Royal Airs (15 page)

“Oh, yes. Five at least. Maybe ten,” Kayle said, nodding.

“Then I wonder, Rafe, since you don’t have an excess of cash on hand—perhaps you would be wiser to put your money on something a little more certain?”

Kayle made a scoffing noise. “
Nothing
is certain. Fires could burn down every one of my factories tomorrow. I could be struck dead! Or I could go mad, which everyone has always said is very likely. He’d lose all his money then, too.”

Josetta frowned at the prime. “You’re not making a very good case for yourself.”

Kayle flung his arms out. “You must invest out of
passion
! You must invest out of
desire
! The same way you invent. The same way you fall in love! If you are too careful, you end up with something timid and unimportant. Something you don’t mind losing. And when was that ever something you wanted to fight for?”

“You’re exhausting,” Josetta told him.

Kayle opened his blue eyes very wide. “I’m merely telling you the truth.”

“He’s right. I have to love it. And I love the idea of flying,” Rafe said. “How do we do this? When can I bring you my money?”

Kayle turned back to him, beaming.
He can see me now,
Rafe thought. “You can bring it anytime.”

 • • • 

A
fter all, they did get a tour of the factory—the one that built smoker cars, not the one that was building prototypes of flying vehicles, because that one apparently was some distance out in the countryside. Rafe lost track of all the hundreds of stages, thousands of parts, that were required to put together a single elaymotive. He and Josetta watched, fascinated, as workers forged metal, assembled gears, and outfitted wheels with spokes and rims. The noise was deafening and the scorched scents of metal and gas sent Josetta into a coughing fit. Still, Rafe was entranced. He could have stayed all day, watching the fantastic process of
something
being created out of nothing but will and imagination. Or he could have if his ribs and head hadn’t started to throb with pain.

“You will come back to me when it is convenient,” Kayle said to Rafe when he finally saw them to their smoker car. It was evident that Foley was relieved to see the princess, because he rushed to help her into the backseat, where she collapsed with another spasm of coughing.

“It might be a while,” Rafe said. “I’m still recovering from injuries.”

Kayle waved a hand. “There’s time. Come when you can.”

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Rafe said, climbing in beside Josetta.

“That was interesting,” she said, her voice practically a croak.

He pulled out a hip flask of water and handed it over. “Here—drink something,” he said. “I think you’ll feel better once we get away from the port.”

No one talked much as Foley negotiated the crowded streets and Caze offered him advice like “Hey, did you see that fellow?” and “Too fast for this corner, too fast!” But ultimately they made it free of the city traffic and back to the much calmer, much emptier main road.

Josetta revived a little as their speed picked up and fresh air blew in, but Rafe saw Foley half turn a number of times to check on her. It irritated him;
Rafe
wanted to be the one to watch over the princess.

Caze slewed around in his seat. “What did you think of Kayle Dochenza? He’s an odd one, isn’t he? I’ve been up at the palace when he was one of the guests, and he was usually better than the paid entertainment.”

Foley gave the soldier a quick, repressive glance. “He’s the
prime
,” he said sternly.

Caze shrugged as if to say,
And a prime can’t be a crazy man?

Rafe smothered a grin and said, “In my experience, anyone who’s elay is
different
in some way you can’t always put your finger on.”

“Thank you,” Josetta said sardonically.

“And the prime was as different as they get. But I liked him,” he added.

He glanced at Josetta, who was watching him steadily. They were both thinking about Kayle’s extraordinary observation, but it was clear neither of them planned to say anything in front of the others.

Caze shrugged, and resettled in his seat, facing forward again. “Well, give me a hunti man any day,” he said. “That’s why I’m happy to serve the regent. Give me torz, even give me sweela! But elay and coru—there’s no understanding them.”

Rafe smiled over at Josetta, who was smiling right back. “I don’t know,” he said in a soft, idle voice. “I think I’d like to try to figure some of them out.”

