And of course the Industrialists had selfish reasons too; they were just slightly more honest about it. Slightly. They argued that the rest of Torla was growing mechanized while Winterkeep was left behind. In another twenty years, how would Winterkeep compete? What about the poor Keepish farmers who could increase their productivity with zilfium plows? What about the poor Keepish fishers who could trawl more with zilfium-driven boats? But the truth was that Industrialist families like the Balavas, or like Lovisa’s own father, wanted zilfium boats for themselves. They were shippers, and an exciting new continent full of people eager to buy things existed to the west.
Self-interest, self-interest. It was probably why there were no political fights between her parents at home: They had no real political differences, just varying opinions on how to make the most money. Lovisa had a perfect understanding of Ledra politics. And one day before too long, she would graduate from the academy, then be expected to choose a party and an industry. Whatever she chose would become her identity, for the rest of her life.
Suddenly Lovisa couldn’t bear it. No wonder Katu was always leaving! What if she went to the Royal Continent, where politics were surely no less corrupt, but at least they were simpler, because one person’s greed decided everything for everybody? And more importantly, where she knew no one, and could do what she wanted. She could be like Katu, sweeping into a place, sweeping out again when she chose.
And then her mind returned to her own home, her brothers. She couldn’t leave them, could she? Especially with the recent list of small, odd things that were happening, none of which would be so noteworthy on its own, but that, together, left her with a suspicious feeling. The air at home tasted wrong.
Lovisa decided that before she went anywhere, she would find out what Benni was keeping in the attic room.
Chapter Eighteen
After Giddon finished his morning ritual of tears, he forced himself up.
Cobal, he thought, the Estillan envoy who antagonized us.
Katu, who is missing.
A disturbance in the water, reported by silbercows, below a many-windowed house on a cliff.
Mikka and Brek, drowned in the sea.
These are the mysteries I’m going to solve, he thought to himself, for Bitterblue.
The morning after the Cavenda dinner party, Giddon found Quona alone at breakfast, or at any rate, as alone as a person could be in a room swarming with cats. At a quick glance, Giddon, who sneezed as he sat down, counted seven.
“What are you and Hava planning to do today?” Quona asked him pleasantly.
Giddon and Hava hadn’t discussed any particular plan yet for today, for they’d walked home last night in seething silence. Hava, furious at Giddon for physically restraining her, had ignored every attempt Giddon had made to talk. Hava hated to be overpowered, especially by men. Giddon knew that. But she’d been about to attack a teenager! And they had a job, an agenda, and it was secret. They couldn’t be drawing that kind of attention to themselves!
“We thought we’d go to the harbor and check in on our crew,” Giddon said, improvising. In fact, he did want to go to the harbor, but to talk to the boating company that had leased the Seashell to Mikka and Brek.
“Good man,” said Quona. “I’m going north today. I may be gone overnight.”
“Oh?” said Giddon. “What’s in the north?”
“My family has property,” she said. “A house and a hangar. We like to check on it now and then. It’s my turn.”
“I see,” said Giddon, then, as Quona stood abruptly, added, “Well, have a nice day.”
“You too. My staff will care for your needs,” Quona said, sweeping out of the room with two cats nestled in her arms.
Froggatt came in next, sat down, and informed Giddon that he, Barra, and Coran intended to travel to Kamassar.
“It was part of the queen’s original plan for us,” Froggatt said. “We may as well proceed. She’d hoped to establish a Monsean envoy there, in time.”
“All right,” said Giddon, who didn’t care what the advisers did, but still felt oddly sad at the fracturing of the group.
“I hope that when we return, Giddon,” said Froggatt stiffly, “it won’t be to the news that you’ve done anything that would have embarrassed the queen.”
And now Giddon was much less sorry to see Froggatt go. Bitterblue’s advisers had never wanted Giddon on this trip. They’d never, not once, understood or appreciated his value to her, nor Bitterblue’s delicate and courageous relationship with the Council.
“You mean embarrassed you,” he said, then stood and left the table, though not as dramatically as he’d have liked, given that first he had to disengage his foot gently from that pale gray cat, who seemed to find his left boot irresistible. “Sorry,” he said with his head under the table, then told Froggatt in a chilly voice, “I was apologizing to the cat, not you.” The whole exchange lacked dignity.
Mere seconds after he’d returned to his room, Hava knocked on his door.
He was still flustered. “Hello,” he said cautiously as she entered.
Hava stared at him with an implacable expression, but he knew it wasn’t her real expression. She was changing her face. He decided not to comment on it.
“I think we should go to the harbor,” she said. “See if anyone knows anything relevant about the day the Seashell went down.”
“Yes, good idea,” said Giddon. “In fact, I told Quona we were going to the harbor today.”
“Without asking me if I wanted to go to the harbor?”
“You literally just said you did.”
Hava snorted. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.”
* * *
—
As they walked along the path that led past the Cliff Farm, Giddon tried to decide what, if anything, to say to her about last night. When Hava had run at Lovisa, she’d lost not just her temper, but her judgment. It was unusual for her. Startled, Giddon had done what he did with any friend who surged off meaning to hurt someone: He’d grabbed her, held her, forced her to slow down. He would do the same thing again.
But she’d lashed out with words that had hurt, because they’d been a version of the truth. “So nice to be big,” she’d said. “It gets you whatever you want, doesn’t it? What a hero you are, Giddon. Sanctimonious. Righteous. Superior. Get your hands off me!”
Was there something he should say now? Should he apologize? Should she apologize? Where was the line between bullying Hava and consenting to be emotionally bullied by her?
I think it’s a moving line, Bitterblue said to him as he walked. It’s complicated by your ages, positions, and histories, and the fact that you’re a man. She’s right that your size is an unfair advantage. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t ever use it.