Royal Airs (30 page)

“We’d never see them in Chialto again if Romelle had her way,” Zoe observed over a casual dinner one night. Well, it wasn’t entirely casual, since Mirti and Elidon had been invited. Anytime there were two primes, two princesses, one queen, and the regent at a table, talk was bound to be political.

“Well, she
will
return when state affairs demand her presence,” Darien said in his peremptory way. “And I’ve made it very clear Odelia must be in her train. We need to see the actual heir.”

“I made the same point to her,” Mirti said.

“And I,” Elidon added. The eldest queen was a full-figured and forceful woman of great intelligence, patience, and subtlety. Aside from Darien, she had always been the person Josetta was least inclined to cross. She was elay, but it hardly showed. “In fact, I made the point with so much emphasis that I believe she will comply with our wishes.”

Mirti grinned over at her. The two women had always been allies, and since Elidon had been widowed, there had been much speculation that they were lovers as well. Josetta had even heard a few snickers about
this
being the true reason Elidon had never borne Vernon any heirs.

“Did you make Romelle cry?” inquired the hunti prime. “I thought you had vowed to stop doing that.”

“Nonsense. I never promised any such thing.”

“Well, I don’t particularly need her weeping, I just want her to bring Odelia to court,” Darien said. “I have developed a strong urge to verify with my own eyes that the heir to the throne is, in fact, healthy and strong.”

“And if she brings Mally instead?” Zoe asked. Everyone looked at her, most of them frowning. Zoe went on, “If she truly believes Odelia is in danger, she’ll leave the girl behind. That’s what I’d do if I was worried about my daughter’s safety. I wouldn’t care what any of you said.”

“So how do we counter that?” Darien said. “I can promise to put every resource at her disposal. I can send her a hundred guards. Odelia need never be more than six inches from a soldier.”

“Maybe we’re going about this the wrong way,” Elidon said. “If Romelle believes someone threatened Odelia—and if, as seems highly likely, that someone was Alys—maybe we simply remove the threat. Banish Alys from the city.”

There was a short silence as they all considered that. “It appeals to me, simply because I like the idea of Chialto without Alys,” Mirti said. “But unless we have proof of her malice, I don’t think we
can
banish her. She still has allies here. And we can hardly present ourselves as an impartial ruling body if we start getting rid of people just because we don’t like them.”

Now Josetta was watching Corene, whose gaze had dropped to her plate. Zoe watched her, too, but neither of them said anything.

“The fact is, even if she was living in the western provinces, Alys could hire someone to harm Odelia,” Darien said. “Even if we bundled her off to Berringey, she could still be plotting.”

“I suppose that’s why the people in Berringey kill off all their heirs,” Josetta said. “To stop just this kind of scheming.”

“That’s exactly why,” Darien agreed. “It’s effective, of course, but barbaric. I can’t imagine that even Romelle would look with favor on such a policy.”

“Well, I for one think Romelle is being unreasonable,” Mirti said roundly. “Here are the facts. We have the power and the resources to protect Odelia as well as any child can ever be protected. And even so, no one is ever completely safe. People fall sick, they drown, they are run over by elaymotives, they are betrayed by their closest confidantes. You must accept these facts and move forward with your life.”

“I agree,” Darien said. “Now we must convince Romelle.”

 • • • 

J
osetta was heartily tired of all of them—Romelle, Odelia, Alys, Ghyaneth, every political topic endlessly rehashed at the dinner table—by the time she returned to the shelter a couple of days later. Unless she was suddenly summoned to the palace for some urgent reason, she thought she might stay southside until the empress of Malinqua arrived. It sounded deliciously relaxing to be free of the brangling and speculating for so long.

Of course, the shelter came with its own problems, and Josetta had neglected it so much lately that many had become critical. First among them was the fact that they were simply running out of room.

“I thought it was just the usual spillover from Quinnahunti, but we’ve been full every night since changeday, and more people are coming all the time,” Callie told her. “I can
feed
them all, but I don’t know where to put them at night. I’ve let some of them sleep on the floor in the dining room. When the infirmary’s free, some of them sleep there. Last night, I think three men bedded down in the baths, and a woman and her baby slept in the temple. But it won’t do.”

