Samuel stared at the doorway, opened his mouth to comment, and then shook his head. He stomped off to the kitchen, Vanessa hurrying after him when Dinah called her.
“It’s always interesting around here,” I muttered to Gideon.
He cocked his head, listening to the wind. “I wouldn’t have minded it being less interesting tonight.”
“How long do these storms last?”
“Usually a couple of days. I’ve seen them go as long as a week.”
“A week,” I repeated, aghast. What would someone on foot do? It was easy to feel mad about the travel delay when I thought it was done unnecessarily. To understand it, to see for myself that the reasons were sound . . . it just made everything that much more depressing.
We both grew quiet, but I could sense Gideon building up to something. His eyes looked everywhere but me. “Tamsin . . . did Jacob Robinson really find you on the road, or had you already gone to see him about getting to Cape Triumph early?”
Gideon might be mild-mannered, but he wasn’t oblivious. I hesitated, wondering how severe the consequences were for visiting Jago. I didn’t want to lie to Gideon, though, and something told me he knew already.
“A little of both. I went to see him and got caught in the storm on the way back home. He came after me when the snow started.”
Surprise flitted across Gideon’s features. “Interesting. Well, what did he say? Can he get you to Cape Triumph before spring?”
“No.” I sat back down and felt the earlier disappointment flood me. “The Icori would actually have been the ones getting us there, but it would mean Jago would have to stay behind and lose some of his profit. I offered to compensate him, but he still said no.”
“Ah.” Gideon settled down in the chair Jago had been using, flipping it forward again. “That’s more what I’d expect. I’m sorry.”
“Why is there so much friction with Jago?” I asked. “Is it just because of his personality?”
“It’s a lot of things, I suppose.” Gideon leaned back and sighed. “One is that Jacob sells things . . . some of which aren’t legal to sell in Grashond. He gets around that by having clients meet him over by this tributary of the Quistimac—about a mile or so out of town. When the colonial charter was set up, Grashond and Archerwood both wanted that water route and were granted joint ownership. So, if he’s making a sale on its banks of something illegal here but legal in Archerwood...he can dodge any repercussions.”
I laughed before I could stop myself. “I’m sorry,” I said, seeing Gideon’s surprise. “I shouldn’t have . . . It’s just very clever, that’s all. Er, maybe ‘devious’ is a better word? What kinds of things is he selling?”
“Rum and wine come up the most.” Gideon managed to make disapproval still look radiantly handsome. “And then whoever he sells it to usually gets drunk and ends up getting punished by the council. But Jago gets off on technicalities.”
“I can see why that’d be irritating, but is that really so bad? Drinking definitely can cause trouble, sure, but it’s not like Jago’s out there killing scores of people or anything.”
“No, not yet.” Gideon’s expression took on an uncharacteristic grimness. “But he might be doing it any day now.”
CHAPTER 12
“GIDEON! STOP IT. THERE ARE ENOUGH REASONS FOR PEOPLE to dislike him without spreading horror stories and accusations.” But even as I spoke, a chill ran through me at the solemn look in Gideon’s eyes. “It is a story, right? Like Dinah saying we’re being divinely punished?”
Gideon took his time to answer. “It’s a story in that no, it hasn’t happened yet. And no, I can’t predict the future to say that it most certainly, without a doubt, will happen. But he’s set us up for it.”
“You’re going to have to back up. I know Samuel wouldn’t have let Jago in here if he might just turn around and start killing us without warning.”
“That’s true,” Gideon admitted, “and I should have been clearer with my choice of words. If people die because of him, it’s not that he’ll be doing it with his own hands so much as his actions. But he’ll do it just the same.”
“Gideon—”
“I’m getting there, I promise. When he first rented his place in Constancy last fall, he was always looking to make a sale—just like now. Once he’d found a place to rent, he paraded around a lot of goods we don’t see much of, one of which is an herb—bitterroot—that grows on the southernmost coast of Adoria. It makes a pretty powerful medicine that can treat a lot of things—and for some illnesses, it’s the only thing capable of working. It’s vital to have on hand in the winter. There’ve been plagues in Adoria that can wipe out a whole town in the span of a week.”
“What happened?” I asked, my voice coming out as a croak. I didn’t like hearing about damage caused by a shortage of medicine. It hit too close to home, dredging up memories of how hard it had been getting the medicine Merry needed to treat her cough.
“Jacob had a supply of bitterroot in his inventory and made a deal to hold on to it for the winter in case we needed it. We would be the only ones allowed to buy it. But then . . .” Gideon stared into the shadows, his thoughts lost in the past. “But then, the Icori offered him a huge sum of gold if he’d sell it to them—and he did. He broke his agreement with us because a better deal came along. Now, we have no protection. We’ve been lucky so far this winter, but if any plague or fever strikes . . . well, we’ll just have to pray.”
“Can’t you get more from someone else?”
“Not easily. We have to import it from the southern colonies, and even there, it only grows in late spring and early summer. It’s scarcest this time of year, and if you even can find it, sellers mark it up dearly.”
