,” Zoe said. “And very well-behaved. Her mother has taught her excellent manners.”
“You were very good with her. Do you like children?”
“Usually. I taught math to some of the boys and girls in the village where I used to live. I didn’t like all of them, of course,” she added.
“Well, no. Children have different personalities, just like adults do,” Ilene said. “Do you have any nieces and nephews?”
Zoe shook her head. No siblings, no nieces and nephews. Her cousins might have a few children by now, but it was unlikely that Zoe would be getting to know them anytime soon.
“Do you want children of your own?” Ilene asked.
“I never really thought about it,” Zoe said blankly, which was the truth. But in situations like this, a conventional answer was always safest. “But if I found the right man to be husband and father—of course I would want them.”
Ilene nodded, looking pleased. “Of course.”
Three days later, Ilene invited Zoe to dinner.
It was unusual, Zoe knew, for a worker to be allowed into the home of a merchant trader, and she was a little surprised at being admitted so deeply into her employers’ lives. Nonetheless, she was honored and strove to show it. She wore her purple top to work on the day she would stay late for the meal. On Annova’s advice, she also brought a bag of the expensive chocolates to share with her hosts. “Because even if they don’t like chocolate, which would be something unfathomable to me, they will recognize the cost of the item and realize that you are showing gratitude by bringing it to the meal,” Annova had said.
In fact, it turned out that both Ilene and Melvin loved chocolate, and Zoe laughingly had to hide the bag from them or they would have consumed every last drop before the workday had even ended.
“It will take me just a little time to get the meal ready, so, here, you take a few quint-silvers—take them, take them!—and wander around a bit and buy yourself something nice,” Ilene said. “Come back in an hour, and then we’ll eat.”
That was certainly an agreeable way to pass an hour, though Zoe thought hard about how to spend her bonus. If she was supposed to lavish the coins on herself, Ilene might be unhappy if Zoe bought a gift for the house instead, and she could hardly purchase something else to supplement the meal, because that would look like she didn’t expect much from the food. In the end, she bought an armload of flowers from a booth at the Plaza of Women. A purple blossom to set in her own hair, a small golden bloom for Ilene, and the rest to sit in a vase over dinner and go home with Zoe that night.
She could not help but feel it was another test, and she hoped she passed it, though she was not certain why Ilene had devised it.
Ilene met her in the kierten that opened off the back stairs, a narrow little space barely big enough to hold both of them. She exclaimed over the flowers while Zoe enthusiastically inhaled the delicious smells wafting in through the door that connected directly to the kitchen.
“Ilene! Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful!”
Ilene tucked the gold flower behind her ear and preened a little—or, no, she just looked so good because she had taken a little trouble with her hair and her clothing, and there was a smile of pure happiness on her face. “It’s Barlow’s favorite meal,” she said. “He’ll be here in a moment. Come inside, straight through the kitchen.”
For a moment, Zoe couldn’t remember who Barlow was. Instead of asking, she stepped through the door and looked around the kitchen. It was narrow and low-ceilinged, but spotlessly clean and laid out with Ilene’s usual affinity for shelves and containers. “This looks like an excellent place to cook,” she said.
“Let me show you the whole place,” Ilene said.
All in all, the living quarters above the shop weren’t much bigger than the cottage Zoe had shared with her father—and, true to Melvin’s prediction, a little too warm. The main room opening off of the kitchen was clearly where the family did most of its living. The furniture was neatly arranged, but there was too much for the small space—a dining table and chairs, a cluster of more comfortable chairs set by the windows, mats and pillows on the floor. More of those useful shelves lined every wall, stocked with an unending variety of household objects. A few closed doors probably guarded closets and at least one bedroom, Zoe thought, but she guessed that all of them were cramped.
Still, the colors were muted and pleasing, the ambiance was tranquil, and the place had a prosperous, contented feel that instantly made it seem welcoming.
Ilene put the flowers in a vase and set it in the middle of the table, while Melvin pulled his big body up from one of the chairs at the window. “I hope he gets here soon,” he remarked. “I’m hungry.”
As if the words had conjured their guest, there was a rattle on the back steps as someone stepped into the kierten. Ilene’s smile grew even brighter.
“Barlow,” she said happily, before calling, “we’re all in here!”
Moments later Barlow stepped into the room, and that was when Zoe remembered who he was. He had the same lumbering bulk as Melvin, though he was not quite as tall, and the same brushy brown hair, though none of his had turned to gray. His eyes were more like Ilene’s, dark and curious, taking in the room, the company, the situation, in one quick scan. He had, Zoe would guess, his father’s shape and his mother’s soul.
“Dinner smells great,” he said.
“Zoe, this is our son, Barlow,” Ilene said, taking him by the arm and leading him over. “Barlow, Zoe has been helping us out in the shop and working very hard.”
Barlow nodded to Zoe, assessing her with a little more attention. She couldn’t tell from his expression if he’d expected her to be here or not. “Learning how to make shoes, are you?” he asked.
She decided she simpl
y would not allow herself to be ill at ease. She would not think about why Ilene had invited her here, why Ilene had asked if she wanted children, why she had encouraged Zoe to wear her prettiest top and the trousers with the smoothest, most flattering fit. She smiled faintly. “Not so far,” she said. “I have my hands full just keeping track of the sales and the money.”
“That’s a big part of any merchant’s job,” he agreed. “Doesn’t matter what you’re selling. If you price it wrong, or don’t watch your inventory, you won’t stay in business very long.”
“Barlow’s a trader,” Ilene explained. “He buys and sells goods all over Welce! He’s been from the southern ports to the northern mountains and everywhere in between.”
“Where have you found the most interesting merchandise?” Zoe asked.
Before he could answer, Melvin interrupted, humorously plaintive. “Could we talk about it while we eat?” he said. “I’m too hungry to wait.”
“Of course! Barlow, you help me get out the food. Zoe, will you pour water? There’s a pitcher on the table.”
After five minutes of bustle, they were all seated, Zoe and Barlow facing each other over the plates and glasses and steaming platters. Barlow—whom Zoe supposed was used to being the focal point of any conversation with his parents—immediately resumed the discussion where it had been interrupted.
“Well, every place has interesting merchandise, if you know where to look,” he said. “At the southern coastal towns, you can find all the spices and gems and imported silks you’d expect, but anyone else can find them, too. You need to look for merchants who carry the unexpected treasures.” He took a large bite, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “But that’s only half of it. You have to know the markets that will buy the unexpected treasures as well.”
“Like what?” Zoe asked. “What did you buy and sell that was so unusual?”
“In a northern port I once found a man selling hunting birds from Soeche-Tas. Smaller than a hawk and faster. He took me out to a field and showed me how they would dive on their prey—absolutely soundless. The most chilling thing I ever saw, and the most beautiful.” He paused to take another mouthful of food. “But I was able to buy the birds for an excellent price because none of the other land traders could figure out where to sell them.”