Troubled Waters (32 page)

Zoe gestured at the table. “Sit! Please! We’ll eat while I regain my balance and you catch me up on everything that has happened to my father’s family while I was in exile.”

Nelson was instantly grave. “I was very sorry to hear about my brother’s death,” he said as the three men settled around the table. “We corresponded frequently while he was out of favor, but I only saw him once every year or so, and that loss cut into me deeply. I missed him.”

Zoe was pouring water into their goblets, so she was able to pretend that all her attention was on this task. Her father had met with Nelson almost every year? Had those visits been part of his infrequent pilgrimages to nearby towns during the times Zoe was not permitted to accompany him? As she had gotten older, she had assumed those journeys involved visits to accommodating women. It had not occurred to her that he had maintained his connection to his family—to Zoe’s family—and had not invited her along.

“I miss him still,” she said, her voice steady. “And yet he was not a perfect man.”

“Far from it,” Nelson agreed. “But then, that describes every Ardelay.”

She smiled at him as she took her seat. “So tell me about the Ardelays,” she invited. “It seems their fortunes ebbed when my father fell into disgrace.”

“They did,” Nelson said. “Though I blame that bitch Christara—”

“Remember your audience,” Kurtis interposed.

“Sorry, Zoe—I blame your grandmother for most of our downfall. She set out to ruin your father, and she did so, but she didn’t care that we came tumbling down after him.”

“You make us sound pathetic and helpless!” Rhan exclaimed. “It is true we lost some properties. And some trade deals. And some allies. But we have not done so badly after all.”

“So? How have you been propping up your fortunes?” Zoe asked as she handed around the first platters.

“Mostly, we invested in land down by the southern coast,” Kurtis answered. “It was land that was bad for farming, bad for mining, bad for
anything
, it seemed, and nobody wanted it. But we’ve built a couple of huge factories there and made a small fortune on manufacturing. We’re so close to the coast we can buy raw materials cheap—and ship out finished products straight from the warehouse.”

“What are you manufacturing?” Zoe asked, nibbling on a crumbling sweetcake.

“Mostly parts for other factories,” Kurtis said with a laugh, taking two small sandwiches. “But the real money is going to be in transportation.”

“Smoker cars,” Rhan said when Zoe looked confused. “We’ve entered into a deal with the Dochenzas—”

“
Very
quietly,” Kurtis interrupted.

“To produce the
elaymotives
that run on their compressed gas. So far, there have only been a couple hundred put together by hand. We can make a thousand in a
year
. It’ll change the way everyone travels.”

“It’ll change the whole economy,” Nelson said. “We’re poised to become very rich.”

“How nice to hear!” Zoe said. “I suppose you don’t need me, then!”

Rhan reached across the table to lay his hand on hers. Again, she felt that recognition singing in her pulse. She liked the sensation so much she didn’t pull away. “Oh, but we
want
you,” he said. “Little cousin Zoe, returned to us at last! Even if you couldn’t haul us back into the king’s good graces, we would be delighted to find you again.”

“But I for one would like to be back in the king’s good graces,” Kurtis said honestly. “If you can figure out a way to make that happen, I would be everlastingly grateful.”

She looked at Nelson, her brows lifted in a question. He shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of food. “I’m getting older,” he said. “I used to relish the battles, even the ones that didn’t result in victory. I just enjoyed the fight. These days it doesn’t matter to me so much who is in power and who has been kicked down the mountain, and arguing takes too much energy. But I would like to see my sons reinstated, and I will do what I can to make that happen.”

She glanced at Kurtis. “Are you next in line to be prime, then?”

“Yes, though I rarely make a decision without Rhan’s input.”

“And do you have families of your own?”

“I have a wife—a
sweela
girl who was not embarrassed to marry a man who is unwelcome at court!—and ten-year-old twins,” Kurtis replied. “Rhan has so far proved impossible to satisfy.”

“Impossible to tame,” his brother said with a grin.

