Jeweled Fire by Sharon Shinn
“My father isn’t bad,” Corene said. “He’s one of the exceptions.”
“So far,” Nelson said. “But he hasn’t actually been crowned yet.”
“Even once he is! He won’t ever be evil.”
“No, I think he’s as true as they come,” Nelson agreed. “But there will be times he might—let’s say—take advantage of his resources. Use his influence to see one man ruined and another one exalted. Enact his own kind of justice outside the official system. He’s done it already to punish Dominic Wollimer.”
“Who’s Dominic Wollimer?” Steff asked.
“My mother’s husband. Soon to be former husband, I hear,” Corene said. She was breathing a little fast. “What did Darien do? No one ever told me anything.”
“Really? I’m sure Josetta knows—well, she’s the one who told me.” Nelson shrugged. “Darien bought up certain debts that Dominic owed, invested in companies that Dominic was part of—essentially found ways to disrupt or control every source of income he has. He hasn’t bankrupted the man yet, but he’s made it plain he could. And he will. It was very much a personal vendetta, not a political one, but once you reach Darien’s level of power, the two are intertwined.”
“Why doesn’t Darien like him?” Steff wanted to know.
When Corene didn’t answer, Nelson did. “Because he hurt Corene. And Darien wanted Dominic—and every single person in Welce—to know that anyone who harmed his daughter would suffer immensely in return.”
Corene felt a little light-headed. She had always wanted proof that Darien loved her—well, there it was. Oh, he’d said it many times, and Zoe had insisted that he did, but Corene had always found it so hard to believe. She’d always thought he had just been stuck with her—the bastard daughter he’d sired in an attempt to serve his ailing king—the tiresome, unfortunate, and permanent link to the woman he hated above all others. He’d done right by Corene because he was hunti and because he was Darien. He’d taken her in, shielded her from her mother, given her money and clothes and a place to live. But she’d considered herself a burden, a responsibility, and Darien Serlast already had way too many of those.
But if he actually loved her—
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Steff said.
“Oh, well, he also threatened to kill Dominic if he ever touched Corene again,” Nelson said casually. “No, maybe the word he used was ‘destroy,’ but I think it was pretty obvious what he meant.”
“Now that’s not right,” Steff responded.
Nelson shrugged. “That’s the prerogative of power,” he said again. “If you’re ever named king of this corner of the world, I hope you’re able to resist putting your personal concerns above your temporal duties—but I bet you’re not.”
“I probably won’t be king, though. Emperor, actually. So we’ll never know.”
Nelson surveyed him with a smile. “But maybe we will.”
• • •
The two of them stayed another hour, though Corene was heartily wishing them gone long before then. She wanted to think over what Nelson had said about Darien. She wanted to review the scene in Melissande’s room—not the kiss so much as the conversation that had come afterward. He is not the kind of man to make a move without encouragement. She wanted Foley to knock on the door and step into the room and listen with grave interest to whatever she might say—
She didn’t know what she would say.
Maybe tomorrow. Or after the party. Or on the long, dull voyage back to Welce. Or once they were in Chialto, and she was no longer Foley’s assignment, but just a friend. When he could walk away without guilt, abandon her without fear.
When she asked him, Do you love me?
TWENTY-TWO
The Great Market was closed on the day of the festival, which was hardly shocking. Every commercial venue in Palminera had shut down for the gala designed to celebrate the existence of Filomara’s unexpected grandson.
Leah was somewhat surprised to find herself marking that momentous occasion in Chandran’s company. She hadn’t thought to mark it at all, to be truthful, but when Chandran invited her to join him for the festivities, she didn’t have the slightest inclination to refuse. Better than sitting in her lodgings down by Little Islands, watching through the windows, insulated from both the rowdiness and the delight the evening was sure to bring.
Besides, she had something to tell Chandran, and this might be her last opportunity.
She met him in one of the northern neighborhoods, outside of the city wall and well within view of the white tower. This was a part of Palminera she hadn’t explored too often, since she found the harbor and the Little Islands districts more congenial. But Chandran seemed quite familiar with the streets and alleys, even with some of the people they encountered as they strolled along. She wondered if he lived in this part of town. She thought it was odd that it had never occurred to her to ask.
“Is every single person in Palminera outside in the streets celebrating?” she demanded as they turned onto yet another avenue jammed with people.
“Probably,” Chandran said. “The empress does not arrange too many festivals, not even on changedays, as you may have noticed over the years. Everyone is drawn to the notion of joy. Particularly the sort of joy that can be experienced by consuming food and drink someone else has provided.”
As he spoke, they rounded another corner and came across a wide promenade so packed with revelers that it was almost impossible to navigate. It was instantly clear what had drawn everyone here: double rows of makeshift booths and merchants’ carts dispensing everything from baked goods to cheap wine. The street was so crowded that it was hard to tell where the lines began or how long it might take to get served, but so far the mood of the mob was patient and happy. Leah thought that could change if supplies ran low or too much alcohol was consumed.
