A Change of Luck

by T J Muir

  Diya listened as Haz continued to berate Tak, drawing Ren into the argument and then appealing to her aunts. “This affects all of us, all of you. Do you want Hak’kar to control your olive trade or to hold partial ownership of your vineyards?” That stirred up her aunts, and the room began to buzz with questions and concerns until Diya couldn’t pick any of them out from the general noise that was almost a shouting match.

  “Enough!” Her father took command of the room. “It is time to hear from each person here, what you know, what you think, and your insights or suggestions. Now is the time to voice them.”

  Diya nodded, mostly to herself since no one was paying her attention. Her father would listen to everyone, in part because he valued their council but also to learn what opposition he faced within the family. Who would he have to appease? Who objected, who agreed and why?

  “Would this marriage be that horrible?” Ren held up a hand. “Hear me out, before you disagree. There may be some advantages to this match, even though it looks unappealing. Hak'ket is young and not the man his father is. He may be far more compliant and malleable than Hak'kar.”

  “Trust me, brother, you do not want Hak'kar sitting in this council, knowing our every last secret and all of our business,” Haz said with an air of authority that was almost as strong as her father's.

  “You mean Hak'ket,” Ren corrected.

  “No. I mean Hak'kar. Don't suppose for one moment that this is anything other than it appears. The family will be allowing Hak'kar direct access to all of its doings. Eventually, every decision that gets made will be to his benefit.”

  Diya felt relieved, hearing that. It didn't seem like everyone was in favor of this match.

  “I agree. Hak'kar is a powerful man, but maybe he could be made into a powerful ally.” Ren spoke as though he had already made up his mind.

  “Then you are as big a fool as the idiot who created this mess!” Haz shouted. “Have you both lost your senses?”

  “Well, if we could arrange another match, then that might bring in enough revenue to offset the debt load. Also, if she were arranged, then Hak’kar wouldn’t be able to leverage his way into the council.” Finally, her father had spoken. Diya heaved a sigh of relief. She had wanted to believe that her father would protect her, but until she heard him say it out loud, she wasn’t sure. She had been hoping that he had a solution already, but if that had been true they wouldn’t be holding this meeting.

  “Do we have any other marriage options? Zin'Jessun, Ren'Jor and Jin'Rah have always been on the table. However, Ren'Jor is Pavan's youngest son so he won't be an option any more. I doubt anyone within the entire Da'harat will dare to make a match now, even if Pavan would approve it. We could look outside the region perhaps, but that would take time that we don't have. Now that Hak’kar has made this offer, he will expect a response.”

  Jin'rah? He was still at school! Were they going to marry her off to some pimple-faced baby? Would they plan the wedding around his school schedule? Maybe that would buy them all some time vowing they needed to wait until Jin'rah had finished his schooling, but no, she couldn't imagine herself with the likes of Jin'rah.

  Ren'Jor. His name had always been one of the viable matches. He was a terrible gambler, but there wasn't anything horribly offensive about the man. Except, he was Pavan's son. Not the heir, but still a favorable match. But it was still Pavan, who was wholly Hak'kar's man.

  Zin'Jessun- She had known him since childhood, same schools and same circles. He was a happy and carefree sort. Marrying him would be like marrying her cousin... she shuddered at the thought of having to kiss or sleep with him.

  A year ago, she would have almost happily married almost any of these men. Jessun would make her laugh, and their life would be a string of social events where he mocked the very people he called friends. Once that might have been enough but not anymore. Now she saw how shallow that life would be. She sighed. She knew it was her duty to marry for the House. She had imagined a life of parties, socializing and events, entertaining and impressing people. That was how she saw her responsibility playing out, much like the role her mother played within their House.

  She imagined Trey and Findal dancing in the grand hall before they convinced her to sneak away from her own party. How the likes of Linna and Minna would fawn all over her and try to get themselves invited into her inner circle, and her cousin, Jomar, would run interference, going so far as to bed one of them. All in the name of family, he would swear with a happy laugh.

  She had also imagined that she would have much more say in the final decisions, charming and pouting her way into a match that suited her. Now, thanks to Tak, that leverage was gone.

  “What about one of the big merchant-families?” Haz asked, changing his tone slightly as they considered a different tactic.

  “What, trade our family title for covering the debt?” Ren asked, sounding horrified.

  “Isn't that what we would be doing with Hak'kar, anyway?” Haz asked, his voice dry, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug, hands waving in feigned futility.

  Tak ignored Ren’s comment. “A merchant would have less to lose and more to gain. A coveted title. We might have more control over the terms that way.”

  “What about that Raifen boy?” Haz asked, looking toward Diya’s father. “His family is wealthy enough to carry the debt. If they agree to cover the debt immediately upon the marriage, that will avoid paying the accruing interest that will be due at the end of the year.”

  There was a time Diya might have resigned herself to the situation, opting for the least-onerous choice. Now she found fault with every choice. None of them was Jay. So none of them was going to be suitable. Would Jin'rah talk about philosophy with her? Would Jessun be interested in swans or bears? Was Raifen capable of being faithful? Years of on-again off-again relationship with the man had given her a good idea what he was like. Marriage for him would be about the title and public image. She had no doubt that he would never really love her. Would any of them care what she thought or wanted? The thought of endless days with the likes of Linna and Minna chattering and nattering away about trivial gossip began to terrify her.

