A Brother's Price (14 page)

Jolie Turner laughed, which earned her a hard cuff from her older sister.

‘‘They’re not joking, Jolie,’’ older Turner snapped, and stood. ‘‘My apologies, Captain. We won’t be bothering you again.’’

They watched the Turners make their way back out of the dining room.

‘‘We’re done eating,’’ Eldest announced, although Jerin was the only one finished. ‘‘Let’s go back to the cabins.’’

It was Eldest’s turn to sleep while Captain Tern guarded the door. Eldest went into the cabin, but Jerin held back, pretending to look out over the railing at the moon shimmering on the water, the star-studded sky, and the black ribbon of shore between the two.

‘‘Captain Tern,’’ Jerin whispered so Eldest wouldn’t hear.

‘‘Call me Raven.’’ Captain Tern’s low voice came out of the darkness that cloaked her.

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‘‘Raven, can I ask you a question?’’

Beside him, Raven moved, and he took it to be a nod. Wetting his mouth, he asked quietly, ‘‘Do nobles actually pay as much as four thousand crowns for a brother’s price?’’

‘‘Yes. The princesses paid nearly five thousand for their husband, Lord Keifer.’’

He felt as if Raven had thrust a sword into his chest. His throat constricted around that formless blade.

‘‘Ren—Princesses Rennsellaer and Odelia are married?’’

Raven moved as if startled. ‘‘The prince consort was killed six years ago! Enemies of the crown had filled the basement of Durham Theater with gunpowder and set it off while the royal family were attending a play.’’

He turned away, ashamed that Raven might see the relief in his face even in the dark.
Horrible man
, he thought.
Her family dead, and you’re relieved. You know
she’s too far above you. You’re only landed gentry. Your
grandmothers were thieves, spies, common line soldiers,
and kidnappers.

‘‘Master Whistler?’’ Raven touched his shoulder, then quickly took her hand away. ‘‘I thought you knew. Half the royal princesses were killed. It was all anyone would talk about for months. It was on the front page of all—’’

She cut her sentence short as she remembered the normal limits placed on his sex. ‘‘As a man, you couldn’t have read the papers. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider.’’

‘‘I was only ten.’’ Back then all he wanted to read from the newspapers were the serial stories—adventures of steamboat captains, river pirates, and card sharks.

‘‘My family might have told me, but it would have mattered little to me. Children are so self-centered.’’

‘‘Some adults too,’’ Raven added quietly. Jerin glanced at her, wondering if she meant him. As if sensing his expression, she said, ‘‘No, not you. You strike me as bravely selfless. Your family is putting you in a difficult position, and yet you’re not complaining.’’

‘‘If I knew they were wrong, I’d complain,’’ Jerin said.
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‘‘Their reasoning, though, seems sound. One of our neighbors might be able to afford a brother’s price of two thousand. Surely a noble could afford twice that. One hears how wealthy the nobility are. Their estates encompass over a hundred thousand acres. Their houses contain ballrooms, gaslights, and indoor necessities. They eat fresh fruit in the winter off of plates made of gold.’’

Jerin reached out and caught Raven’s wrist. ‘‘Is it true? Are they that rich? Is there a hope that my family can get the price they want? The price they need?’’

‘‘Some noble families are richer than you can ever imagine, little one,’’ Raven said. ‘‘Some are poorer than your family. Some of them will look at you and see what a good, beautiful young man you are. Some will only see you as the grandson of common line soldiers. There will be families where the Eldest is free to choose any man she desires, and in other families the mothers will have to approve of you first.’’

‘‘So it’s all ‘maybe’ and ‘it depends.’ ’’

‘‘Yes.’’

Jerin let go of her wrist, knowing she told him the truth, wishing she had lied. ‘‘A simple ‘yes’ would have been kinder.’’

‘‘No, it wouldn’t have,’’ Raven said. ‘‘Much rides on how you and your family present yourself. To get what you want, you can’t be careless in your actions.’’

‘‘I see.’’

They stood in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts, as the dark river murmured far below.

‘‘Tell me,’’ Raven said after a few minutes, ‘‘what does your family mean when they say ‘a shining coin’?’’

‘‘It’s a long story.’’

‘‘We have time.’’

‘‘My great-great-grandmothers were first-generation line soldiers. We don’t know what drove them to enlist. Maybe it was that or starve.’’