A sickening feeling twisted my stomach at the continuing similarities to my own life. My family had frequently felt the sting of selfish apothecaries inflating the price of Merry’s medicine. The thought of that happening on a larger scale, to a whole town, was appalling.
Recalling some of the abominable practices I’d seen, I asked, “Did he try to coerce you into paying more than the Icori? Like, start a bidding war?”
“No. He just absconded with it one night.”
“Seems like someone who’s so proud of his negotiating skills—and hungry for gold—would have pushed his advantage.”
“Maybe the Icori offer was just too generous to pass. He was still getting gold from them long after it happened.”
Jago had told me himself he was a businessman, but I hadn’t really grasped the full extent of his drive for profit. That joking exterior hid a nature far more calculating and ruthless than I could have imagined. “Did the council do anything?”
“It was still technically his, even though he’d ‘promised’ it to us. So, he was punished for deception, not theft, and had to pay a fine for the breach of sale. That’s all that could be done, short of banishing him from town. But he sells enough other critical things that the council grudgingly agreed to let him stay on.” Gideon scooted forward and rested one of his hands on mine as he peered anxiously into my face. “Are you okay? You look so upset.”
“I’m not. I mean, yes, I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve seen what happens when— Well, anyway. It’s just an awful thing he did. My first impression of him wasn’t so great, but after he helped me in the storm, I figured I should give him more credit.”
“And maybe you should—a little. I mean, I don’t think he’s an evil man. I don’t think he wants people to suffer—he’s probably more inclined to help others, just like he did tonight. But I also don’t think he can look beyond his own goals enough to consider the consequences of his actions to others.” Gideon’s eyes glittered in the firelight as he deliberated. At last, he proclaimed, “When it comes down to it, I believe Jacob Robinson sold our medicine out of greed for himself, not maliciousness for others.”
“That’s not
going to matter to someone who dies of a plague,” I snapped. “That’s not going to matter to some mother whose child . . .”
When I choked on the words, Gideon squeezed my hand tighter. “You’re right, of course. But it matters to Uros and the angels. At the end of days, a crime born of petty selfishness will be judged less harshly than one born of deliberate menace.”
I slipped my hand away and stood up. “Then they’re more forgiving than I am.”
* * *
The snowstorm was gone by morning—and Jago with it.
“He left just before you came downstairs,” Winnifred told us as she brought biscuits to the table. It was her morning to help with breakfast. “Shoveled the whole area between the barn and house. He must have been up since dawn to do it.”
I had mixed feelings about having missed Jago, particularly since I now had mixed feelings about Jago, period.
“A nice gesture, but it’s probably just as well he’s gone.” Samuel walked over to a frosty window and rubbed his fingers against it. “Can’t imagine having him underfoot if the storm had lasted longer.”
Gideon entered and caught that last bit. “It may be over, but we’re still snowed in until the roads are cleared. I’ll start shoveling after breakfast.”
“Sounds like today will be an excellent time for a thorough housecleaning,” declared Dinah. “I’ve already made some lists of how we’ll divide up the work.”
The other Glittering Court girls and I exchanged dismayed glances as we sat at the table. After the prayer, Gideon said in an overly casual voice, “Dinah, if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind adjusting Tamsin’s workload to free her up for part of the afternoon? I have a number of sermon drafts that need recopying. I’ve marked them up with so many corrections that they’re barely legible. Today would have been a good day for me to do it, but shoveling has to take priority now.”
Dinah set down her fork. “Why, Gideon, if you needed this done, you should have just asked me. I would’ve been happy to do it for you.”
“This household depends on you,” he replied smoothly. “I wouldn’t dream of taking you from your duties. You’re too important. Besides, Tamsin’s just come out of very rigorous schooling and can hopefully catch some of my spelling and grammar mistakes along the way.”
“I should think so. She scored perfectly on all our composition and rhetoric exams,” Damaris added unexpectedly. “She knows all about exposition and persuasion. There’s probably no better assistant to help you write those sermons.”
I looked at her in astonishment. Samuel swiftly said, “Copying a sermon is not the same as writing one. She most certainly wouldn’t be doing the latter. But I see no harm in her cleaning up your drafts. Assuming Dinah can spare her.”
Damaris piped in again, “I’ll help with any extra jobs.”
“Very well then.” Dinah spoke with obvious reluctance, but the others’ expectation was too great for her to go against. “But not until this afternoon.”
Later, as Damaris and I scrubbed the larder floor, I demanded, “What was that all about? There being no better assistant than me?”
She flashed me a grin, much like the one she’d had when challenging the sailor to a knot contest. “Are you saying someone else would be better?”
“No, of course not. But I don’t follow what you were doing.”
“Just getting back at that bitch Dinah.” Damaris spoke in a low voice. “She’s mad for Gideon, you know.”
“Is she?”
“Yes! If you weren’t so busy doing other people’s chores and surviving blizzards, you’d have noticed. I’m certain it’s why she hasn’t married yet. I found out that she’d been considering some proposals but stopped when Gideon moved in. My guess is she’s holding out for him—for when he finishes his studies and becomes a senior minister. But from the way he looks at her—or doesn’t look at her—she’s going to keep waiting.”