  “There is one major issue with all of these options- except perhaps the merchant. Any marriage proposal is going to require Pavan's approval.” Diya’s father said, voicing his perspective. “Pavan is unlikely to do anything that disrupts his own peace of mind. With a solid proposal on the table, a formal proposal, he is unlikely to promote an alternative match. He isn't going to disrupt the Da'harat for this.” Isn’t going to cross Hak’kar, was what he meant. Pavan may be the da’har but it was widely believed that Hak’kar pulled the strings behind the scenes.

  A spark of fury ignited in her. Here all these people were talking about her life, her future, and yet not one of them considered how she might feel about things.

  “Do you even hear yourselves? By the gods! You sit there drinking your fine wine and brandy and discussing my future as though you were deciding what to eat for dinner! Talk talk, talk. You're all horrible and heartless and cold!” she said, rising to her feet. The words were flying from her lips before she could think to stop them, but once spoken, she felt shocked to find she regretted not a word. She didn’t care that she’d been forbidden to speak. How dare they presume to raffle her off to the highest bidder. Or worse, use me as collateral for a foolish debt.

  No one addressed Diya or her comment. Instead, they turned back to her father.

  “You have indulged your child for far too long, Kaz'Rillyn.”

  Not Rills, or even Rillyn. Formal address. Haz was deliberately reminding her father to think of the greater good.

  Her father turned his head towards her, scowling. “Silence or you will be dismissed.”

  She felt a scream deep in her belly, but she grit her teeth and remained quiet. She glared back at her father and then turned to each of the others, furious.

  Her father turned back to the council. “Perhaps it would be wise t
o discuss this among ourselves.”

  She was being dismissed after all. How dare they do this to her! “Yes,” Diya answered before Father could speak. “How much easier it will be to decide my future if I am not actually here when you do it! No guilt, no shame!” She turned and stared at

  Ren. “You do not speak for me, uncle! I will not be auctioned off to the highest bidder like one of your livestock.”

  Everyone seemed embarrassed, but she wasn’t wasting much thought for their distress. She’d been in a cauldron of pain and grief ever since she had received Jay’s parting letter filled with too many partial truths and hints that created more questions than answers.

  Now, finally, she had a place to vent those pent up emotions.

  “All day long it’s you and your plans. Making decisions that affect people’s lives! Yet you never give any of us the right to speak for ourselves? I have less voice in who I marry than the lowest field worker or apprentice! How dare you! How dare any one of you presume to choose my life for me.”

  Haz looked up, eyes narrowing and lips pursed. “And what did you think was going to happen? Did you think your handsome stranger would turn out to be a lost noble or and rescue you?”

  Diya gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. “What?” The accusation caught her off guard. Were they talking about Jay? How did they know? She was indignant at the thought which only fueled her anger. “What are you talking about?”

  “Did you think we knew none of this? Did you think yourself so clever as to fool everyone?” Haz sounded so calm, cold and calculating. Even as his voice softened, she knew there was no compassion behind his words.

  Diya’s eyes narrowed, her anger notching up a level. Had her parents been the ones? She looked over to her mother who offered nothing and then turned back to her uncle Haz, fists clenched.

  He stared her down, shaking his head in mock pity. “How much do you even know about your handsome halfbreed? Very little, I imagine.”

  “I know him completely!”

  “How? How well can you know a man who did not even exist before three years ago?”

  “You know nothing!” Diya shouted. “He is a better man than you are. Better than any of you.”

  “I know far more than you think,” Haz countered. “It’s my job to know everything that affects this so’harat.”

  Diya glared at him, afraid he might know something damning, and hating him for it. “None of that matters. I know him. Nothing you can say will surprise me.”

  “He is nothing. No one. Everything he pretended to have, it came straight from Hak'kar. Even the house he lived in.”

  Diya's heart skipped a beat. “So you have been spying on me this whole time?”

  “That’s my job!” he said, raising his voice and emphasizing each word. “Protecting you and your good name, for the family’s sake.”

  Protecting my reputation? Or my virtue? Too late for that, Diya thought, long before Jay had come along. “Protecting yourselves, you mean,” she spat back at him. “And now, to protect your own interests you want to force me to marry that miserable weasel.”

  Her mother came to stand beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders, bending close so they were at the same level. “Sweeting. Making a good marriage is your obligation to the family. As it is for every young woman. You are so’har. You’ve always known this day would come. This is your duty, for the House.”

  Diya stiffened, straightening, as another wave of fury surfaced. She pushed her mother away. “And I was to have no say in it? This, this sorry wretch!? This you consider a good marriage?” Her voice rose in volume and pitch as she railed against the inevitable. This cannot possibly be happening.

  She wanted to scream, to curse at them, and call down the wrath of the gods, but she stopped herself. Words have power. Her father had always taught her that,

  so had the priests. Be careful with them, and choose wisely.

