“Where did you get that?” Kihrin’s jaw dropped open. He stared at the transport with undisguised wonder.
Tishar smiled. Her own reaction had been much the same when she had first seen her carriage, over a quarter-century earlier. The carriage was as much jewelry as transport, an artisan crafting of rare dark woods and jeweled accents that left no question of the royal nature of its passengers. The enchantments that magically created a smooth ride over any surface were far costlier than all the gold and precious stones decorating it. Many had offered to buy it over the years, and as many had tried to claim it through machinations.
But it was hers alone.
Hosun had hitched four matching golden horses to the front of the carriage, and sent along not just her usual driver, Sironno, but also a half dozen guards in the House colors to sit on top.
He was feeling protective today. Perhaps he had cause.
“My brother, Pedron, gave it to me,” Tishar said as Sironno held the door open for them both. “Just before he sent me away to marry the Lord Heir D’Evelin.” She nodded to the driver. “Take us to the Octagon. Use the northern route.”
“Yes, my lady.” He bowed to her, and waited until they both sat inside before closing the door.
“Thank you,” Kihrin said, although he was fighting his own distraction as his fingertips lingered over the soft velvet cushions.
“I am curious why you are so eager to go to the slave market. Don’t tell me you want to own one of your own.” She didn’t even try to tone down the disapproval in her voice.
He winced and looked away. The brooding expression on the young man’s face reminded her more than a little of Pedron.
Also of Therin.
“If you’re wondering if you can trust me with whatever secret has you looking so grim,” Tishar said, as Sironno cracked his whip and set the horses out onto the city streets, “the answer is no.”
Kihrin threw her a shocked look.
She continued, “You have no way of knowing who I’ll tell or how I’ll use the information. I can’t provide you with any guarantee worth the breath I’d use to speak it.” She leaned forward. “Nothing is gained without risk, young man. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to take a chance on someone.”
He scowled and stared at his hands. “Maybe none of you are a good choice.”
“Oh, we are a house of serpents, true enough.” Tishar smiled at him. She pulled down the blinds over the windows, habit more than need driving her motions, and activated a lantern of mage-light. “If it’s any consolation, I was married to Pharoes D’Evelin for almost twenty-five years. I outlived him. I outlived our sons. Despite how young I look, I am old and jaded and so very done with games of Empire. It’s not that I can be trusted, as much as it’s unlikely you have anything I want.”
He smiled, although she wasn’t blind to the fact that smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I need to buy a slave Darzin just sent to the Octagon. Her name is Talea.”
“Ah, excellent. Now we have something.” She held up her hands. “Further considerations: you are not legally an adult, my young nephew. Not yet. Not until the New Year’s and your birthday. If we enter the Octagon and you buy this Talea, Darzin may simply claim her again, as he may claim anything you own, for you remain your father’s property.”
His eyes went very wide. Then he closed them and tilted his head back until it hit the back of the carriage. “I’m an idiot.”
“Don’t confuse ignorance with stupidity, young man. You just aren’t used to having a father who doesn’t actually care for your welfare.” She gestured. “My recommendation: don’t try to buy her yourself. Buy her on your grandfather Therin’s behalf. He may be a little irritated to have you making purchases against his credit, but he’ll be willing to work out a repayment plan.”
“That could work.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I have the metal to buy her. That’s not the problem.”
“You must really like this girl.”
Kihrin shook his head. “I’ve never met her.”
Tishar raised her eyebrows and waited for an explanation.
“I knew her sister. Back at the Shattered Veil Club. She was murdered because of me.” He swallowed, looking like he’d just eaten something foul. “I saw Talea as they led her away. He’d just offered me my pick of any of his slaves. I could have chosen her then. But I refused him.” He let out a dark laugh. “He’d have killed her if he’d realized she was important to me.”*
“I applaud your swift adjustment to D’Mon family politics,” Tishar said. “I don’t doubt for one second you’re right.” She made a motion as if saluting him with a phantom wineglass. “I believe that only leaves the matter I came looking for you to discuss in the first place.”
Kihrin blinked. “Wait. You were looking for me?”
“Yes. You see, I wanted to share my secret with you. Do you know how I’ve managed to survive so many years in this city?” She didn’t wait for an answer before pressing on. “It’s because I’ve never forgotten my mother was a slave. If not for my brother’s efforts, I probably would have ended up as one myself.”
He frowned. “Slavery isn’t inherited.”
“No, but why would a slave owner spend money raising a free citizen? Technically only a parent can sell their children, but when the parent is themselves a slave, a great deal of … pressure … can be applied to force their cooperation. A loophole I saw exploited all the time when I shared a roof with House D’Evelin.”
She paused enough to note Kihrin looked sick to his stomach. Not quite as jaded as you thought, are you, young man? “Never forget we’ve built this Empire on the backs of slaves and servants and they are—all of them—disposable. People hate my brother, Pedron, because he tried to overthrow this way of doing things, but I ask you: would that have been so terrible?”
Kihrin swallowed. “He, uh … the wrath of the gods though. The risk of triggering the curse…”
She waved a hand. “He thought he could prevent that. He didn’t think he was an evil man. He thought he was doing what was right—what needed to happen for the good of the Empire. He wanted to fix those things. The tragedy is that he fell in with people who were only too willing to exploit that idealism to obtain the goals they wanted, and then set him up to take the fall should their plans be discovered.”
“You mean he was just a victim in the Affair of the Voices?”
She sighed. “No, probably not. I hold no malice against Therin for doing what he did. If he hadn’t, the gods’ curse would have killed all of us. Sometimes though I cannot help but wonder how it might have gone if Pedron had succeeded. There was so much that he wanted to change, so much that he was powerless to change because of who he was. Who knows how different the world would be now?”