“Wow. You’ve taken a lot of time to think about this.” I dipped my rag into our bucket of water and wrung it out. “And where do I fit in?”
Damaris sat back on her heels, eager for a reason to take a break. “Well, even you must have noticed how huffy she gets when he talks to us. I think she’s jealous that we can all get caught up in stuff she doesn’t know about, like life back in Osfro. And she gets extra put out because he talks to you the most.”
“He does not.”
“Oh, really? When’s the last time he gave me paper or invited me to be his secretary?”
“He didn’t specially seek me out for that! It was just something that came up when we were talking about his sermons the other day.”
“Exactly—because you guys are always talking! Now, back to last night. You should’ve seen the way he went on and on about you during the storm. I thought he was going to defy Samuel and head out after you! And oh, Dinah . . . she didn’t like that at all. I’m pretty sure the only thing that made her more upset than him being worried about you was when you showed back up alive.”
I rolled my eyes and returned to scrubbing. “Dinah may not like me, but even she doesn’t want me dead.”
“I don’t think she does either . . . unless she starts worrying that all that bonding time of yours poses an actual threat to her plans.”
“Then thanks for endangering my life by going out of your way to get me more bonding time with him.”
She dunked her rag in the water with a flourish, splattering both of us. “Had to be done. I mean, I hope your life really isn’t at risk, but if it is, then take comfort in knowing it’s for the noble cause of getting her back for making me copy that damned book all night.”
“Oh, well, if it’s noble, then sure, that’s fine. And here I was worried you were doing something petty, like trying to off me to reduce the competition in Cape Triumph.”
“I never thought of that,” she said wonderingly, lifting her eyes from the bucket. “You see, that’s why you’re on top, Tamsin. You come up with ideas the rest of us don’t.”
I almost choked on my laugh. “Well, if you like that, here’s a few more gems for you. First . . .” I glanced behind us. “Don’t get caught calling A Testament of Angels a ‘damned book’ around here. Second—and I seriously mean this—don’t provoke her. Or any of them.”
Damaris’s expression sobered. “She deserved it for taking your paper.”
I almost felt like crying, thinking of the loss of those letters. It was like another wall had been slammed between Merry and me. “It’s just paper, Damaris. We need to stay on these people’s good side.”
She gave a snort of amusement and returned to scrubbing with a wry smile. “That’s assuming we were ever on their good side to begin with.”
* * *
After a small lunch, I settled down by the fire with stacks of Gideon’s papers, unsure what to expect from sermons written for the Heirs of Uros. They turned out to be more interesting than I’d imagined, and I quickly understood the problems Gideon had been trying to explain. His message in each one—be it honesty, faith, or hard work—eventually came through, but he meandered around before getting to it. Some lines shone with his passion for the topic; others were stilted and clumsy.
I cleaned it all up as I wrote out the new copies, making better word choices, cutting the mundane, and rephrasing what need clarifying or just a little more polishing. The work was engrossing, and I barely noticed the time going by until Gideon came inside for a break two hours later. His face was flushed from the cold, and melting snow sparkled in his hair. I urged him to a chair and then scurried to bring him hot tea from the kitchen.
He brought the cup to his lips, pausing just to savor the warmth. “Thank you.”
“You’re frozen through!” I exclaimed. “I wish I could grab a shovel and help you out.”
“I couldn’t allow that. Not after you were almost swept away in a blizzar
d last night. It’d be cruel to make you shovel what very nearly trapped you.”
“Actually, I’d feel like I was getting back at it. Its attempts to block our roads are no match for me.”
He laughed and set the tea down. “I doubt many things are. My goodness. Have you done all that already?”
I followed his gaze to the stack of corrected sermons. “I hope it’s been helpful. You’ll probably read them and regret ever getting me involved.”
He took the top page and skimmed it, his misty blue eyes widening. “Wow.”
“Eh, is that good or bad?”
“It’s . . .” His silence left me uncertain until he looked up with a big smile. “It’s amazing. Look—right here. I spent paragraphs trying to explain this, and you did it in just a few sentences. I could never do anything like this.”
“You were the one who did do it. I just tightened it up and moved things around.”
He picked up another page. “Okay, I did this one. ‘Fear can bind you up and block off parts of your life. You need to recognize that and not let fear inhibit the way you want to live.’ And you did this: ‘Fear is a cage, and we are our own jailers.’”
“I might have gotten carried away with the metaphors,” I admitted.
“No, it’s great. It’s like you understood what was in my head and translated it.” Happiness lit him from within, making him look as angelic as Jago had hinted. But then, that glow dimmed. “I can’t use this. It isn’t right. Maybe most of it is my intent, but you’ve had enough of a hand in it that we’ve blurred domains. Has anyone explained those to you?”
“I’ve heard the term here but didn’t realize it was something special.”
Gideon glanced around, ascertaining we were alone. “Domains are how we divide our responsibilities—the work, duty, and crafts of everyday life. Some jobs anyone can do. Some are only for women. Some for men.”