“That’s how you can help us out,” Kurtis said. “Arrange a political marriage for Rhan! Someone from the best family, of course—maybe even one of the princesses—”

“I think they’re all a little young for him,” she said, amused. She thought Kurtis might be in his mid-thirties, Rhan a year or two younger.

“I’m willing to wait. I’m
happy
to wait,” Rhan said. “I’m not so sure that married life is for me.”

“A common Ardelay failing,” Nelson said dryly.

Zoe tilted her head to one side. “What kind of girl do you think you would like?” she asked. “
Hunti?
Fire burns wood, but wood sustains fire—
hunti
matches are always good for Ardelays, aren’t they? I think a
torz
girl would be too dull for you altogether.”

“Earth smothers fire,” Rhan agreed. “Fire irritates earth.”

“Perhaps a
coru
woman,” Nelson suggested. “Fire and water are a powerful combination.”

Kurtis snorted. “Even with Christara dead, I don’t think Lalindars are ready to start marrying their daughters off to Ardelays again.”

Zoe laughed. “And I am hardly in a position to begin matchmaking,” she said. “I will certainly look around and see if any likely candidates present themselves. But first we will consider how respectable we can make you.”

“Yes, let us talk about how to rehabilitate the Ardelays,” Kurtis said.

“Well, you’re here. That’s the first step, as I understand it,” Zoe said.

“Yes, we’re here, and we hope you will join us for dinner on the next firstday,” Kurtis said. “We’ll have a few other friends there—a small gathering—I admit it might not be much fun for you, but it
will
be important for us to show you off. If you will come.”

“I will,” she said.

Rhan hastily swallowed a large bite of curried meat. “Oh, but I know!” he exclaimed. “She can crew the boat with us! For the regatta!
That
would be a mark of high favor, to have the Lalindar prime actually with us
on the water
!”

“Excellent idea!” Kurtis approved. “That is—Zoe—if you will?”

“Can you believe that this is the third time I’ve been asked to sit in someone’s boat?” she asked.

“Of course I’d believe it!” Kurtis replied. “I would think you would be a lucky talisman. Anyone would be glad to have you.”

“Can you actually row?” Rhan demanded. “Or will you be a liability?”

His father and brother exclaimed aloud and demanded he apologize, but Zoe laughed and threw a baked roll at him. “The water loves me,” she said. “I might not be a good oarsman, but I don’t think you’d find my presence a hindrance. Far from it.”

Rhan placed his hand over hers again. He was clearly a flirt, whether the nearest woman was a stranger or a blood relation, but it was rather delightful to be flirted with, Zoe thought. “Then the Ardelays claim you,” he said with a smile. “You can’t turn us away now.”

D
arien Serlast approved the notion of Zoe taking her place in the Ardelay boat when she had a chance to ask him about it the next day. “Though it is a bold step,” he added. “It might raise some eyebrows. But I don’t think it will harm you.”

“I am less worried about harming my own reputation than failing to do the Ardelays any good,” she told him. “I care very little how I am perceived.”

“That’s because there is a natural contrariness to you that seems to have been designed specifically to drive me mad,” Darien replied.

She laughed out loud. “Oh, no, I don’t think of you at all when I am trying to determine my next course of behavior.”

He smiled in return. “I find that I do not believe you,” he replied. “I am convinced you think of me a great deal of the time.”

It annoyed her that this was true, so she snapped, “Only when I’m feeling spiteful.”

His smile widened. “As I said. For I am certain you are feeling spiteful more days than not.”

He made her want to laugh; he made her want to scowl and stomp from the room. Instead, she threw her hands in the air and shook her head and did not reply.

I
t was easy to forget about Darien Serlast a few days later during the rather rambunctious party she attended at her uncle’s house. There were at least a hundred guests present, half of them related to her, all of them loud and outspoken and vying for attention. She couldn’t keep track of the second cousins and third cousins and relations once removed, but every time she touched a hand or submitted to an embrace, she could tell which ones she shared a bloodline with and which ones were tied to the Ardelays by marriage or friendship. She came away from the event feeling suffused with warmth; her cheeks were heated and her blood seemed to pulse with an added exuberance. She was not sure how often she would be able to survive such outings, but she had certainly enjoyed this one.

