Royal Airs (14 page)

In the middle of the stone floor was a squat barrel that might once have been a wine casket, and it was filled almost to the top with battered coins.

The brief excursion had tired him, so Rafe sank to the white part of the circular bench. The elay section. “Cozy,” he offered, looking around.

“Small,” she amended. “But it serves its purpose.” She considered him a moment. “Are you willing to have me draw all three coins? We could bring in Callie or Foley or one of the girls, if you would like to proceed in the usual fashion.”

“Oh, no. I like the idea of receiving all my blessings from the hand of a princess.”

She smiled and stepped closer to the keg, stirring the coins with her right hand. “I think I’m very good at it,” she said. “Because I’m elay, not because I’m a princess! I feel as if the proper coins make themselves known to me. I don’t know how it works for anyone else, but I feel a certain warmth in the ones I’m meant to draw—”

Her voice trailed off and she concentrated, mixing the coins with more determination. Rafe wondered what would happen if none of the blessings declared themselves to her. Would she admit defeat? Concede that his was a soul so lost not even the elements would claim it? Or would she just close her hand over a random disk and force an imperfect blessing on him?

“There,” she said suddenly. “And—another one. And this one is almost hot to the touch! So that’s three.”

She pulled her arm from the barrel, her fingers closed tightly over her selections, then came to sit next to him. A floral scent drifted through the small temple, then was gone.

“Open your hand,” she directed, and laid the first coin in his palm. It felt cool against his skin. “Huh. That’s interesting,” she said.

He examined the forceful, jagged symbol stamped into the metal. “What is it?”

“Synthesis. One of the extraordinary blessings.”

“So it’s not affiliated with any of the elemental traits?” he asked. When she shook her head, he added, “What does it mean?”

“It’s a blessing people sometimes receive when they’re overseeing a huge project, something where they have to draw a lot of different components together. One of my mother’s friends—a theater director—said he pulls synthesis when he’s putting together a big production. But it can have a broader meaning than that. It might signify that you spend your whole life balancing different forces and making them work together as a whole.”

He glanced from the coin to her face and back to his hand. “Right. I don’t think that’s it. In this case.”

She laid the second coin in his hand. “Another extraordinary blessing. Time.”

“Oh, that’s a good one, right? It means I’ll have a lot of time—a long life.”

“It can mean that,” she acknowledged. “Or it can indicate that a certain time has come. That now is the moment for something to begin.”

“Synthesis,” he said with a grin. “Now’s the time to put those pieces together.”

She held up the last blessing and studied it for a moment. Rafe thought she looked a little nonplussed, so he said, “What is it?”

“The third extraordinary blessing,” she said. “You have no elemental affiliations at all.”

He was damned if he could remember what the third extraordinary blessing actually was, even when she handed it to him and he studied the glyph. The highly stylized image might have been a clenched fist or just a series of slashing lines. “What does it mean?”

“Triumph.”

He raised his eyes to her face again. “That seems highly unlikely.”

“I’ve never seen that happen before,” she said. “I’ve seen men reach into the basket a dozen times and pull out the same coin every time. I’ve known women who never drew any blessing but torz for their entire lives, whether they were picking coins for themselves or someone else. But I’ve never seen anybody draw only extraordinary blessings.”

“Let me try,” he said. “Throw them back in and let’s see what
I
pull out.”

“All right,” she said.

“Although I don’t think any of them will feel hot to my fingers,” he added.

“Let’s see.”

He came to his feet and managed the few steps to the barrel, where he rested against the rim as he gave the whole pile a good mixing. Then, not stopping to think much about it, he pulled out three blessings, one right after the other. Limping back to sit beside Josetta, he handed her the three disks. She studied them only briefly before she burst out laughing.

“What?” he demanded. “Did I really get three extraordinary blessings again?”

She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “You pulled beauty, grace, and joy.”

“So why is that funny? Because I don’t seem to embody any of those things?”

“Because they’re all elay blessings. Because they’re all mine.”

SEVEN

J
osetta was right. Kayle Dochenza was the strangest man Rafe had ever encountered.