 • • • 

I
t was nearly dark, and Rafe was nearly on fire with pain, when they made it back to the shelter. Though he hated the necessity, Rafe allowed Josetta to help him out of the elaymotive. She was still holding tightly to his arm as she leaned over to speak to Foley.

“You’ll return the car to Darien tonight?”

He gazed up at her. “If you’re not planning to leave the building again.”

“I’ll stay put. I promise.”

“Then I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Trying not to lean on the princess too heavily, Rafe limped through the door into the main room, where Callie and Bo were cleaning up after the first round of diners and setting out food for the next wave.

“Pull up a chair if you’re hungry,” Callie called. “I’ll bring meals out to you.”

Caze bustled off to find Sorbin, but Rafe sank gratefully to the first chair he could find, which was at a table that was blessedly empty. Josetta dropped into a seat across from him. “It doesn’t seem like it should be so tiring to just sit in a conveyance all day while someone else does the driving, but it
is
,” she remarked. “And I’m not even recovering from mortal wounds!”

“I hate being so pathetic,” Rafe said with a grimace. “I’d rather be dashing and manly.”

Josetta was still laughing when Callie brought over a tray filled with plates and glasses. Plain food and tumblers of tepid water had never seemed so appetizing. “You were plenty dashing when you saved Corene, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“You weren’t even there when I confronted those ruffians,” Rafe pointed out. “You didn’t get to see me strut and threaten.”

“Maybe you don’t know this, but I’m not really impressed when people strut and threaten,” Josetta answered. “I’m much more touched when someone is wounded and desperate.”

He wolfed down the first bite of meat before answering. “Even to please you, I don’t think I can promise to let myself get beaten up again,” he said. “If that’s what it takes to catch your attention, I’m not going to be able to do it.”

She was eating more daintily than he was, but Rafe noticed that the food was disappearing pretty rapidly off her plate as well. “You’ve caught my attention in a number of ways,” she said, her voice low enough that no one else could overhear. “I don’t think I’ll be forgetting you anytime soon.”

Rafe swallowed another big mouthful. “So. What he said back there. About my parents. Do you think he was right?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “The primes all have the power to read people, but in very different ways. My sister Zoe can touch a man and tell you who he’s related to because she can analyze the blood in his veins. I don’t know
how
Mirti and Nelson and Taro sort out who belongs to what family, but I’m certain they can do it.” When he didn’t answer, she studied him curiously. “Does it bother you? To know you don’t belong here?”

He shrugged. “I’ve always been something of an outsider. I didn’t fit in when I lived in the country. I live on the fringes here in the city. This news doesn’t really change anything, but it makes me curious, I guess. I always thought my mother ran away from some farming homestead, maybe, came to the city to try to make her fortune, and ended up seduced and abandoned.” He shrugged again. “Not a pretty story, but a common one. But if she came here from some other country—why’d she leave? Why’d she pick Welce?”

“And
where
did she come from?” Josetta asked. “Cozique? Malinqua? Both pretty long journeys for a woman with a baby.”

“Soeche-Tas is just over the mountains,” he suggested. “Maybe that’s where she was from.”

Josetta studied him a moment. “Maybe. But I’ve met my share of Soechins and you don’t have their look.”

“I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Could you ask your stepfather? Maybe your mother confided the truth to him.”

“Could be. Though I think he would have told me the story by now if he knew it. He’s a great believer in honesty no matter what the cost.”

“That’s right. You said he was torz. It’s a typical failing.”

“At any rate, at this point it doesn’t matter much who she was. You said it yourself, the night we met. It doesn’t matter what kind of family we’re born into. What matters is what kind of people we become.”

“I do believe that,” she said, smiling now. “And trust me, I know how it feels to learn, very abruptly, that your parents aren’t who you thought they were. But you’re still who you made yourself into. Life just becomes a little more interesting, that’s all.”

“I think mine’s been interesting enough lately, thank you very much.”

She tilted her head to observe him. “Something tells me there are more unexpected developments to come. I hope they’ll be fun to watch.”

He observed her for a long moment before finally saying, “And I hope you’re there to watch them.”