“We need another dorm—a separate place,” Josetta said. “We’ve talked about it before.”

“You could buy one,
if
you had the money, but who’d fix it up? Because every single building in southside is falling down. Except this one.”

“I hired workmen to renovate this place, and I can hire some again,” Josetta said. “But it was so much work!”

“Make it a smaller place,” Callie suggested. “Just rooms. Everyone can still come here for the meals.”

“That makes sense,” Josetta said. “So let’s start looking for a place nearby.”

“You still have to find the money,” Callie objected.

Josetta thought of the mortgages and financial documents Darien had flung across his desk to Dominic.
My wife is a very wealthy woman.
“I think I’ll find some backers,” she said. “Let’s look for the real estate first.”

 • • • 

R
afe Adova thought it was a fine idea for Josetta to buy more property in the slums, when she told him about her plans. “Well, let me rephrase,” he said over dinner on firstday. “I think it’s a terrible
monetary
investment, and I’ve started to pay attention to finances these days! But it’s a wonderful thing for you to do. You want me to look at property with you?”

“If you don’t need to hurry back to the port tomorrow to keep training.”

He grinned. “I need the break. My arms are so sore I can hardly lift my fork.”

They made quite the procession the next morning—Josetta, Callie, Rafe, Foley, and Sorbin—prowling the nearby streets and examining the empty buildings with an eye to remodeling them. Most were too small for their purposes; the bigger ones were generally in such bad shape it seemed safer to tear them down and start over. There was one building that they all liked—a three-story property with a stone foundation and solid wood upper levels—but it was occupied by a tailor and his sons.

“Think of that,” Callie marveled as they stood outside and peeked through the grimy windows. “Those fine clothes that women buy in the Plaza for a few quint-golds. They’re made here by an old man and a couple of boys. I’m surprised the girls of the First Family can’t smell the stench of the slums on their pretty shawls.”

Rafe had backed up into the crumbled street to stare up at the top two floors. “Do you suppose they use the whole building or just the bottom story? Maybe they’d rent out the rest of the place.”

“We could certainly ask,” Josetta said and opened the door.

At first, the tailor was not inclined to talk business. He was suspicious of strangers, particularly those who offered easy money, and he was clearly too busy to waste his time with charlatans. But once he realized that Josetta ran the nearby shelter, he begrudgingly invited her inside to talk.

“Wait—
all
of you are coming in? Oh, very well. But there’s no place to sit.”

Indeed, they all clustered by the door for their brief conference, though Josetta couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the cluttered but carefully laid out workroom. There seemed to be different stations for weaving, for dyeing, and for other more mysterious functions; their conversation was accompanied by the constant rhythmic clatter of a wooden loom.

It turned out that the tailor used part of the second floor as storage, but the whole top story was uninhabited. “I might be interested in renting that out to you,” he said cautiously. “Maybe even part of the second story. But you’d have to build a separate entrance. I don’t want any of your vagrants in here stealing my goods.”

“We could do that,” Josetta said. “May we tour the upper levels and see what condition they’re in?”

“
All
of you?” the tailor asked again, but Josetta insisted, and the whole group climbed up to the second floor. It was conveniently divided into six smaller rooms, and only two of them were filled with giant spools of thread and dozens of bottles of dye. The other four were empty, except for dust and spiders and mounds of debris.

“Could fit three bunks in each room—tight quarters, but better than the streets,” Callie said.

The third floor was a big open space, though not a very comfortable one. The ceiling was low, the windows were small, and here in early summer, it was already hot and close. Josetta imagined it was smothering during the warmest quintiles and frigid in the cold ones. Still. As Callie said, better than the streets.

“We could divide it in two,” Josetta said. “Men on one side, women on the other.”

“Is that safe for the women?” Rafe asked. “A man might be grateful for this kind of haven and still not be wholly trustworthy.”

“We have dorm rooms just like this at the shelter,” Josetta said.

