11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
T he dinner was a silent affair - not because of any remaining acrimony, but because they were both tired to the bone. Julia was dearly tempted to forego her ladylike manners and eat in the way she did in her years as a thin boy-sailor.
She did not yield to the temptation, but it was sore.
“Thank you”, she said when the remains of the pigeons in blazing pepper-sauce were cleared. “You did not change your mind.”
“I rarely do.”
“You could have. When you saw that flimsy affair of a boat, you could have easily told me that our plans have changed and we are going back to the castle.”
“And shamed myself in front of my own tenants? What a fine opinion you have of me, my lady.”
“It is hardly a shame for a man of your position to prize safety and comfort.”
“Did you prize safety and comfort when you ran away to sea like a boy in a song?”
“Of course not. But I had reasons...”
“Still, there must have been moments when you yearned to turn back and escape into your silken seclusion.”
“I suppose,” Julia admitted. “When I first saw the captain of that smuggling vessel, and also during our first meeting with the patrols... though, by then it was a little too late.”
“But that was not what stopped you.”
“No,” she said with some reluctance. “It was not. It was that I knew that, if I had fled, I would have had to avoid ponds and mirrors for the rest of my life, for I would not have bene able to look myself in the eye without disdain.”
“Then you understand me better than some men do.”
Julia lowered her eyelashes, blushing. It felt like a better compliment than any praise of her fine eyes or shadowy hair than her husband could have devised.
“I wonder, in fact,” Athelstan Waite continued, “if you could find any of the men you sail with back then. Any men you knew.”
The pleasant haze dissipated in a second.
“I am not going to give my old shipmates over to the royal justice, if that is what you mean,” Julia said coldly. “They committed no greater crime than many a landless knight on dry land does, and goes unpunished. Lesser, in fact, for we very rarely turned to brute brigandage. We smuggled goods we paid fair price for and fought in other people’s wars overseas”.
“Quite a speech,” Lord Waite noted wryly. “There are playwrights at court you should write to, I imagine they would appreciate the inspiration. I meant merely using those men for information. I bear no love for the Northmen, and less trust. Their yarl took my silver willingly enough, but whether he is also going to keep his word is a question. I need someone who knows the covert sea-lanes and the underbelly of ports. Someone who could tell me about supplies secretly-bought, or mercenaries hired.”
“The northmen don’t hire mercenaries. They pride themselves on being warriors to a man.”
“The world is changing, however unpleasantly. They might adopt new tactics, too.”
“I don’t find all the changes in the world all that unpleasant. I am sure you don’t think all of them so distasteful, either. It is those changes that brought your family to the throne, after all.” She closed her lips, waiting for his reaction, her hand upon the silver cup, her heart beating with exhilaration that was not unlike the one she felt on deck.
“They brought my brother to the throne,” Lord Waite corrected her. “They did not bring me anywhere close to the seat of power. They certainly did not bring Roxane there.”
“Would you have wanted that? To wear the crown of Craerenth?” To think such words was folly; to speak such words was treason. Nevertheless, they left Julia’s lips, and her heartbeat sped up an imperceptible amount.
“It matters not what I want or wanted.”
“It matters to me.”
“I wanted...” He paused. “I wanted to see something beyond the Greyharbor, beyond these walls of grey stone, these waves of grey sea. When I was a thoughtless boy, I even had dreams of leaving as a stowaway on some merchant vessel”. A glance in her direction, the meaning rather transparent. To do something that she had done in truth.
“Seeing the lands beyond the Glittering Sea? The white walls of the City of Lilies, the bridges of the City of Canals?”
“Yes. I never did anything of a kind, of course. I knew my duty, for all that I was the younger brother. I was to stay and guide Orwyn through his future lordship of Greyharbor.”
“Then the war came.”
“Then the war came. I followed Orwyn”s banners like...” He closed his eyes, for a second only, but it was like a lid snapping shut without regard for anyone’s heedless fingers. “Like I was supposed to, of course.”
“Of course”. She knew these were not the words he wanted to utter; he likely knew she knew. But neither was supposed to show it. “I will try to help you, as you said. I am not sure if I’ll be able to find anyone...”
“Naturally it would be hard.”
“But I will do my best.”
She always tried to do her best, did she not?
***
Julia did not risk wearing any of the gowns she had, even the simplest one. Instead, she resorted to buying a few threadbare garments from the rag-sellers in the less salubrious parts of Greyharbor.
She put a heavy cloak with a hood on, too, judging that they won’t look too suspicious - this was not Ielthe slumbering in summer; on the coast, even the warmer months had a bite.
Walking the long distance to that fishing village felt more unusual. It has been years since Julia had a need - or a permission - to do something like that. However, a horse cost a small fortune in any province, and a supposedly poor smugglers” contact riding one would have raised many suspicions.
There was a thrill in the uncertainty, however, in the expanse of the sea and the sky, and even in the narrowness of the footpaths. Julia smiled when she saw the tavern’s sign: Kraken”s Nest . She might not have been here before, but she had been to countless places like this on either side of the Glittering Sea.
This was different, true. This time, she was here as a woman; and she did not have her friends and crew with her, either.
