“Well, there's his mother…” Liim laughed at the expression on Zaii's face. “If she ever comes back. No, I'm not certain her company would give me an appetite either. So. You believe he is lonely?”
Zaii frowned. “That's a leap. It was just one meal. But he did have a lot to say. It seems he likes to talk about the humans; what they ate, how they lived. I think he has no one else to say these things to. He speaks of the humans even though he is talking about one woman.”
“Let him,” Liim said. “It brings him comfort and he seems to need it. I would if I was suddenly in charge of this place.” He sipped his drink. “A drunk, a cripple, a shame—and now installed on the High Seat. People inside the Arch don't know what to think. I wonder if he knows what people are saying.”
“He's not simple. He knows. And he knows enough to ask for help and reward it when it proves itself.” Zaii made sure to spend part of each day walking in the markets and alleys of the Quarter. There were some at court who were proud of the fact that they never set foot outside the Arch. Zaii thought that sort of narrow-mindedness led to events that ended with 'and those houses are now available to new tenants.' He walked every day, and he listened, and he bought odds and ends and chatted with the Quarter folk. The prince, according to many voices, fit the High Seat very nicely. They had the king they wanted, and the fate of the missing queen ('rest her now,' that was starting to crop up) was no longer of any interest. After this evening, he was starting to think they might be correct.
Liim narrowed his eyes. “What are you saying?”
“Nothing,” Zaii replied. “At the moment, I'm still just listening. But who knows? One day we might receive an invitation to more than dinner. We might find ourselves living in the palace itself. It's not unheard of, to keep wise advisors close at hand.”
“Wise advisor, that's a nice promotion from coat hook. Let him talk, then. Take your meals with him, if that's what he desires. It is good for our family.”
Zaii sat up straighter. “Our family? Do you mean…?”
Liim nodded and smiled. “I have received word from Iither's family. They have accepted our terms. She will accept our spark. And with a child soon to join us, being the wise advisor and friend to a prince, well, that is a good friend to have.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mistra
“Daughters,” Auri said. “Yes, but which one?”
Yu forced himself not to sigh in loud frustration, but gently and carefully lead this foolish human to the correct conclusions. He’d been doing so for weeks. Yu was bored with Auri’s obsessive desire to bring down the va’Everleys, even as he shared the sentiment. Today they sat in the dining room of the main house and he was forced to endure something called ‘ham steak’ which was an unnatural shade of pink, and salty and sweet at the same time. It made him long for a plate of sand. The ‘beer’ was acceptable, though. Sally ate everything on her plate and was excused to chase Dolly through the upstairs rooms, a rare treat, as she was usually confined to the garden for her noisier activity.
Now they were free to plan. Auri’s plan was the same as ever; using his charm to win over one of the women, and then ruin their reputation, bankrupt the company, and walk away with a number after his name and a fat bank account. Yuenne didn’t know what a bank account was, or what ‘embezzle’ meant, but the rest sounded simple enough. His own plan was still evolving. He had to get back home, but for the moment he was stuck. He was working on bringing along Auri’s other desire—to go to Eriis and be treated like the honored lost son he believed himself to be. Auri was quick to agree about daughters. “One is too young, and at the Guardhouse anyway. I could wait until she’s of age…”
Yu thought of Sally and felt a wave of revulsion. He was displeased with Scilla, certainly, but he’d never let that particular plan come to fruition.
“The Second is a possibility, although there are rumors, of course.”
Yu concealed a yawn. Auri had made many allusions to the misdeeds of the older sister. Yu had decided to punish him by expressing no interest in whatever sordid Mistran nonsense he was peddling.
Auri continued. “I have my eye on the Fourth. Pretty girl, although a little wild. She’s just recently returned from a trip to the Southern Provinces and is in need of a shoulder to cry on, I am told.”
Yu frowned. “She wouldn’t happen to have white hair, would she?”
Auri nodded, surprised. “Her brother has arranged for us to meet. He’s the mad one, although he seems to have recently gotten hold of his wits. She’s very interesting, actually. There are rumors about her, too. About how one time she met a demon. Of course, most of that comes from her ex, and he’s no prize. Still…Jan? Is something wrong?”
This was more than interesting. What in the world could have separated Maaya from her beloved prince? Did he hold the Seat alone, undefended? He began to wonder how he could use the girl against Rhuun, finally removing both of them from his path. “It appears your lucky book is working for both of us. She may have just returned, but not from where you think.” He took the liberty of pouring them another round of ‘beers.’ “Let me tell you a story about a white-haired woman and the demon prince of Eriis….”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eriis
As Aelle had suspected, once Rhuun began to assign himself tasks the knot in his chest, while never fully unwinding, became more bearable. He carried Lelet’s absence in his heart, where it would—he hoped—one day form a scar. His inside would match his outside, at least. He did his best to push away the sound of her voice, or the way her hair smelled like Mistran flowers, because if he stopped to think of what he was missing he would inevitably also think of what he’d done to send her away. Of course, she wouldn’t live with a man who spied on her, stole from her, watched her as she slept. Their first meeting had him poison her wine, and the second had him toss her in a filthy cart—it was only luck that had spared her slender and lovely neck from breaking. She may have forgiven him for that, perhaps even for the stupid, childish things he’d done under Scilla’s command, but she couldn’t possibly overlook things he’d done of his own will. It was a hideous violation. He had little time during the day to allow himself the luxury of recalling the flower scent of her, because for the first time in his life he had work to do.