“Might be midnight before we get dinner,” she observed.
“Not so long,” Chandran said. “I have a few friends here.”
He took her by the wrist so they didn’t get separated and gently began breaking through the crowd. Eventually he pulled her to a sort of back alley serving one long row of booths, and they came to a halt at one particular station. Here, two middle-aged men and a frazzled young woman were handing out what smelled like meat and cheese wrapped in fried bread. The aroma was so appetizing that Leah was instantly starving.
One of the men caught sight of them but didn’t bother to speak a greeting, just nodded at a huge wicker basket near the rear of the booth. When Chandran pulled back the lid, Leah could see a couple of dozen bundles—some of the house specialties, she realized, swathed in paper to stay fresh and in ragged old blankets to keep warm. Chandran put two in a cloth rucksack he’d brought with him and handed Leah a jug of water waiting by the basket.
“I think this is all we need,” he said.
“You’ve thought of everything,” she said with a laugh. “Now if there were only somewhere quiet where we could sit and eat!”
He gave her his slight smile. “I have thought of that, too.”
They worked their way free of the crowd and continued north on progressively less crowded streets—though none of the routes they took were actually deserted. They’d traveled a few blocks in near silence before Leah guessed his intended destination.
“The white tower? That’s where you want to eat?”
He glanced down at her. “There are supposed to be fireworks displays later in the evening. I thought they might be interesting to see from a high vantage point.”
She’d never seen fireworks in Welce, but they were all the rage in Palminera when the city held its rare festivals. She laughed again. “What a very good idea!”
She was less enthralled with the idea, however, as they began the climb to the top of the tower. She’d never attempted the task before, and she was unnerved not only by the height, bu
She was panting for air by the time they made it to the top of the spiral stairwell and she followed Chandran through the rectangular opening of the landing. But once she caught her breath and gazed out at the city, she was instantly entranced. Palminera spread out before them like a field of moving stars. Bright constellations had formed around the vendor stations scattered across the city; an even bigger and brighter one had coalesced around the palace at the center of the universe. From this distance, at this hour, it was impossible to see the shapes of buildings, the colors of houses, but every street could be mapped by the lights flowing from end to end.
“Well, this is certainly lovely,” she observed.
Chandran had made one full circuit around the huge, glowing crystal, and now he came to stand beside her. “Amazing,” he said. “No one else is up here. I thought we might have company.”
“No one else is sober enough to make that climb,” she retorted.
He laughed and knelt down, spreading the rucksack like a tablecloth and laying out the bundles of food. As she unwrapped her own, she found that it contained not only the main dish, but also a side treat of baked fruit sprinkled with sugar. It smelled even better than the meat.
“A cloth to wipe your fingers,” Chandran said, pulling this item out of one of his side pockets. “I neglected to bring goblets for us, I am afraid, so we will have to share the jug.”
“I think I can endure the hardship,” Leah replied.
The food tasted just as good as it smelled, and they both ate hungrily, speaking very little. Even so, the silence was companionable. Strange, Leah thought. He is the one person I’ve met in Malinqua I actually regard as a friend.
As soon as they were done, they pulled themselves to their feet and leaned against the railing, gazing out at the panoply of lights below. Here and there they spotted vivid bursts of color—fireworks, maybe, or young men setting off small explosions—and they speculated about the entertainments being offered to the crowds on the ground. Chandran pulled a spyglass from his vest pocket and they passed it back and forth to get a better view of some of the activities.
“I must say, even though Filomara doesn’t entertain often, she does it right,” Leah observed after they’d spent about twenty minutes looking out over the city. “An excellent way to welcome her grandson.”
“And to bid farewell to you,” Chandran said.
Her heart skipped a beat and she looked over at him. In the unwavering white light of the crystal dome, his face looked ghostly and sad. “I’ve been trying to decide how to tell you I’m leaving,” she said. “How did you know?”
“You have always been looking for an excuse to go home,” he said. “And now you have found one.”
“What excuse? I haven’t told you anything.”
He shrugged and turned away from her to stare at the shoreline. “My information sources are at least as good as yours,” he pointed out. “I know that an important man from Welce arrived in the city a few days ago and has taken up residence at the palace. You have been troubled and distracted lately. It is easy to guess that you know this man and that he has brought some pressure on you to return to Chialto.”
“He’s my daughter’s grandfather,” Leah said. “He says she needs me.”
“She has probably needed you any time these past five years.”
“Probably,” she agreed. “But until recently, I didn’t think I had anything to give her.”
“And now you do?”
“I don’t know. I want to find out.”
He nodded. “I am glad you are going.”
That hurt more than she would have expected; she felt a pain in her chest as if she’d splintered a rib. She drew a careful breath and stared out blindly at the harbor.
She felt him glance down at her. “I think you will never be happy anywhere but Welce,” he clarified. “And it has become important for me to see you happy.”
