Chapter Forty
Mistra
“Thank you, Mrs. Jadlen, that will be all.”
The older woman left the coffee service with a curt nod and disappeared back into the kitchen. Yuenne wished fervently he could go with her. In the kitchen were wonderful human things like apples and sugar and beer, an astounding variety of food and drink not saved for special occasions, but simply available whenever he or Sally fancied them. It forced him to consider his own kitchen, back home (it was no longer his kitchen, and had been feeling less and less like his home) where instead of jars of honey, there were buckets of sand. No sand here, not a single grain.
In Auri's front room, the comfort of the deeply upholstered chairs poised around the lush rugs (he had snuck down early one morning and walked on them barefoot, it had been a delight) was lessened considerably by the melancholy young man sprawled on the sofa. Even though Billah counted himself as a friend of Auri's, his behavior was entirely too familiar. Or at least Yu thought so.
He poured Billah a splash of coffee, just, as the humans told each other, to warm it up. He did not care for the bitter beverage at all and couldn't understand why the humans insisted on food and drink that was positively punitive when there were so many other choices. No, they must have things like broccoli, liver, oysters. Auri assured him these were acquired tastes. At least whiskey had a pleasant effect on one's head. He was inclined to believe Auri, though, because most humans drank coffee as if they depended on it.
Billah did. At least he infused it with enough sugar to make it palatable. Why not, Yu wondered, just drink sugar water?
“I'm sure he'll be back soon,” Yuenne told Billah. He hoped this was true, because he was bored. As far as Auri, he had no idea where he was, nor did he particularly care. He’d come to find Auri so tiresome that not long after Sally had recovered from her illness, he made it his business to gather enough human things to rightly be called possessions—chairs and quilts and shoes and nice, soft rugs, little dresses for Sally, a dish for Dolly—and then, with effusive apology for taking advantage of Auri's good nature, moved himself and Sally to the much smaller guest quarters on the edge of Auri's property. It had once been a stable, he learned, but Auri had the same loathing of horses as he did for cats and dogs and anything else that might get dirty, Sally included. Yu was happy to get her away from his disapproving eye. And from the eye of the sister, Lelet, whom Auri had convinced to come and stay. Eventually, he was afraid the little girl would again say something about 'her prince' and then, as the human say (they had sayings for everything) the pig would be up. He'd only come up to the main house this afternoon at all to fetch a tray of Sally's favorite cookies; the round ones with the white frosting. Lemon? He rather liked them also. She'd be up from her nap presently and he wanted to make sure everything was just so. On his way towards the kitchen, he'd found Billah waiting for Auri to return, and in his role as a distant relative, felt obliged to stay and entertain the young man.
He found he actually pitied the sister—Letty, Auri called her, even though he knew perfectly well that wasn't her real name. Though she'd been the cause of so much trouble her once-beloved Rhuun would hardly recognize her now. So meek, she barely said a word. Auri might be slightly mad…well, more than slightly…but he understood how to push and prod and remind and instruct until he had created a perfectly quiet and compliant companion. He had taken her destructive energy and had her use it on herself. He thought of the warrior he’d met at the High Seat. That woman was long gone. On the other hand, Yu also considered his final conversation with Siia, how she’d finally looked in his face and told the truth of her heart—and wondered when and for what reason Lelet would snap back. He doubted he'd be around to see it.
“He's with my Lelly, isn't he? No, you don't have to tell me.” Billah sighed dramatically and looked meaningfully at the bar cart.
“Please, help yourself.”
“If you insist.” So, one could pour whisky directly into their coffee? Yu wondered what the point would be, other than to occupy one's hands. “If only she'd talk to me,” he said. “If only I could explain to her.” He hurled himself back onto the couch, avoiding dumping his cup onto his lap with the dexterity of an expert. “Jan, I must say you are a good friend.”
“I haven't really done any—”
“Listening to me go on like this. My old friends won't hear it anymore. They won't hear a word against the va'Everlys.” He seemed to want to spit on the floor, and then remembered where he was. “Snobs. Liars. A collection of lunatics. All but my girl, my sweet Lelly. I know she thinks Auri is good for her, but we know better, don't we?”