He hadn't realized how much his mother actually accomplished in a day—or else, how much she passed on to her assistants, aides, hangers-on, or courtiers. And of course, Yuenne had practically fetishized the virtue of a busy hand.
Aelle had also been correct in sending him to find her father's favorite administrator, Zaii. As she again predicted correctly, Zaii cared less for who held the High Seat or what name it went by than for having all his paperwork filed and everything in its place by first moonrise. Rhuun surprised himself by finding he enjoyed the man's company, although he was at first so far out of his depth he would have sat down to dinner with any daaeve who was willing to help him.
That morning, he greeted the black-clad guard who stood outside his office, but
his approach went unnoticed; the young man was eyeing a lady on the far side of the hall, and only looked up at Rhuun when he loudly cleared his throat. It wasn’t proper for him to be sneaking up on people.
“Your Grace,” and a curt nod. That was correct, at least.
But a guard who didn’t pay attention was no guard at all. He must have been off post and chatting with his lady friend. How else could the former mage, the one known as Coll, be admitted to see him?
“Your Grace, I wonder if we might speak,” said Coll, who was suddenly standing right in front of his desk.
Rhuun had been looking over papers—something to do with water distribution; one twist of streets in the Quarter seemed to be getting more than their share—when Coll interrupted him. Upon seeing the man, his throat shut, and he gripped his glass pen as if it were a weapon and knocked his chair over as he shot to his feet. “Why are you here? Who let you in here?”
&
nbsp; Coll looked around, alarmed. He pointed back at the big, open doors. “There was no one checking…” he took a breath. “I am not here in my former capacity. I do not wish to alarm you.”
Rhuun righted his chair and slowly sat back down. He looked fixedly at his desk. “What do you want? I have no handouts for your kind. If life above ground is treating you poorly, there's always the Crosswinds.” The man didn't reply. “You didn't think to hope I wouldn't recall your face? Did you ever hold the knife? That I don't recall, although there is much I lost.”
“I never held the knife,” Coll replied mildly. Then he laughed. “I was about to say 'I never had that honor,' but these past months have given me quite the education in what is and is not considered honorable. No, I was considered a bit too progressive. The Zaal liked to keep me where he could watch me, that's why I was part of La Naa. I did hold the lid, mainly. To the bowl.”
“I was well acquainted with the lid and the bowl.” He still saw them, along with the Zaal, in his dreams. He still hadn't looked up but lifted his eyes so he could see the man's feet. He didn't want the former Mage to come any closer. After all, there were said to be several former Mages who were not former at all. “And I remember you very well. ‘Your Grace,' you said? I understand your fellow Mages referred to me as 'a bucket'. Now I'm ‘Your Grace.’ I gather you want something.”
“A conversation.”
Now Rhuun did look up. “Not more blood?”
Coll shrugged. “Possibly. That would depend on you, of course.” He nodded at Rhuun's hand. “Seeing as you're being rather careless with what we left you.”
Rhuun looked down. He'd cracked the slender glass pen into slivers and sliced open his palm. For once, he hadn't felt it. He shook his hand and chips of glass and drops of ink and blood scattered and spattered across his big old wooden desk. In a moment, the blood stopped. Soon there would be nothing to see but another scar. He sighed and said again, “What do you want?”
“May I approach? I would hope my hovering days are behind me.”
Rhuun considered the man. At first, all he could see was a bland face in a dirty robe, but his vision was clouded with grief and rage. This man, Coll, had a canny look about him, even if he looked like the wind had picked him over. Rhuun pulled out the rag he used to clean his ink pens and mopped up his desk. “Sit.” He brushed the glass fragments into the bin next to his chair. “You said you wanted to speak. So speak.”
“Well. I am pleased to see you lived and even somehow prevailed against the Counselor. Rest him now. As little as you care to have this chat with me, I would have cared to bring my case to him even less. In fact, I might have retaken my silence, if you hadn't turned out to be so…resilient. Now. It would be a lie for me to apologize for my role in La Naa. I was doing as instructed for reasons that were explained to me as noble and worthwhile—even vital. And if I had refused, another would have taken my place. And I think in time—perhaps not very much time at all—you'll be glad I was there. You'll be glad there's someone who knows and understands the knife and the lid and the bowl.”
“I'm wondering why I shouldn't have you sliced into pieces and fed to my mother's jumpmice. They've developed a taste for meat that's gone bad.”
“Hmmm…carnivorous mice. I'll have to look into that. No, I think you will prefer to keep me in one piece, unsliced, and close at your right hand. Terms of employment, accommodations, that sort of thing. We can work out the details later.”
“I…I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Why should I let you walk out of here, much less desire to see you again?”
