The Lost Steersman (Steerswoman Series) (36 page)

“Well, if it’s not fancy fare, you’re looking for, I’m your man. But, you being a steerswoman and all— ”

She put up her hand to stop him. “No, I won’t hear of it. It’s one thing for the whole town to feed me, and another to expect them to feed my guests. I’ll pay you for the job, just like anyone else would. Although, if you really insist, you’re welcome to charge nothing for the portion that I’ll eat myself. But I will pay for my own guests.”

Which was nice of her, Steffie thought, and Brewer thought so, too. “Well, that’s fair, I say. Now, how many people are we talking about?”

“That’s a very good question. Give me a moment while I find out.”

Then Zenna stood right up, looked around the room, and let out a two-toned whistle— sharp and loud. Everyone got to stop pretending they were doing something else and looked at her.

She called out to the whole room. “I have a question for everyone. How many people here can read?” She put up her own hand to show them what she wanted them to do.

Then they stopped looking at her, because they were all looking at each other, confused. Steffie did, too, looked at Gwen, who just shrugged. But Steffie put his hand up, and then a few other people did, slowly.

“Six. Thank you. Now, who can tell me how many people who
aren’t
here can read?” That took a little longer. “There’s Michael,” someone said. Steffie said, “All the Bosses; really. Michael and Maysie and Karin and Lasker and the brothers. The spider-wife. And Sulin. And Dan.”

“I already counted Dan. Any more?”

“Can Janus read?” Gwen asked Steffie.

“Janus isn’t welcome at the Annex,” Zenna said, sounding offhand about it. “Who else?”

It took some talking, but Sulin and Michael’s clerks got named, and one of Maysie’s girls. And Steffie’s Ma, once he thought of it, even though she hadn’t thought of it herself. Then Corey put up his own hand and counted himself, which he’d forgotten to do earlier.

“Nineteen. And myself, that’s twenty.” She turned back to Brewer. “Twenty people exactly.”

“Um, right.” Brewer was flustered. “And when would that be for?”

“Tomorrow night. Food and drink for twenty. Oh, and what sort of entertainment is available in Alemeth?”

“Well,” Brewer said, “there’s the little band plays sometimes down at the Mizzen. But they’re dear. But Belinda, she’s got a fiddle.”

“Perhaps I can afford Belinda.”

But Belinda called out herself, from across the room. “If you feed me, I’ll come for nothing and play all night.” A couple of people clapped at that, happy, until they remembered they weren’t invited.

“Thank you, Belinda. And that’s twenty-one. Brewer, can you manage that for tomorrow night? Do you need more notice?”

The old man blew out his cheeks while he figured. “No, no, I can manage.” Then they set to working out the cost, which Brewer ended up setting too low, but Zenna just smiled bigger and said thank you. Still, the little sack of coins she pulled from a pocket in her skirt jingled when she brought it out and didn’t jingle at all when she put it back, only went
clink, clink
a couple times.

And when she was done with Brewer, Zenna started to sit again; but she stopped herself, looking around like she’d just noticed the whole room staring at her, dead quiet.

She let it stay quiet for a long time; then she put her fists on her hips, just like a mother chiding a flock of children. “Oh . . . all right. Everyone else can come, too. But if you can’t read”— and she put on a pretend-mean face— “you have to bring food!”

Then she sat back down across from Dan. The whole room set to buzzing, everyone trying to guess what was up, even though Zenna was right there to ask. But sometimes it’s more fun to guess, and then see how close your guess came.

Gwen couldn’t wait. She leaned across the space between and asked Zenna, “What’s the party for?”

“Books,” Zenna said cheerfully, then set to spooning up her stew.

“Books?”

“Specifically, five books.”

That was interesting. “Which five?” Steffie couldn’t help asking.

“Any five. Five per person who can read.” And she just went on eating.

“What do they do with the five?” It was Dan who asked, looking half at sea and half wondering if it might be fun to swim.

“Place them in order. Alphabetically.” She put down her spoon. “Every person who can read will be asked to take five books, look at the names, and place them in order. Then we eat, and drink and dance until Belinda falls asleep.”

“You’re going to make people fuss with those books?” Gwen didn’t think much of the idea.

Dan glanced at her, then back to Zenna. “Just put the five in order?”

“That’s right.”

“But that’s easy. Five’d take no time at all.” And Steffie was about to say, But there’s
thousands
of books; but Dan went on. “I can do better than five.”

“Ten?” Zenna asked.

And all of a sudden Steffie saw how it would go. Zenna would ask just for five, and people would do the five, because it was a new thing to do, and they’d go along, if only once; and after all, there’d be a party right after. But for a good reader, five would feel like nothing, so they’d go ahead and do another five. Then some of the others, like Dan, would think ten’s not so many and would do even more. Then some really smart person would want to show everyone up and do twenty-five or more, and someone else wouldn’t let them get away with that and would match ’em, at least.

Twenty fives are a hundred. Twenty tens are two hundred. With some doing five, some doing more—

Well, he lost track there, figuring who would do what. But by feel and guess— “Could be four hundred at a go,” he said.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Zenna said.

Still— “Plenty left.”

She gave him a look. “Steffie,” she said, “I’m going to be here for
the rest of my life
. This won’t be the last sorting party.”

“You just spent a lot of money,” Gwen pointed out. “Can’t keep that up.”

Dan looked around at them all. “But,” he said, “Zenna, you don’t have to feed me. If you do this again, I mean. I know you don’t have money.”

And that would happen, too, Steffie saw. If the party was a lot of fun people would want to do it again just for some excuse to get together and celebrate, even if they had to bring their own food. Then it would turn into a special thing, a tradition, an Alemeth thing to do.