  “By all that is holy, get your daughter under control.” Hazlo shook his head.

  Diya leapt forward, knocking her chair over, as she snatched a wine glass from the table and flung it at Haz. Her throw went wide, and the glass shattered against the marble wall beside her uncle’s head. Her mother grabbed her arm, restraining any further outburst. Reaching for the only thing she could get hold of, she flung her empty chair against the wall and stormed out.

  CHAPTER Three

  Back in her rooms, she flung herself down on the bed, sobbing. All of her confused emotions surged up, released when she had allowed herself to become angry. How dare Jay just leave me like that? He should have taken me with him! She would have gone with him. She might even have been able to help him. She had friends and knew people. She lay there, her head turned against the pillow as she stared out the window. She played it out in her mind, how they would have gotten away from Tatak Rhe under the cover of darkness and slipped across the river. They would go west, maybe all the way over to the southern peninsula. She had friends from school, and it would be an adventure. She fell asleep imagining how it might have been.

  She woke up several hours later. She had slept for half a nibbin? Had she been that tired? She must have been. The room was dark, except for the thin light from the twin moons, tiny crescents in the sky. Her head was clearer than it had been in days. She touched the letter, already becoming worn from the countless reading.

  Who was Jay? How had he come to be in Hak'kar's service? Maybe he had always been Hak'kar's man. Was he supposed to ruin her so that her family would be unable to arrange a marriage? Thinking back on the time she had spent with him, she couldn't believe that it was all a lie, but she knew almost nothing. She needed answers from someone who wasn't her family. Trey. Trey would know something. He had to. Jay had been living in the Zayam palace as Da'har Zo'Trey's trusted confidant and friend. She needed to talk to Trey.

  She got up, splashed cold water on her face and changed her clothes, trading her light, sheer skirts for tall suede boots, dark blue skirt, matching suede vest and an embroidered shawl. In a frenzied whirlwind, she grabbed her pack adding a change of clothes. Just in case, she added her brush and comb and a handful of her more valuable jewelry. If Trey knew where Jay was, Diya wasn’t going to lose her only chance of finding him. She opened the door onto her veranda and climbed over the marble balustrade. Grabbing hold of the smooth stone, she slipped over the edge and landed on the ledge that wrapped around the upper floor of her wing.

  It was just wide enough to walk along without falling off, provided she moved carefully in the dark. This was not the first time she had used this route to slip in or out of the house, but in the past, she had someone with her or a group of friends waiting for her down below. Halfway along the wall, she hopped down onto the roof of the breezeway that also wrapped along the entire back of the estate. If she followed it to the end, it would lead to the family’s private garden, but she only went to the far corner where a wrought iron trellis doubled as a ladder for the grounds crew to access the ledges for cleaning and repair.

  She landed on the ground with a soft thud that sounded like a loud crash in her own ears. She crouched down, sure the noise must have carried. She waited, realizing she was holding her breath. Once she was satisfied no one was coming to investigate, she ducked into the shadow of the building and made her way across the grounds, jumping every time she heard a bird or frog.

  She half expected one of the guards to jump out of the shadows and grab her, but it was the same guards around the estate as usual. Diya snuck around them easily enough. On the way to Trey’s, she needed only to stay out of sight when a carriage passed. For all she knew, her aunts and uncles had kept arguing late into the night, and she did not want any of them to spot her on their way home.

  Once she was safely away from the house, she relaxed enough to enjoy the night walk. The stars were blazing overhead. She could easily see Vayachal with its ghostly red feathers streaming across the sky. In the story, the lesser deity had stolen Vayachal from her brother wh
o could be seen in the sky, trailing behind her.

  Making her way across the southern tip of the city, she stuck to the alleys when she could. By the time she reached Trey’s, she was covered in enough mud anyone who spotted her wouldn’t have given her a second glance. It was well past the middle of the night by the time she got to Trey’s estate. The Zayam Da’harat was lavish, and the main residence dwarfed her own family’s mansion. If she remembered correctly, she should be directly below Trey’s private residence wing.

  She stared up at the trellis that scaled up the side of the building. Unfortunately, this trellis hadn’t been designed as a ladder. Jay had made climbing it look so easy, she thought, looking up at the balcony. It took her several tries before she found a place where she could climb up, placing her hands carefully to make sure the vines didn't rustle. She caught her hand on the trellis and pulled it away sharply as she tried to remove the splinter. She hoped she had the right place. It looked like the same veranda from the ground, but for all she knew, Trey had moved into different rooms.

  She made it to the top and hoisted herself over the marble railing, landing clumsily. She froze, expecting the house guard to appear at any moment. She took a breath and let it out. Her landing hadn't woken anyone, but she waited for a moment just to be sure. She made her way in, through the open doors, into a large common room. Even in the dark, she could tell it was empty. Wrong room. Then, she heard Trey's voice. Right room. Trey had obviously retired for the night. Diya stood silent, unsure how to proceed. She had imagined finding Trey sitting up at a desk and running his Da'harat, not in bed. She mentally hit herself over the head. Why would Trey be working in the middle of the night?