“I’m fine, of course I—” I stopped myself. There were no blithe assumptions that anyone was all right, not now. “And you?”
Her jaw settled into a hard line, and she glanced around the bright shop. “I’m taking my break,” she said loudly. A man in a red cap nodded, his lips curled under in a perpetual scowl that might have been habit or might have been an old injury.
I followed her outside into the chilly sunshine. “It’s a cold winter this year.” She clapped her hands together and then wrapped them in her apron. “I ought to have taken my cloak but no bother about that now.”
“You don’t want to speak in front of them?”
“They’re loyal to Niko Otni, to a fault.”
“Has Niko—or these men—treated you badly?”
“Not just me. We’re still required to work for the army if we want to eat—at least, if we want a share of the food Niko confiscated. When we were under siege, it made sense. Now?” Her exhale was a stream of white. “Now people need to go back to tending their families and trying to get their businesses running again. Those of us who can’t fight he gives half rations even though we work twice as hard. No work, no rations. My mum and I are sharing mine.”
“I didn’t realize—I’ll make sure this is addressed right away.”
She nodded, as though she didn’t believe this was possible. “Well, frankly, Niko has no right to be in charge of all of us any longer.”
“Only if he’s chosen by the council as one of the governors.”
“And if he’s not? Some of these lads won’t take to that easily.” She pursed her lips. “They’re set against Theodor ruling, in any way.”
“So is he, I would say.” I began to laugh, but it died on my lips.
“I hope it’s that easy.” Alice shook her head, her cheeks reddening in the chill of the wind. “But it isn’t just Theodor. It’s all the nobles. They’re—the Red Caps won’t be happy if the nobles aren’t routed out of Galitha completely.”
“I don’t think,” I said deliberately, “that anyone will be completely happy with the decisions that stand. That’s how we’ll know we have a good compromise.”
Alice essayed a smile. “That sounds about right.”
“Where are the others—Emmi?”
Alice’s face drew taut. “Emmi is working in the hospital. Any Pellian who can charm cast was summoned there, under no uncertain terms.”
“To cast charms for the patients?”
“Otni heard that you had some luck doing so down south.”
“Yes, but—” I sighed. “I had different methods.”
“The Pellian methods won’t work?” Alice sighed. “Poor Emmi, working all that time for no reason.”
“It should work, but I can do better,” I said. “And I’ll see you soon.”
Evening was already falling, so I hurried home instead of to the hospital, feeling a bit chagrined that I hadn’t thought to go there first and see what I could offer. Everyone I thought of clamored for my help, for my hands and eyes and, often, magic. They hung from me like weights. I shook my head—no, I was lucky. I could help, I could give more of myself. Unlike so many in this city, I hadn’t lost everything.
Theodor’s old townhouse had survived the worst of the barrage, and he and I, along with my brother, Sianh, Annette, and Viola, took up lodging there. Any intention of moving into separate houses had never been mentioned; we gravitated without needing to say anything toward one another. I lifted the latch and found everyone already gathered in the parlor, warming themselves by a roaring fire in an otherwise sparse room. Much of the furniture had been taken in Theodor’s absence, but we contented ourselves with pillows and bolsters on the floor as though we were in a Serafan reception room.
“There is no other way,” Kristos said. “We have to requisition the noble wealth if we’re to allow the people to recover. If,” he added with emphasis, “we are to take away Otni’s stranglehold on the food and supplies in this city.”
“As long as his Red Caps control the storehouses, we can’t very well expect fair governance,” Theodor agreed.
“Why can’t the council just order him to give them up?”
Theodor sighed. “Gentleman’s agreement. Well, as gentlemanly as Otni can be. We did form a government without his input, as we were forced to, under the pressures of war. He stockpiled and controlled supplies, under pressures much the same. So we rather grandfathered in both systems with the understanding we won’t revolt against one another. Eventually—soon—we’ll get rid of the storehouse system and Galitha City will get seats on the council.”
“Lovely,” Annette said. She twirled a pocket watch on its chain between her fingers. “So what now—you requisition noble lands, money, silk, and gold? Viola won’t be keen on giving up her jewelry.”
Viola laughed and snatched the watch from Annette. “If it means knocking that smug look off Niko Otni’s face, it’s worth it. I won’t repeat what he said when I installed those portraits of you four in the council chambers.”
“He can eat his shoe,” Kristos said. “Those were most excellent portraits. And we’re not brutes. We’d requisition land and bank assets only. Wouldn’t dream of taking their personal effects. It would flood the pawnbrokers’ market with ugly suits and gaudy jewelry, anyway.”
“There’s simply no other way,” Theodor said reluctantly. “Not only for ending Niko’s stranglehold on our goods here, but we can’t allow the nobility to retain the means of production—the means of wealth, really—and expect any sort of democratic system to work. But…”
“But taking it from them will certainly cause some strife as they’ve no real means of livelihood,” Kristos filled in, not bothering to wait for him to complete the thought. “We’ve been over it before. I’m not sure, frankly, that I care about their pedestrian difficulties, but what do you propose?”
Theodor sighed. “I don’t know—perhaps let them keep their homes and some pittance of acreage—fifty, perhaps?”
“Fifty acres is more than anyone else would have,” Kristos retorted.
“And it wouldn’t take long for them to buy up neighboring acreage,” I added. “If they have the means to build their estates back to what they were, soon we’re in the same mess as before.”
“I know!” Theodor spat. “I know. I just…”
“You don’t want to imagine your family home overrun by peasants?” Kristos asked blandly.
Theodor’s mouth went taut. “I said no such thing. Galatine Divine. I never even expected to see the place again.” His eyes closed, briefly—leaving Rock’s Ford and Westland Hall meant he might never set foot in his childhood home again. I knew he felt that pain deeply, even if he didn’t say anything about it.
Especially now, with the trials concluded. His father, Pommerly, and Merhaven were all sentenced to hang, alongside most of the noble officers. Polly was spared the noose but exiled from Galitha.