Troubled Waters

by Sharon Shinn

  She stood in the street for about ten minutes, staring up at the facade. The house was four stories high with three or four rooms on every floor. She had spent many days running up and down those stairs when she was a child, mostly because the adults were too fatigued by the exercise to chase her for long. She had begged to be given the small room on the top floor as her very own, because she loved the view and the sense of freedom, but her parents had thought her too young to sleep so far away from them at night. “When you’re older,” her mother had promised. “When you’re fourteen.”

  Of course, Zoe had celebrated her fourteenth birthday in the village with her father, and her mother had been dead nearly three years.

  She doubted she would have much interest in that high, isolated room these days. And the memories inside the house were more likely to be painful than comforting. She turned away, blundered on down the road, surprised to find her way blurred by tears.

  Not looking for one, she came upon a temple, set back from the road and surrounded by a thicket of bare shrubbery just waiting for spring to muscle into full bloom. She followed the curving stone path to the low door and felt a certain peace settle over her as soon as she stepped inside.

  She did not have the patience to move from bench to bench, meditating herself back into a state of balance, but she did make one slow circuit around the small room, acknowledging all the elements. Then she crossed to the deep, handsome basket set on a central podium and stirred the coins before she pulled out a blessing.

  She was getting awfully tired of seeing the glyph for change.

  The second blessing was synthesis, a symbol she recognized although she had never seen anyone pull it before, ever. She turned the disk over and over between her fingers, trying to decide if she should keep it or throw it back to be found by the next supplicant looking for direction. In the end, she slipped it into her pocket and trusted the acolytes to refresh their blessings on a regular basis. She had no idea how the blessing applied, but that it was portentous—and that it pertained directly to her—she had no doubt.

  No more wisdom was offered. The third coin was so smooth, so worn that it was almost blank. A ghost blessing. A signal that even the elemental forces could not advise her in the trials to come.

  Zoe pursed her lips, then shook her head. This was a coin she would not bother to keep. She flipped it into the basket and left the temple, rather less peaceful than she’d been when she walked in.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Zoe couldn’t tell if she was relieved or dismayed to find Darien Serlast waiting in her hotel room. Annova had made him comfortable, seating him at a pretty little table before the window, offering him fruited water and sweet crackers. The minute Zoe stepped into the room, Annova grabbed Calvin’s arm and said, “We’ll be back in an hour.” Zoe let the door click shut behind them before she made the effort to stroll across the room and face her visitor.

  “What happens now?” she asked, not bothering with subtlety. “Am I banished?”

  He finished off his glass of water and folded his hands on the table. He gazed up at her, seemingly calm. “Alys would like that, but no,” he said. “Under—intensive—questioning, Alys was persuaded to admit that she had, indeed, sent tainted candy to your rooms in the hopes of making you sick. But she was adamant that the chemical wouldn’t do you any real harm. And she insisted, with such vehemence that I’m tempted to believe her, that she had no hand in Josetta’s mishap on the river. But sending you doctored food is a serious offense, even if she did nothing worse.”

  “And so?”

  “And so everyone agrees that—extreme and wrongheaded as your reprisal was—you had some justification for your behavior today.”

  “Who constitutes everyone?”

  “Why don’t you sit down?” he said, waving at the chair across from him.

  “I’d rather stand. Who’s everyone?”

  “Vernon. Elidon. Me.”

  “And who else knows what happened at Elidon’s breakfast?”

  “For now, as few people as possible. Coru luck must have blessed you today to make sure there were no servants in the room when you—expressed your opinions—and Elidon can keep Seterre and Romelle in check. Alys has little incentive to repeat the story, for it reveals her in a bad light as well, and Mirti understands the urgency of keeping such a matter private. For now, the king and I are the only other ones who know. But I can’t predict how long the events will remain secret.”

  “How will Alys explain the marks on her face?”

  “Some story is being worked out, I suppose. I was not interested enough in the details to linger.”

  “So I’m not banished.”

  “Not from the city, no. But it is thought it might be generally wiser—for the time being, at any rate—for you to take up quarters outside the palace.”

  She gestured at the room around them. “As you see. I already have.”

  “You might consider investing in something more personal. More permanent.”

  “Maybe it’s time for me to go back to Christara’s house.”

  “No,” he said sharply.

  She raised her eyebrows, waiting.

  He came to his feet in a leisurely fashion, as if trying to move casually. But once he was standing, she could tell that his whole body was coiled with some strong emotion. Anger, she guessed. Anxiety. Maybe something else.

  Maybe he, like Zoe, was expending a lot of energy to not think about that kiss last night. That kiss three or five or eight years ago.

  “There are upcoming events where your presence will be expected,” he said. “Taro and Kayle are both committed to staying for the next nineday, and they have even less interest in living in Chialto than you do. You ought to be present as long as they are.”

  “What is so important that all the primes are instructed to linger?”

  He clearly debated how much to tell, but then decided she was unlikely to be moved by an incomplete answer. At least, that was how she interpreted the look on his face.

