Troubled Waters (10 page)

Zoe’s attention had been caught by one salient fact that Darien Serlast had never bothered to mention.
Elay
,
torz
,
hunti
. . . and she would bet she knew the answer to this question. “Is Alys
sweela
? I glimpsed her in the market and thought she looked to be all fire and mind.”

“She is, and her daughter as well.”

And I am not only Ardelay, I am
coru
,
Zoe thought. No wonder the king had been so eager to bring her to the marriage bed. His house would be in balance indeed. “If Romelle is
torz
, perhaps she will prove more fertile,” Zoe said.

“Yes, and she is quite young,” the seer replied. “Elidon is past the age of bearing children, and Seterre nearing it. But both Alys and Romelle could yet produce many more heirs for the king.”

There was a moment of silence while Zoe reviewed what she had learned and how much more she needed to ask. But not today; there were some answers she wasn’t yet prepared to learn. “I do have one more question,” she said slowly. “Yesterday, three of the king’s wives strolled through the Plaza of Men to the promise booth. They were accompanied by a man I did not know. What kind of vow were they making—to each other or to their escort?”

The seer promptly put her hand out again, and when she accepted two coppers for the answer, Zoe figured she was not the first person who had asked this question. Indeed, half the people who had witnessed the procession through the Plaza of Men had probably hurried to the Plaza of Women the very next day—and the vendor who recorded vows had probably sped through the crowds to the seers’ stage the instant his transaction was completed. In a city that thrived on gossip,
that
particular bit of news was so useful the seer might have paid
him
to relate it.

“They were exacting a promise from the king that he would not bring a fifth wife into the household without their approval and consent.”

That
was so funny Zoe felt her ribs expand with laughter. The laughter felt so odd inside her constricted chest, as if it was a cough that had been surprised into something else. Had the queens gotten wind of Darien Serlast’s expedition? Or did a disappointed king make such a fuss over Zoe’s escape that eventually everyone in the palace knew what Darien’s commission had been?

“A promise from the king!” Zoe exclaimed ingenuously. “Was that the man who traveled with them? I wish I had taken a better look.”

“They were accompanied by Darien Serlast, who frequently acts as the king’s agent. He signed the note in proxy for the king.”

And who is Darien Serlast? How much influence does he have with the king? Is he a good man? A wise man? A dangerous man? A reformer, a schemer, a cipher?
Instead of asking the questions, Zoe rose to her feet, brushing the dust from the back of her trousers.

“Thank you,” she said. “You have been most informative.”

“Come back someday when you have more questions.”

“Oh, I will. I have so many questions that I will have to think hard about which ones I want answered first.”

D
uring the next nineday, Zoe returned three times to the trio of sisters on the seers’ pavilion. She was trying to get a better idea of the politics of the city and the Five Families who were such a crucial part of the city government—something she had only dimly grasped when she lived there before.

The Dochenzas, all
elay
, were currently the richest of the Families, mostly because their gas-powered smoker coaches were in such high demand. But Kayle Dochenza, prime of the clan, was an odd and reclusive man who spent little time at court. His nephew often served as his emissary instead, though he was just as odd as his uncle, if somewhat more social.

The Frothens—mostly
torz
, though a few had produced
coru
offspring who were unreliable and interesting—were also enjoying a time of ascendance, due in large part to the fact that Romelle had just given birth to the king’s third daughter. On the other hand, the Lalindars, who had been so powerful while Christara was alive, had slipped somewhat in power and influence.

“Her death left them disorganized, and it seems that neither her son nor her daughter will take on the responsibilities of the prime,” the seer said.

Of course, Christara had produced
two
daughters. Alieta, the oldest, had been willful, unpredictable, headstrong, and capricious; and she had married Navarr Ardelay even though her mother expressly forbade it. After Alieta had died—after her body had been sent down the Marisi River, as befit a
coru
woman—Zoe had never seen any of her Lalindar relatives again. Navarr had told her they didn’t care enough about her to come and visit her in exile, so it was hard for her to feel any sympathy for them now.

