The Exiled Queen (35 page)

This surprised her. The cuffs were his trademark. It seemed like he’d hang on to them.

He must be really hungry for an education, she thought.

He dug into a box in the corner and found a cup, spooned loose tea into it from a tin, heated a pitcher of water between his hands, and poured. He handed it to Raisa.

“You’ve learned a lot of wizardry already,” Raisa said, sipping at her tea. It was a smoky, upland blend, and she felt a pang of homesickness. “I’m impressed. You must be a quick study.”

Cuffs shrugged the compliment off. “I’ve been hard at it. It’s all I got to do here. And I have a — a tutor. Who’s helping me out.” He stopped abruptly and wet his lips.

Raisa cast about for something else to say, eager to keep him talking about himself. “Listen, Cuffs. I was wondering if—”

“I don’t go by that name down here,” he interrupted. “Since—you know—the cuffs are gone. My actual name’s Hanson Alister. Han.”

A memory came back to Raisa—the scene in Father Jemson’s study, Cuffs Alister with his arm tight around her waist, his knife pressed to her throat, his heart thudding wildly against her back.

Speaker Jemson saying, Hanson! You’re better than this! Let the girl go.

Jemson had believed in Hanson Alister. Had his faith been misplaced?

Raisa looked up to find Cuffs/Han waiting expectantly for the question she’d begun. It had flown out of her mind as she careened between her private thoughts and public speech.

He must think I’m a real muddle head.

“D-Does the school provide your amulets, or did you have to find one on your own?” she asked.

“We bring our own,” he said. “I bought mine used off a trader before I came south.” It sounded like a well-rehearsed story. He made no move to display the amulet again.

Raisa knew something about magical artifacts from working with her father. They fascinated her, that marriage of magic and metal and stone crafted into a bewitching whole. Most of them were gorgeous art pieces in and of themselves.

“Could I see it again?” she asked.

“Well, if you want,” he said, as if he didn’t really want to show it to her but couldn’t think of a reason not to. Fishing inside his neckline, he pulled it free and dangled it toward her. It spun before her eyes, glowing green and orange like a fire opal in sunlight.

It was a finely crafted gemstone serpent with ruby eyes, its coils layered over gold. The serpent’s mouth was open, and it was so detailed that Raisa could see the drops of venom collected at the tips of its fangs.

“Oh!” Impulsively, she reached for it, and Han yanked it back.

“Better not touch it. It bites,” he said, sheltering it with his other hand.

“What? Do you mean it... the snake...?”

He shook his head. “It’s unpredictable. It’s charred a few curious fingers.”

Raisa stared at the jinxpiece, teasing out a strand of memory. “I think I’ve seen it before. Is it a reproduction of an old piece? From before the Breaking?”

Han nodded. “So I’m told.” He slid the amulet back under his shirt. Then, as if to change the subject, he said, “What are you doing here? If I’m allowed to ask a question.”

That sounded more like his old self.

Raisa sneezed, swiping at her nose. The dusty room was getting to her. “Same as you. I’m going to school. I’m at Wien House.”

“Wien House!” Han looked her up and down, skepticism and amusement softening his face. It made him look younger, more like the wild upstart boy she’d met at Southbridge Temple. “You going to be a bluejacket or Highlander or what?”

“Well, no. Not really.” Raisa desperately tried to recall which stories she’d already told. She really needed to keep better track of her lies. “You see, my employer offered to send me here to school if I attended Wien House.”

Han’s face went flat and hard, his eyes like chips of sapphire. “Lord Bayar, you mean?”

Raisa practically choked on her tea. “What?”

“Why would they send their tutor to Wien House? The Temple School — I’d get that.”

Raisa was momentarily lost. Then it came back to her. She’d told Cuffs she worked for the Bayars that night in Ragmarket. Why did Han Cuffs Alister have to have such a damnably sharp memory?

She slid a glance at Han. He stared at her, lips tight together, and his right hand had crept to the blade at his waist. Unconsciously, she thought.

“Are you still working for the Bayars, Rebecca?” he asked, soft and even. Something in his voice made her shiver.

“Well, no, not exactly. I’m — ah — trying to better myself,” Raisa said. “The commander of Lord Bayar’s personal guard thought I had potential. He was the one who paid my tuition. He said if I did well, then I’d have a chance to —” She trailed off. Han seemed distracted, lost in memory. “Why?” she asked. “Do you know the Bayars?”

