She meets my gaze, and I realize in that moment that she knows. That this conversation is to find out about me, rather than the snatchers. “They do sometimes,” I say quietly. “They are taken to the Speakers for a blessing to prevent the Darkness—a sort of illness in the blood that can destroy their minds if left unchecked. The Blessing leaves them their minds, but takes a portion of their memories.”
“Interesting.”
I blink. “Zayyida?” I ask uncertainly.
“Interesting how people are too terrified to ask their children what happened to them before the Blessing, and how little good it does to ask such questions afterward. Don’t you think?”
I hesitate. “No one knows when the Darkness might strike. There are rumors that it can take a child while they tell their story; I don’t know if such tales are true, but I doubt a family would be willing to risk it. But you’re right. It does no good to ask afterward.”
“Indeed.” Alyrra leans against the wall, half-turned toward me.
Although the Darkness does not always take our children. Not if they leave the villages and towns, traveling deep into the plains, or even into the mountains. Why that should help, I don’t know, but it does. I always assumed everyone knew this, but perhaps it is known more in the country than the city. I open my mouth to say as much, but Alyrra speaks first. “I suppose a princess who knows nothing of such things can hardly hope to change them.”
No. She’s supposed to care, as are Zayyid Kestrin and the king. They’re supposed to do something about this. Why bring up the snatchers if only to assert her own perceived helplessness?
The thought brings me up short. Why did Alyrra bring up the snatchers at all, let alone as the first serious question she has posed me? I remember Filadon’s sharp grin, the brightness of his eyes when I first pushed him about the snatchers last night. Filadon must have known Alyrra cares about this, which means surely, if she has brought it up, she doesn’t intend to give it up after a single conversation.
Alyrra waits, her head tilted toward me. I get the feeling she listens, so I may as well speak.
“I don’t know much of the palace or court, zayyida,” I say into the quiet. “But perhaps, if you cared to find out more, we could at least better understand . . .” What? The Darkness? How the snatchers work? I’m not sure exactly what I mean, other than that I want the snatchers stopped. “What’s happening,” I finish vaguely.
“There is that. Still, the people have other needs, do they not?”
Disappointment flares through me. Perhaps I was wrong about her, about what Filadon may have shared. But she is right—there are children going hungry on the streets here, families who spend every waking moment working to earn a meal or money enough to guard themselves from the weather. After a moment, I say, “Of course, zayyida.”
“Hmm.” She looks back out over the wall, then at me. “I have convinced Zayyid Kestrin to open a house of healing in the city to mark the royal wedding.”
“A house—of healers?”
“Yes. A place for people to be seen by healers, as well as a healer-mage to attend the more difficult cases.” There is a tightness to her features, her eyes suddenly shadowed. “It would be free to those who could not afford it, and a nominal cost for those who can. What do you think?”
A healer-mage . . . I look out over the walls and hold that thought for a moment. When I was born, my parents took me to a healer to see if anything might be done to help my foot, but there was nothing she could do. What we needed, she told my parents, was a healer-mage who could help guide the bones to straighten. When Baba finally found one, he would not entertain their request for even a single consultation. We were peasants to him, and he wished nothing to do with us. My parents rarely speak of it, but I wonder sometimes if that is why, years later, they chose to keep Niya with them, hiding her talent so she would not grow into such a person.
I clear my throat. My own history aside, the princess’s idea sounds a little too good to be true. “Where would it be located?”
She smiles, a quick sharp twitch of her lips that makes me think she is inordinately pleased with my question. “We’ve spoken with a number of guilds, as well as local community leaders, and identified a building in the southwest part of the city. The west side is perhaps the least affluent, but the south side is not much better. So we would strive to serve both. The project is already begun, and the first floor of the house should open the day after the wedding. I would like to have someone check in on the progress daily and report any issues that arise to me. I do not believe my other attendants are quite suited to such a role. Would you like it?”
I hesitate.
“Yes?” In that moment she looks young, hopeful. She reminds me of Niya; they might even be the same age. Only the princess has no older sister, no friend, not even a dependable attendant. And she is trying to remain aware of the needs of the people, and that is a wonderful thing.
“Yes,” I agree.
The princess smiles, her whole face warming. The line of her shoulders eases; I had not realized how tense she was till now. “Good. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I find myself smiling back at her, and I am suddenly, deeply grateful that Ani pushed me to come, because that brought me here, to this woman who wants to make a change in the world and thinks I am the one to help her. And perhaps, once the wedding is past, she will bring up the snatchers again, or else I will.
“I suppose there
