After spending more time than I probably should have reading the book, I went to lunch, thinking that at least I could tell Khethila that I’d read a work of Madame D’Shendael.
The dining hall was even more deserted at lunch. I doubted that there were more than a score of imagers, and I thought I was the only third. After eating, I decided to risk matters. I returned to my quarters, slipped the letters into the inside pocket of my summer waistcoat, and set out. Remembering Seliora’s cautions, especially after the night before, I raised full shields as I left the quadrangle. The day was far cooler with scattered clouds, some of them a dark gray that suggested a real possibility of rain later in the afternoon. Within less than a quarter glass I had walked over the Bridge of Desires, hailed a hack, and was on my way to NordEste Design, hopefully to see Seliora.
No one shot at me when I got out of the hack and walked up the steps . . . and lifted and dropped the knocker-twice. I heard muffled footsteps, and, after several moments, Bhenyt and the twins opened the door.
“Master Rhennthyl, please come in,” offered Bhenyt formally.
I didn’t want to correct him. I just said, “Thank you.”
“He’s here, Aunt Seliora!” called Hanahra, or maybe it was Hestya. They were both smiling, as only girls who are almost women can smile a knowing smile that they feel but do not truly yet understand.
Seliora stood on the edge of the maroon Joharan carpet in the second-level entry foyer-alone except for Bhenyt and the twins. She was dressed less formally, in white linen trousers and a blouse, with a navy blue linen vest. She still looked lovely.
I stepped forward, stopping short of sweeping her into my arms.
“I thought you might come . . . after last night. I was certain you were hit by the bullets. I felt you weren’t wounded, but I still worried.”
I extracted the note from the inside pocket of the summer waistcoat. “I wrote a note, but I decided that delivering it personally was better. Even if you weren’t here, someone would be able to let you know I was well.”
She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
Someone uttered a sound half between a giggle and a cough.
“Oh . . . since I’m here, would you give this to your parents.” I handed her the other letter.
She took it and turned to the entourage. “You’ve all seen that he’s here. Now you may go.” Even though she smiled, there was cold iron behind the words.
“Yes, Aunt Seliora,” the twins said, inclining their heads and not quite skipping toward the far end of the entry foyer. Bhenyt followed, then ducked into a doorway on the left.
“The twins called you ‘aunt.’ I thought they were Odelia’s sisters.”
“They are, but they always saw me as an aunt, and now it’s a habit, even for Bhenyt. Methyr thinks it’s funny.” Her face twisted into a wry smile. “He’s like all younger brothers . . . difficult.”
“I’ve never seen or heard . . . Aegina’s husband.” I wasn’t quite certain how to phrase that.
“He was murdered five years ago.”
I had to wonder how Grandmama Diestra took to having one of her daughters’ husbands killed.
“Grandmama was not pleased. Neither were a few others, when she was finished.”
“Ah . . . what happened?”
“Their dwellings caught fire. They died, but they were heroes because they died saving most of their families . . . except one older boy who was in the family . . . enterprises. He was also a hero. Grandmama paid for their funerals.” She gestured toward the archway that led to the staircase. “We should go up to the east terrace. It will be empty, and since you’ve come so far, I’m sure you’d like to rest.” She grinned. “I’d wager that it won’t be a quarter glass before either Aunt Aegina, Odelia, or Mother arrives with some refreshments.”
“Your chaperones are always so kind and thoughtful.” I laughed as I accompanied her to the stairs.
We did enjoy a longer embrace on the landing halfway up.
The east terrace door was already propped open, and I had the sense that someone had left not too long before, a reminder that Seliora belonged to a family where there were few secrets among them, but where little went beyond the family. That realization concerned me, because I was being made almost part of the family.
I turned to her. “Is Kolasyn as warmly treated by the family?”
“He’s a very nice person, kind and good,” replied Seliora.
That was an answer. “Why me?”
“Because.” That mischievous smile appeared for a moment.
I waited.
“We’re linked . . . somehow . . . and we have to find out how.”
“Pharsi far-seeing?”
“Grandmama, Mother, and I all sense it.”
That was another answer, and a chilling one, in a way.
“And there’s this.” She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me.
I had no trouble responding. She had a very definite point there, and it went beyond that physical intensity. Not that I didn’t very much enjoy the physical.
Once we were seated in the two chairs flanking the small circular table, Seliora turned to face me. “I had Bhenyt see if he could find the bullets this morning, as soon as it was light.”
“Did he?”
She handed me a small felt bag across the table. “Grandmama says that they’re from a sniper’s rifle, but that the bullets are longer and heavier.”
“Is there anything she doesn’t know?” The bag felt heavier than I would have thought, and I untied it and eased the bullets out. Both were flattened, at an angle, and they were far longer and heavier than those that had been fired when I’d been attacked with the flower seller. After a moment, I replaced them in the bag and slipped it into my inside waistcoat pocket.
“Grandmama believes that you die when you stop learning. She has no wish to meet death any sooner than necessary.”
“Do you follow her example?”
“I wouldn’t dare not to.” That mischievous smile reappeared momentarily.
“Do you know anything more about Madame D’Shendael?”
Seliora shook her head. “Why?”
“I have the feeling that somehow, she’s involved in why people are targeting me, but I can’t seem to discover any reason why.” I went on to explain what I’d deduced. Master Dichartyn might not care for my revealing that to her, but I had the feeling that Seliora and her family were more than capable of holding secrets-and I needed all the help I could get, because I didn’t see much of it coming from the Collegium at the moment.
“Grandmama could find out about her parents through Ailphens.”
“Ailphens?”
“He’s the advocate for NordEste. Since the mother was executed there will be a record somewhere.”
Her matter-of-fact response underscored how little I knew about certain practical aspects of life.
“Rhenn . . .” Her voice was gentle.
“What?”
“We all have different talents. I never could have figured out that she was Grisarius’s daughter. Our talents complement each other.”
“You’re also kind and diplomatic.”
“Not to her family.” Betara stood in the doorway to the terrace. “If she wants, she can peel varnish off finished wood-and hide-without ever raising her voice.” She moved forward with the small tray that she carried, noiselessly.
“Mother . . .” Seliora was smiling.
“I did take the liberty of assuming you would still like Sanietra, along with the summer almond biscuits and the apple slices.” The small platter with the dainties and fruit went in the middle of the front edge of the table, and a glass of Sanietra, with a napkin, beside each of us.
“That was a very good assumption,” I replied with a smile.
“Grandmama was very pleased to meet you.” Betara smiled, and I could see from where Seliora had gotten the mischievous expression. “I’ll let Seliora fill you in. Enjoy yourselves. It is a beautiful afternoon.” With a nod, she