It was a smart idea, really smart. “How come Rowan never thought of this?”

Zenna threw her head right back and laughed and laughed. “Oh, Steffie, Rowan would never, not in a hundred years, ask someone else to do her work for her!”

Dan grinned. “But you would?”

“Absolutely!” She grabbed her mug and held it up. “At every possible opportunity!” And she finished it off with a big gulp. “Did you ever hear of a ship called
Graceful Days
?” No one had. “Well, I shouldn’t be surprised; we never made it to Alemeth.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” Dan asked.

“ ‘We’ is me and my family.” And now she was talking to everyone nearby. “It was our ship, and we were her officers and most of her crew. My grannie was captain, until she started losing her faculties. Then my dad took over. I grew up on the water, working side by side with aunts and uncles and cousins, not to mention the hirelings, most of whom got to be just like family. And not a few of whom married in.

“Now, the thing that I learned—” and she took a moment to thank the server for another beer “— the thing that I lived and breathed every day is: you work together. Someone organizes it, someone is in charge— but everyone pitches in. The more people, the less effort per person. I can’t set all those books in order by myself in any reasonable amount of time, so— I organize.”

“Organize a party!” Dan laughed.

“Absolutely.”

Gwen clapped her hands and laughed, too. “Well, one thing’s sure— you’re better at this than Rowan was.”

“Better at throwing a party? Oh, yes. The only party Rowan ever organized, we spent the entire evening discussing natural manifestations of the Fibonacci series.” She stopped short. “Actually, that was a lot of fun. For steerswomen. But it’s not for everyone.”

“No, I mean, better at being a steerswoman.”

And even though Zenna didn’t do a thing, not a thing different, and her face didn’t change at all— even so, Steffie heard this voice in his head go:
Watch out!
And it looked like Dan heard that same voice, too, because he sat right up and even moved his chair back a couple of inches.

“Gwen,” Zenna said with a friendly smile on her face, “count my legs.” Gwen didn’t answer straight off. “Go ahead. Count them.”

And looking like she was cornered, Gwen said, “One . . .”

“Now count Rowan’s.”

And because he knew she wouldn’t, Steffie said, “Two.”

Zenna slowly folded her hands on the table. “Rowan has spent her entire career traveling hard roads, threatened by the weather and animals and bandits; having, at one point, every wizard in the world scouring the Inner Lands, trying to find her and kill her; wandering the Outskirts, fighting hordes of warriors, being attacked by goblins and monsters; and
surviving blasts of magic coming down from the sky at her
— and she strolls into Alemeth on her own two feet. I,” she went on, “spent five years cheerfully ambling along the Shore Road, on one of the easiest routes a steerswoman can get, and I get sent home on a stretcher and end up here, doing work intended for an old woman. Now, tell me: Who’s the better steerswoman?”

Gwen didn’t want to answer, but she had to. “Well . . . I still think it’s you.

“Really? How interesting.” Zenna picked up her mug. “Gwen, I’m going to have to assume that your own personal definition of steerswoman is: the lady who lives at the Annex, who’s so much fun to be with.” She twitched her mouth. “I suppose I can manage to live up to that much, at least.”

Funny thing was, that really had been Steffie’s own personal definition of a steerswoman, too. Until he met Rowan.

And Steffie was exactly right about how the party went.

Five books went so fast that everyone did ten, even Corey, who took a long time to do them; but he wasn’t alone, because a bunch of people went right on to twenty. Then the food came out, and everyone stopped; but some went back after. When the music started, everyone stopped again. But every now and then, all through the night, someone would wander back into the aisles and do a few more.

Zenna had tacked up papers with letters on them on the ends of the aisles, so you could tell which names went where. Steffie went back himself, between dances, and he took all the names that he’d done days before and set them in the right aisles. And Evanna, one of Maysie’s girls, saw him do that; she put her beer right down and dove back in, pulling and putting books, moving so fast that everyone stopped and gawked. Then they cheered her on. Then Belinda made up a special new tune to help her move, and everyone clapped along; and Evanna did fifty books in maybe a quarter of an hour all by herself. After which Zenna sat her down in Mira’s big chair, and made everyone wait on her just like she was a queen.

In the end there was more party outside than inside, because the Annex couldn’t hold all the people who showed up with food and drink. And the band from the Mizzen came by, not officially, so to speak; but they brought the drum and banjo and squeeze-box anyway.

Gwen flirted with all the men, but she did it looking sideways at Steffie, which made him feel good, like it always did. And the night was fine, and the lights were warm, and the food was good, until it ran out; but the drink kept on being good after that.

Toward the end, with it all going quiet, and people drifting off, laughing down the streets, Steffie noticed that Gwen was missing. He wondered about that, until he turned onto First Baker’s Street to go home and a hand came out of the shadows to snag him.

He let himself be snagged. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen in the end.

So he was happy to go along, with his arm around Gwen, all the way down New High in the whispery dark and left at the harbor, toward where the houses ran out. The stars were out so bright that it looked like there was more light up there than down here. One of the Guidestars had gone dark, the Western one, that’s how late it was; but the other looked twice as bright, like a little door in the sky that someone had left wide open.

His feet knew the street, and when they got to it, the twisty path up the hill. And as they climbed, higher and higher, he felt like all of Alemeth— streets and fields, ships and shoreline, people born before him and the ones not here yet— all of it wasn’t really outside him at all but right inside his own head. That’s how well he knew it. And it hardly ever changed; so, in a way, he really knew it forever.

Zenna was new, but she’d already found her place, and everything would fall into order. Rowan was new, but she’d be going away one day; and those demons, they’d get stopped, one way or another. And things would be safe again, and all the old patterns would come back.