Han paused for a heartbeat, then said, “I’m in class with two of them. At Mystwerk. Micah and Fiona. Micah used to be in my dormitory.”

Hanalea in chains, she thought. So they are here. All she needed was for Han to mention to the Bayars that he’d run into their old tutor Rebecca. Or suggest they all meet for a cider on Bridge Street.

That seemed unlikely, though. Knowing Micah and Fiona, they would treat a Ragmarket-bred wizard like dung.

“Listen,” she said, leaning toward him and clasping her hands together. “Please, please don’t tell them I’m here. It would be awkward, you know? They don’t think of me as a peer, exactly.”

He blinked at her, looking puzzled. “But you’re a blueblood,” he said. “You talk like them and you’re—”

“I’m of mixed blood,” she broke in. “My father was clan and my mother a Vale-dweller. Perhaps you’ve noticed that the Bayars don’t approve of clanfolk.”

“Aye,” he said, nodding, his confusion clearing a fraction. “I’ve noticed.”

Hmm, Raisa thought. Maybe the key to lying well was telling the truth in a misleading way.

“Your turn,” she said. “You said you followed me?”

“Well, yes. See, Cat told me she saw you. Outside of the Temple School.” He cleared his throat. “She said that you might live in Grindell, because—ah—Corporal Byrne did.”

“Did she, now?” Raisa pressed her lips tightly together, feeling the blood boil into her cheeks. What would Cat have told him, after seeing Raisa spying on Amon?

“So I — wanted to find out if it really was you. I watched outside your dormitory and saw everybody else go out.”

You didn’t have anything better to do on solstice eve? Raisa thought.

“Then I saw you leave alone. So I tagged after you.”

“You stalked me, you mean. That was inappropriate, Alister. You’re lucky I didn’t break your finger.”

He raised his eyebrows in a way that meant, That would never happen.

“See. I wanted to make contact with you,” he said. “But I didn’t know — if I would be welcomed. Or how things stood between you and Corporal Byrne.”

“What does my friendship with Corporal Byrne have anything to do with you?” Raisa said icily.

“You want more tea?” Han asked, reaching for her cup as if eager to dispel the tension that crackled between them. Their hands collided, and Raisa jerked her cup back, spilling what was left.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m clumsy tonight.”

She was acutely aware that they were alone together, continually measuring the space between them. Her eyes kept straying to the snarl of blankets in the corner. What was it about Alister that got her thinking that way every time they met?

The bells in Mystwerk Tower bonged. Raisa counted. Eleven. An hour until fireworks.

Han seemed to take it as a signal to get to the meat of the matter. “Listen. Rebecca,” he said. “The reason I followed you was, I got a favor to ask.”

Raisa looked up in surprise to find Han looking down at his hands. Clearly, he wasn’t used to asking favors of anybody. Or getting them when he did.

“Well,” she said, mystified, “I’ll certainly — What can I do for you?”

“I just wondered — would you be — Would you tutor me?”

“Tutor you?” She studied his face to see if he might be joking. He looked perfectly serious, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I thought you already had a tutor,” she said.

“Right. I do. But there’s things I need to know that he doesn’t cover.”

“But — you know I don’t know anything about charmcasting,” she said. “I can’t help you with that.”

“That an’t—that isn’t what I want,” he said, fingering his wrist where the cuff had been.

Raisa didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t be insulting. Would a streetlord have much previous education? If not, he’d be struggling in his classes at Oden’s Ford.

“Well — what do you need help with? History? Grammar or rhetoric? Languages? Arithmetic?” Raisa named off the subjects she was good at. She hoped he might want help with arithmetic. She was especially good at numbers, having spent so much time in the clan markets. “I’ve got some books that—”

Han waved his hand impatiently to stop her recitation. “No, I’m good on that lot. Father Jemson gave me a good start. And I get stuffed full of that in class every day.”

“Then what could I possibly—”

“Rebecca.” Han leaned forward. His eyes were clear and blue as deepwater ice. “I want you to teach me to pass as a blueblood.”

“What?” Raisa stared at him.

“I’d pay you,” he rushed on. “I have money. You could name your price. And I wouldn’t take too much time away from your studies. We could meet a couple of times a week, and you could, you know, give me assignments to do on my own.”