  “The viceroy of Soeche-Tas arrives here early next nineday,” Darien said. “To do him honor, all the primes are requested to be at the palace during his visit.”

  “The viceroy of Soeche-Tas was here a year ago, and the Lalindar prime was not at the palace showing him any particular respect,” she reminded him.

  “Your aunt Sarone and your uncle Broy attended many functions in your stead,” he said. “The viceroy was thus saved from affront.”

  “I’m glad that my Lalindar relatives made themselves so agreeable.”

  “They seem to have that skill,” he agreed. “Though you do not.”

  She laughed, a harsh, angry sound. “Come, you have been so restrained! Why don’t you berate me as you would like to do? Tell me how foolish I have been, how vindictive—”

  “How childish,” he shot back. It was clear his iron control was slipping. “How ungoverned. How irresponsible.”

  “I was angry.”

  “Everyone experiences anger from time to time! I would go so far as to say I feel rage right at this moment. But I don’t indulge in it! I don’t smash things and destroy things and threaten people. You accused Alys of trying to kill Josetta! Very well, even if she had, how are you any better than she is if you try to kill her?”

  “I did nothing more than bruise her face,” Zoe replied hotly. “Though I wanted to do more. I could have done more.”

  “Oh, I believe that! Mirti said you wore the look of someone who suddenly found a weapon in her hand that she had no idea how to use. But she said she could see you figuring out how to turn it to good account.”

  Zoe laughed sharply, not amused in the slightest. “And then she whispered in my ear that she could break all my bones if she wanted to. I don’t know why everyone is so outraged at my behavior if all the primes have some kind of destructive elemental power. I’m betting Kayle can suffocate a man merely by willing it—or Nelson can make a man go mad.”

  “You might win that
bet,” Darien retorted, “but they have shown no inclination to do so.”

  “Well, here’s a question that’s been vexing me,” she said, taking a step closer. “If the primes are so powerful, why do we need a king? What can he do that they cannot?”

  “He can withstand them,” Darien said.

  She just stared at him. “I don’t understand.”

  “As you say, all the primes are capable of murder. But when they ratify the king’s selection of heir—as all primes must do—they endow that heir with the ability to survive their assaults. They cannot kill him and thus it is in their best interests to support him.” He shrugged. “There are obvious flaws in the arrangement—any one of them could hire an assassin, for instance—but the system has worked for Welce for hundreds of years.” He gave her a dark look. “And works better if none of the primes abuse their powers, no matter what inducement they might be offered.”

  She wanted to sneer at him or stamp her foot or throw a tantrum, but he was already rebuking her for appalling behavior, and she didn’t want to continue to prove his point. Maybe this was why Christara had wanted to have the raising of Zoe once she realized that power was more than a blessing charm hanging on Zoe’s bracelet. Maybe Christara would have taught her how to control not just her ability, but the desire to use it. After all, there was no one Christara had hated more than Navarr Ardelay, and she’d done nothing more than ruin him.

  But she had really wanted to kill him.

  “I will focus on learning how to control my rage—and my power—no matter how great the provocation,” she said in a cold voice.

  “Yes, for there are always provocations,” Darien said. “How he responds in the face of disaster is how you judge a man. Or a woman.”

  “Well, then certainly a hunti man has the advantage there,” Zoe flung at him. “He will give in to no emotional excesses! Stubborn as wood and unyielding as bone!”

  “It would not harm you to allow a little hunti resolve to give some shape to your restless coru days,” he said steadily.

  And are you the hunti man to guide me? she wanted to demand. Are you a man of such principle and determination that you can take a woman of blood and water and turn her into a solid, a reliable, a dependable form? Will you wrap your body around hers to contain her, to give her a place of rest and safety? Or will you merely stand, stiff and disapproving, and watch her dissolve and melt away?

  Instead she responded, her voice cutting, “I have not found the hunti ways so much to my taste that I want to submit to their guidance.” You kissed me, she was saying, but that doesn’t mean I liked it.

  He nodded, making it clear he perfectly understood her message. “Then I will not burden you with my unwelcome presence,” he said. “I will just reiterate that the king wishes you to stay in the city. That your attendance will be expected from time to time at the palace. And that you have not been put under any interdiction.” He gave her another nod, though this one was more of a bow, and strode toward the door.

  “Wait,” she said. “I remembered something I had to tell you.”

  His hand touching the knob, he paused to look back at her. He could not shift emotions as quickly as she could; he still looked both angry and hurt. “What is it?”

  “Or rather, something to ask you.”

  He didn’t bother to speak again, merely waited.

  “Did you know Romelle is pregnant?”

  His hand fell; astonishment wiped everything else from his face. “That’s not possible,” he said.

  Zoe shrugged. “Possible or not, it’s true.”

  He came a few steps back into the room. His frown had returned, but the rage had been replaced by bafflement and concern. “Did she tell you this? I hadn’t thought you and Romelle were on such good terms that she would confide in you.”

  “She followed me after the argument this morning and took my hand. I could feel it inside her. The blood of someone else. A baby.” She saw he was not convinced and said, with some heat, “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. It’s true.”