She entered. Some heads turned towards her. Heeding no stares, Julia walked over to the tavern keeper, a man younger than she had expected to see.
“I’m here to leave a message to a friend,” Julia started. “A few friends, in fact. Could you give it to them?”
“Depends. Are they seamen, your friends?”
“To the last one.”
“Merchants?”
“You can say that. They sell silk from the City of Lilies, and lace from the City of Seven Tribes.” She smiled to get the point across. Both goods were subjects of heavy tariffs - before the civil war, to discourage vanity and indulgence; now, to raise some money for the treasury.
To her surprise, the young man’s face hardened:
“I don’t deal with scum like this.”
“They are honest traders. No worse than those from the Fishmongers” Guild”.
“If they were honest traders, they’d pay the king’s silver. Honestly.” He glared at her. “I know my father used to have dealings with their likes. Triad rest his soul beyond the Radiant Bridge, but I’m not going to.”
Dear Triad. The last high-principled innkeeper on this coast, and she was just lucky enough to run into him.
“I have nothing to do with the selling of these goods,” she tried a different tack. “It’s information that I seek”.
“What sort?”
She could imagine what he would tell her if she were to say she wanted to meet one of her old crew because she was seeking an intelligence on foreign power.
“About my husband.” Julia gave the man the sweetest, most bashful smile she could.
“Is your husband one of them?”
“No,” she had to improvise, and recalled her actual husband’s recent mention of captured ships. “He was a sailor on one of those trading ships that got taken by the northmen this spring.”
“Then he’s likely not among the living anymore.”
“He might be. The northmen sell strong men and young women they capture on the markets in the City of Canals, don’t they? He might’ve been one of those”.
The young innkeeper sighed, his expression more sympathetic now.
“It’s a fate worse then death, if so”.
“I know. That’s why I need to find him”.
“It’s been worse in my grandfather’s day, I’ve heard. A whole village taken once. Thank the Triad it’s not like that anymore”.
“Yes”, Julia’s mouth was dry. “Thank the Triad it’s not.”
“Look, I’ll take your message. But only because I know that these bastards are even worse than the smuggling lot.”
***
“Where have you been?” Roxane’s little voice was thin and bright behind her back.
Julia turned around, undoing the clasp on the simple cloak she wore for the task. The clasp was of cheap, worn metal, not the bright gold great ladies usually used for the purpose; nor did it bristle with seed-pearls.
“I went for a walk”, Julia smiled not without strain. Lying to the little girl felt unpleasant.
“Where? You are dressed... strange”.
“Quite an attentive child you are, aren’t you?” Julia laughed, trying to deflect the topic. “Again, I went for a walk”.
“Does Athelstan know about your walk?”
Oh . The realization landed like a blow. Was little Roxane suspecting her of something illicit? Was the girl even old enough to think of such notions?
“He does. In fact, he was the one who suggested the idea.”
“Why?”
“He thought it would...” Julia paused, recalling their exchange in the fishing boat. “Do my health good.”
The tense, pale girl relaxed her stance a little:
“Did you walk far?”
“One of the further villages, then back.”
“That is very far.”
Of course. With Roxane’s poor foot, any such exercise would seem terrible in effort.
“That was the point, my dear.”
She was grateful now for the fishing expeditions of the past weeks - they roughed her hands, whitened and softened by the years of captivity, well enough for no one to take her for a titled lady at a glance.
“I - I wanted to give you a present,” Roxane said suddenly, and produced something small and iridescent from one of her pockets. “It’s only a handkerchief, but I sewed it myself”.
With unfeigned care, Julia took the item in her hand. A handkerchief made of pure sea-silk, soft and almost see-through in how fine it was.
“That is...” She managed to say.
“I know it’s a very little thing,” Roxane hastened, “But I’m not good enough yet. One day, I am going to sew you a great gown.”
“All of sea-silk?” Julia smiled. She knew that, for someone who dived for the substance herself, such a project would cost years. The result, though... “It’s going to be worth a fortune”.
“I hope you aren’t going to sell it.” The earnest frown on Roxane’s forehead was, for a moment, not unlike that of her brother.
“Of course not. I would treasure it till the end of days. Though, would you not rather make something like that for yourself? A gown for your future wedding?”
“There would be no wedding,” the girl said bluntly. “No one is going to marry a lame wife.”
“It’s not that simple...”
Julia knew, deep in her heart, that she was telling her placating lies. Most noblemen wanted a robust spouse who could run about the estate supervising the work of every servant on the ordinary days and shine at the court masques and hunt balls on the extraordinary ones. Not to mention that, although the days of ancient kings when the soundness of body was a prerequisite for rule were long past, as were their bronze swords and stone cairns, something lingered in people’s souls - the suspicion that, if one’s flesh was marred, so could one’s mind and soul be.
“No, I suppose not,” Roxane grumbled, again sounding like a sweeter and fainter echo of Athelstan. “Some would want my dowry. Now that Orwyn is king, some would want to be close to him, too.”
“You don’t have to accept a fate of this kind. I don’t think you’ll have to - your brother loves you dearly. I am sure he will not force you into a match you don’t want.”
“I am not a child”, the child told her. “You don’t have to placate me, good-sister. You really do not.”