“Well, I don’t suppose it matters to anyone except the Lalindars that they do not have their affairs in order,” Zoe said.

“It is never good when any of the Five Families are out of balance,” the seer said. “The rest of the world falls out of balance as well. Some people even believe the country has seen such drought over the past two years because the Lalindars still have not recovered from Christara’s death.”

Zoe widened her eyes. “Surely no
coru
family, even the Lalindars, has that kind of power.”

The seer shrugged. “It is only what some people say.”

There didn’t seem to be much else to discover about the Lalindars. Zoe pretended to cogitate a moment. “Who is left to talk about? Oh—the Serlasts. When I lived here last, Damon Serlast was the prime of the family. Is that still the case? Or has the title passed to that Serlast man who advises the king? For some reason I cannot keep his name in mind.”

She didn’t know why she said that. Of course she remembered very well what the king’s advisor was called. She couldn’t understand why it pleased her so much to hear his name on someone else’s lips.

“Darien Serlast—Damon’s son,” the seer said. “No, Damon is dead, but the title has gone to Damon’s sister Mirti. She is not the richest of the Five Families, but she has a great deal of influence at court. She and the king’s first wife are close allies. She has also befriended Nelson Ardelay in an attempt to repair the king’s breach with that family.”

“Why would she do that?”

The seer shrugged. “She is a practical woman, and she always advocates balance, or so she says. If she has other motives, who knows? But
hunti
and
sweela
make for a tricky alliance, for fire can burn wood and bone can batter brain. There is always a chance at great turmoil when those traits are brought together in a room.”

“That is a chance that exists whenever a
sweela
man or woman is invited through the door,” Zoe said, unable to suppress a smile. “No matter if it is
torz
or
coru
or
elay
on the other side.”

The seer smiled back. “I thought I sensed some
sweela
energy in you,” she said, “though it is burning very low.”

“Brighter every day,” Zoe replied.

“But not all fire, all mind,” the sister said thoughtfully. “You are a woman of blood and water, as well, unless all my senses have been blunted.”

“My mother was
coru
,” Zoe acknowledged. “But
coru
supplied none of my random blessings.”

“It is better that way,” the seer said. “Each energy has its own strength and its own weakness. It is best to be in balance.”

Zoe remembered Darien Serlast and how every blessing he pulled from the temple barrel had been some
hunti
variation. She supposed there wasn’t much balance in
his
life. But she was not up to asking about him today. “Indeed, I strive for just such a thing in all my dealings,” Zoe said and rose to her feet.

“Come back when you have more questions.”

“Sister, I will.”

SIX

Z
oe was making a brief detour through the shop district before she went home, admiring the merchandise she could not afford to buy, when she was approached by an agitated man. He looked to be a year or two older than she was, dark-haired and wild-eyed, and he appeared to have spent at least the last day in the same stained overrobe. But the cut of the cloth was expensive and the set of his face bespoke intelligence, and Zoe felt no fear when he reached out as if to take her arm, although he did not actually touch her.

“My wife has had—two of them, babies,
two
—and I must get blessings for both,” he said, stumbling over the words. “I—can you?—and for each of them? Or must I find six people? I don’t know, I don’t know.”

She wanted to laugh but she also wanted to soothe him. “Blessings are easily come by,” she said in a reassuring voice. “Are the babies healthy? Or is some of your concern for their well-being?”

For a moment, his anxiety disappeared behind a beaming smile. “Oh! Quite healthy! Beautiful! Both girls, you know, and I love them so much already, although I had thought—and the one has already smiled at me, though the nurse says I am mistaken. I did not want to leave but they are five hours old and I must find strangers—how does one do this? It is so very odd.”

Zoe would have had to ask him to be sure, but she had to think this was an
elay
man, all air and spirit, entirely ill-suited for mundane, everyday tasks. She had never done this, either, but she understood how the ritual was supposed to work. She gently took his arm and guided him down the street, under the colorful shop awnings, back toward the Plaza of Women.