“Why would you want to pass as a blueblood?” Raisa asked. “I mean, want it enough to pay for tutoring?”

The gang lord stood and paced back and forth as if he were too agitated to stand still. “Look, I only have two friends here at the academy—one’s clanborn and the other’s street-raised. Dancer and me, we’re misfits in Mystwerk House. The rest of the newlings—they’re all cake-eaters. Bluebloods, born and raised. But that’s who we’ll have to deal with if we want to get anything done. They’re the ones’ll be running the Wizard Council once we go home. They’ll be the ones calling the shots.”

Han stopped pacing and leaned back against the hearth. “I knew how to do business in Ragmarket—I made a living for my family and a dozen Raggers, too. I could outsmart any gang lord in the city. But this is different. Now I got to be able to face off with wizards. So I need to speak the language, dance the dances, pick up the right fork, and know what clothes to wear, or they’ll never take me serious.”

Raisa hadn’t really thought about the former Cuffs Alister interacting with wizards. In Ragmarket his violent reputation had protected him. What must it be like for him, sharing a classroom with the magical nobility? They would despise him and make fun of him. They’d remind him every day of his slum origins. The faculty would condescend to him. He’d undermine himself every time he opened his mouth.

“Why do you want them to take you seriously?” she asked, thinking they’d never accept him anyway. “What is it you want to get done?”

Han gazed into the fire. “I’m tired of people dying because they were born in Ragmarket or Southbridge. I’m sick of people in power picking on the weak. I’m going to help them.” He brushed at his eyes with the heels of his hands and cleared his throat.

Was he crying? Raisa took a step toward him, hands extended, but he turned his back to her and poked at the fire with a stick.

“You don’t really need tutoring in those things, you know,” Raisa said, touching Han’s shoulder. “The language and manners, I mean. Here at school, you’ll be mixing with all kinds of people. You’re smart. You’ll pick it up naturally in time.”

Han shook his head. “That’s too slow. Anyway, to tell the truth, bluebloods an’t that eager to mix with me outside of class.” He looked back at her and rolled his eyes. “I got to take advantage of being here because I don’t know how long I can stay.”

Why? Is it the money? she almost said. But thankfully didn’t. One thing hadn’t changed. Han Alister still unbalanced her, making her lose her usual nimble footing.

Is it because he’s wicked? she wondered. Like Micah Bayar? Like Liam Tomlin and Reid Nightwalker? Like every other boy she’d ever found appealing?

Because he’s forbidden? Like Micah? Are you like your ancestor Hanalea, whose lust for the wrong man brought down the Seven Realms?

No. She wouldn’t spend her lifetime mimsy-toeing around, for fear she’d repeat the mistakes of a millennium ago. There were plenty of new mistakes to be made.

“All right,” Raisa said. “If you think it would help, I’ll tutor you.”

He swung away from the fire and looked at her. “Really? You’re serious?”

He thought I’d refuse, Raisa thought. She nodded.

Han smiled, then, a bright, charming smile that lit up the room, more dangerous than any blade.

All you ever needed was that smile, she thought. I’d have given in immediately.

Crossing the room to her, he fished eagerly into his breeches pocket, producing a purse. “How much will you—”

Raisa put up a hand. “I won’t charge you for the tutoring,” she said, remembering Dimitri and the concept of gylden. “But you’ll owe me. One day I’ll call in the debt.”

Han stood staring at her for a long moment. “I’d rather just pay you,” he said finally. “I don’t know if I’ll be in a way to repay favors.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Raisa said. “What you will do is pay me a fivepenny every time you say ‘an’t’ and ‘I got to.’ I’ll be rich on that alone before the term is over.”

“Hey, now,” Han said, raising both hands in protest. “I an’t going to—”

She stuck out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “A fivepenny, please. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Grumbling halfheartedly, he dug into his purse and produced another Fellsian fivepenny coin. He flipped it to her, and she stuck it in her purse.

The new fivepenny had Mellony’s image graven on it. Raisa wouldn’t dare ask for a crown, called a girlie on the street. They carried her own likeness, in profile.

“We’ll need a place to meet,” she said. “I don’t want Micah or Fiona to see me here on the Mystwerk side.”

“We can meet at your end of Bridge Street,” Han suggested. He paused. “There’s an upstairs room at The Turtle and Fish you can rent by the hour.”