“Argued like an Archivist,” says Lord Gargaron. “Are you sure you are not the one who should take the examinations, rather than your unseen sister?” Amusement creases his brow, and yet I wonder at the twitch by his left eye: Is he angered by my forthrightness? “These intellectual questions are not mine to decide. I have estates to run and a war to fight. The king recently named me lord governor general of the Eastern Reach. Do you know the intricacies of the eastern command, Captain Esladas?” He nails his gaze onto our father.
Father’s lips crease with a curl of anger, quickly suppressed. “By reputation only, my lord. I have not fought there.”
“No, indeed not. Your talents have for the most part been wasted on the tedious mire of skirmishes in the northeast desert. A shame Lord Ottonor has given you little scope in which to shine so as to burnish your shield of rank.” He sweeps a hand in the half-circle gesture by which Patrons honor the god of Fortune, since what balances atop fortune’s wheel may as quickly fall beneath. “Let me remove myself from this private room, where a man who is no kin of yours cannot be welcome. I was looking for a different sort of chamber.”
Too late, we display our palms and bow our heads in deference to his lordly rank. The lapse makes him smile as he leaves.
“You cannot get out of here quickly enough.” Father takes Amaya’s arm. I grab our satchels. The Junior House Steward stands at attention in the manner of a lowly foot soldier. “Polodos, keep your eyes open to make sure no servant of Lord Gargaron follows you.”
Polodos taps his chest twice. Like soldiers on a fast march we hasten to the shaded area where Lord Ottonor’s servants prepare food and wait to run errands. Coriander is ready to go.
Our chaperone is an elderly Patron woman named Taberta who holds the beads of an ill-wisher. Every well-to-do Patron family with children keeps an ill-wisher to guard its progeny, for such a woman can cast the evil eye onto any person who tries to harm her charges.
Father leaves us with Taberta and hastens back to the balcony and Mother.
Taberta greets us with a nod. Her tongue was cut off on the day the oracles named her as an ill-wisher. She notes Amaya’s tears and lightly taps my arm with her ebony baton. The click-click-click of her ill-wishing beads accompanies us as we emerge into the wide carriage yard. Drivers doze in the shadows of carriages. Our senior groom comes stumbling out of the shade and kicks the driver to wake him up. Both men smell of barley beer.
Taberta clambers up beside the driver, where everyone can see that this carriage must not be molested by beggars, thieves, or hucksters. As I get inside I hear Amaya talking to Polodos before she gets in after me. Once again the bead curtains conceal us. The carriage rolls, the servants walking on foot outside.
Amaya studies me. “You do look a little bit like Mother. It isn’t entirely impossible that a Patron man who wants that kind of thing might look at you.”
“Goodness, Amiable, you truly do hate to admit that any one of us except you might be attractive. No wonder you and Bettany don’t get along.”
“Bettany is Father’s problem, not mine, thank the oracles!”
“Don’t be mean about Bett!”
Amaya has a startling glare when she narrows her eyes to slits. “Bettany makes life hard for herself! Don’t blame me for pointing it out. The person you ought to feel sorry for is Mother but you never do!”
“Father loves her! That’s always been enough for her!”
Amaya shakes her head. “You’re so blind, Jes. When Father’s gone all you think about is the Fives. When he’s home you follow him around like a loyal dog waiting for scraps.”
“I do not!”
She snorts. “You’re the closest thing to a son he has. Don’t you understand why Father doesn’t want a lord talking to you? If your handsome palace-born Lord Kalliarkos informed Father that he wanted you, Father could not refuse. He would have to hand you over! He worries about what will become of the three of you, even Bett! That’s why you ought to do everything you can to help me make an advantageous marriage.”
“Because you are the only one who can hope for a respectable life, as you forever keep reminding us?”
Amaya’s eyes get a droopy look that makes me think I have choked the fragile hope she has nurtured. “I don’t want to live in Father’s house all my life! If I marry well, you can come live with me and sneak out to run the Fives as often as you want.”
“I thought you wanted me to give up the Fives!” I hiss.
“As long as we live in Father’s house, it would be safer if you did.” Her voice rises.