“Who else would give me a decent workout?” The redhead walks toward the racks where the practice weapons are kept and replaces the sabre.
Lorn does the same, then turns to his friend. “Tomorrow, then?”
“Of course.”
“And you’re still coming to the house for dinner on fiveday?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
After Tyrsal leaves, Lorn walks slowly back along the Road of Perpetual Light toward his parents’ dwelling, a pleasant smile fixed upon his face, as he considers what he must yet accomplish.
XLIX
FROM WHERE HE sits on the edge of the settee, Lorn takes in the main room of Ryalth’s quarters-the low ebony table before him, the straight-backed black oak armchair where Ryalth sits, and beyond that the green ceramic brick privacy screen that protects the door from the inside. Behind him and to his right is the alcove that contains the circular eating table and two armless chairs, and the door to the small balcony. To his left is the narrow archway to the bedchamber, and beyond that, the small bathing chamber. Lorn finds it hard to believe that two eightdays have already flown by.
His eyes light on the painting-the portrait of Ryalth as a young girl-wearing a high-necked blue tunic, and a thin golden chain. He has admired it every time he has come intoher quarters, but never said a word. “Your parents had that done?”
“Just before they died,” she affirms. “I was supposed to take the ship, too, but I got so sick that mother insisted I stay with my aunt Elyset. She was really my great-aunt, but I always called her ‘aunt.’ She died just before I met you.” Ryalth gestured around the room. “Most of this came from her house-the things Wynokk didn’t want. I did get to keep my bed, but everything else went to pay father’s debts. He lost everything when the ship went down.”
“You don’t like to spend coins on yourself.”
“Father did, and on us.” Her smile is mirthless. “There was nothing left.”
Lorn nods, then asks gently, “Why did you give Myryan the pin and the coins for the house?”
“I should have known you’d see that.” She barely shrugs. “You love her, and you couldn’t do anything. I didn’t want you to be upset when you returned.”
“And Kysia … you pay her to watch what happens in the house?”
Ryalth shakes her head. “How did you find that out? She’s never laid eyes on you.”
“Because someone has been watching me, and it wasn’t the cook or Sylirya. I never have seen Kysia, except from behind or at a distance, and that means someone who knows about the Magi’i and doesn’t want to be discovered. Besides, there was no other way you could have known what you needed to know to help Myryan.” He lifts his hands helplessly. “No one else would have cared.”
“You helped me … when no one cared, and you kept helping me. There wasn’t much I could do to repay everything. I helped Myryan.” The redhead looks down at the ancient blue wool carpet that displays a border of what appear to be interlocked ropes, surrounding a trading ship under full sail.
“Your father’s ship?” Lorn points to the blue-hulled vessel portrayed in the carpet and partly obscured by the low table before him.
“No one wanted a carpet showing a sunken trader. I got to keep that, too.”
“And that’s why you invest in cargoes carried on many ships?”
She nods. “The profits are lower, but the houses will take our golds because it lowers their risks. I choose carefully. So far, we have lost but one cargo.”
“You’re a careful woman.”
“Except with you.”
Lorn is not sure exactly how to respond. “I suppose I am a risk.”
“Not nearly so much as I’d thought, and you have made us more than a few coins.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“You were right about the cuprite,” Ryalth says. “What made you suggest that?”
“I couldn’t say.” Lorn smiles crookedly. “It felt right.”
“Do you have any more ‘feelings’ like that?”
“Cider,” he suggests. “Or something like it. Or wine.”
“Because coffee is getting scarce?”
“More because there won’t be any at all in a few years, I feel.” He shrugs. “People will drink something else, but I don’t know what.”
“I’ll have to think about that.”
Another thought strikes him. “Iron … not immediately, but in another few years.”.
“Scarcely anyone uses it here.”
“Other lands will, though.”
Ryalth frowns. “I do know some traders who use the Hamorian Exchanges.”
“I can’t think of anything else. Not now.” He stretches, glancing out to where the sun hangs over the dwellings higher on the hill to the west.
“You still haven’t asked me to meet your parents.” Ryalth offers a half-humorous pout.
Lorn understands it is but half-humorous.
“You’d frighten them-badly.”
That draws a deeper frown from her.
“I mean it. They’d see how much I care. They couldn’t avoid it. They’d also see how capable you are. Neither one could hide knowing that-not from other Magi’i.”
“You’re aiming to become the Majer-Commander, aren’t you? Or trying?”
“It’s been done before,” Lorn replies lightly.
“Except you want me as well. Or do you want me because I can help you?”
“I’ve wanted you from the beginning. I never thought about using you to become a Majer-Commander … or anything else.” He frowns. “I did want you to help me make some coins at first. I have to admit that, but that bothered me.”
“So you gave me the chest out of guilt?”
“Guilt … and love.”
“I don’t think anyone knows you.” Ryalth shakes her head. “Every time I see you, and every scroll you send … there’s always something new, like a gem polished into so many facets that the sparkle doesn’t ever let you see the stone.”
“Do you want to see the stone?”
The redhead nods slowly.
Lorn stands and steps around the low table and takes her in his arms, kissing her, and then lifting her, carrying her to the bedchamber, where he lays her on the deep blue quilt. He lies beside her, holding her, and begins to whisper in her ear, half-nuzzling her as he does.
She listens, then stiffens, her eyes wide, as he adds two more sentences.
After a moment, Ryalth kisses him gently on the cheek, leaning back away from him slightly, before she murmurs in his ear. “Alyiakal must have been one of your ancestors.”
“Not that I know.”
“How could you?” She laughs and rolls away from him. “You said you had to have dinner with Myryan and Ciesrt. It’s getting late, and I wasn’t invited. I’m hungry, and you have to go.” She offers a mischievous smile. “Should I dab you with a little scent?”
“I don’t want to leave you.” He cocks his head to the side,taking in the deep blue eyes. “Actually the scent is a good idea. Ciesrt will tell his sire.”
“Devious-”
Lorn gives a quick headshake as he senses the chill of a screeing glass. He draws her to him, as if passionately.
Her arms go around him, if not in passion, at least in comfort, and they hold each other for a time-until he can sense the chill fading. Slowly, he kisses her cheek, then leans back. “Thank you for understanding.”
“I could almost feel … someone watching ….”
“They were … through a glass.”
Ryalth shivers. “Do all Magi’i live like that? With the knowledge that nothing is private? Nothing secret?”
“Most can’t sense it except faintly. Even my father has to be concentrating.”
“You can sense that? And they wouldn’t let you stay as a magus?”
“Being of the Magi’i isn’t just ability,” Lorn states flatly. “It also has to be the most important aspect of your life. Father’s pointed that out several times, indirectly, since I’ve returned to Cyad.”
In a fluid movement, she rolls away from him and off the bed and to her feet, slipping to the low vanity under the high north window. She opens the chest on the vanity and draws out a vial. “After that, you definitely need some scent.” Her lips quirk in a smile Lorn knows is forced.