Royal Airs (20 page)

He tried for a while to find gifts that would match her own particular blessings—beauty, grace, and joy—but he couldn’t think how to translate them into concrete objects. In the end, he selected items that were more about him than they were about her, but they had a sense of rightness to them.

In a musician’s stall he found a tiny toy flute, the size of his little finger, made of chased silver and set with topaz stones. “It’s not meant to be played, though it
will
produce a few notes,” the vendor told him. “It’s just supposed to be pretty.”

“It is that,” Rafe agreed, handing over his coins.

Fish were easy to come by—almost too easy—he didn’t find one he actually liked until he spotted a jeweler who’d laid out rows of bracelets. One was hung with dozens of fish-shaped charms, some carved from onyx or carnelian, others cast from silver or gold. When he lifted the bracelet from its velvet cushion, the charms all chimed together with a happy sound.

“I want this one,” he said.

He was taken by a wreath of red silk roses, small enough to set on a woman’s head like a crown, and he couldn’t resist a whimsical reproduction of the royal palace constructed from miniature horseshoes and leather cord. He’d doubted he would find a skull that was a suitable present for a gently bred young woman, but Quinnahunti changeday was just around the corner, and there were skeletons everywhere. The skull he finally selected had been carved from some gorgeously veined piece of hardwood and burnished to a high shine; its blank face somehow possessed an expression of contentment, as if it had looked on a lifetime of failures and successes and had finally won through to peace. Rafe held it in his hand a long time, just because he liked the feel of the wood, and he was smiling when he finally made his purchase.

Unusual courting gifts, maybe, but they suited him. He hoped they would suit Josetta as well.

 • • • 

T
here had to be thirty people crowded into the main room of the shelter on the evening of firstday, and more of them were arriving every minute. Rafe headed straight back to the kitchen and offered his services to Callie.

“I’d be grateful,” she said. “Can you carry that pot in? Then come back for the bread.”

When Josetta showed up a half hour later, Rafe was hustling between the kitchen and the dining tables, wearing one of Callie’s aprons, and holding a pan full of dirty dishes.
There’s a nice, romantic picture for you,
he thought ruefully, nodding at her across the tables. But she looked pleased, or so it seemed. Glad to see him working for the common cause. Or maybe just glad to see him. Five minutes later she had joined Callie and the girls in the endless exchange of full and empty platters, clean and dirty plates. Bo stood at the sink washing dishes as fast as he could, while Foley tended items in the oven. Of Caze and Sorbin there was no sign.

“Is it always this crazy on firstday?” Rafe demanded when there was a brief lull.

“It’s because changeday is almost here,” Josetta explained. “More people come into the city for the holiday.”

“And because it’s warm weather,” Callie put in. “More people living on the streets. In the cold weather, a lot of them find places to stay, even with relatives they hate. In the summer, they work up the courage to leave.”

It was another hour before things really settled down—most of the tables empty, most of the food eaten. Josetta took off an apron she’d tied over her tunic and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Hungry?” she asked Rafe.

“Starving, actually. If there’s anything left to eat.”

Callie pointed to a covered roasting pan sitting on the edge of the stove. “I always hold a little in reserve for us. We can’t care for others if we don’t take care of ourselves.”

Josetta and Rafe filled their plates and carried them out to the dining area, choosing spots at a table where no one else was sitting. Under his arm Rafe carried a wrapped bundle full of Josetta’s gifts, which he’d stored in the kitchen while they worked. Full dark had fallen by now, so the big room was lit with flickering candlelight that softened the hard edges of the utilitarian space and painted dancing shadows on Josetta’s face.

She smiled and toasted him with her water glass. “I’m so glad to see you again,” she said.

“You didn’t think I’d come, did you?” he challenged. “Even after I promised.”

She moved her head in an equivocal motion. “I thought you might show up at midnight and stay a half hour. I didn’t expect you to roll up your sleeves and start working.”

“Trying to impress you.”

“Good job.” She took a small bite before asking, “How have you been feeling? Are your wounds healing up all right?”

