Chapter 20 Sheuan
Sheuan
Langzu – Inner Bian
Every ruler of every realm owes a tithe of gems to Kluehnn as part of the god pact.
In Langzu, this is the Sovereign. And the clans, as stewards of the land, owe a certain tithe of gems to the Sovereign.
Thus, mining crews are sponsored by the clans and the liaisons are appointed by the Sovereign.
Given that gems always go missing during this process, sold and bought by the clans, the system isn’t exactly airtight, and records are loosely kept.
Sheuan had done what she could, in secret, to ensure her family wasn’t entirely out on their own.
But what she could do felt so vastly inadequate.
A few houses purchased here and there, places to hide, to lie low.
Word sent through others so she would not be seen associating with the clanless.
Her mother sent no word back. She thought about her mother sometimes, her grim determination to save their clan, a stone gripped in a steady hand.
That stone was now so many grains of sand. What did she have to live for now?
It wasn’t her problem to bear. She had to remember that.
As the Sovereign’s wife, she had access to her own coffers, though they were much smaller than his.
Anything she spent, she made sure to funnel through other channels, so any bookkeeping would point the Sovereign in other directions.
Some deep instinct told her she was living with a predator, and though she didn’t think she was quite a prey animal, she knew he’d turn on her once she’d lived out her usefulness.
Dust scuffed up as she strode down the street, the hot air oppressive as a weighted blanket; she blinked against the pressure on her eyes.
She licked her lips; they still felt parched in spite of the water she kept drinking.
She didn’t look back, though she could feel the presence of two of the Sovereign’s enforcers at her shoulders.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to find time alone.
And she knew they’d report to the Sovereign what she was doing.
Mull’s workshop was as she’d left it. She could almost feel his presence there, the feel of his thin-framed body as she’d hugged him goodbye.
Workers glanced up as she entered, gazes lingering on the enforcers before they returned to their tasks.
The Sovereign wanted as many filters as she could produce, but she was the only one who knew how to make them and she couldn’t share that knowledge without increasing risk.
The enforcers made as if to follow her into the shop, but she held up a hand.
“Absolutely not. You wait outside. There are two entrances and one of you can watch each of them to be sure I’m not in any danger.
But you’ll get in the way inside and be a distraction to my customers.
” Both of them – a man and a woman – shifted on their feet, exchanging glances.
The woman opened her mouth to speak, but Sheuan talked over her.
“He’s probably told you not to let me out of your sight.
I’m not asking you to shirk your duties.
” She rapped her knuckles on a nearby workbench. “Am I in any danger in here?”
The closest worker lifted his goggles. “Aye, if you don’t keep your hands to yourself and watch your step. Sometimes someone drops a tack, and the saws are sharp, so you need to give everyone fair space.”
“Will you protect me from saws and tacks?” Sheuan said to the blue-clad enforcers, her brow lifted.
The woman hesitated, wiped the beaded sweat from her forehead. “That’s not—”
“Not your duty,” Sheuan finished smoothly. “Since I’m safe from everything in here except my own carelessness, you can wait outside. As I’ve requested.” She let the threat linger in the soft end of her sentence – did she need to make this an order? – and waited.
They did as she asked, shuffling back into the street and letting her close the door behind them. The Sovereign might have told them to watch her, but the Sovereign was in his castle, and she was here, and only a half-step in rank below him.
She turned to the corner where Mull always sat, now cordoned off with screens. The silhouette of a woman shadowed the thick paper. Sheuan ducked behind a screen.
Her mother stood there, peering out from between the closed shutter slats.
She whirled as soon as she heard Sheuan’s footsteps.
There was something gaunt about her, though her arms looked no thinner than they had before.
Sheuan couldn’t decide if it was the light or the way the white robes of mourning washed out her mother’s skin tone, melding with the white in her hair.
There was something muted about the way she regarded Sheuan – whereas before her gaze had always been sharp, discerning, it now felt wrapped in gauze.
“My uncle…” Sheuan began.
“Dead,” her mother finished. “The Otangu clan have had their revenge.”
Sheuan fished in the satchel at her side, handing a purse to her mother.
More coin to tide her family over. “I’m sorry.
