Untalented (3 page)

Long after sunset, Saroya hopped off the cart at the head of the track that led back to the Cloister. She thanked the farmer for his time before the wagon lumbered off, the mule eager for dinner. Saroya knew she’d missed hers.

She stopped as she rounded a curve and the lights of the Cloister came into view. The warm glow from the windows reminded her how little time remained to her here. The only home she’d ever known—in less than a month, the Adepts would cast her out.

She approached the door to the room she shared with Nalini, but something felt off. The door was cracked open and the room dark—Nalini still off somewhere for the evening. Probably the library. Saroya smiled. Nalini, guaranteed a spot in the Healer’s Guild at year end, still wasn’t taking any chances. She studied at every opportunity.

Saroya pushed open the door and groped for the nightstand, already rummaging in her pouch for her flint to light the candle. She stubbed her toe on something lying on the floor, stumbled and tripped. “Blast it, Nalini, can’t you stack your books more carefully?” Now she’d have a nice bruise on her shin. Her toe throbbed. She felt her way more carefully to the candle. She lit the taper and tossed her pouch on the bed, turning to get a good look at the room. And cursed again.

This was beyond untidy. Nalini’s side of the room looked reasonable but a herd of unruly pigs might have rampaged around Saroya’s side. The door to her clothes cabinet hung open, clothing strewn everywhere. What a mess!—books scattered willy-nilly and the small pottery vase she’d made at age twelve smashed in pieces on the floor. And there, scrawled in black paint on the wall above the bed: the word “Useless”.

Saroya swallowed. She spotted the wooden box in which she kept her few personal treasures dumped upside down next to her desk chair. She nudged a pillow out of her way and bent to right the box. Nothing tumbled out before the lid clapped down again. Her hand trembled as she opened it.

Gone. Everything was gone. The silver ring, her only real piece of jewelry. The bead necklace Nalini made for her fourteenth birthday. The small stash of coins she’d saved from the meager allowance the Adepts gave her. The eagle feather she’d found three years ago. Even the apple blossom she’d pressed flat when Juren put it in her hair before kissing her on her fifteenth birthday.

She slumped against the chair. The feather was just a sentimental keepsake, but she’d been counting on the money to helped establish herself outside the Cloister. And the ring, the ring! Shoshana Adept showed it to her when she was a young child and let her hold it. “It came from your mother, dear.” Silver with a blue stone, a delicate knot-like pattern etched its circumference. On her twelfth birthday, Shoshana Adept placed it in Saroya’s palm and closed her fingers around it. “You’re old enough to keep it yourself now.” Saroya’s jaw tightened—she’d lost a link to her family. She gritted her teeth. No. Someone stole it.

She collected herself and pressed her fingers against the bottom of the box, feeling for the hidden catch. With a soft thunk, a small latch released and the base came out to reveal a hidden tray. Saroya sighed with relief. She muttered a thank you to the Cloister carpenter who’d built the box as a gift for a lonely little girl.

She brushed her fingers across the piece of parchment that nestled in the compartment. She didn’t lift it out. It was old, and crumbling; she didn’t want to risk damaging it, though she could never forget the words written on it.

Always know you are loved and missed.

When you are ready, search for Veshwa.

Loyal servant of Veyle, she will tell you who you are.

The short letter always left her with mixed feelings. Someone claimed to love her. Then why did they abandon her here? And how was she ever supposed to find this Veshwa? She’d asked around in Adram Vale, but no one had ever heard of such a person. “When you are ready …”

Ready. What a laugh. Saroya snorted. “Guess now’s as good a time to start looking as any,” Saroya muttered to herself. “It’s not like I have any better prospects.” She’d always hoped to surprise her long-lost family, the prodigal daughter returning with a lengthy list of accomplishments under her belt. Now? Maybe Veshwa could help her find work. Then again, she—he?—might be less than happy to find an Untalent on the doorstep. The cryptic note frustrated her, but it was all she had of her family now.

Saroya replaced the base, closed the box, and put it back underneath her bed. She set about righting the mess of her belongings. Hanging a tunic back in the dresser, she heard a floorboard creak, then a gasp.

Nalini stood in the doorway. “What happened here?”

“Someone’s been through my things. It’s all right—they left yours alone.”

“Oh, Saroya, I’m so sorry. We should report this to the doyenne.”

“There’s no point. They’re long gone.”

Nalini frowned. “Someone in the hall might have seen the person come out. I’m going to find an Adept.” She hurried away.

Saroya decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least put away her clothes while waiting. She got them all packed away again, and the bed remade, by the time Nalini returned—alone, and looking angry.

“So?” Saroya asked.

“Ermina Adept said she could do nothing for someone silly enough to leave valuables unlocked in their room.” Nalini frowned. “I did run into Tarmi—he said he thought he saw a stranger leaving the dorm.”

“If that’s true, we’ll never find my stuff.”

“Look at your lute! Why would anybody do something like that?”