“We?”
Billah appeared to realize he had overstepped. “I spoke out of turn. Please do forgive me.” He returned to the bar cart, and refilled his cup, which was by now empty of coffee. “I don't blame Auri. I blame the family. The sister, the things she says about me; she's the worst of the bunch.”
Now, this was interesting. “The little girl? Isn't she away at the Guardhouse? Or,” he added quickly “whatever they call that place?”
“No,” said Billah. “The older one. That May. Thinks she's so refined, well, I know a little something about that.” He smirked at Yuenne, waiting.
“Oh,” said Yu, “I couldn't possibly ask you to divulge a confidence. Personally, I've never heard a cross word about her.” This must be the one that Auri called a deviant. Maybe now he’d find out why.
“Well, that's because you've never spent a night in the cups with my Lelly.” Yu could only imagine what that meant; some sordid human sexual practice? “She told me things…awful things…”
“I am sworn to secrecy,” said Yuenne.
Billah pulled himself to the edge of the couch and leaned forward. He lowered his voice. “I hear she prefers…the company of ladies.”
Yuenne frowned. “And…”
“I know. Shocking. Degenerate. So, she'll never marry, never take her place as a Second. Apparently, the father doesn't know a thing. He imagines May is respectable, that she still intends to make a marriage of her own. But she hates men, and so she came between Lelly and me—for spite!” He nodded vigorously. “If she can't find a man to make her happy, neither will Lelly. She's the one, always whispering in Lelly's ear. It's her fault, all of it. If it wasn’t for her, Lel would still be with me.”
Yuenne was beginning to piece it together. It appeared the humans insisted their daughters, whatever their own proclivities, mate with men. As if one might talk a girl into preferring 'the company of men' if she was not naturally inclined to do so. If Billah believed that, he was worse than a fool. If the humans in this city made it a practice, all the more reason to get his Sally out of Mistra. His boredom had drifted into active dislike, and he decided to do something nice for this May despite his feelings for her foolish sisters. He had a strong feeling she’d appreciate not having to deal with Billah in the future.
“Well,” he said, because Billah obviously expected him to say something, “Lelet should know she’s being used. This sister sounds like a monster, and a, uh, deviant besides. Once she hears the truth, once she learns how her feelings have been manipulated by that wicked woman, she’ll certainly leave Auri and return to your side.”
“She would, of course she would.” Billah's face lit up. “This is what I've been saying all along. But how to get her away from . . .”
“From Auri. I know. It's a difficult proposition. I know how loyal you are, what a good friend you are to Auri. In a way, you’ll be helping him, won’t you?” He paused. “Isn't there a brother who lives in town?”
“Rane? I can't say he and I are friends, exactly . . .”
“Perhaps we ought to encourage him in our direction. He’s probably as much a victim of May’s behavior as your Lelet. I’m certain he’ll help us.”
Billah frowned. “He's close with Auri.”
“Even better. We bring him along—carefully—and everyone remains friends. No one must choose a
side. It's merely a question of your lady friend hearing you out. Completely civilized.”
Billah said nothing but looked as if he'd unexpectedly found his way out of a maze.
Yuenne continued. “I don't want, and I'm certain that you don't want Auri to be mixed up in any of this. Of course, Billah, you must understand that despite our efforts, she may decide that Auri is the right choice for her. Are you willing to take that chance?”
“I know, I know in my heart if I can just get her to listen, she'll do the right thing. For all of us.”
“Then you must wait for my instructions and do what I say. Perhaps I can offer my services as a go-between for you and Miss Lelet. I'll arrange a meeting, a place and time. And I know just the place. And, I think, all manner of problems can be solved, all at once.”
Billah rose to his feet. “This is a great day. How fortunate we had a chance to have this talk. Please, don't even tell Auri I came to see him…
“Mrs. Jadlen can attest otherwise.”