They met up with the elay prime after a pleasant drive along the well-maintained road that followed the Marisi River south from Chialto all the way to the sea. The land was low and gentle, covered with hardy, uninspiring vegetation that was the only thing that would properly grow in the sandy soil, or so Josetta informed him. Now and then, on the two-hour excursion, they passed clumps of civilization that had grown up around small businesses designed to service the heavy-duty wagons and elaymotives that hauled equipment up and down this road.

“This used to be the most desolate stretch of land,” Josetta said. “But ever since Kayle built his factories down at the port, it’s been building up. Every time I come this way, I see something new.”

The rest of their conversation was similarly impersonal, because they had an audience for the whole drive. Not only Foley, who seemed perfectly at ease driving the smoker car, but also Caze; Sorbin had stayed behind to watch over the shelter.

What it meant to Rafe was that, although he got to spend time with Josetta, it was wholly chaperoned.

The port itself was a revelation. Rafe had been there before, but not for at least five years, and he couldn’t believe how it had grown. Tall-masted ships still dominated the landscape, crowded up against the wharf at the very southern edge of land, with the limitless blue miles of ocean stretching out behind them. But everywhere he looked, there were big, hulking structures that clearly were factories, dozens of smaller buildings that might be homes or offices, and half-built constructions that could be anything. The wide streets were clogged with carts, elaymotives, and pedestrians, every block worse than the Cinque on a parade day. The place was louder than the Cinque, too, with people shouting, workmen clanging, and ferocious grinding noises bellowing forth at rhythmic intervals from some of the factories.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Rafe said.

Josetta nodded. “This is the first time I’ve come here without Darien or Kayle. I
think
I can find my way.”

“What’s that smell?”

“Kayle says it’s heated metal combined with the compressed gas they use to power the cars. And a little dead fish odor thrown in. It’s awful, isn’t it? But you get used to it after a while.” She leaned forward to give directions to Foley. “Turn here. And then—see that big building with the yellow roof? That’s where we’re going.”

Rafe would have enjoyed a chance to explore the factory itself, but they were met at the door by an efficient servant who took one look at Josetta and said, “Please come with me, majesty.” Caze and Foley had stayed behind with the car, and the servant’s expression said he wished Rafe had done the same, but no one barred his entry. He followed the other two down a narrow hallway and up a twisted stairwell to a small, hot, cluttered office whose windows overlooked the sea.

Every surface in the room was covered with papers and small-scale reproductions of elaymotives in various stages of completion. Some of them were models Rafe had seen driving the streets of Chialto. Some were completely unfamiliar—and some were surely impossible, sleek tubular bodies adorned with feathery metallic wings. Rafe couldn’t resist picking up one of those fantastical specimens and manipulating the wings, which moved with a surprising smoothness. Was Kayle Dochenza truly trying to design an elaymotive that would fly? Now
that
Rafe would like to see.

A bustle in the hallway made him hurriedly put down the model and spin to face the door just as a man walked in. The newcomer was tall and absurdly thin, not like a starving beggar but like someone who often forgot to eat. His clothes were finely made but poorly cared for, stained in spots and unraveling in others. He had a shock of white-blond hair, also unkempt, and there were fingerprint smudges on the lenses of his glasses. If he’d been standing on a street corner in Chialto, Rafe would have thought he was a madman.

The elay prime didn’t seem to realize there were two people in the room. At any rate, he didn’t even glance at Rafe as he greeted the princess. “Josetta. Was I expecting you?”

She kissed him on the cheek. “No, I’m a surprise! I hope you don’t mind.”

“Many things are surprises to me,” Kayle said. “I only mind the bad ones.”

“I hope you’ve been well,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a quintile, I think.”

“Oh, well, what’s a quintile?” Kayle responded. “Sometimes I feel like I am holding something in my hand, just glancing at it for a moment, and then I look up and a nineday has passed.” He brushed a hand through the unruly hair. “I don’t sleep sometimes, for all the thinking,” he said earnestly. “Do you think other people have silence in their heads?”

Yes, Rafe certainly would consider him a madman.

