“I’ve been sounding her out about Tes’puco. Marga is intrigued by this mysterious adventurer—all the more since learning he’s a woman. She admires such mischievous gall. Besides, you’re one of the few who’ve seen a serpent, which makes you an expert. She’d be a fool not to take you.
“And there’s more to it than I’ve yet revealed. Lucian thinks the Ninysh are up to no good in the south, making a power grab and expanding their influence. Could Ninys harness this serpent to their bidding, or use the threat of its demise to subdue the pelagic peoples, who purportedly revere it?
“Make no mistake, friend that she is, Marga is nevertheless in this as deeply as any of her countrymen, and she’s taking along a Goreddi baronet, Lord Morney, whom Selda doesn’t trust.
“We need eyes on that boat, but they mustn’t see the Queen’s hand in it. You—estranged from your family, an experienced traveler—might plausibly seek to go along. They embark from the port of Mardou in three weeks. Selda won’t be able to get you aboard; you’ll have to talk to the countess yourself.”
There would be payment, and a thnimi—which sent images as well as voice—in the shape of a cloak clasp. Seraphina had the device on her; she showed Tess which curlicues did what, and Tess, with no cloak to clasp just now, pinned it to her bodice like an ungainly brooch.
“If they’re acting against Goreddi interests—particularly Lord Morney—you are to record it and report,” said Seraphina. “Do not interfere or intervene, or put yourself at risk in any way. If you meet trouble, disembark on an island and call home with the thnimi. The Queen will send someone for you, though I suspect you could find your own way back.”
Back, to Tess, didn’t mean back to Goredd, not anymore. It meant back to Josquin. The reality of leaving him behind hit her in the stomach. “Oh,” she said.
Seraphina raised her brows, awaiting an explanation. Tess stared past her, out the window, at red tulips in the courtyard. “Josquin told you I was here,” she said cautiously, “but he, ah, didn’t tell you anything else?”
Seraphina grew preternaturally still. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“Ha,” said Tess, not sure if she was alarmed or amused. “Can I answer by not answering?”
“Josquin is one of my favorite people, so I congratulate you on having chosen well this time.” Seraphina’s expression grew serious as she considered the implications. “But that complicates matters. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t want to go—”
“No, no,” said Tess quickly. “Don’t misunderstand. I do want to go.” She put a hand to her heart. “And, also, I’ll be gutted to leave Josquin behind. So runs my entire life.”
“We’ll send someone else,” said Seraphina. “I don’t mind breaking your heart, but Josquin’s—”
“Shut your smug mouth,” said Tess, but she was smiling.
The door flew open, and a petite blond woman burst in carrying a wailing baby. A chagrined nursemaid trailed in her wake, arms extended, trying to argue.
“No, thank you,” Queen Glisselda said imperiously. “Only her auntie can calm her when she’s like this. Dismissed!”
The nursemaid turned pink and left the room. Glisselda bounced the baby in her arms, chanting, “Doo-doo-duties! Cu-cu-customs!” as she crossed the room toward Seraphina and Tess.
The baby flailed hysterically.
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” said the Queen to Seraphina. “I wouldn’t have interrupted your time with your sister, but as you can see, she’s having quite a day. It’s the trade treaties. She’s such a little protectionist.”
“It’s fine,” said Seraphina, her voice low and calm. She reached up and took the child from Glisselda. The Queen looked unsubtly relieved; her golden curls were askew and, if you looked carefully, there were beads missing on her bodice.
The Queen smiled wanly at Tess, who stood and gave full courtesy. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Glisselda said. “I’ve got to go arm-wrestle Pesavolta for that egg.”
“Anathuthia’s egg?” cried Tess, appalled. Pathka didn’t know; he’d be devastated.
“The serpent had a name?” asked the Queen, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. “That may be useful. But don’t trouble yourself; this is between me and Pesavolta. Seraphina will tell you how you may help.”
She slipped from the room without further goodbyes.
Seraphina had set Princess Zythia upon her lap and they were gazing seriously at each other. Zythia’s face was still red, but the tears and squalling had stopped. She smacked Seraphina on the chest with her tiny fat hand.
“If you need to give her the breast, don’t hesitate on my account,” said Tess, folding her arms over her own, remembering how they’d ached, how Chessey had stuffed cabbage leaves down her bodice to relieve the swelling.
Seraphina flicked her a mournful glance. “Alas, that part didn’t work for me.” She ran a hand over Zythia’s downy head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you she was here. I wasn’t sure…I’m never sure what’s going to hurt you.”
Tess sat beside Seraphina on the window seat, never taking her eyes off the little face. Zythia shoved a fist into her mouth and gnawed on it, tears welling in her big dark eyes again.
Tess held out a hand, and Zythia grabbed her finger.
Something terrible and wonderful and painful swelled inside Tess, but she could bear it. Tentatively she laid her head upon her sister’s shoulder. “You never meant to hurt me.”
“We sisters have a particular talent for hurting each other without meaning to,” said Seraphina. She hesitated a moment and then leaned her cheek against the crown of Tess’s head.
They sat that way for some time, watching the baby, talking quietly. They spoke of childbirth like they were veterans of the same war, comparing wounds, and Tess felt some of the scars on her heart loosen and dissolve.
Phina kissed her cheeks when she left. Tess marveled that she could feel so hurt and comforted at once, so empty and full. Hers was a life lived in joy-utl, and she was capable and capacious enough to endure it.
Tess turned her steps toward home, and the additional heartbreak awaiting her there.
* * *
She didn’t know quite what to expect when she told Josquin she’d be leaving for the Archipelagos sooner rather than later. Josquin had been insisting all along that she would leave him—and that she should—but she hadn’t quite believed he meant it.
“Of course I meant it,” he said that night as he held her in his arms, moonlight streaming in the window. “Heaven knows I wasn’t ready to settle down at seventeen. I know one lovely innkeeper who thought me a cad for it.”
“I’m eighteen,” said Tess, forgetting that she hadn’t told him about her birthday.
He poked her in the ribs. “When trying to prove you’re not a cad, maybe don’t admit that you lied about your birthday. My point is”—his low voice deepened with emotion—“I know the Road still calls you. I lived for it at your age: I slept in the saddle and ate on the gallop. I’d lick my lips and know where I was by the taste of the dust. It still whispers to me, especially in springtime, only now I can’t follow. How could I keep you from it, in good conscience?”
“How can you be so sanguine?” said Tess.
“I’m not, Tess, but I’ve passed this way before,” he said. “I’ll miss you every day, the way I miss Rebecca. The way I miss walking. But this is my road. I’m so happy you came and traveled with me.”
“I’ll come back,” said Tess, growing emotional.
“I know you will,” he said, smoothing her hair with a strong hand. “And you’ll have had other paramours by then, and so will I, and we will be dear old friends, happy to see each other, full of wondrous stories.”
“I love you,” she said weepily, and kissed his lips. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her on top of him, and that was the last time before she went.