Billah snorted in frustration. “Then tell him I could only stay for a moment.” As if conjured, the woman reappeared with his coat. He glared at her as if she stood between him and his goals. “We'll talk soon, then?”
“Very soon.”
Yuenne scribbled a note for Auri about his visitor and added a request that the two of them sit down for a chat in the near future, and also that Auri ought to bring his little book of magic with him. Auri would get to do something vicious, and he’d be one step closer to getting Sally out of this dreadful city.
His plan put him in a fine mood, and he decided to stroll through the gardens to his little cottage, enjoying the neat rows of carefully pruned roses, the perfectly clipped trees, the blades of grass lined up like little soldiers; humans did like their order. Sally would be awake soon, and he'd have to see to brushing her hair and washing her face and picking out an outfit, and of course cookies for both of them, and cream for the cat. He thought he'd take her out to a cafe for dinner—everyone who met her wanted to be her friend, and her happiness became his own.
Chapter Forty-One
Eriis
The grass was blue and the sky was pale green, and Niico was laughing and asking, “Is this what all the fuss is about? It looks positively garish!”
Ilaan laughed along with Niico and leaned in for a kiss, his mouth already flickering and sparking. Niico moved away. He looked disappointed. Then he vanished.
“Ilaan? It’s time for you to be up and about.”
With a groan, Ilaan rolled onto his side, and opening his eyes, found Mother Jaa at the foot of his bed. He scrambled to arrange himself, until he recalled she couldn’t see his stained and wrinkled tunic. He was shamed to think of her noticing a staleness in the air.
“It’s dark,” he said. “Is something wrong? The storm…” He’d done something unusual after his conversation with his mother and sister. He’d overindulged in sarave. Since Niico had gone he rarely drank it, and so the effect fell on him like a giant pile of sand.
“The storm has been and gone. I’m afraid you missed it.” She pursed her lips. “You’ve been asleep for a day and more.”
“Apologies, Mother. I…” he didn’t know what to add. He wasn’t himself? “Did I sleep through breakfast? Because it seems to be still dark.”
“That’s sand,” she told him. “From the storm. Couldn’t be avoided, but we’ll have it cleared within a day or two. It would have been far worse had my boy not warned us.” The look on her face dared him to say something unkind.
“Of course,” he said, to spite her. “It was thoughtful and considerate.” He rubbed the back of his neck, where his hair had tied itself into little knots. “How…may I ask, how did we protect ourselves?”
“We?” she smiled.
“You. Of course. How did you save the tents from the storm?”
“I moved it. Came back a hair too soon, that’s why we’re slightly buried. We—”
“Excuse me, but did you say ‘moved it?’” He found his pitcher of water and drank without offering, hoping she’d be unable to sense his rude behavior. But when he looked up, she’d pulled her white, cracked mug from her sleeve.
“Thank you,” she said, holding it out for him to pour. “I moved it, yes. Tell me, did you think there was only one Door?”
He found he was sitting back on his bed, his cup of water splashed across his knees. “There’s more than one Door?”
“What do you think happens when you shimmer from place to place?” He opened his mouth but was unable to make a sound. “Now, I’m not saying it comes easily, all that moving about. But I believe you—ah. I apologize. You need to rest and contemplate, you’ve made that plain. I’m just an old woman and I overstep—”
“You’re just an old woman like I’m just a jumpmouse,” he said. Doors, a universe of pathways—it made sense and he could already begin to see it. But he had to finish one thing before he would be ready to start another. “Mother Jaa? May I make a request?”
She cocked her head. “Speak.”
“I would like some fine fabric. You know I came here with that box of things from Mistra—I’ll be happy to exchange anything you fancy. I need a length of fine silk, and the rest of the day. When I return, I’ll help to clear the sand from the sides of the tents. And then, perhaps, we can talk about these other Doors?”
She smiled. “Keep your gifts. Take what you need, Leef will see to it. And while it wouldn’t be proper to say I am glad for your decision, let me say I think it’s the right thing for both of you.”
Ilaan felt tears form in his eyes, but this time they weren’t hot or bitter. “He wasn’t perfect, you know. He had a temper. And he was vain of his looks.”