The lute she’d never learned to play properly leaned in splinters against her desk, a broken string curled against its neck. Saroya turned her head to hide her incipient tears. “Maybe they did me a favor. Now I don’t have to pick and choose what to bring with me when I leave.”

Nalini looked at the wall with distaste. “I’ll scrub that for you. It makes me so angry just looking at it.” She pulled a package wrapped in cloth from her waist pouch. “Here, I figured you’d miss supper. It’s not much.”

Saroya’s stomach gurgled. She unwrapped the cloth to find a couple of slices of bread and cold meat, with a raw carrot adding a splash of color. “You’re the best.” She tucked into the food.

“How did it go with the village council?”

Saroya chewed her food, buying time. Nalini raised an eyebrow. Saroya sighed.

“I didn’t see the head councilman,” Saroya said.

“Why the blazes not?”

“This horrible woman … She was just awful.”

“Because you’re …?”

“You can’t even say it. Say the blasted word!”

“Fine. Untalented. The council was your best chance, Saroya. You should go back tomorrow.”

 
“No. I’d rather go somewhere nobody knows me and see what happens. Maybe someone in Tarash will take me on as a healer’s assistant.”

“But … you’re not Talented enough—” Nalini bit her lip.

“I might not know as much about healing as you do but I know enough to help people.”

“The things you don’t know could kill people.”

“Thanks for backing me up.”

“I’m just telling you the truth.” Nalini’s worried expression told her just what her friend thought of her plan.
 

Saroya shrugged, and fingered one of the lute’s snapped strings. “I’ll be fine.”

If she said it often enough, she’d start to believe it.

Loric tossed his gloves onto Isolte’s dressing table as he strode past it to the window. Fine as the view of his estate was, he would not be satisfied until his vista opened onto the palace grounds of U’Veyle. He spun around and scowled at his wife.

“My man just returned from Adram Vale,” Loric said.

“And?”

“Several children were abandoned at the Cloister.”

“A pity he could not find out more.” Loric couldn’t resist an enigmatic smile. Isolte’s eyes widened. “You’re hiding something!”

 
“There is a child—a girl. My man found a trinket—one inferring close ties to House Roshan, and thus Padvai. As instructed, he left it there.” Loric held out a rubbing to Isolte. She stared at the inscription. It did mention her maiden House.

Isolte frowned. “Even a bastard won’t force King Urdig to abdicate. He’s too popular.”

“Ah, but if we can shake the Houses’ confidence in his line …”

“That’s not so easily done, Loric.”

“It is if the child is Untalented.”

Isolte gasped. Loric continued.

“Anything implicating Padvai also taints House Roshan’s line, unfortunately for you, my dear.” He paced in front of the fireplace, tapping a cheek with his forefinger.

Isolte lowered her eyes. Loric blamed her for their son’s failure at his first Testing. There was no other explanation, now that the stain of Untalent had shown itself in her family through her sister’s child. He saw her bite back the first retort that came to her lips. Good. Baiting him with his own mistake all those years ago would not serve her cause.

Isolte brushed an imagined crumb from her silks. “Better to get rid of her.”

“So mercenary, Isolte.”

“We need not kill her. Pack her off into indenture somewhere, maybe send her across the ocean to Kurtya.”

“People have a nasty way of popping back onto the scene when you least want them to.”

“But if she dies, Urdig has no heir.”

“Urdig could live for years—years! I have no intention of waiting that long. We need a scandal—soon. To begin with, we will not breathe a word of a child.” Isolte cocked up a questioning eyebrow. “Go to Urdig. Tell him … Say you are concerned about your sister’s legacy.” Loric paced back and forth, growing more excited. “Convince him to establish a trust for training students in their Guilds. In her memory. Her interest in the poor, their education …”

“And we know just the young people to suggest.” Isolte clapped her hands.

“And when they arrive, we’ll have a little surprise for everyone.”

Saroya frowned at the dust cloud on the road far below. The quiet and the view from her secret spot on an outcrop sometimes helped her think, and she needed a bright idea now that she’d spurned the local village council. The cloister and its outbuildings lay small in the valley, the early spring growth on the trees lining its slopes bright green. Burnt sienna roof tiles shimmered beneath a heat haze.

The day fast approached when the Adepts would force her to fend for herself and she still had no idea where to start. She had just ruled out working on one of the neighboring farms when the disturbance on the valley road caught her eye. A farmer heading back home from trading his early spring vegetables with the Adepts stopped his mule team and moved them to the side of the road. Horsemen! The distance hid any identifying characteristics. With a last glance for the party on the road, Saroya pelted back down her short cut through the olive orchard. While the Adepts stayed close-mouthed about their business with visitors, Saroya was an expert at gleaning good gossip from the servants, especially now that they seemed to think she’d joined their ranks.

Saroya dashed into the stable yard, out of breath from the run down the hill. Trotting past the stables, she picked several burrs out of her tunic, hoping to catch a glimpse of the visitors in the courtyard.

“Saroya!”