Someone lifted a corner of a curtain and peered out at them. She heard footsteps inside the house, and then caught a glimpse of movement in the shadowy courtyard. She turned toward it. 'Get out here and take these horses.'
The slender figure hesitated. 'Now!' she barked at him.
The boy that emerged from the shadows was no more than eleven years old. He came as far as the horses' heads, then halted uncertainly.
Althea snorted in exasperation. 'Oh, Davad, if you can't learn to manage your servants, you should hire a house steward who can.' Her tact was all worn away.
'I suppose you're right,' Davad agreed humbly. He clambered down from the carriage. Althea stared at him. In the ride from the Concourse to his home, Davad had become an old man. His face sagged, bereft of the cockiness that had always characterized him. He had not been able to avoid the manure and blood. It smeared his clothes. He held his hands out from himself in distaste and distress. She looked up to meet his eyes. He looked apologetic and hurt. He shook his head slowly. 'I don't understand it. Who would do something like this to me? Why?'
She was too tired to answer so large a question. 'Go inside, Davad. Have a bath and go to bed. Morning is soon enough to think about all this.' Absurdly, she suddenly felt he needed to be treated like a child. He seemed so vulnerable.
'Thank you,' he said quietly. 'There's a lot of your father in you, Althea. We didn't always agree, but I always admired him. He never wasted time in parceling out blame; like you, he simply stepped up to solve the problem.' He paused. 'I should have a man escort you home. I'll order up a horse and man for you.' He did not sound certain he could do it.
A woman came to the door and opened it. A slice of light fell out. She peered out, but said nothing. Althea's temper snapped. 'Send out a footman to help your master into the house. Have a hot bath drawn for him and lay out a clean robe. See that hot tea and a simple meal is prepared for him. Nothing spicy or greasy. Now.'
The woman darted back into the house, leaving the door ajar. Althea heard her passing on the commands shrilly.
'And now you sound like your mother as well. You've done so much for me. Not just tonight, but for years, you and your family. How can I ever pay you back?'
It was the wrong moment to ask her such a question. The stable boy had come. The lamp revealed a spidery tattoo by the side of his nose. The ragged tunic he wore was scarcely longer than a shirt. He cowered from Althea's black-eyed stare.
'Tell him he's not a slave anymore.' Her voice was flat.
'Tell… I beg your pardon?' Davad gave his head a small shake, as if he could not have heard her correctly.
Althea cleared her throat. It was suddenly difficult to have any sympathy for the little man. 'Tell this boy he's not a slave anymore. Give him his freedom. That's how you could pay me back.'
'But I… you can't be serious. Do you know how much a healthy boy like that is worth? Blue eyes and light hair are favored in Chalced for house servants. If I keep him a year and teach him some valet skills, do you know how much coin he'd be worth?'
She looked at him. 'Far more than you paid for him, Davad. Far more than you could sell him for.' Cruelly, she added, 'How much was your son worth to you? I've heard he was fair-haired.'
He blanched and stumbled backwards. He grasped at the carriage, then jerked his hand away from the blood-sticky door. 'Why do you say such a thing to me?' he wailed suddenly. 'Why is everyone turning against me?'
'Davad…' She shook her head slowly. 'You have turned against us, Davad Restart. Open your eyes. Think what you are doing. Right and wrong is not profit and loss. Some things are too evil to make money from them. Right now, you may be gaining handsomely from the conflict between the Old and New Traders. But this conflict will not go on forever, and when it does end, there you will be. One side will see you as a runagate, the other as a traitor. Who will be your friends then?'
Davad was frozen, staring at her. She wondered why she had wasted her words. He would not heed her. He was an old man, set in his ways.
A footman came out of the door. He was chewing something and his chin shone with grease. He came to take his master's arm, then cringed away with a gasp. 'You're filthy!' he exclaimed in disgust.
'You are lazy!' Althea retorted. 'Help your master in and see to his needs, instead of stuffing your belly in his absence. Promptly, now.'
The footman reacted to her tone of command. Gingerly, he extended his arm to his master. Slowly Davad took it. He took a few steps, then halted. Without turning, Davad spoke. 'Take a horse from my stable to get home. Shall I send a man with you?'
'No. Thank you. I don't need one.' She wanted nothing from him anymore.
He nodded to himself. He added something quietly.
'I beg your pardon?'
He cleared his throat. 'Take the boy, then. Stable boy. Go with the lady.' He took a breath and spoke heavily. 'You are free.' Davad walked into the house without a backward glance.
SHE HAD A MINIATURE OF HIM. SHE HAD BEGGED HIM TO SIT FOR IT, shortly after they were married. He had told her it was a foolish notion, but she was his bride, and so he gave in. He had not been gracious about sitting for it. Pappas was too honest an artist to paint Kyle Haven with patient eyes, or to leave out the small fold of annoyance between his brows. So now as Keffria looked at Kyle's portrait, he regarded her as it seemed he always had, with annoyance and impatience.
She tried to cut past the layers of hurt in her heart to discover a core of love for him. He was her husband, the father of her children. He was the only man she had ever known. Yet, she could not honestly say that she loved him. Odd. She missed him and longed for him to return. It was not just that his return would mean the return of the family's ship and her son. She wanted Kyle himself. Sometimes, she thought, having someone stronger to depend on was more important than having someone you loved. At the same time, she needed to settle things with him. Over the months that he had been gone on this trip, she had discovered there were words she had to say to him. She had decided she would force him to respect her, even as she had learned to demand respect from her mother and sister. She did not want him to vanish from her life before she had wrung that respect from him. If she did not gain it, she would always wonder if she had ever been truly worthy of it.
She closed the miniature's case and set it back on the shelf. She badly wanted to go to sleep, but wouldn't until Althea was safely home. She found her feelings for her sister closely mimed those she had for her husband. Every time she felt that she and Althea had regained some remnant of sisterly closeness, Althea would reveal that she still played only for herself. Tonight, at the meeting, she had made it clear that the ship was what she cared about, not Kyle nor Wintrow. She wanted the ship back in Bingtown so she could challenge Keffria for ownership of it. That was all.
She left her bedroom and drifted through the house like a wraith. She peeked in on Selden. He was deeply asleep, careless of all the problems that beset his family. When she came to Malta's closed door, she tapped on it lightly. There was no reply. Malta, too, slept with the deep ease that children had for rest. She had behaved so well at the meeting. On the ride home, she had made no mention of the near riot, but had put Grag Tenira at ease with her casual conversation. The girl was growing up.
Keffria went down the stairs. She knew she would find her mother in her father's study. Ronica Vestrit, too, would not sleep until Althea returned. If they were going to stay up, they might as well do it together. As she passed through the hall, she heard a light footfall on the front porch. That would be Althea. Keffria frowned in annoyance when she knocked at the door. Why couldn't she go around to the unlocked kitchen door? 'I'll get it,' she called to her mother and went to unlatch the big front door.
Brashen Trell and that bead merchant stood on the porch. He was wearing the same clothes as when she had last seen him. His eyes were bloodshot. The bead merchant looked composed. Her expression was friendly but offered no apology for the late hour. Keffria stared at them both. This went beyond the boundaries of all courtesy. It was rude enough of Brashen to come calling so late, unannounced, but he had also brought an outsider with him.