Use it to give him a proper funeral.” It seemed as though it had only been a few days ago that her uncle had argued with her mother in the garden, lamenting the money spent on Sheuan’s training.
And now he was dead. Just as he’d feared.
Her mother’s thin lips pressed together. “Don’t pretend you have regrets. This is a consequence of what you’ve done.”
Bold of her mother to assume she didn’t have regrets.
Sheuan hadn’t been fond of her uncle – he was too loud, too brash, too caught in old ways.
She often did have regrets, but that didn’t mean she would do anything differently, given the chance.
Some regrets she could live with more than others.
“I made a judgment call.” She’d said all this before; she wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep defending herself to her mother.
Old habits. “The Sovereign was never going to restore our clan. But he was willing to raise me up, and me alone.”
Her mother let out a soft huff of breath, her hands curling like claws at her sides.
“Yes, of course. You had to do what was advantageous for you. Individual over clan and even family. Your father was the same – feckless, irresponsible, thinking only of increasing his status without considering how to mitigate risk.”
Strange, how the words could still sting.
She was the Sovereign’s wife, her mother just some clanless old woman.
Maybe it was because Sheuan truly hadn’t wanted anything bad to befall her family.
She found herself reaching out, wanting to unclench her mother’s hands, to feel the touch of that weathered palm against hers.
“You have to understand, I didn’t have control over our clan’s dissolution.
I didn’t ask for it. I couldn’t prevent it. ”
There was no softness in response. Her caress only met the outside of her mother’s unyielding fist. She found herself pivoting, a response she couldn’t quite control. “You said he was irresponsible. What exactly was my father doing before he was executed?”
If eyes could spit venom, her mother’s would have. “Getting involved in things he shouldn’t have. He—”
Raised voices sounded over the noises of the workshop. Someone had entered. Sheuan frowned and drew one of the screens aside to exit, ready to send the enforcers back into the streets. “Stay here,” she said to her mother.
It wasn’t the enforcers. Mull’s mother and older brother stood in the doorway, their gazes searching the corners of the workshop, as if he was hiding in them.
Every time she saw Kiang, she wondered that he and Mull were brothers at all.
They were of similar height, but Kiang was broader.
He’d taken to shaving the hair on his head to a close stubble, probably to disguise where it had gone thin, and his beard was iron gray and a little longer than Mull’s.
While Mull always seemed to be drifting halfway between this world and a place Sheuan couldn’t see, Kiang seemed undeniably grounded, his thoughts existing in the here and now.
Mull strongly resembled his mother, down to the sharp cheekbones and thin arms.
Sheuan inclined her head to them both. She’d known they’d be by sooner or later, but she’d hoped it would be later. “Ah, the Reisuns. Can I assist you?”
“Mull hasn’t come home yet,” his mother said, her lips pinched. “He said he was visiting one of the daughters of the Temiki clan at their estate in the mountains of Ruzhi, but we’ve not had word from him since.”
Kiang stepped in front of her. “You’ve generously managed his workshop while he’s been gone, but we cannot expect you to do so indefinitely.”
Oh, Sheuan knew this game. The polite ousting.
This wouldn’t do, not when the Sovereign was expecting her to produce more filters.
Just as well – she could out-polite the best of them, maneuvering her way straight back to where she wanted to be.
“It’s been no trouble for me. The Reisun clan must have so many matters to attend to, not the least of which is finding their wayward son.
I can continue to manage the shop until he’s found. ”
“You must be busy with your new position.” Kiang’s gaze trailed over her gray silken dress, the crossover neckline secured by a silver belt in the shape of a blooming cherry branch.
She’d declined a robe – it was too hot in the streets – but she’d allowed the servants to do her hair, to place a silver comb in it that trailed pearl beads.
They clicked against one another each time she moved her head.
“I’m never too busy to keep a promise to a cousin and good friend.” She stopped, hesitated as though she wasn’t sure about what she was going to say. “Mull told me not to tell you… but it’s been so long since he’s been gone.”
“Tell us what?” his mother asked.
“He didn’t go to the Temiki clan. He went west of Ruzhi. He went to look for Tolemne’s Path.”