“You’re welcome,” I offered to her silence.
Her mouth twitched, but whether she suppressed a smile or a further insult, I couldn’t tell. She raised her chin and crossed her legs, spine straight, watching me without apprehension.
“Your message?” I tried again.
“It is not mine,” she said, not hiding her resentment. “My mother’s. She was too afraid to come out, but she would not be talked out of this madness.”
My heart beat faster, pumping in my ears like a drum. “What’s your mother’s message, then?”
“She wants to meet with you,” she said, the set of her jaw making it clear how she felt about this idea. “She thinks you and the Chancellor might listen to her about why our people have risen against this broken city of lies.”
“And you disagree.”
“Yes!” Her eyes flashed. “The Council betrayed us. You all did. And now you are getting what you deserve. Ruin.”
“So why deliver the message?”
She shrugged. “I love my mother. Would you disrespect yours so?”
My throat tightened. “I don’t even know if my mother’s still alive,” I told her. “We’re in a bloody siege, and she’s out there somewhere. And someone in here killed my Tashi, so frankly I don’t have that many people left to disrespect.”
At that she did drop her gaze. “Spirits protect them.”
We both fell silent, the momentary drop in hostility making it suddenly, intensely, uncomfortable. I took a step backward, gesturing for her to stand. She rose in a single, graceful movement, and covered her hair and clothes again. “I will take you to her,” she said.
“I don’t think so.” Perhaps she didn’t intend to attack me herself, but I would not be so foolish as to put myself at the mercy of a people who viewed us as responsible for some great ill. “We can meet at my apartments.”
“Ha! Do you know what would happen to my family if it was discovered we talked to you?” She folded her arms and looked me over, her superior height allowing her an imperious air. “It was enough risk for me to leave you a message.”
I nodded slowly. “We showed … Someone saw it, and they said whoever left it was a traitor.”
“Many would regard us as traitors for seeking a peaceful meeting with you.” She tightened her arms across her chest. “Who did you show? That was a private message for you alone. Can we not even trust you not to—”
“Well it wasn’t a terribly clear message, was it?” I snapped back. “You could have left a note.”
She scoffed. “And what would I have put in it? My handprint?” She shook her head at my slow understanding. “You assume everyone has the luxuries you enjoy, or do you just not care to think about it?”
My face grew hot. We knew the capital had ceased to oversee the regional schools, but honor-down, were there even schools anymore? Surely things couldn’t have gotten so bad that country children weren’t being taught to read and write?
“You must have been here for weeks,” I said, suddenly wary. “And you’ve been watching me. Why haven’t you come forward before now?”
“We came to see the Chancellor, not you.” She looked away. “My mother had met him, some time ago, and for some reason believed he could be trusted. She is very trusting, my mother. And we have my young brother to think of.” She gave me a fierce look, and I felt a sudden strange kinship with her. I knew too well what it was like to protect a person like that. “You and your friend are the men who seized power after he died so mysteriously. I did not want my mother approaching you until I had a sense of who you were. Now. Will you meet with her, or not?”
I searched her defiant face, and found some comfort in her open hostility. “Not my house, then. But not the caves, either. If your people think your family are traitors for speaking to me, I’m not going in any dark spaces with them lurking about. We’ll meet somewhere we’re all safe.”
* * *
“I don’t think they’re coming.” My compulsions grew the longer we waited. I had let myself get too invested, too excited at the prospect of uncovering the missing parts of the puzzle. But now, here we were, waiting before dawn in a deserted old gazebo in a garden we’d once favored for games of Muse, running out of time and hope that this Darfri family would turn up, while also fearing we were being deceived yet again. Imaginative disastrous scenarios swam around my brain, over and over, until my head felt as if it would burst from the effort of keeping my thoughts straight.
Tain sat, composed, on the spindly old iron seat running the circumference of the gazebo, seemingly unfazed by the lateness. I wished I shared his optimism. Risking him on a meeting that could be a trap was stupid, but once I’d told him about it there was no talking him out of it. We had snuck out without his guards, telling only Argo that we were leaving. Kalina, hidden away in an abandoned shop across the street from the entrance to the garden, would provide our only warning of impending trouble. She had expanded my hidden pouch with new slots and flaps, and now it comprised a miniature arsenal of chemicals and poisons.
“They’ll come,” he said. “They have to.” He knew better than to tell me to calm down, or sit. We each dealt with the wait in our own way.
They appeared so quietly that they nearly reached the gazebo before we spotted them. My messenger from earlier led the way, garbed in her dull cloak, pushing past hanging lacy vines and graying tendrils, scattering silver clouds of insects. She entered the gazebo with a glance at me that, while not quite a glare, was by no means friendly. Behind her glided an older woman who smiled at the sight of us—tentative, but warm. Clutching her hand, a boy of perhaps three or four stared up at me with eyes like little lamps beneath brown curls like his mother’s.
“Thank you for coming,” Tain was already saying. “My name is Tain Caslavtash Iliri. I hope you don’t mind Jovan bringing me, but I wanted desperately to meet with you.”
I watched their reactions, hoping Tain’s sincerity reached them. So much rode on this meeting. The mother lowered her head while the boy pressed against her leg, silent. My messenger tilted her head with enough respect to avoid outright rudeness, but cynicism radiated off her like an unsubtle perfume.
“My name is An-Salvea esLosi,” the mother said, the syllables dripping like honey in her low, melodic voice. “It is a great honor to meet you, Honored Chancellor, Credo Jovan.” She gestured to the boy at her feet. “This is my son, Il-Davior, and my daughter, An-Hadrea, whom I understand Credo Jovan has already met.” Like her daughter, she spoke slowly and with great formality and pride.
“A pleasure to see you again,” I said to An-Hadrea, noting the furtive glance she gave her mother, which told me she’d not described the nature of our meeting. I handed the necklace she had left at the door to her, and she snatched it from my hand, quick as a snake striking. “And a pleasure to meet you, An-Salvea, Il-Davior. Your family is from the Losi valley?”
An-Salvea nodded, her smile showing surprise. I only knew the country surname convention because my mother had introduced an assistant who accompanied her to Silasta years ago, and had explained it. “Please, you must call me Salvea.” She ducked her head to Tain. “May I sit?”