It’s too deep for me to reach but not too deep to let me see that one end has been pried or kicked open, the lid lying on the bottom. A school of fish swims out of the barrel. There’s nothing inside.
My lungs are burning. I claw for the surface and barely get my nose above water before my mouth gasps open and I swallow a mouthful of salt water. Retching, I flounder, then spit the worst of the nasty taste out and tread water.
Ro’s dark head breaches next to me. Water streams down his face.
“It really was set up so he could kick it open,” he says. “Just in case you doubted me.”
“But he never came to meet me.” I watch his face. “Do you know where he is?”
“Poet’s truth, Jessamy. I don’t know. I saw him for the last time the same as you. He made me promise not to ask or to interfere. I wondered what he would choose, and I still wonder.”
“Why?”
“Because he told me he thought it would be better for you if he died.”
“He doesn’t get to make that choice on my behalf!”
I swim back to the boat and let his friends help me onboard. The sun overhead blinds me so I have to blink constantly. When we get to shore I refuse a ride. At first I drip with each step like grief leaking from my flesh, but by the time I reach the queen’s palace my short keldi and vest have dried. I feel so salt crusted and slimy that I decide to bathe.
As I’m washing, Amaya comes into the bathing courtyard with a folded sheath dress.
“Thank the gods. You really reeked, Jes, even if Mother is too kind to say so. I’m surprised Ro didn’t choke. Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
She considers this statement and, to my disappointment, does not make a witty and annoying retort. “The clothing is for you.”
After I dress in the soft, clean linen, she sits me in the shade and works through my hair until it is presentable.
“Let’s go to the Ribbon Market. It’s close by.”
“Is it open?”
“Of course it is open. Commerce never ceases.”
“Where is Maraya?”
She gives me a look of surprise.
“What was that for?” I demand.
“It’s just the first time you’ve shown interest in anyone in ten days. We’ll go see her before the market.”
“What about my dirty clothes?”
“You can wash them later.”
“I thought you would have an army of laundresses and seamstresses at your beck and call.”
“Mother has gotten so particular about how we behave. She’s worse than Father ever was.…” She gulps, breaks off, and hugs me. We stand unmoving and I am so grateful for her presence. The seawall in my heart is starting to crack.
“It hurts so much,” I whisper.
“I know. Just take it one obstacle at a time.”
I push her away, wiping my eyes. “When did you start using Fives comparisons?”
“I use the language I must to get through to you. You really scared us, Jes.”
She takes my hand and leads me to an airy room crammed with writing desks. Maraya is seated amid a squad of busy clerks, all copying. The crow boy stands at a table where his birds hop amid scrolls held flat; I think he’s practicing reading through their eyes.
When Maraya sees me she gets up and waddles over before I can reach her, and she too crushes me against her or tries to, given her belly.
“Are you ever going to have that baby?”
“I’m glad to see you up and about, Jes.” She kisses my cheek.
“We are going to the Ribbon Market,” adds Amaya in her chirpiest voice, the one that irritates me most.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Maraya.
“I’m having all the most important documents we took from the Inkos temple copied. Then no one can lose or hide them.”
“I thought you would be studying to take the Archives exam.”
“Maybe.” She leans against me and whispers, “But I’m thinking we must create our own Archives. Think of it. The magic the priests kept hidden is now ours to study and learn. Because I have to wonder how much of it was stolen from what our ancestors already knew.”
“If you want it, it’s yours to uncover. I think it’s horrible.”
She sees me hesitate and sets me at arm’s length. “What is it?”
“Is there any way… I could see Father’s spider?”
She and Amaya exchange frowning glances. “So many scouts left the army that they’ve had to start with fresh recruits. All the spiders are in training with the army.”
I smile sadly. “That’s all right. It’s where he would have wanted to be.”
She gives me a tender sisterly embrace and sends me and Amaya on our way.
Not many customers browse the Ribbon Market although the merchandise of masks and ribbons hasn’t changed. Amaya tugs me impatiently along the stairs and aisles, not pausing to shop, for which I am thankful. Even so I am surprised when we halt by a stall and find Denya sitting on a pillow. She is embroidering on silk next to an Efean woman with a vaguely familiar face who embroiders as well, pausing now and again to give Denya pointers.
Amaya gives Denya a kiss, and Denya gives me a shy smile.
“How goes business, Honored Lady?” Amaya asks the Efean woman.
“Not many sales but more people are coming by to look over our product, what with the new year coming up. Denya’s work is very good. She’s the most adept pupil I’ve ever had. I thank you for bringing her to me for instruction.”
Amaya glows. I wonder if she will take up Ro’s offer. She has the gift for the stage, and no one to forbid it as improper for girls like us.
The embroiderer goes on. “I hear at the new year there will be a mask procession down to the harbor, as some say was the tradition in the old days to welcome in the new moon and the rising sun. That will be good for business!” Her gaze flicks to me. A curl of disdain darkens her face, but she smooths it away as she smiles at Amaya again. Then I realize she is the woman who spit to insult me, that day so long ago when Kal followed me to the Ribbon Market to ask me where I trained for the Fives. I guess some things haven’t changed.
A weight shifts in my heart.
He isn’t dead. He kicked out of the barrel. He chose to live.
“I can manage, knowing that,” I say aloud, and Amaya gives me a quizzical look. “He has to find his own way when for all his life he was told what path was ordained for him.”
She takes my hand and studies me for the longest time, until I start shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Let’s go buy some pancakes,” she says. “There’s a stall here that sells them wrapped around a paste of chopped almonds, dates, and cinnamon.”
“That’s the best kind!”
I’m so hungry I eat four and then I feel sick, but it’s the most wonderful feeling I’ve had in days. It’s ordinary.
That evening I join the others for a household gathering in the private garden, the one time during the day when Mother can relax. She sits on a couch with Safarenwe in her lap. To my surprise Wenru is there too. He clutches the side of the couch, determined to stand.
“What are you doing here?” I lean over to stick my face next to his.
He gives me a side-eye so monstrously outraged that we girls all laugh, and Safarenwe joins in by clapping her hands.
“I hate you,” he whispers in his strange little voice.