EIGHT

T
he next morning, as she prepared to travel into the heart of Chialto, Josetta was surprised to learn that Caze and Sorbin didn’t plan to follow her through the city like so many dogged shadows.

“We’ll take you to the Cinque, just to see you safely out of the slums, but our orders are to guard the
shelter
,” Caze informed her. “As long as Foley’s with you, we’re to stay here.”

She could admire Darien’s master hand at work; she could hardly object to the presence of his guards if they were standing watch over the thing she loved. Then again, maybe Caze and Sorbin just didn’t want to accompany her because they knew where she was going.

To her mother’s house.

Seterre had taken a place almost dead center in the city, a little south of the fashionable district where most of the well-connected families had their homes. The main advantage was that it was walking distance from the new Plaza of Arts that had sprung up in the past few years, largely because of Seterre’s passionate support.

Of Vernon’s four queens, Seterre had been the one who seemed most unsure of herself once the king died and all his secrets were revealed. Elidon, his first wife, had remained at the palace, serving as advisor to Darien and keeping herself deeply involved in Chialto politics. Romelle, the youngest queen, had retired to the country estate of the torz prime to raise her two daughters—and the decoy princess. Alys, of course, had continued to plot and stir up trouble. But Seterre had been at a loss.

Josetta couldn’t remember how her mother had fixed on the idea of becoming a patroness of the arts. Maybe she’d gone to a theatrical production one night when she was bored; maybe a concertmaster had come to visit her one afternoon, begging for funds. At any rate, Seterre had become transformed. She had rented a quirky house with many rooms and levels, turning some into rehearsal studios, some into art galleries, some into music chambers. She had adopted a dramatic and colorful style of dress and added even more gestures and intonations to her animated manner of speaking. She was a little silly, Josetta thought, but she was happy, which made up for it. She had not been particularly happy at court.

“Darling!” Seterre greeted her when Josetta arrived for lunch the day after the expedition with Rafe. “You look so pale. Have you been working too hard? Come in and let me feed you something
sinfully
delicious.”

“Wait—let me get a look at you,” Josetta said, coming to an utter standstill in the middle of the
kierten
. Foley stood poised on the threshold itself, as if he was afraid to step inside. The big open space was unfurnished, as custom demanded, but it was hardly empty. A brightly colored mural—a street scene from the Chialto shop district—had been painted in one continuous picture along all four walls, incorporating the house’s doors and windows into its whimsical design. Adding to the busy market feel were nine or ten lifesize figures made of cloth and wood, sumptuously dressed, arranged in conversational groupings or contemplative poses. One woman appeared to be starting toward the door, her arm lifted in an enthusiastic wave, her painted face breaking into a smile of delight. She was so lifelike, and she looked so much like Seterre, that for a moment Josetta had mistaken the doll for her mother.

But Seterre was even more gorgeously dressed. She spun around to show off the velvet folds of her turquoise tunic, heavily decorated with jewels and feathers. She had a matching clip in her thick blond hair. “Do you like it? I had it specially made.”

“It’s beautiful, but I’m afraid it’s wasted on a lunch with me. Unless we’re expecting company? In which case—” Josetta glanced down at her own tunic and trousers. She knew better than to show up at her mother’s in the plain clothing she preferred at the shelter, so she was wearing fine silk and handmade shoes, but the pale pink was subdued and the embroidered accents were subtle.

“No, it’s just the two of us, but I was hoping you would come with me tonight. There’s a performance at a new little theater and I promised I’d attend. I could lend you something to wear,” she added. “Just something with a little color.”

Josetta thought about all the work awaiting her back at the shelter: the accounts to tally, the supplies to inventory, and the
very
interesting patient who had practically healed himself by willpower alone. She hesitated, gazing at her mother’s hopeful face. “I’d love to come,” she said.

“Excellent! Foley, you’ll join us, I hope?”

“I’ll certainly escort you there,” he said in his courteous way. “But I’d rather wait outside to make sure there are no disturbances on the street.”

“Excellent,” Seterre said again. “But first—lunch!”