  “Does she realize she’s pregnant?”

  Zoe gave him a scathing look. “I don’t know. We’re not on such good terms that she confides in me.”

  “She’s said nothing to anyone.”

  “Nothing that’s been repeated to you,” Zoe felt compelled to point out.

  He brushed this aside. “If Elidon knew, she would tell Vernon, and he would tell me. But if Romelle doesn’t yet realize the truth—”

  “She’s been sick for the past few days. I thought Alys was poisoning her, too,” Zoe said. She couldn’t help grinning, though of course it wasn’t funny. “No wonder Alys was so incensed. She probably hasn’t done anything to Romelle. Romelle’s just been throwing up because of the baby.”

  Darien was still frowning, apparently trying to calculate calendar dates. So Zoe asked the obvious question. “Who’s the father?”

  Darien shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  “I suppose that’s a lie,” she said.

  He offered her a strained, reluctant smile. “Oh, I wish it were.” He shook his head. “I could believe it of Alys. I could believe it of Seterre. Each of them would take lovers without consulting the king. But Romelle? She’s always been the most biddable of the four. If she’s pregnant—then there are serious lapses in palace security. Which is as troubling to me as the fact of the pregnancy itself.”

  “I guess you can’t just ask her for the truth,” Zoe said, sparing a moment to enjoy imagining that conversation.

  “Not until she’s made a public announcement, I can’t.”

  Zoe shrugged. “Then I don’t suppose there’s much you can do about it.”

  “Thank you for letting me know,” he said. The astonishment seemed to have knocked the last of his anger out of him; now he looked tired, and a little sad. Not for the first time, Zoe thought he probably had responsibilities she knew nothing of, and none of them easy.

  She said, “It doesn’t seem to have lightened your burdens, however, so perhaps I shouldn’t have told you.”

  “It never occurred to me that you had any interest at all in lightening my burdens,” he replied.

  She laughed out loud. “You were the one who came seeking me out, Darien Serlast. You have now tracked me down—what, four times?—when I gave you plenty of reason to abandon me forever. My only conclusion must be that you actually like the turmoil I bring into your life.”

  This time his smile was a little warmer. “I told you. I am merely fulfilling a promise I made—to your father and to mine.”

  “Consider that promise kept,” she invited. “Consider your duty discharged. If you ever have reason to come chasing after me again, let it be on your own account.”

  He studied her for a moment in silence and then nodded sharply. “All right, then. I will.” He reached the door but turned back. “But you’re not to run away again until after you have shown some respect to the viceroy.”

  “I suppose I can agree to that,” she said. “You wouldn’t have time to come looking for me, anyway, until after he was gone.”

  He allowed himself a slight laugh. “Exactly so,” he said. “I think we understand each other.”

  “I doubt that,” she said, “but we are at least in agreement.”

  “Which is more than I can usually hope for.”

  “One more thing,” she said as he opened the door. “Will you tell Josetta where I am? She came looking for me at my aunt’s.”

  Now the amusement was gone from his face and he looked, once again, wary and displeased. “Josetta? I thought I had made it clear—”

  “I haven’t been whispering secrets in her ear,” Zoe said, irritated. “I’ve been making sure she knows how to swim. A useful skill, don’t you think? If anyone ever tries to drown her again?”

  “That’s just an excuse. You’re trying to build a relationship with her. Because she’s your sister.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said cordially. “And
I will continue to do so. I’ll be discreet. I won’t reveal the lies you are so determined to pretend are true. But I’ll make myself her friend. And you can’t stop me, so it’s no use growling at me like that.”

  “I’m not growling. It’s just that—”

  She waved him toward the door, coming close enough that she could shut it behind him once he finally left. “It’s just that you don’t like it. Well, I’m sorry. Actually, no, I’m not sorry. Go home, Darien. Worry about the things you can control. This isn’t one of them.”

  This time he actually managed to open the door before he was stopped by one more thought. “If you leave the hotel,” he said, “you will let me know where you move?”

  “Surely your spies will tell you that before I’ve had a chance to send you word?”

  “It gives me the illusion that you trust me if you tell me of your own free will.”

  She shrugged. “All right. Then I will notify you if I change my residence. Does that satisfy you?”

  He was silent a moment, watching her, his face gone suddenly serious. His right hand was still on the door, but now he lifted his left hand and touched two fingers, very gently, to her lips. “No,” he said, “but I suppose it will have to do.” Smiling at her bewilderment, he bowed again and strode from the room.

  Zoe was left first to stare at the closed door and then to collapse against it, dazedly reviewing the last exchanges of that conversation. It took her a moment to remember what she’d asked that had prompted him to reply in the negative.

  Does that satisfy you?

  She had spoken the truth. They would never understand each other.

  But there were days she thought they might reach an understanding, even so.

  Josetta was not happy with the news that Zoe did not plan to move back to the palace anytime soon.

  “What does it matter?” Zoe asked. They were visiting in Zoe’s hotel room before heading to Sarone’s for an afternoon swim. “I never talk to you when we’re at court anyway, and you can come see me anytime you like.”