The Fall of Ventaris (2 page)

She’d
fruned
everything she could about Jana, but what she hadn’t been able to learn was more interesting than what she had. That subtle dance of unspoken insinuation and occluded query was fantastic for ferreting out general gossip, but fell flat when it came to detail. There were a few foreigners on the Grey, but the Domae who wore the cloak had been notably unwilling to say much about the young weaver. Duchess could not imagine what they might be afraid of. Jana seemed innocuous enough.

Jana carried over two cups with enviable dexterity, handing one to Duchess and seating herself neatly on a nearby pillow, all without clattering the cups against the saucers.

“I am Jana,” the woman said formally. “Your presence honors me.” Duchess fidgeted. Was she supposed to say something back? Her experience with Domae was limited to brief transactions at the market or over Noam’s bread cart.

“I am Duchess,” she replied, settling for a smile and a nod. She took up her saucer and realized the strange scent was coming from the cup. The tea inside was darker than she was used to, and appealingly aromatic.

Jana tilted her head curiously. “I have never heard that name before,” she said, holding her cup with a practiced hand. “But I am certain that my name sounds as strange to you.”

Duchess smiled, curiously at ease with Jana’s unselfconscious honesty. “Trust me, my name is strange to
everyone
.” She nodded to the tapestries, the rugs. “You’ve got yourself a lovely place here.” She paused and sniffed at her cup. “I, uh, have not had tea for a long time. We don’t drink it much in the Shallows.” Jana nodded encouragingly and Duchess took a sip. The tea was sweet and rich and strangely thick, as if it were not tea at all. Her split lip ached from the heat, but it was worth it. “Delicious,” she said, meaning it. “I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

Jana nodded again, pleased. “I add sugar that has been heated into a syrup.” She gestured to a small glass jar by the hearth. “Your people do not use this, but there are Domae in the Foreign Quarter who make it. I buy it there.”

Duchess reflected that she might make a fortune just selling that syrup up the hill, but she hadn’t come for that. “Speaking of the Foreign Quarter, why don’t you live there? It’s safer than the Deeps, and there are more of your people about.” A bit forward to ask, but either something about the tea or Jana’s manner seemed to encourage ease.

Jana’s smile faded. “The men who own the buildings will take my coins, but since the guild of weavers will not have me they do not allow me to practice my craft there. If I cannot weave I cannot make money to live.” She gestured to the room. “Those who rent in these Deeps, they take the coins and ask no questions.” She shrugged. “I am still getting used to all these coins: pennies and half-pennies and sou.”

Duchess blinked. “You...don’t use coin?”

“Now that I am here, yes. But in the plains things are different. My people trade one thing for another. These metal coins are confusing.” She looked suddenly anxious. “I do not mean to say that our ways are better,” she added hastily.

Duchess waved off the apology, not offended but interested. Clearly the Domae were more unlike Rodaasi than she had thought. “At the door, when you saw me, you said I was...ehdunay?”

“
Edunae
. It is what my people call yours.” Jana smiled nervously. “I am of the people —
Dom
— thus,
Domae
. You are not, thus,
edunae
.”

“
Edunae
.” Duchess tried out the word on her tongue. “What does it mean?”

Jana dropped her gaze, as if Duchess had asked something embarrassing. “It is the word we use for those who live in the city,” she replied quietly. “Those not of the people.” She looked up, seemingly worried. “Other.”

Duchess sensed an evasion. “But what does it mean in your language?”

The woman glanced about the room, as if seeking some way out of the question. Her eyes settled on the tapestry, then turned back to Duchess. “It means one without a spirit,” she said, tentatively. “Soulless.”

Duchess hesitated, while Jana looked on anxiously, obviously afraid she had offended. At first Duchess
was
offended, until she considered those who trudged along Beggar’s Way each morning, past homes more opulent than they could ever dream. Until she thought of the party Baron Eusbius had thrown, with more food than Duchess had ever seen and more gold than she’d ever owned. Until she remembered the story of Lenard and his poor monkey, and the blackarms who had refused to protect them both from the Uncle and the Red. Finally she shrugged. “Well,” she replied with a sigh, “I suppose it fits.”