Seven days after the party, the seasons changed, the year turned over, and the world prepared to celebrate Quinnelay changeday. Zoe couldn’t help thinking about the same holiday last year. Her father had been well enough to observe it with traditional songs and spoken remembrances, though his voice had been weak and his memories had focused on long-ago days. She was just as glad that, for this changeday, she would not have time for the conventional hours of contemplation and review. She would be too busy crewing down the Marisi in the king’s grand regatta.

TWENTY

T
he day of the race dawned very chilly but absolutely clear. Zoe joined the large group of palace residents who were transported to the launch site in a series of
elaymotives
. Over the last nineday, so she had been told, all the racing boats had been hauled to the river’s edge and set in the water. At the same time, pavilions had been constructed along the coast at the end of the course—the wide, turbulent pool where the river gathered its strength for its headlong leap down the face of the mountain. Here, spectators—like Elidon and Romelle and Mirti Serlast—would gather in comfort to cheer on their favorites and award prizes to the winners. As Zoe understood it, audience members outnumbered contestants by about three to one, and the racing field was by no means small. Last year’s event had included twenty-five boats, most of them crewed by three or four people.

Once she arrived at the launch site, she picked her way through the chaos on the riverbank, searching for the boat she would share with Kurtis, Rhan, and Nelson. She was staring the whole time. On this relatively calm, relatively narrow stretch of the Marisi, an entire flotilla lined the southern bank. Most of the vessels were small, efficient, and unadorned, with narrow pointed bows designed to cut cleanly through the water. A few were larger and more elaborate, painted with bright colors and boasting short poles hung with snapping pennants. These, Zoe assumed, were the boats that would carry members of the royal family—as well as trained rivermen to guide the boats through the water.

Despite the raw air and whipping wind, the atmosphere was one of carnival excitement as the participants shouted to each other, readied their craft for racing, and listened to the officials bawling out the final rules: No launching of any craft before the signal was given. No deliberately trying to ram or overturn a competitor’s boat. The winning crew must row
past
the queens’ pavilion. All boats must come to shore on the southern edge of the river, where the water was calmer and workers were in place to help contestants secure their craft. All crew members should know their designated number and be prepared to present it to the judges at the completion of the race.

“There you are,” Rhan said when Zoe finally found the Ardelays, as they were doing a last-minute inspection of their boat. It was small and agile, little more than a metal hull and four benches bolted inside to accommodate passengers. He handed her a white silk vest with a huge numeral embroidered on it in black thread. “We’re lucky number eight. Slip this on so that everyone will be able to recognize us as we cross the finish line.”

“Why do I have to be the one to wear it?” she said, though she quickly tied the strings around her waist.

“Because you are the one who is least likely to have fallen into the water before the race is half over.”

“When do we start?” she asked.

Kurtis nodded toward the riverbank, where the king and four men who looked like professional athletes climbed into the largest of the painted boats. A dark-haired sailor wore a thin vest sporting the numeral one. “Very soon. The king is always the first to board, and then the rest of us follow. After everyone is in the water, we will be signaled to begin.”

There was a short delay while the rest of the racers waited for Seterre, Alys, Josetta, and Corene to settle into their boats, accompanied by more hired men. Once the royal family members were aboard, all the other participants surged toward the riverbank. Zoe clambered aboard her own neat craft, squealing as Nelson’s weight rocked the boat so hard that she thought she would pitch into the water. But quickly enough they were all in place, Rhan in the front, Zoe behind him, and Nelson and Kurtis on the back two benches. The men paddled the boat into the middle of the river, lining up as best they could with the other contestants, using oars and oaths to try to keep in place against the insistent current.

“All contestants not in place at this instant are hereby disqualified!” one of the officials bellowed from the shore. “On the word
now
, you may all begin the race! And I give you—that—word—
now
!”