“Sure. But Callie and Bo sleep there every night. If no one’s here to enforce order—” He shrugged.

“Split them up,” suggested Foley. He spoke up so rarely that Josetta always listened to him seriously. “Put all the men here, all the women and families back at the shelter.”

“I like that,” Callie said.

The tailor was frowning. “I haven’t said I’ll rent you the place yet.”

“No, you haven’t,” Josetta said. “Let’s talk specifics.”

It was clear he’d done some calculations while they considered options, because he promptly named a rental fee per quintile. It was high, and Josetta counteroffered. “We’d be investing in structural improvements that would make it more attractive if you ever sold it, so we should figure that into our price,” she said.

He snorted. “Who’d buy anything here in the slums?”

“
I
would,” she said. “So you should give me favorable rental terms.”

He laughed at that; she had the feeling he enjoyed a negotiation. “But you’ll have laborers tramping in and out, disrupting my work and costing me money,” he answered with zest. “So I should charge you
more
.”

They continued to debate it as they headed downstairs, where Josetta was practically run over by one of the tailor’s sons. The young man was hauling two buckets of water and cursing under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” Josetta asked.

The tailor waved over at the biggest loom, now standing idle. “We bought that piece a year ago—steam-powered, faster than three men. We thought it would save us hours’ worth of work a day. But to make steam, you need water, and it’s almost as much trouble to fetch the water as it is to do the weaving by hand.”

Josetta couldn’t contain her smile. This was the wildcard, this was the high trump. “If I could guarantee you water,” she said softly, “how would you renegotiate our terms?”

The tailor stared at her. “Guarantee me water? Southside, so far from the river or the canal? You can’t.”

“I can.”

“I’d cut your rent by half.”

“Then we have a deal.”

 • • • 

D
uring the short walk home, during which they all buzzed with satisfaction, Josetta found Rafe beside her.

“You can guarantee him water?” he asked without preamble. “How?”

“How do you think I got water at the shelter?”

He shook his head. “You paid someone to install the pipes for you?”

“My sister Zoe. The coru prime. She can draw water to her from anywhere in Welce.”

“That’s remarkable.” He seemed to think something over. “And all the primes have that kind of magic? Because I swear I’ve seen Kayle Dochenza control the wind.”

Josetta nodded. “And Taro Frothen could cause the earth to shake and the mountains to tumble down if he wanted to. I’ve never seen Nelson or Mirti play any tricks with fire or wood, but I’m sure they can.”

“Will Zoe mind that you’re trading on her power just to get a better rental rate?”

Josetta laughed. “She’ll be delighted. I can hardly wait to tell her.”

In fact, she didn’t have to wait. Because Zoe—and Corene—were at the shelter when they arrived.

SIXTEEN

J
osetta felt a confused swirl of uncharitable emotions—surprise, embarrassment, irritation, and a desire to hide. It was obvious Corene and Zoe had showed up hoping to find her entertaining Rafe Adova, and it was only sheer coincidence that he happened to be present this day. The one clear thought in her head was
I’m not ready for this
. But ready or not, here she was, trying to preserve her tranquility as her two separate worlds intersected.

Callie, Sorbin, and Foley disappeared the instant they recognized the exalted visitors, which left the four of them to stare at each other. Josetta felt compelled to speak first.

“Well! Look who’s here!” she said, hoping her voice sounded friendly with just a note of inquiry. “Did Darien send you to check up on me?”

Zoe was trying to repress a grin, but Corene wasn’t even making that effort. “We came to see if Rafe was here and he
is
!” she said in delight. “Hello, Rafe, do you remember me?”

He seemed wholly amused and utterly relaxed. Clearly
he
didn’t mind that her sisters had come to call. “Of course I remember you, Princess Corene,” he said. “I hope you haven’t had any adventures lately.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind a
good
adventure,” she said. “But, no, life has been very dull. Even dinners with the prince, which you’d think would be more fun.”

Josetta made introductions. “Zoe, this is Rafe Adova. The man who rescued Corene and is now planning to fly Kayle’s aeromotives. Rafe, my sister Zoe Lalindar, the coru prime.”