Jana smiled in obvious relief. “The name is from long ago, and we no longer remember where it began. The elders say that the world ends where the plains do, and to go beyond means to lose one’s soul.” She shrugged. “If they speak truly, then I am now
edunae
as well.”

Duchess found herself returning the smile. “Being
edunae
isn’t so bad,” she quipped, drinking more tea, “and in this city you’ll never miss your soul.” She and Jana shared a small laugh. “I’m always glad to find when my elders and supposed betters are wrong,” Duchess dared, still smiling.

Jana’s smile took on a wry edge, as if she were sharing a secret. “It is refreshing to find how often it happens, is it not?”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Duchess brought the conversation to more comfortable ground. “May I see your work now? I’ve heard much about it.”

Jana paused a moment, watching Duchess intently. Then, as if reaching a decision, she rose and went to a large wooden box, from which she took several bundles of cloth. She held these out for Duchess’ inspection. The first was a thin shawl that at first appeared merely crimson but upon closer examination was woven from threads in a half-dozen shades of red, cunningly blended into a subtle but distinct pattern. Duchess fingered the cloth, which was smooth and light. “Is this silk?” she asked, wondering. She hadn’t worn that fabric since she lived in her father’s house, but she remembered how it felt. Some of the highborn who came to Market Square wore it.

Jana shook her head. “Wool.” Duchess blinked, and the Domae nodded. “Yes. My aunt showed me how to card the wool and spin the thread so it is much lighter than wool I have seen in Rodaas.” Duchess was amazed; not only was Rodaasi wool much rougher, but it almost never appeared in such a nuanced blend of colors. In the city, red was red or it was not. She gestured at the rest of the cloth, which Jana obligingly held up for her inspection. There was more of the impossibly fine wool in blues and greens and yellows, some with beads and others with small pieces of clear glass cunningly stitched. “If someday I am able to have more money, I will have glass made in colors, but for now...” She spread her hands.

Duchess sat back, hands on her knees. “Jana, this cloth is...incredible, as good as any silk or damask that I have ever seen. You say your aunt showed you how to do this?”

Obviously flattered, Jana nodded. “Yes. My aunt showed me all of the things a woman must know.”

A thought occurred to her. “Jana, there are other Domae women in Rodaas...can they all weave cloth like this?”

Jana shook her head. “My aunt comes from a long line of weavers, and they share their secrets only with their own. Adelpha had no daughters, and my mother died when I was small, so she passed her secrets to me.”

At that, Duchess felt a pang. Her own mother had passed away when Duchess was very young, and she remembered her only vaguely. She shook her head, dismissing the memory. “There are women in this city who would commit murder for those secrets,” she said, only half-joking. “I never expected to find such beauty...here.” She indicated the door and the Deeps beyond as they sat again and took up their cups.

Jana smiled sadly. “I never expected to bring beauty...here. But I am glad you like it.” Her smile died. “But the weavers’ guild will not have me, and if they learn that I am selling to
edunae
—
Rodaasi — there could be trouble for us both.”

Duchess looked at her reflection in the last of the tea, then drank it. She looked up into Jana’s expectant expression, the Domae’s eyes somehow both guileless and wary at once. She suddenly realized how much she’d missed sitting and talking without
worrying
. This simple exchange had been easier than any she’d had with Lysander since...

She suddenly felt a flash of anger, and she placed her hands on her folded legs and made a decision.

“I’m not here just to buy a few pieces of cloth, Jana,” she said. “As it happens, I’m looking for a good investment, and after seeing your work I’m more convinced than ever that this is it.” Jana’s brows contracted at
investment
, so Duchess sought to clarify. “You have great skill, and I have gold and connections within the city. I can get you a place to work in a safer area, and permission from the guild to sell your cloth to anyone with the coin to buy.” Even as she was saying the words she wondered how she’d ever make good on her promise, but she pushed those worries aside. She hadn’t gotten on the Grey by playing it safe, and she didn’t intend to start now. “I can even introduce your work to Rodaasi who have never heard of it. You’ll make money, and in return we’ll share the profits. A partnership.”

Jana seemed to consider this. “These arrangements happen amongst my people as well, where two combine their talents as one.” She traced a line around the rim of her cup with a tentative finger. “But these partnerships are usually between family and not strangers. And I do not want to offend, but my time in this place has taught me...that sometimes deeds do not follow words.” The admission seemed to make her uncomfortable, but Duchess admired her for saying it. Unschooled in Rodaasi ways Jana might be, but she was wise not to trust too soon.