He moved his shoulders in an experimental shrug. “The one in my side still bothers me, especially if I get too tired. But it’s not infected or anything. I think my ear’s fine.”

“Maybe Callie can take a look at them. Since you’re here.”

“Since I’m here,” he echoed. “What about you? How’s your nineday been?”

She looked for a moment as if she were reviewing recent catastrophes. “Full of unexpected and not always pleasant events.”

When she didn’t elaborate, he said, “Princessy stuff, I guess.”

“And sister stuff.”

“Is everything better now?”

“Not really.”

“Can I—I mean, it seems unlikely, but can I do anything to help?”

Her face softened into a smile. “If I think of anything, I’ll keep the offer in mind.”

“How’s Corene?”

She looked worried again. “I’m not sure. Lately we’ve learned some things about her mother that have . . . well. She always knew Alys was selfish and manipulative, but she always thought Alys cared for
her
. Now she’s not so sure. And I think it’s really hurting her. Not that she’d ever say so.”

He remembered the night Corene had slipped into Samson’s bar, how she’d armed herself with a couple of table knives because she had no other weapons. “She strikes me as someone who always fights back,” he said. “No matter what kind of blows she sustains.”

Josetta nodded. “That’s a pretty good description. Describes Alys, too. I think sometimes Corene wants to be like her mother, and sometimes she’s afraid she is.”

Rafe shrugged. “She’ll have to sort that out. Like everyone else does.”

She smiled again, a little sadly. “As you and I have said before.”

Rafe picked up the bundle, essentially one long swatch of scrap fabric carefully wrapped over the assortment of gifts. “I brought you something,” he said. “To thank you for taking care of me while I was here.”

For a moment, she gazed down at the lumpy package. “I know I should tell you that you don’t owe me anything, but I’m consumed with curiosity,” she said at last. “What kind of gifts would Rafe Adova buy someone? I have to find out.”

He grinned. “Anyway, it’s rude to turn down a present.”

“And I would never want to be rude,” she said. She was already untying the knot that held the whole collection in place, and she unrolled the fabric slowly, exclaiming in a low voice as each separate item was revealed.

As soon as she uncovered the flute, the one at the very heart of the bundle, she started laughing. “A deck of cards! You brought me the five suits!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I loved all of them anyway, but that’s so clever!”

“I know some of them are a little strange,” he admitted. “I mean—a skull—”

“No, but it’s so
beautiful
. And he looks so wise—it is a he, don’t you think?—as if he has learned all the secrets of life. But then the roses. And the palace! And the bracelet is so charming. Zoe will want to steal it from me, because she thinks every coru item should belong to her. But I think this is my favorite of them all.” She put the tiny flute to her lips and looked enchanted when she produced three sweet notes. “Oh, and it actually plays! I
love
this.”

Her reaction pleased him to an absurd degree; he thought he might actually be beaming. “It was fun to shop for everything,” he said. “Once I decided what I was looking for.”

“It’s funny,” she said, “because I have something for you, too. Not a gift exactly. Well, sort of.”

His curiosity burned even hotter than his delight at this announcement. “Now I know how you felt,” he said. “I have to know. What does a princess consider a suitable gift for an aimless drifter?”

She pulled a slim leather coin purse from a pocket of her tunic and handed it over. “Something very elay, I’m afraid.”

He opened the clasp and poured the contents into his palm. Three wide rings slid out, all of them too small to fit on his little finger. One was gold, one silver, one copper, and the outer circumference of each one was stamped with a different symbol. He rubbed his finger along the engraving on the gold. “Are these—they look so much like the pictures on the coins—”

She nodded. “Your blessings. Triumph and synthesis and time. I thought you could wear them on the same necklace where you’ve hung Corene’s rings.”

His hand went automatically to the silver chain around his throat and he pulled it free of his tunic. “Maybe I should give these back to her.”

Josetta shook her head. “Oh, no. She was so pleased with herself that she thought to give them to you. Anyway, she’s long since replaced them.”

He was busy stringing the new rings onto the chain and refastening it around his neck. “Thank you,” he said. “A couple of ninedays ago, I had no blessings, and now I have six.”