“I know where a temple is,” she said. “There are sure to be people there meditating. We will draw all the blessings for your little girls.”

Indeed, when they stepped into the small shrine, there were five or six others sitting on the benches, their eyes closed and their breathing slow as they attempted to restore themselves to a state of harmony.

“Oh, but I can’t disturb any of them,” the new father whispered in a voice loud enough to carry.

“It will be all right,” Zoe said quietly, and led him to the blessing barrel. “Which daughter was born first?”

“Anna,” the man replied. “She’s the one who smiled at me.”

Zoe skimmed her hand across the surface of the coins, sleek and cool and sliding away from her fingers. It seemed to Zoe that she should choose a coin from the very top layer of the barrel to bless an infant so newly brought into the world. Before she could think about it too long, she closed her fingers over a disk and pulled it out. It was pristine and freshly minted, as if it had never been culled from the barrel and tossed back in, as most of the blessing coins were, over and over.

“Grace,” she said with a smile and handed it to the young father. “That is a lovely gift for Anna to have at the beginning of her life.”

“Yes! Perfect. Grace,” he repeated, holding the coin as if it were struck from gold.

“Perhaps you should put Anna’s blessings in your left pocket, and your other daughter’s in your right pocket, so you do not get them mixed up,” Zoe suggested.

“Excellent! Of course! How thoughtful—well, then—and for Elle?”

For the second twin, Zoe drew a blessing of serenity. The girl’s father seemed much impressed by this.

“Yes! Of course! For Anna has been . . . very vocal—crying, you know, even though she is fed—but Elle seems much more
peaceful
. From what I can tell after five short hours,” he added hastily.

“I am sure both of them will have their moods,” Zoe said, smiling. “Now, would you like me to help you choose two more people to bestow the other blessings?”

“I would be so grateful,” he said. “I don’t know—I mean, how can you tell who would be pleased and who would be annoyed at such a request?”

To Zoe, one choice was fairly obvious. A short, matronly woman had opened her eyes and come hopefully to her feet as soon as she realized that random blessings were being handed out. She had probably participated in such a ritual dozens of times, Zoe thought, and seemed like the type of woman who would enjoy it even more if she could actually cradle the newborn in her arms.

“The woman in the black tunic—yes—the one smiling at you,” Zoe whispered to the young father. “Gesture to her and I’m sure she’ll come over.”

Indeed, the motherly woman moved with alacrity to join them in the center of the temple. “I do love to bestow a blessing, but I’ve never had the chance to do it for twins,” she said, cheerfully rummaging through the whole barrel. “Oh! See that? I pulled up two coins with one hand. And they’re both joy,” she said, smiling even harder. “Two girls blessed with joy! It could not be better.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll get those two mixed up, no matter which pocket you put them in,” Zoe said.

She studied the other people sitting quietly in the temple, while the young father earnestly thanked the matron and she exited through the nearest door, still beaming. Two of the visitors still had their eyes closed and seemed oblivious to any other activity, but the other three were watching them, openly or covertly, ready to do their duty if they were called upon. One was a man about her father’s age, dignified and thoughtful; another was a harried-looking woman who probably had a houseful of her own children waiting for her. Either would be a safe and reasonable choice, but the one who caught Zoe’s attention was the skinny redheaded boy who looked to be about thirteen, wide-eyed, fascinated, and burning with curiosity.

“Pick him,” she whispered to the father. “He will choose some interesting blessings for your girls.”

Surprised but clearly incapable of making any choices on his own, the twins’ father beckoned the youth over. He practically bounded through the temple, almost knocking the barrel over.

“I get to pick blessings? Really?” he demanded. He was obviously trying to keep his voice down, in deference to the place and the occasion, but he was so excited he didn’t quite succeed. “I’ve never done it before! What must I do? What if I pick the wrong ones?”