‘‘For many it is.’’

‘‘They won their way into the Order of the Sword, giv-
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ing them access to the military cribs. Many families chose only one man to father all their children, to maintain the illusion of normalcy, I guess. My great-great-grandmothers hadn’t, and it showed. My great-grandmothers were a very motley crew.’’

Raven rubbed the Order of the Sword tattoo on the back on her hand. ‘‘It sounds like me and my sisters.’’

‘‘Their mutt breeding, though, was what saved them. Apparently just looking at them lined up at the courtmartial inspired the judges to believe my greatgrandmother Elder acted alone when she committed treason.’’

Raven laughed softly.

‘‘Still, they were discharged, stripped of pensions, and all their daughters were barred from service. They didn’t know anything but soldiering, and they started to starve to death. Grandma Tea ended up in charge of the family, and she managed to force the Sisters of the Night to take them in, train them as thieves, but she wasn’t happy. No retirement, no pension, no crib, no future except to dance at the end of a rope.’’

‘‘They still tell stories of Tea Whistler. She was a force to be reckoned with.’’

‘‘One day, all the luck of the Whistlers changed. Grandma Tea had gone to her Mother Elder’s grave and made a bargain with her.’’

Raven snorted but said nothing.

‘‘She told her mother that she didn’t blame her for what she had done—being a soldier of the line wasn’t a wonderful thing. Tea’s mothers had no husband of their own, lost sisters to diseases caught in the crib, lost sisters for causes they didn’t understand, and lost daughters to the wet and cold and hardship of following the drum. It was a slow and steady grind. Many think it is taking them uphill when it is only wearing them down.’’

‘‘Unless a sister makes it to officer grade, yes, the army eats families.’’

‘‘Grandmother Tea recognized that her Mother Elder
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had made a desperate gamble to better their lot, and lost—she grabbed for a coin tossed in the air and missed. If she had caught the coin, her sisters and daughters would have praised her. Instead they cursed her name and spit on her memory.

‘‘So Grandmother Tea made a bargain. She needed an opportunity, that golden moment, where playing loose and wild and reckless, like her Mother Elder had, gave her the slimmest chance to win. She pledged that if her mother gave her the opportunity, just set the coin flying into the air, even if she didn’t catch it, they’d honor her memory.’’

Raven shook her head. ‘‘And she got a shining coin?’’

Jerin nodded. ‘‘The day she was caught while thieving by Wellsbury. She convinced the general that trained thieves would make excellent spies. That led to being knighted and given the farm, and kidnapping Grandpa. Our family hasn’t been poor and starving since then.’’

Eldest was still awake when he came into their cabin. He should have known that she wouldn’t sleep until he was safe in the room. She sat cross-legged on her bed, cleaning her revolvers.

‘‘Be sure to secure the door,’’ she said without looking up. The shutter on the cabin window was already latched and a piece of lumber wedged in the frame to reinforce the shutter.

Jerin locked the door and then propped the cabin’s chair under the door handle. He wondered how much of his conversation with Captain Tern Eldest had heard. He felt vaguely guilty about talking to someone outside the family about his fears—but none of his sisters could have answered his questions about nobility. What Captain Tern told him, however, hadn’t settled his fears. He changed into his sleeping shirt, and then sat on his bed, chin on his knees.

Eldest eyed him, reloading her revolvers without looking. ‘‘What’s wrong, Jerin?’’

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‘‘I’m worried,’’ he whispered. ‘‘What if we don’t get more than two thousand for me? What are we going to do?’’

‘‘Don’t worry.’’ She spun the cylinder on each gun, double-checking she had a full load. ‘‘If things come to worse, we could sell futures on Doric’s brother price.’’

‘‘Futures?’’ Jerin asked.

‘‘Like grain futures.’’ Eldest slid her pistols into their holster, hanging from her headboard. ‘‘A lot of farmers sell their crops in the summer at a set price before the harvest. It helps them tide money over, but it’s risky. Basically, it’s a loan, and you put your farm up as collateral on the loan. People that don’t look at it as a loan usually lose the family farm.’’

Jerin picked nervously at his sheets. ‘‘What if the market price of your crops goes higher than the set price?’’

‘‘That’s what the women that bought your crop are hoping for,’’ Eldest said. ‘‘You don’t see the profit; they do. That’s why the Whistlers don’t sell futures. We don’t work to make other people rich.’’

