Royal Airs

  “If you don’t need to hurry back to the port tomorrow to keep training.”

  He grinned. “I need the break. My arms are so sore I can hardly lift my fork.”

  They made quite the procession the next morning—Josetta, Callie, Rafe, Foley, and Sorbin—prowling the nearby streets and examining the empty buildings with an eye to remodeling them. Most were too small for their purposes; the bigger ones were generally in such bad shape it seemed safer to tear them down and start over. There was one building that they all liked—a three-story property with a stone foundation and solid wood upper levels—but it was occupied by a tailor and his sons.

  “Think of that,” Callie marveled as they stood outside and peeked through the grimy windows. “Those fine clothes that women buy in the Plaza for a few quint-golds. They’re made here by an old man and a couple of boys. I’m surprised the girls of the First Family can’t smell the stench of the slums on their pretty shawls.”

  Rafe had backed up into the crumbled street to stare up at the top two floors. “Do you suppose they use the whole building or just the bottom story? Maybe they’d rent out the rest of the place.”

  “We could certainly ask,” Josetta said and opened the door.

  At first, the tailor was not inclined to talk business. He was suspicious of strangers, particularly those who offered easy money, and he was clearly too busy to waste his time with charlatans. But once he realized that Josetta ran the nearby shelter, he begrudgingly invited her inside to talk.

  “Wait—all of you are coming in? Oh, very well. But there’s no place to sit.”

  Indeed, they all clustered by the door for their brief conference, though Josetta couldn’t keep her eyes from straying to the cluttered but carefully laid out workroom. There seemed to be different stations for weaving, for dyeing, and for other more mysterious functions; their conversation was accompanied by the constant rhythmic clatter of a wooden loom.

  It turned out that the tailor used part of the second floor as storage, but the whole top story was uninhabited. “I might be interested in renting that out to you,” he said cautiously. “Maybe even part of the second story. But you’d have to build a separate entrance. I don’t want any of your vagrants in here stealing my goods.”

  “We could do that,” Josetta said. “May we tour the upper levels and see what condition they’re in?”

  “All of you?” the tailor asked again, but Josetta insisted, and the whole group climbed up to the second floor. It was conveniently divided into six smaller rooms, and only two of them were filled with giant spools of thread and dozens of bottles of dye. The other four were empty, except for dust and spiders and mounds of debris.

  “Could fit three bunks in each room—tight quarters, but better than the streets,” Callie said.

  The third floor was a big open space, though not a very comfortable one. The ceiling was low, the windows were small, and here in early summer, it was already hot and close. Josetta imagined it was smothering during the warmest quintiles and frigid in the cold ones. Still. As Callie said, better than the streets.

  “We could divide it in two,” Josetta said. “Men on one side, women on the other.”

  “Is that safe for the women?” Rafe asked. “A man might be grateful for this kind of haven and still not be wholly trustworthy.”

  “We have dorm rooms just like this at the shelter,” Josetta said.

  “Sure. But Callie and Bo sleep there every night. If no one’s here to enforce order—” He shrugged.

  “Split them up,” suggested Foley. He spoke up so rarely that Josetta always listened to him seriously. “Put all the men here, all the women and families back at the shelter.”

  “I like that,” Callie said.

  The tailor was frowning. “I haven’t said I’ll rent you the place yet.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Josetta said. “Let’s talk specifics.”

  It was clear he’d done some calculations while they considered options, because he promptly named a rental fee per quintile. It was high, and Josetta counteroffered. “We’d be investing in structural improvements that would make it more attractive if you ever sold it, so we should figure that into our price,” she said.

  He snorted. “Who’d buy anything here in the slums?”

  “I would,” she said. “So you should give me favorable rental terms.”

  He laughed at that; she had the feeling he enjoyed a negotiation. “But you’ll have laborers tramping in and out, disrupting my work and costing me money,” he answered with zest. “So I should charge you more.”

  They continued to debate it as they headed downstairs, where Josetta was practically run over by one of the tailor’s sons. The young man was hauling two buckets of water and cursing under his breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Josetta asked.

  The tailor waved over at the biggest loom, now standing idle. “We bought that piece a year ago—steam-powered, faster than three men. We thought it would save us hours’ worth of work a day. But to make steam, you need water, and it’s almost as much trouble to fetch the water as it is to do the weaving by hand.”

  Josetta couldn’t contain her smile. This was the wildcard, this was the high trump. “If I could guarantee you water,” she said softly, “how would you renegotiate our terms?”

  The tailor stared at her. “Guarantee me water? Southside, so far from the river or the canal? You can’t.”

  “I can.”

  “I’d cut your rent by half.”

  “Then we have a deal.”

  • • •

  During the short walk home, during which they all buzzed with satisfaction, Josetta found Rafe beside her.

  “You can guarantee him water?” he asked without preamble. “How?”

  “How do you think I got water at the shelter?”

  He shook his head. “You paid someone to install the pipes for you?”

  “My sister Zoe. The coru prime. She can draw water to her from anywhere in Welce.”

  “That’s remarkable.” He seemed to think something over. “And all the primes have that kind of magic? Because I swear I’ve seen Kayle Dochenza control the wind.”