Duchess grinned. “You’re in the city of the soulless...of
course
you’re uncertain. You’ll just have to trust my deeds and not my words.” She met the other woman’s gaze squarely. If Lysander were too busy for Duchess, perhaps she should be busy herself. “If I get you permission to operate from the guild, would you consider my offer?”

“How can you do this? The guild turned me away because I am Domae, and you cannot change that.”

Duchess remembered how impossible the task of stealing the baron’s dagger had seemed when Hector laid it before her. And it
had
been nearly impossible...until she did it. “Jana, although you may not think so, I am a bit of an outsider as well, and I know about closed doors. I’ll speak to the guild and convince them to open one for you.” When Jana still seemed unconvinced, she added, “Ask around about Duchess of the Shallows and you’ll learn that I am a woman who gets what she wants.”

Jana was silent for a long moment, and Duchess found herself tensely holding her breath. Finally, the Domae woman bowed her head. “If you could make the guild accept me, I would know that you were — ” she paused, as if searching her mind for the words “ — a woman of trust,
edunae
or no.” She went back to the wooden chest and produced a wide, fringed purple scarf. She handed this over and Duchess found it as silky smooth as the other cloth. “And you shall know me by
my
deeds. This must be yours.” Duchess reached for her purse but Jana forestalled her with one brown hand. “This is – I do not know the right word in your tongue – a promise-gift,” she said. “It is given along with one’s word, the promise made real in the world. Such a gift binds the one who makes the promise and reminds the one who accepts it. As now it will bind you and remind me.”

Duchess found herself swallowing against a sudden lump in her throat. She had not received such a heartfelt gift in a long time. She nodded gratefully, surprised by the sudden rush of emotion, and rose to leave. “Then it seems we both have something to do. I have a guild to persuade, and you — ” she swept a hand around the small, crowded room “– will soon have a lot of work to do.”

*
 
*
 
*

She nearly skipped down the swaying wooden stairs, buoyed by schemes and hope. The cloth was lovely, the finest she’d encountered since she’d been Marina Kell. She ran her hand over the scarf one last time, then folded it carefully into a pocket. Wool was far cheaper than silk, and if Jana could produce it quickly, and if Duchess could bring it to the attention of the right people...well, a river a gold would flow, and Duchess would ride that particular current as far as it would take her. Even if the profits were less than she hoped, they might be enough to provide a safer income than stealing. Wearing a gray cloak was all well and good, but for every Naria of the Dark or Looselimb Llarys there were a hundred who ended not as legends but as just another neck in a noose. Heists and thievery, cons and cleverness might strengthen her reputation on the Grey, but a sure, steady flow of coin would strengthen her finances, and let her live longer.

Getting the word out would be important, of course, but perhaps Lysander could help. The aristocracy had an endless appetite for the next new fashion, and Lysander could use his golden tongue to persuade them that Jana’s cloth was it. Perhaps he could even wear some of the cloth, to demonstrate just how lovely the fabric was. He looked good even in soiled clothing. Dressed in Jana’s wool he’d have tongues wagging up and down the hill.

But
would
he? His absence felt like an ache. He should be here now, should have shown up hours ago. He’d never left word with Daphne or tried to contact her. He’d simply not been there. She hated to think what that might mean.

She was just stepping down into the street, her mind awash in worry, when she caught sight of the lazy-eyed, frizzy-haired woman and pulled up short. She looked much the same as when she’d swung Duchess into the wall. Duchess had fled from her before, but her annoyance with Lysander and her success with Jana left her feeling bolder. Perhaps talking might save her another run.
 

“Didn’t we just go through this?” she sighed. “The boots are mine, and if you’d just –
huh
!” She scrambled out of the way just as the woman’s hand lashed out in a great roundhouse slap that would have sent her to the cobbles. So much for negotiation. She’d been a fool to come down here alone, she thought as she regained her balance. Even in Lysander’s absence she might have paid Zachary or one of the other Tenth Bell Boys to escort her. She risked a glance around at the street, which was empty even though the sun was at its cloud-obscured zenith. Not that she expected any help here in the Deeps, but you never knew.