“Maybe eventually you’ll acquire the whole set.”

“Maybe.” He folded his hands before him on the table. “Thank you,” he said again, more seriously. “It was a thoughtful gift. And I can’t tell you how pleased I am to learn that I
was
in your thoughts this past nineday. I can’t really guess why.”

He hadn’t phrased it as a question, but she answered readily enough. “Because you’re interesting to me,” she said. “And because you’re different. You’re not smooth and polished like the men I know at court—ambitious and political, always trying to impress me or obtain some advantage. You’re not desolate or desperate, like so many of the men I see here. You’re something else entirely. You don’t really have a solid place in this world, but you seem comfortable wherever you are.” A smile swept across her serious features, lighting the room more than candleflame. “And you have such extraordinary blessings! I think you’re going to have an extraordinary life. It’s just hard to guess how.”

“It was pretty ordinary until I met you.”

“Then maybe the blessing of time is about to come into play.”

At that moment, the door pushed open, and Rafe was spooked enough by the conversation to swing around, staring, wondering if destiny was about to stride through. But it was only Caze and Sorbin, back for the night after a final patrol.

“Hey! Rafe! Good to see you!” Caze greeted him in his friendly way. “Stay long enough for us to eat, and then we can play a round of penta!”

So the guards joined them, and then Foley joined them, and then Callie and Bo joined them, and then all seven of them sat in on a game that lasted past midnight. Between the eating, the talking, the playing, and Callie’s insistence on examining his injuries, which she pronounced satisfactory, Rafe didn’t get another five minutes of solitude with Josetta. No chance for another exhilarating exchange of personal observations, no chance for another even more exhilarating kiss.

But it was all right, or almost. “You’ll be back again next firstday?” she asked as they all clustered at the door to wave him off into the night.

“I will.”

“We’ll see you then.”

It was strange, he thought, walking home, adroitly dodging the drunks and firmly refusing the prostitutes, strange to have something laid out in front of him that he looked forward to so much, that he desired so much, that he could actually feel its presence as a weight drawing him toward the future. He couldn’t remember the last time anticipation had exerted such a powerful pull on him that it could reshape time, rendering some days negligible and others momentous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so conscious of being alive. Of wanting something from his life.

Of wanting
something
.

 • • • 

S
o how did a nobody gambler turn himself into a man of substance? He amassed money and prestige, Rafe figured. On secondday, he withdrew most of his windfall cash and boarded one of the public elaymotives that traveled regularly between the Plaza of Men and the port. The vehicle wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the one Josetta had provided for the previous trip; it was crowded and noisy and made frequent stops at little crossroads Rafe hadn’t even noticed before. He tried not to look like a man carrying a fortune in gold in his shoulder bag, so he gazed out the window with an assumed expression of boredom and resisted the urge to constantly check that the clasp on his bag was shut. It was a relief to finally arrive at the harbor.

He had no trouble finding the hulking, stinking factory again, though it did occur to him to wonder if Kayle Dochenza was even on the premises—and if he would remember Rafe. “Tell him I accompanied Princess Josetta here a couple of ninedays ago,” he told the skeptical servant who guarded the door. “Tell him we talked about an investment I might make.”

Whether
Josetta
or
investment
was the magic word, it was only a few minutes before the man returned to say, “The prime will see you.” Soon enough he was shown into the messy, overheated room with the magnificent view and the crazy occupant.

“Rafe Adova,” Kayle Dochenza greeted him, bobbing his head in acknowledgment. His pale eyes blinked rapidly as he scanned Rafe from head to toe. “You said you’d be back, and here you are.”

Rafe shook the bag over his shoulder. “I told you I had money to invest, and I brought it. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know if we sign a contract or go to the Plaza of Men and swear an oath before witnesses at the booth of promises.”

“Oaths are worthless,” Kayle said, waving a bony hand. “If a man wishes to cheat you, he’ll do it, no matter what vows he’s taken.”

It was a philosophy Rafe happened to agree with, but he asked the question anyway, wanting to hear how this odd man would reply. “Then how do you know who to trust?”