He felt Jaa’s hand on his arm. “It’s wise to avoid perfection. Flaws tend to throw beauty and virtue into sharp relief, don’t you think? Flaws provide context.” She rose slowly and motioned for Leef. “And he was an awfully handsome boy. Come and find me when you are ready, and we’ll talk about Doors.”
He wiped his face and pulled a threadbare sheet from where it was draped over a cabinet. From a low shelf he pulled a small pot. The orchid, while dry, was still alive. He crouched and peeled a corner of a rug back, revealing the sand underneath, and scooping up a palm-full, poured it over the plant. It turned to water as it touched the leaves and ropes of roots.
“Some light, and some water. We’ll see what happens.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Eriis
Before the storm, Rhuun had fallen into the habit of taking dinner with Zaii, sometimes joined by Liim. Hollen waited at the doorway for an invitation, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the helpful young man into his confidence. He was helpful, certainly; always willing to go or say or do, but Rhuun couldn’t see him without feeling Hollen’s hands burning his arms at the High Seat.
Someone who didn’t wait for an invitation was Calaa. In the month since the storm had passed and left them all alive, she often joined them at the table in the prince's private suite. He’d made her his secretary, filling some of the same functions Diia had done for his mother. She kept his calendar and reminded him to eat. Many at court were pleased that the prince's eye had fallen on someone they could understand—even though the girl came from outside the Arch, at least she was properly Eriisai. And everyone knew those who made their living on the stage were more flexible in their desires; she probably didn't even flinch when she looked at him (Aelle had long since been forgiven, inside and outside the Arch, for her questionable taste; they were children together, she and the prince, and that could account for much). Of course, there were those, perhaps of a more sentimental bent, who looked for the return of the Glass Girl. Many of these held the Mages in little regard and remembered the stories of the dark things they did together, under the ground. Most of the demons who felt this way lived in the Quarter. Since Calaa's family lived there as well, this lead to some spirited conversation on misplaced loyalty. Those inside and outside the Arch
had much to discuss these days.
Rhuun only knew it was nice to have a lady look at him with something other than thinly veiled disgust. Calaa was quick witted as well as pretty. She sometimes forgot to hold her tongue around him, and he found this refreshing. While Zaii was a clever and entertaining dinner companion, and Liim was thoughtful and kind, Rhuun had come to miss a feminine perspective. Plus, he thought she smelled good.
So, neither of the gentlemen were surprised when they took their leave one night, and she did not. The plates and cups had been cleared, and she went around the place as if she lived there, lowering the lighted stones in the main rooms until there was only a soft glow on the low-slung seats in the courtyard.
He thought, Oh, it's so she won't have to look at me, and then remembered he no longer felt that way. It was normal, she was normal, and he was…well, he could act like he was normal. I should tell her not to use her fire. He decided against it. That wouldn't be normal.
“Do you think of the night of the storm?” she asked, sitting next to him. “Because I do.”
Rhuun didn't think Calaa referred to how long it took to repair her family's roof, or his mother's miraculous reappearance. He'd been so tired when she kissed him he barely remembered it. It seemed she hadn't forgotten it.
“Yes,” he said, not wanting to insult her, and because it was true. “I do think about that night.”
She settled herself in his lap, and when he didn't tell her to move or push her away, she reached behind his head and pulled loose the string that tied his hair back. He gave his head a shake and she smiled and pushed his long hair out of his face, gently tucking it behind his ear. He wondered if she was going to kiss him again, or if he ought to do it first. Was she waiting? Was it rude to make her wait? He didn't have to ponder this for long, because she leaned in and gave him the kiss she'd been wanting. He closed his eyes and was reminded, oddly, of Daala. He hadn't thought of her in months, but he did now, and recalled how he had let her kiss him, and then laughed in her face. They'd been little more than children, and he acted badly. She'd made him pay, though. Then, as now, he imagined the woman kissing him was someone else. He'd kissed a lot of women since then (well, two) and wouldn't make the same mistake.
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