‘‘Why don’t you use my brother’s price?’’ Jerin asked. Eldest smiled, and hugged him suddenly. ‘‘Because I want a husband, silly, not the money.’’

Three days later they arrived at Mayfair. The city seemed to go on forever, stunning even his sisters into silence. Eldest took firm hold of his arm with her left hand, keeping her right free to draw a gun, and didn’t let go.

‘‘Stay here.’’ Raven went down the canted stage to the crowded landing. The ship’s calliope started up, drowning out all normal levels of conversation with bright loud music. Jerin watched the captain’s broad back as she pushed through the milling crowds. Partway to the cobbled street, an odd thing happened. A woman in a wide-brimmed hat coming down the street glanced at Raven as they passed each other. The stranger started
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as if recognizing the captain, then ducked her face away. Raven, intent on the wagon, seemed not to notice.

‘‘Did you see that?’’ Jerin shouted at Eldest, standing beside him, as he kept watch on the mystery woman. The woman had turned to watch Raven’s retreating back, and Jerin had a momentary stab of fear for the captain.

‘‘What?’’

‘‘The woman. Did you see her?’’ Jerin pointed at the only figure that seemed to be standing still in the crowd.

‘‘I can’t hear what you’re saying, Jerin! Who do you see?’’

He took his eyes away only for a moment, to turn and shout into Eldest’s ear. ‘‘That woman is acting oddly.’’

‘‘Which one?’’

He glanced back, and found her gone. ‘‘She’s gone now.’’

Eldest scanned the crowd. ‘‘Was she armed?’’

He shook his head, and shouted back, ‘‘I don’t know!’’

‘‘Here comes Raven!’’ Eldest pointed out the captain. Raven waded back through the crowd, signaling that they were to join her. Eldest took his arm above the elbow to escort him down the stage. Raven met them at the foot.

‘‘I’ve got a hackney hired,’’ Raven shouted to Eldest.

‘‘Take Jerin over and I’ll bring the luggage.’’

Eldest nodded, not bothering to shout back. Eldest turned, apparently spotted Corelle and Summer, and flashed hand signals for them to get the gear and follow.

‘‘We’ll get your stuff loaded and go straight up to the palace,’’ Raven told Jerin, pointing.

Jerin gasped. The city ran back to sandstone cliffs, which leaped skyward in walls of rich tan. Crowning the bluffs, with windows glistening like diamonds, sat an immense building. It was an architectural sprawl of turrets and wings, gables and dormers, slate roofs and copper cladding, gray stone veiled with ivy, and windows—

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hundreds and thousands of mullioned windows. Too huge, too impressive, too noble to be anything but the royal palace.

‘‘I’ve never seen anything so big,’’ Jerin breathed. His words fell in a moment of silence as the calliope paused between songs.

‘‘It’s where you’ll be living for—for the next few weeks,’’ Raven said, then patted him on the shoulder.

‘‘Go on to the hackney. You can gawk through the window.’’

He and Eldest pushed their way through the crowd to the closed carriage. While he climbed into the hackney, Eldest waited outside for Summer and Corelle to catch up. He scooted across the battered horsehair-stuffed seat to stare up at the palace. Ren and Odelia’s home. He remembered Ren, standing in the Whistlers’ kitchen, watching him cook. How poor and lowborn he must have seemed to her.

He was aware of someone staring at him, and he looked down.

The young woman with the wide-brimmed hat stood before him, shielded from Eldest and the others by the hackney. She looked at him with neither envy nor the open speculation that he had grown used to during the trip, that ‘‘I wish I had him’’ or ‘‘Can I get him without being caught?’’ She seemed, instead, stunned by some surprising news.

Jerin gazed at her, wondering why she sought him out, what was so surprising about himself. He could find nothing familiar about her face, no hint that he might have known her long ago. True, the silvery line of a scar ran from the corner of her left eye down the line of her chin to the edge of her mouth. The skin lay smooth; the healing had been perfect despite the fact she had nearly lost her left eye with the wound. The scar, thus, did not disfigure her beyond recognition.

In fact, he would not say it disfigured her at all. At one time, her face had been a harvested field under a
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winter sky: barren of good features, containing no bad. Plain. Neither beautiful nor ugly. It had existed. The scar gave her plainness character, like a thick choker, or a large bold earring. It spoke to Jerin of strength and determination.