  Josetta nodded. “And Taro Frothen could cause the earth to shake and the mountains to tumble down if he wanted to. I’ve never seen Nelson or Mirti play any tricks with fire or wood, but I’m sure they can.”

  “Will Zoe mind that you’re trading on her power just to get a better rental rate?”

  Josetta laughed. “She’ll be delighted. I can hardly wait to tell her.”

  In fact, she didn’t have to wait. Because Zoe—and Corene—were at the shelter when they arrived.

  SIXTEEN

  Josetta felt a confused swirl of uncharitable emotions—surprise, embarrassment, irritation, and a desire to hide. It was obvious Corene and Zoe had showed up hoping to find her entertaining Rafe Adova, and it was only sheer coincidence that he happened to be present this day. The one clear thought in her head was I’m not ready for this. But ready or not, here she was, trying to preserve her tranquility as her two separate worlds intersected.

  Callie, Sorbin, and Foley disappeared the instant they recognized the exalted visitors, which left the four of them to stare at each other. Josetta felt compelled to speak first.

  “Well! Look who’s here!” she said, hoping her voice sounded friendly with just a note of inquiry. “Did Darien send you to check up on me?”

  Zoe was trying to repress a grin, but Corene wasn’t even making that effort. “We came to see if Rafe was here and he is!” she said in delight. “Hello, Rafe, do you remember me?”

  He seemed wholly amused and utterly relaxed. Clearly he didn’t mind that her sisters had come to call. “Of course I remember you, Princess Corene,” he said. “I hope you haven’t had any adventures lately.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind a
good adventure,” she said. “But, no, life has been very dull. Even dinners with the prince, which you’d think would be more fun.”

  Josetta made introductions. “Zoe, this is Rafe Adova. The man who rescued Corene and is now planning to fly Kayle’s aeromotives. Rafe, my sister Zoe Lalindar, the coru prime.”

  Rafe made a deep bow, as gracefully as he did everything else, and Zoe nodded back as befit her station. Royals and high-ranking members of the Five Families never indulged in casual contact with strangers, so no one extended a hand, but Josetta had to guess Zoe was dying for a chance to touch Rafe on the arm or shoulder.

  “I’ve heard so much about you from Corene,” Zoe said in her usual friendly way. “Josetta has been more reserved in her stories, but that just made me more curious.”

  Rafe slanted a quick look at Josetta. “I’m gratified to learn that the princess has spoken of me at all.”

  “She didn’t,” Corene jumped in. “We had to keep asking her questions!”

  “I hope I sounded more interesting than the prince.”

  “A man with a kind heart, a gambler’s nerve, and three extraordinary blessings,” Zoe said. “Hard not to sound interesting.”

  Josetta turned toward Rafe. “She seems relaxed and amiable, but she can be intimidating. Actually, a little frightening. When she wants to be.”

  He looked even more amused, because anyone less frightening than Zoe at this moment would be hard to find. She was wearing her oldest and most unfashionable tunic, and she had barely bothered to style her dark hair. She looked like someone who might have sought help at the shelter a couple of years ago and returned now to show how she’d managed to pull herself out of poverty with some respectable job in the shop district.

  “I’ll be on my guard,” he promised.

  “We should sit down and talk—get to know each other a little,” Zoe said genially. “Should we go inside?”

  “Maybe we can get something to eat,” Josetta said. “I’m hungry after all the walking around.”

  Rafe held the door open and the three women stepped inside, where it wasn’t much cooler and certainly no more private. But clearly privacy was going to be in short supply in Josetta’s future. Well, of course, it always had been. But she had thought, here in this part of town, she might be able to lead her life without constant observation . . .

  “Walking around doing what?” Zoe asked.

  “Looking at real estate,” Rafe replied.

  Josetta left the three of them to find a table and ducked into the kitchen to see if she could put together any kind of meal. She found Callie way ahead of her, cutting bread and arranging fruit on a tray.

  “I don’t have anything here fit to serve a prime!” Callie exclaimed in a low voice. “And a princess! Not even crushed fruit to stir into the water!”

  “I’m a princess, and you feed me every day,” Josetta countered. “Trust me, Zoe’s not very picky. And Corene is adaptable.”

  Callie tried to shoo her back out into the main room, but Josetta needed a few minutes to regain her composure, and she had no fear that the others would have trouble making conversation. Not those three. Corene, who always spoke her mind. Zoe, who only respected boundaries when they didn’t get in her way. And Rafe, who was at ease with anyone who crossed his path. She was the most awkward and unsure of the lot.

  When she finally did carry a tray from the kitchen to the main hall, she found the others playing a card game. Of course. She began distributing plates and glasses while Rafe explained the opening moves to penta.

  “Wait, start over so Josetta can learn, too,” Corene said.

  Rafe gave her a quick, smiling glance. “She already knows how to play.”

  Zoe gathered up her cards. “I’m sure she does,” she said affably. “Josetta’s always been a quick study.”

  “I’m just as smart as Josetta is,” Corene said, her voice a little sulky.

