Winter watched, waiting for her turn. There had been no sign of the Beast attempting to cross the river, but most of the Murnskai soldiers were still standing guard, muskets at the ready. In the midst of the dead fires from last night’s camp, the small group of Haeta were checking their packs and preparing to depart. Glancing at them, Winter saw Vess looking back at her, and she suppressed a sigh. I can’t put it off forever.
As Winter came over, Vess stood apart from the others, her pack already on her back, a spear in hand. Including her, there were seventeen Haeta girls left, half of the group that had rescued Winter from the Beast’s pursuit. Yath was dead. Clever Yuil, Nish with her quick hands, soft-?spoken, wide-?eyed Boli—
Enough. Listing them won’t bring anyone back. Winter forced a smile.
“You’re going north?” she said.
Vess nodded. “I know this territory. It is not ours, but it is not far to Haeta land. And the tribes close to here will not be unfriendly.”
“Good.” Winter hesitated. “Dobraev offered to take you to the city. It might be safer. I don’t know if the red-?eyes will come over the river.”
“If they do, we will kill them,” Vess said matter-of-factly. “I will warn my tribe when we return.”
Winter nodded. There was an awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” she said, after a moment.
“For what?”
“For putting myself in charge. I... tried. But...”
“Winter.” Vess shook her head, struggling with herself. “Leti... would have wanted this. For everyone to escape together, however much it cost us. I told you that you had to live up to her expectations. I think you have done so.”
“Thank you.”
Vess turned to look over her warriors. “We should go. The farther I am from this place by nightfall, the more comfortable I will feel. Good luck to you.”
“And to you.”
“I hope your blessed friends find what they’re looking for.”
So do I, thought Winter. She gave a slight bow, which Vess returned awkwardly. At command in their own language, the Haeta formed up. A few of the girls waved to Winter as they headed north at an easy trot. Winter waved back, then turned to the river.
Alex and Abraham were waiting for her, some distance away from where the crowd around the ships was finally thinning.
“The Haeta are gone,” Winter said.
“I’d almost rather walk with them to the city,” Alex said. “At least then we’d have something to eat.”
“I don’t think you could convince them to go to the city,” Abraham said.
“I know.” Alex sighed, and gestured at the overcrowded ships. “I’m just not looking forward to that.”
“They’re safer this way,” Winter said. “I’m the one the Beast is following. The farther they are from me, the better.”
“It’s not your fault the thing hates you,” Alex said.
“It’s just a fact,” Winter said.
“You did the best you could,” Abraham said.
I always do, Winter thought. And then people die. Abraham caught her eye with a knowing look, and she half smiled. “I know. The paths not taken.”
“One step at a time,” Abraham said.
“What?” Alex looked at them. “Nobody’s going to fill me in?”
“It’s just... something we talked about,” Winter said. “Come on. Let’s get aboard.”
20
Raesinia
The room at Grindel’s was considerably cheerier than the dour chambers of the Keep. Raesinia had wondered if Borelgai were just allergic to color, but apparently the merchant elite allowed itself more license than the royal family, at least in private. Grindel’s was a private club on the top floor of a building near the Great Market, with enormous windows that looked out over the bustling activity on the surrounding streets. The market building itself was something like an enormous cobbled square, covered by multiple peaked roofs but open on all sides. A steady stream of carriages pulled into a circular drive at one end, while people milled in crowds on every side, struggling to make their way under the roof and out of the rain. Out of sight were the pits, where speculators lined the rails calling or gesturing to catch the attention of the dealers working at the bottom.
Raesinia was curious to see it all, actually, but according to Cora, visiting the market itself was considered something of a faux pas for a serious merchant; it implied that one didn’t have people one could trust to take care of one’s interests. It was for hirelings to scuttle and shout in the pits. Real business was transacted high above, in the private chambers of the clubs like Grindel’s, which topped the buildings that ringed the Great Market.
From the outside, there was nothing to distinguish the club from the offices below it, save for the wide windows. Visitors arrived by the elevator, a device Raesinia had never encountered before—?a wood-?paneled box that rose smoothly through ten stories, powered, Matthew told her, by a team of oxen in the basement. If one’s name were on the list, the dark, severe doors of the club were opened by a footman, revealing a considerably more lively interior. It wasn’t Ohnlei—?where it often felt like someone had gone berserk with gold leaf and mirrored glass—?but there were oddities everywhere. Tall wooden figures, elaborately carved, alternated with statues of animal-?headed gods from Khandar. Shelves held brilliantly colored glass and jewelry from Hamvelt, silk banners from the Old Coast, and strange bronze weapons that Raesinia guessed had come all the way from the Southern Kingdoms. Paintings in every possible style adorned the walls, in a variety of gaudy frames.
It was a monument, in other words, to the power of commerce. The wealth and beauty of the world, brought to Borel and mounted for display, like lions and tigers in a menagerie. Vordan was poorly represented, all things considered, and Raesinia felt vaguely offended.
“Vordanai art is out of favor at the moment, I’m afraid,” Prince Matthew said when she asked him about it. “Fashion has dictated that the Hamveltai schools are in this year, though that may be growing stale.” He chuckled. “If you really want to see the influence of your country, visit the kitchen and the cellar. Vordanai cheese and wine never go out of style.”
They’d come from the Keep in a covered carriage, and Raesinia had worn a hood and veil, which Matthew had assured her was common for noble ladies who didn’t wish to be recognized. The king had agreed to permit her to leave the palace provided she was in the company of the second prince, though she didn’t doubt there were discreet watchers following in case she decided to make a dash for the harbor.
Not that Raesinia was inclined to do so. It wouldn’t be enough to get away from Georg. She needed his cooperation, especially with Duke Dorsay and a Borelgai naval squadron already on the way to rendezvous with Marcus’ beleaguered forces. We need our leverage. Cora and Eric were at work elsewhere, helping to acquire it. But this was a task that Raesinia could only attend to herself.