“Because,” said Coll, “I know how to fix the weather.”
After that, he was allowed to start at the beginning.
In the days following the destruction of the Raasth, the only home he'd known for most of his life, Coll found himself shunned by his fellow Mages. He'd spoken first and at length to the human daaeve girl, forever to be known as the Glass Girl, and for that he was found wanting, even corrupt. Some of his fellows made their way back to their homes, but he barely remembered his family and got lost in the maze of streets in the Old City. Everywhere was a blaze of light, a blast of noise, and he finally found his way back to the statue garden at the top of the stairs. None of the Mages were there. He thought about the sights and sounds above the ground, and thought about the sound of his own voice. He realized he didn't want to abandon himself to the Crosswinds, or take a new face, as he heard some of them had done. He thought about seeking out the Zaal, and then he thought, with a shudder of nearly ecstatic pleasure, about never having to feel his touch or see his face again. He wondered what he would be like, if he were to be himself again. He could be anyone.
Still, the stairway and the smell of home beckoned, even if it smelled like home had been put to the torch. He followed the stairs down for a bit, then shimmered himself into the big main room. It had melted. All the sand that had gone into the walls, the ashboard furnishings, the objects of Na Kalimsa, even the floor, all melted to glass. It was smooth and warm to the touch. The big round stone table was cracked into a thousand pieces and strewn across the uneven ground. The doorways to the living quarters and workrooms and his own little cell were impassable. Some of the glowing stones that had been lit that day, the day the Glass Girl came, were caught, suspended in the slag, but their light was dim and they showed him nothing. He unlit the stones and left.
As the days passed, he thought more about who he might be, if he were to be himself, and what 'himself' wanted. He came to understand he wanted the same things in this new and confusing yet exciting world as he did when his days belonged to the Raasth. He wanted, he realized, to be of use.
“So that's why you call her that name,” said Rhuun, after the Mage told his story, the story about the Glass Girl. “I've heard it, but I didn't know what it meant.”
“She upended countless generations of work and left us homeless and defenseless. Since the Counselor’s departure, even the Zaal himself is without allies.”
“Do you know where he went?” asked Rhuun. “Or what he did with all my…”
“No. I mean to say, I don't know the answer to either question, although I had thought it unlikely any of the fruits of La Naa survived the Raasth.” He paused, taking in Rhuun's expression. “I suppose I'd better come up with a different name for it. At any rate, we were not what one might call close confidants, even as I held the lid. And now that we are scattered, it's unlikely he'd seek me out. Even a word between myself and the human—the Glass Girl—was deemed too much. I must say I am surprised to see her gone.”
“I think it would be best if we do not discuss her whereabouts.” Rhuun busied his hands with preparing another delicate glass pen.
“Because without the Raasth, Eriis is at the mercy of whomever might open The Door—”
“Perhaps I wasn't clear. If you wish to talk about the weather you may be my guest. I am still waiting to hear why we need to fix it at all. It's hot. It's been hot. What's the difference in a few degrees?” He forced himself to carefully set the pen down. It wouldn't do to damage another.
Coll bent to retrieve a thick shard of glass from under the desk, and straightening up said, “Look out there. What do you see?” He indicated the dusty courtyard beyond the open windows behind Rhuun's desk.
“Sand. And past the city wall, more sand. As it's been my whole life.”
“And mine,” said Coll. “Or near enough. I'm a few years your elder. Not many. I was sent to the Raasth from the Edge—of course, it wasn't called that back then. But my parents were glad to see me manifest towards the power of the word. Children are expensive. Still, I don't remember a time when it rained.”
“Making it cooler won't bring back the rain,” said Rhuun, who found himself becoming more interested in hearing what the Mage had to say than sending him away.
“No, that's true. But it will bring back the humans.” With a smile, Coll placed the pen, restored and whole, in front of Rhuun. “Br
ing back the humans, and the rain is sure to follow.” At Rhuun's look, he added, “Note that I have not mentioned any names. It's up to you, after all, to open negotiations with whichever one of them you like. If you are so inclined.”
“I'm still not sure I follow,” said Rhuun. “How will opening The Door help us? You just said they were about to attack us.”
A door behind a screen slid open with the sound of grit on stone, and Zaii appeared with a pitcher of water and glasses on a tray.
“You yourself, Miss Aelle—even Ilaan, begging your pardon—you've all been there and said they had no plans to do so.” Zaii busied his hands with setting out the glasses and pouring. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I might have heard part of the conversation.” Rhuun shrugged. He knew there were always eyes and ears on him. “You said they were simply curious about us, not hostile.”
“And they would be even less inclined to do harm if their own people were here,” added Coll. He nodded at Zaii. “Whoever this person is, you should take his advice.”
Rhuun leaned back in his seat. It wasn't normally the job of whomever held the High Seat to introduce functionaries to each other, but here they were. “This is one of my former captors, the Mage who is known as Coll. This is my man Zaii, whom I inherited from Yuenne. Right now, you two make nearly the whole of my court. Perhaps I should head directly to the Crosswinds and save everyone the trouble.”
The Glass Girl Page 15