No wonder the whole market had stopped for her. Ev tried to keep her eyes from widening. It was like meeting a real-life queen. She could have been in a character in one of Ev’s novels, or one of the goddesses from the old religion. Varenx House had been founded two hundred years ago by Nalitzvan aristocrats who’d fled religious persecution in their home and established themselves as cloth merchants in Laalvur. Iriyat had come to power at the age of eighteen, after suffering the tragic deaths of both her parents in the wave that hit the city when Ev was three.
None of that impressed Papa. “I know who you are.”
Mama would be mortified to hear that he spoke to Iriyat ha-Varensi like that, but Papa was from Adappyr, where no one was richer or more powerful or more important than anyone else. He did not like rich people, and he was not afraid.
Mama always said that was because he had no sense.
Iriyat inclined her head. To Ev’s amazement, she unpinned one side of her veil and moved it away from her face.
Revealing her face made her even more imposing. She wore a pleading expression that matched her huge, sad eyes as well as her clothes. Age had hardly touched her smooth, unmarked skin and full lips. “Can you tell me anything of the girl?”
“There was a girl,” Papa said. “Looked like she hadn’t had enough to eat.”
Iriyat’s lovely face crumpled, and she touched her hand to her heart again. “Poor thing,” she said. “She’s an orphan, you see. I took her in, but she’s a curious creature, given to wild flights of imagination. Sometimes she likes to run away. I doubt she’s been able to find much to eat in the past few triads. Can you tell me where she went?”
Papa tilted his head toward the water, and Iriyat’s eyes went wide.
“She jumped,” Ev volunteered, dissatisfied with her father’s silence. He didn’t seem to like Iriyat, but she looked so sad and worried. “From all the way up there.” Ev pointed to the bridge above them. “I watched for a long time, but I never saw her come up. Do you think she’s okay? Does she know how to swim?”
“I couldn’t say,” said Iriyat, even paler than usual.
“What exactly,” Papa said, “does a girl like that do in your household?”
“Oh,” Iriyat said. “I know she probably looked terribly ragged when you saw her. I’ve tried my best to keep her fed and clothed since she’s been in my care but she’s—” Iriyat paused, searching for a word. “Difficult.”
“But you want her back,” Obin observed.
“She’s in my care,” Iriyat said, and there was a hard edge in her voice.
She didn’t seem to like being questioned. Ev wished her father would be more cooperative. He was treating Iriyat like she’d done something wrong. All Iriyat wanted was to help the girl, which was what Ev wanted, too.
The slight change in Iriyat’s tone had no effect on Ev’s father. Obin remained stonily silent.
“I’m sorry to keep you from your affairs. I’ll take my leave,” Iriyat said, and she reached out toward Obin with one slender, bare hand.
She obviously expected him to clasp her hand in his. He didn’t.
Ev stared at her father, mortified. She turned back to Iriyat and said, “What if we see her again?”
Iriyat took a shuddering breath, straightened her shoulders, and smoothed her unwrinkled skirts to calm herself. Then she pulled her veil over her face again, pinning it to the cloth that covered her hair. “Please send word to Varenx House if you do.”
Ev nodded, too stunned by the possibility of visiting Varenx House to say anything at all. That girl would get the help she needed, and more. The house sat at the tip of Dar, the lowest of the four fingers, but it was still high above the city. Situated at the tip like that, anyone in the house would be able to see for ages. All that ocean. It must be so beautiful.
The Great Houses sat like glittering gems at the tip of each point, with their thin red stone towers catching the light. Or at least that was what Mama said. Ev had been disappointed that the houses had been so far away early this shift when she and Papa had arrived, and now they were too low down in the harbor to get a good view. But she’d been invited to see one up close! Maybe even to go inside! All she had to do was catch sight of the girl.
Mama said the Great Houses were all dug deep into the cliffs, with their lower floors hollowed into the rock. The richest of the houses, Solor, had more floors than anybody knew, and the lowest ones were all vaults filled with treasure.
Iriyat ha-Varensi left in a bloom of silvery lavender skirts. She parted the crowds just as she had before, and Ev’s father watched her go out of sight before swearing, “Smoke and fire.”
Papa had grown up with the smoking peak of Adap looming over his home, and he always swore like that. Mama scolded him when he did it in front of Ev. Once, he’d even said smoke and fucking fire while Ev was standing right there. But at least he hadn’t said it in front of Iriyat ha-Varensi.
“You were so rude to her, Papa,” Ev said with quiet horror. She crossed her arms over her chest. They’d met a famous person, an important person, and Papa had been even grouchier with her than he was with everybody else. And she’d been so beautiful, and so sad. “We should’ve helped her more. She was upset.”
“If she was so sad about that girl, why wasn’t she treating her better?” Papa said. “That girl was desperate to get away from something.”
“She said the girl was an orphan! The girl ran away!” In fact, Iriyat had said she’d taken the girl in—meaning the girl must have run from Varenx House. But why would she do that?
“People say all kinds of things,” Papa said. “Doesn’t mean they’re telling the truth.”
“But how can you know if somebody is lying?”
Papa shrugged.
“So you might be wrong,” Ev said. Iriyat had been on the verge of tears. She had a reputation for helping orphans. Why wouldn’t the girl want to go back to Varenx House, where she wouldn’t have to hide under carts and eat thornfruit off the ground? “She could be telling the truth.”
He shrugged again. Ev spent the rest of the shift carefully scanning the harbor, the market, the streets. She did not see the girl again.
About the Author
Felicia Davin is the author of the queer fantasy trilogy The Gardener’s Hand. Her short fiction has been featured in Lightspeed, Nature, and Heiresses of Russ 2016: The Year’s Best Lesbian Speculative Fiction.
She lives in Massachusetts with her partner and their cat. When not writing and reading fiction, she teaches and translates French. She loves linguistics, singing, and baking. She is bisexual, but not ambidextrous.
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Find her at feliciadavin.com or on Twitter @FeliciaDavin.
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