Our Lady of the Islands (2 page)

Domina Sian Kattë hummed quietly as she poured two glasses of
kiesh
, worked the cork back into the stout little bottle, then brought the drinks to the sitting room.

Captain Reikos smiled up at her from his seat on the rattan sofa; he moved to rise, but she waved him back down. His pale eyes were as warm as the early-evening air fluttering the curtains at the front windows of her Viel townhouse. Sian could hear the murmurs of street noise from below — the cries of cart runners, the sound of dishes in the tavern’s kitchen three doors over, at the head of Meander Way. “I thank you, my lady.” Reikos lifted his glass in a formal toast.

Sian laughed and took a seat in the armchair, arranging her golden silks comfortably about her. “None of that, Konstantin; when we come upstairs, we are friends.”

“Friends.” He tasted the word, then the sweet liquor, before setting his small amber glass on the delicate table between them. “Domina Kattë, I had imagined us more than that. Please forgive my presumption.” But now his courtliness was a tease. He went on before she could reach over and give him the gentle swat he so clearly deserved. “Ah, Sian, it is good to see you.”

“Yes. It’s been too long. What news of the wider world?”

“Well, much of it is still covered in salt water. And little of it is as warm and lovely as these islands are.” Reikos leaned back and stretched a bit, without seeming to fill any additional space. He was a trim, agile man able to live comfortably aboard his ship for months on end; entirely at home in a cabin only four or five paces wide in any direction, with its narrow little bunk. He looked quite natural on her small sofa, she thought. “We spent half the voyage here pushing through squalls to make a sailor think seriously about buying a plow. Lost Port’s upstart new vineyards have suffered a blight for their impertinence. Some little fly, they are saying, has come by boat from the City Imperishable and developed a liking for grape leaves. The price of wine has soared there now, and every ship that comes to port is treated like a threat.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Sian said. “I’ve been enjoying the Stone Coast wines.”

“Many folk have. I am certain the vintners will do all they can to rescue their investments.” He took another sip. “Beyond all that, though, I’ve seen nothing half so interesting as what I find in Alizar. And not merely because you are here.”

She smiled again at this. “I’ll bet you say that to all your women.”

“Only the best ones.” He grew serious. “But tell me: is everything all right here?”

“What do you mean?”

Reikos waved an arm vaguely in the direction of Cutter’s, the next major island in the chain, where foreign traders docked. “I almost couldn’t find a berth for
Fair Passage
. Ships just aren’t leaving — though not because trade is lively; quite the opposite. Yorgen told me he’s waited a month or more to fill even half his capacity. The Kenner brothers have lost a good number of their crew to desertion. And I find the streets filled with rabble now, marching around and chanting.”

“Oh, the prayer lines.” Sian sighed. She thought she could hear one now, in fact, out beyond the end of Meander Way — the leader’s call and the crowd’s mumbled response. “They follow the so-called Butchered God.”

“So-called? You don’t believe it was a god, then?”

“I don’t believe it was a sea monster, no matter what the Factor would have us think. But a god? Do gods die?”

He shrugged. “I am not a religious man.”

“I have little use for priests myself. But if there were gods anywhere near Alizar — and if one should die — I can hardly believe they would allow their bodies just to wash up on a beach somewhere, much less be carved up to feed the poor.”

“What a bizarre gesture that was. Your cousin is a … an interesting man.”

“You speak as though I know him.” Sian shrugged. “Even so, I can’t imagine a god’s appearance was convenient for him.”

Reikos smiled as he finished his drink. “I expect the Temple Mishrah-Khote was pleased.”

“Perhaps,” Sian said. “Though one must wonder whether the arrival of a god was any more convenient for them. They do not seem to embrace the new cult.”

“Such interesting times, as I say.” Reikos toyed with his empty glass. “You live amidst these giant ruins. Does no one wonder at the coincidence — or worry that whoever built them might be coming back?”

“From the age of legends?” She took a sip of wine, and sighed. “The Factor may ask himself that question every night. But I don’t have to. We’ve had no Green Woman here, that I’m aware of. And the thing was dead, which is
very
convenient for everyone. Will you have another before dinner?”

“Yes, I will — delicious. I believe I recognize this vintage?”

“Indeed you do. A certain well-traveled sea captain brought me a case on his last visit. I hope he’s brought more; my stores could use restocking.”

“It’s eminently possible that he has.”

After checking to see that their bouillabaisse from the tavern was still warm, Sian brought the bottle to the table. “You’re right, though: matters here aren’t what they should be, and not just on the docks. I can’t retain my workers either — I need new weavers, and probably a new dyer, if I can find anyone suitable. I’ve been to the hiring hall four times this season already.” She smiled wryly. “Not that anyone is happy to see me there these days.”

“I cannot imagine who would not be pleased to see your lovely face at his doorstep. Show me these ungrateful men!”

Sian laughed. “Ah, flatterer, you warm an old woman’s bones.”