That made it easier to breathe, somehow, but she kept her eyes fixed on the distant view of the shoreline. “If you wrote to me, I’d write you back,” she said.
“I am happy to hear that,” he said, “as I have every intention of writing you.”
“And if you get tired of Malinqua, you could visit Welce.”
“Does anyone ever tire of Malinqua?” he asked. But when she risked a quick look at him, he was smiling. She focused on the harbor again. “We shall see,” he added. “I do not travel as well or as readily as I once did.”
“You’d like Welce,” she said. “You could set up shop in one of the Plazas. I’d make sure the regent and all the Five Families patronized your business.”
That was the closest she’d ever come to admitting how well-connected she was in her home country. She doubted he was surprised, though; she thought Chandran had figured her out the day they met and never had to revise his original opinion. If he was a spy for Cozique, she had just given him an almost irresistible invitation—but she didn’t care if he was. She still hoped he would come to Welce someday. There were plenty of other spies in Chialto. What could it matter if one more arrived?
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“Tomorrow or the day after,” she said. “It depends on what Corene and Nelson need to do before we set sail.”
“Make sure you let me know before you go.”
She nodded because it was hard to speak. Her throat was closing and her eyes were watering, so she couldn’t see or talk. Fiercely she wiped at her face and stared determinedly toward the ocean.
“Look at that!” she exclaimed, surprise clearing up her tears. She pointed. “The harbor’s full of ships again! Do you think Malinqua has broken the Berringey blockade?”
Chandran lifted the spyglass to his eye and studied the scene in silence for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was so serious that Leah felt a shiver at the small of her back. “No,” he said slowly. “Those are Cozique ships. The city is under attack.”
TWENTY-THREE
The day of the party was cold and clear and full of commotion. There were so many workmen tramping through the bottom stories that Corene never ventured down past the third floor, and she spent most of the day in her room. Liramelli showed up at her door just as the noon lunch tray arrived, Melissande right behind her, and the three of them spent the afternoon preparing for the night’s festivities. All three maids were on hand with clothing, cosmetics, and accessories, so they spent a most agreeable few hours doing nothing but primping. It might have been the most lighthearted afternoon Corene had spent in Malinqua.
And one of her very last. She tried not to think about that.
“A masked gala seems so very whimsical for Filomara, do you not agree?” Melissande asked as she adjusted a confection of lace and blue velvet over her face. The holes were so large that you could clearly make out the shape and color of her eyes, which pretty much ruined any chance she had of keeping her identity a secret. She had also chosen to wear a dress of dark blue—her favorite color—in a distinctively Coziquela style. Anyone who had ever met her would instantly know who she was. Corene figured that was the point.
“I do agree!” exclaimed Liramelli, who had gone to some trouble to disguise herself. Her delicate mask was formed of silk and feathers, and it covered her whole face, with only small slits in places to allow her to see and breathe. She had even wrapped a dark scarf over her fair hair and commissioned high-heeled shoes so that people wouldn’t recognize her by her height or coloring. “Yesterday I heard Garameno and Jiramondi mocking the whole idea of it—saying that because Steff was the unknown heir, everybody else had to arrive in disguise. That’s much more subtle than Filomara usually is.”
“Maybe it was
“It might have been Lorian’s idea,” Liramelli said doubtfully. “I know he doesn’t seem like a very festive person, but he’s very proprietary about the palace. Anytime Filomara entertains on a grand scale, he feels like it’s a reflection of him personally, and so he often picks the food and the decorations.”
“Then I shall have to find him tonight and kiss his dour face,” Melissande said. The idea made them all burst into laughter.
Though if anyone would kiss Lorian and find the experience interesting, Corene thought, it would be Melissande.
Finally they were ready—finally the windows showed them dark skies above and tantalizing firelit shapes below—finally it was time for the dinner that would precede the gala. Corene followed Melissande and Liramelli into the hallway, to find Steff, Foley, and Nelson already gathered. Heedless of their party clothes, they were seated on the floor and playing a three-handed game of penta.
“The sweela prime is a cheater,” Foley remarked as he gathered the cards and tossed them inside his room.
Nelson laughed and came to his feet. “It’s not my fault I can tell when you’re excited about a hand and when you’re bluffing,” he said.
“I would so much like to have that ability!” Melissande exclaimed. “To know when someone is being truthful or telling a lie.”
“He has other skills you’d like just as much,” Corene said. She was trying not to stare at Foley when he stood up. She hadn’t realized that he, too, would dress in party finery, but she supposed that would allow him to trail closely behind her all night without anyone knowing who he was. In addition to the well-tailored Malinquese jacket and trousers, he’d acquired a quarter-face mask, which was just now dangling around his neck, ready to be tied in place. The dark colors and severe style suited him immensely. He looked taller, more powerful, a little dangerous. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Melissande appraise him and then look Corene’s way with a smile. Corene refused to look directly in the other girl’s direction.