  Josetta seated herself next to Corene and picked up her own cards, sorting them into suits. “Yes, but you’re more annoying,” she answered, and Corene laughed.

  The card game, she decided later, had been a masterstroke. It provided them with an activity to pursue as they got acquainted, which prevented the conversation from becoming strained or stilted. And it showed Rafe to his best advantage: He was not only knowledgeable about the game, he was also personable and entertaining as he told anecdotes about past opponents. He didn’t attempt to present his life as other than it had been—sizing up strangers and winning their money—but he still came across as amusing, insightful, and intelligent.

  “That was fun,” Zoe said when Corene won the game on the last turn of the cards, though Josetta strongly suspected Rafe had been cheating on Corene’s behalf. “I think that’s how I’ll make my living if I’m ever exiled again. Of course, I’ll have to get better at it.”

  “You could hold tournaments down on the river flats,” Josetta suggested.

  Rafe had collected all the cards and he was now idly shuffling them, cutting them together, and shuffling again. “‘Exiled’?” he repeated. “‘Again’?”

  Zoe nodded. “My father was expelled from court when I was a little girl and I went with him. When I came back to Chialto, I lived on the river flats for a while. I still miss the vagabond existence sometimes.”

  “Like, whenever princes from Berringey are visiting,” Corene interpolated. “Maybe if he had left off his everlasting turbans for just one day I would have liked him better.”

  Rafe grinned at her, but addressed his next question to Zoe. “When did you become coru prime?”

  “I don’t know exactly when it happened, but I knew it had when I discovered I had the power to control the Marisi. To control all water, actually, but it was most spectacular when it was the river.”

  Rafe nodded over at Josetta. “Your sister promised a southside landlord that you’d bring water to his property. Can you really do that?”

  Zoe nodded but looked at Josetta. “Why did you tell him that?”

  “I want to rent it from him. We need to expand the number of beds we can offer. He was very excited at the idea.”

  “Take me over there. I’ll do it today.”

  Josetta laughed. “It might be a few ninedays before we’re ready for you.”

  “If you can bring water to the slums so easily, why haven’t you done it before?” Rafe wanted to know.

  “I have—more than once,” Zoe said regretfully. “I’ve picked good spots and drawn up water for public wells. But in this part of town, unless someone is constantly watching over them, they tend to be vandalized. Refuse gets thrown down them—dead animals are tossed in. I haven’t figured out how to keep them operating unless they’re someplace like this.”

  “Well, I think our new landlord will be very protective of his water source,” Josetta said.

  Rafe still seemed intrigued by the notion of someone having so much influence over water. “So are all your blessings coru?” he asked.

  “None of them,” Zoe said, extending her hand so he could see the three charms hanging off her bracelet. “Beauty, love, and power were drawn for me when I was born. But virtually every time I pick a coin from a barrel, it’s a coru one. Change, usually. Though my life has been very stable for the past few years!”

  “When’s the last time you pulled a blessing?” Josetta asked.

  Zoe considered. “A while. Maybe not since Celia was born.”

  Corene had already jumped up. “Then let’s go get blessings!” She gave Rafe an impudent glance. “I want to see if he’s a ghost again or if he’s still extraordinary.”

  • • •

  Four people made for a tight fit in the small temple. It seemed less crowded when they all took seats on the circular bench, but then their knees practically touched the wine barrel in the center of the room.

  “Who first?” J
osetta asked.

  “Oh, it has to be Rafe,” Zoe said. “His blessings will be the most interesting.”

  “I think we should each draw one for him,” Corene said.

  Zoe nodded and said, “I’ll start.” She plunged an arm elbow-deep in the small keg and gave the coins one vigorous stir before pulling out a coin and handing it to Rafe.

  He studied it for a moment before showing it to Josetta. “I think it’s synthesis.”

  “You’re getting better at recognizing them,” she said.

  “I’ve memorized the shapes of my own,” he answered, touching his chest where his six blessing rings made a slight lump under his shirt.

  “My turn,” Corene said, leaning over the barrel. She withdrew one coin, tossed it back without looking at it, drew out another and threw it away.

  “Corene,” Zoe admonished.

  “I’m just trying to see how powerful the extraordinary blessings are,” she explained. “If one really wants to come to me no matter what I do.” She picked a blessing with each hand, seemed to weigh them, then let the one in her left hand drop with a musical clink. She handed the remaining coin to Rafe.

  Who laughed out loud. “Time,” he said.

  “This is remarkable,” Zoe said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  Rafe nodded at Josetta. “Now you.”

  As she always did, she dug her hand through the cool pile of metal and waited until she felt heat along her fingers. Almost immediately one of the coins scalded against her skin, so she quickly dug it out and handed it over to Rafe.

  He showed it around the circle. “Triumph.”

  “So those are the only blessings anyone has ever drawn for you?” Zoe demanded. “Ghost coins or extraordinary blessings?”

  “So far. I suppose someday things could change again.”

  “What happens when you pull coins out of the barrel?” she asked.

  Rafe exchanged a smile with Josetta. “I’ve only done it once. It was interesting.”

  “How so?”

  “I was sitting here,” Josetta said, “and what he pulled were all of my blessings.”