“I think sweela folks are always arguing with themselves, if there’s nobody else around to argue with, so
they
hear a lot of voices,” Josetta replied serenely. “But I think they like it.”

A smile lit Kayle Dochenza’s face, rendering him a little less bizarre. “I always forget you had a sweela father,” he said. “You are so unlike Navarr Ardelay. Well, of course, I didn’t like him, so I don’t think of him at all if I can help it.”

Josetta seemed amused rather than offended by that remark. “Kayle, I want you to meet someone. He recently came into some money and thought he might invest in one of your factories.”

Kayle nodded. “Good, good, I’m always happy to have more money. Bring him by sometime.”

Rafe couldn’t help it; he glanced over both shoulders as if to verify to himself that he was actually in the room. What—this crazy old man wasn’t just ignoring him, he actually couldn’t
see
Rafe?

Josetta’s voice was gentle as she gestured in Rafe’s direction. “I
did
bring him, Kayle. He’s right over here.”

Kayle’s dreamy expression vanished; he stared at Rafe with blue eyes that abruptly turned knife keen. Rafe had the uncomfortable sensation that those eyes were boring straight into his soul. How would his spirit be weighed by the elay prime? Right now it felt heavy and miserable in his chest. His breath came slowly, in deep, difficult pants. He wanted to look away from Kayle Dochenza but he couldn’t.

“You’re a stranger here,” the prime said at last, still staring.

Rafe could barely get enough air to speak. “I haven’t been to the port in years. I live in Chialto.”

Kayle made an impatient, jerky motion with his left hand. “No. To Welce. That’s why I didn’t realize you were here.”

Rafe was wholly confused. “A stranger to Welce? No, I was born here.”

“Well, you weren’t, and neither were your parents,” Kayle answered.

Rafe cut his eyes over to Josetta, and she shook her head slightly.
Don’t argue with him right now.
So he just said, “And that’s why you didn’t notice me? Because I’m not a native?”

Again, Kayle made a choppy gesture. It was clear he was often frustrated in his attempts to explain what very strange thoughts went through his head. “Breathing. I hear everyone’s breathing—or I feel it—it is part of the very air around me. You could blindfold my eyes and set me in a room and I could tell you how many people were there just by the inhalations and exhalations.”

Rafe glanced uneasily at Josetta. “It’s true,” she said.

“I can put my hand on a man’s chest and stop his breath altogether,” Kayle added, a little too proudly, Rafe thought. “Actually, I don’t even have to touch him.”

Maybe it was Rafe’s imagination, but for a moment he would have sworn his lungs did seize up; he opened his mouth and no air would come in. Kayle regarded him fixedly for another five seconds, and then glanced away. Immediately Rafe felt the breath rush back into his body. He tried not to feel too relieved.

Kayle addressed Josetta. “I forget what we were talking about before.”

“Rafe. He wants to invest in some of your inventions.” She paused a moment, but didn’t add the words Rafe was sure both of them were thinking:
Unless you don’t want a foreigner’s money.
Rafe swallowed another protest.

But Kayle was nodding. “Excellent! I have great plans! Bigger machines, smaller ones.” His hands traced appropriately sized circles in the air. He was the most restless man Rafe had ever come across. It seemed possible he was never entirely still. “And faster ones! You’ll be surprised at the velocity.”

“I like the idea of speed,” Rafe said.

Now Kayle shook his head and began picking his way through the cluttered office, touching one model, then another. “But that’s not where the excitement is,” he said. “Not on the ground.” He lifted one of the sleek winged cars that had fascinated Rafe. “In the air.
Flying.
That’s the future of transportation.”

Rafe sucked in his breath. “Really? You can get something like that to fly? Oh, I’ll give you every quint-copper I ever earned if I can ride in one of those things.”

Kayle flicked him a glance of real amusement, then set the model down again. “Not that one. Too heavy and the wings—well, they aren’t right. Too much flapping, not enough gliding. We’re working on better designs.”

“I’m in,” Rafe said.

Josetta cast him a worried look. “It sounds like it might be years before you have a successful vehicle. That can fly.”