Reikos gave a half-bow, elegant even from his seated position. “Always happy to be of service. Though you are
not
old.”

Sian raised an eyebrow. “Nor am I young.”

“You are ageless, a creature of great and abiding beauty.”

Sian gave him a long look calculated to wither.

Reikos cleared his throat. “So, what are these marches, then? Some sort of protest?”

“Our work force abandons honest labor now to roam the streets in prayer, begging their Butchered God for a more equitable distribution of wealth. As if coins might just fall on them with the rains!” She shook her head. “I don’t know what they hope to achieve. But they seem reasonably peaceful. Enough of this gloomy talk. You must be famished — shall we dine?”

“Eager as I am for fish soup, my lady, I find myself in the grasp of a … different hunger at the moment …” He glanced beyond the small kitchen to the daybed behind its gauze curtain at the back of the townhouse. The fabric around the bed stirred gently in the fragrant evening breeze. “I was a long time at sea, far from the comforts of shore.”

Laughing, Sian got to her feet and gave Reikos a hand up. “A man after my own heart. So we shall have dessert first, and dine afterwards.”

The bouillabaisse had kept perfectly, making a fine late supper. Sian found a bottle of Stone Coast claret to accompany it, hoping indeed that Lost Port’s blight should pass. When the meal was done, Reikos carried his dishes to the sideboard, then took the empty wine bottle downstairs and set it outside the back door for the glass-scavengers.

It was not his custom to stay the night when he visited. A ship’s captain had responsibilities early in the morning that required a well-rested body and an alert mind. This equally suited Sian, being well past the age when sleeping like piled pups in the townhouse’s small daybed would leave her refreshed at dawn. And though the place was no storefront, clients and associates did happen by with some frequency when she was in town; it was just easier, and more professional, for her to rise alone there.

When he returned from the alley, Reikos nuzzled the back of Sian’s neck, planting a few small kisses on the tender skin there. “When shall we dine again?”

“How long are you in port this time?” Sian scraped the soup-bowl into the covered scrap container, lest she encourage the islands’ large roaches, and set it aside for return to the tavern. A bright green gecko climbed the wall behind the sideboard, ever alert for mosquitoes.

“A fortnight, perhaps; until I can turn over my cargo. I have you down for one case of
kiesh
, at the very least.”

“I thank you.” Sian thought a moment. “I need to go to Little Loom Eyot tomorrow, but business will bring me back to Viel within three or four days.”

“I look forward to it.” He kissed her again, pulling her close. “Such a brief respite this was from the desolation of my days. Will you not come with me this time?”

Sian smiled, turning around in his arms to face him. “My dear, your shipboard bed is even smaller than mine.”

“No, not just tonight. Sail with me when I leave. I will show you the world!”

“And what will all your other women think when I show up?”

“There will be no one but you, Sian.”

Laughing, she said, “Now that is going a bit far, even for you.” She gave him a gentle push. “Go on, get back to
Fair Passage
. I shall see you in a few days.”

Reikos let go of her and took up his jacket and satchel. “I hope your husband knows what a lucky man he is.”

Sian looked up at him, a little surprised. “Of course he does. As I know how lucky I am. Comfort, and freedom, and interesting work — I have it all.”

“Yes, you do.” Reikos gazed at her. “He truly does not mind your … independence?”

“We have long since passed the time of caring about such things. Our arrangement is clear: he runs the manufactory, and I manage the business in town. Our free time is our own.” She frowned at her lover. “As I believe I have explained to you.”

“Yes, you have.” Then he grinned, the mischievous glint returned. “May your dreams be filled with delightful adventures involving dashing sea captains.”

“You sleep well too.” She walked him down to the front door, then kissed him farewell as he slipped quietly into the night.

She watched his trim form retreat down Meander Way, then bolted the door.

Sian spent a productive morning visiting a new dye-seller on Three Cats, buying several sacks each of ochre and indigo and putting in an order for some rare carmine at a decent price. At least
some
businesses were still thriving. After closing up the townhouse, Sian walked through Viel’s crowded streets to the public dock, looking around for Pino, finally spotting him near the end of the wharf, waving madly at her. She and Arouf had hired the young man just a few years back, but he was proving to be a very dedicated worker, cheerfully filling in anywhere the firm of Monde & Kattë required — from hauling supplies to the storehouse, to general repair and maintenance, to fetching whatever Sian acquired in town, as well as ferrying her back and forth between home and Alizar Main.

Resting her feet on the dye-sacks piled in the bottom of the boat, she let herself daydream during the hour-long passage across the smooth waters of Alizar Bay to their private island — perhaps she had had less sleep than she’d realized — only noticing their approach when the boat bumped against the dock at Little Loom Eyot. “Thank you, Pino,” Sian said, alighting. Unencumbered, as usual. No matter that she managed fine in town; Pino would never let her carry her own bags when he was there.

“Happy to have you home, my lady,” the boy answered, pushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes and grinning at her.