Priestess of the White

leave such a mess behind me? She couldn’t turn around and fly back, though.

She made herself think of the Siyee, and how disappointed and offended they would be. How much she wanted to see their land for herself.

A few months, she told herself. By the time I return I will have decided what we should do.

And hopefully I’ll have gathered the courage to do it.

Rain pattered against the canopy overhead. Feeling something land on his head, Danjin looked up. A patch of water had somehow made its way through the dense, oiled cloth. He dodged another drip, sliding along the seat of the platten, then reached into his pocket for a cloth to wipe his scalp.

Instead, his fingers encountered a piece of parchment. Danjin withdrew it and sighed as he saw it was his father’s message.

Theran has returned. I have invited your brothers for dinner.

Your presence is required.

Fa-Spear

“When I said it would be pleasant to have some time to myself again the gods must have been listening,” he muttered. He looked up at the canopy. “Great Chaia, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Neglect your family?” Silava suggested.

Danjin looked at the woman sitting opposite him. The light of the lantern softened the lines on her face. They were mostly the lines gained from smiles and laughter. Mostly. There had been less pleasant times. Just as many as experienced by those who married for love, he had noted in recent years. They had both been unfaithful, both learned that honesty was the hardest but only path to forgiveness. While they had never been passionately in love with each other, they had, eventually, become the best of friends.

“Which family?” Danjin asked. “Mine or ours?”

She smiled. “You should ask that of an unbiased judge, Danjin. Just be sure that our family will always want to see more of you. Especially once your grandchildren are born.”

Grandchildren. The thought of becoming a grandparent was both delightful and dismaying. It meant he was getting old. It also made his daughters happy. They were flourishing in their new homes. He was relieved to have chosen good husbands for them, though he had mostly taken Silava’s advice on the matter. Pity one couldn’t choose one’s parents.

“If it is my father’s family you mean, then you are being punished, too,” he pointed out.

“That is true. But he ignores me at these dinners. It’s you he will target.”

Danjin scowled at the reminder. Silava leaned forward and patted him lightly on the knee.

“I left a bottle of tintra on the reading-room table for you.”

He smiled with appreciation. “Thank you.”

The platten slowed. Danjin peered out of the canopy and felt a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach as they pulled up outside his father’s mansion. Then he remembered the ring on his finger. He took some strength from the knowledge that the Gods’ Chosen did not think him the failure his father believed his youngest son to be.

He climbed out of the platten, then turned to help his wife disembark. The rain was falling heavily, wetting their tawls quickly. They both breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the door of the mansion.

A tall, thin man with a lofty expression ushered them inside. Danjin regarded Forin, the head servant, suspiciously. The man had an apologetic way of announcing Danjin’s arrival as if it were an interruption rather than a requested visit.

“Welcome, Danjin Spear, Silava.” Forin inclined his head to both of them.

“Adviser Danjin Spear,” Danjin corrected. He untied his tawl and held it out to the servant.

Forin’s eyes gleamed. His mouth opened, then his eyes dropped to Danjin’s tawl and he hesitated. Danjin realized the man was staring at the white ring shining on his finger.

“Of course. Forgive me.” He took Danjin’s tawl and Silava’s, then hurried into another room.

Silava glanced at Danjin as they entered the communal room. She did not smile, but he recognized that familiar glint of triumph in her eyes. The one he normally received when he lost an argument.

Two of Danjin’s brothers waited in the room, standing beside braziers. Seeing them, Danjin felt satisfaction from the small victory melt away. His siblings’ greetings were formal and awkward. Their wives spared thin smiles for Silava, then returned to their conversation, ignoring her. The rain fell through the roof opening into a pool below. Benches covered in cushions and luxurious blankets were arranged with perfect symmetry around the walls of the room. The floor was polished veinstone and the walls were painted with murals depicting ships and trade goods.

A servant appeared with warmed Somreyan ahm. As he sipped, Danjin considered his family. No doubt Theran, the favored brother they had all been invited here to see, was staying in the mansion and was with his father already.

All of Fa-Spear’s sons had joined in the family’s trading enterprises, with varying success. Theran, the second son, was a natural trader. Two of the younger brothers had died in a shipwreck twenty years before. Ma- Spear, who had never fully recovered from birthing Danjin, had sickened and died soon after. A year ago the oldest brother’s heart had stopped, so now there were only four sons left: Theran, Nirem, Gohren and himself.

The seven sons were supposed to expand the Spear trading empire. Danjin had tried, but he hadn’t lasted any longer than his first voyage at sixteen. Within two days of arriving in Genria he had befriended a distant nephew of the king and found himself surrounded by political maneuverings far more thrilling and meaningful to him than the long journeys and constant tallying and calculations of trade. Distracted, he had not been present to inspect the grain loaded onto the ship, and by the time he returned to Jarime half of it was spoiled by pests.

His father had been furious.

“Danjin?”

At his wife’s murmur, Danjin, looked up. Two men were walking down the corridor to the communal room. Form moved to the center of the room.

“Fa-Spear and Theran Spear,” he announced.

The old man’s face was a mass of wrinkles and he walked with the aid of a staff. His eyes were sharp and cold and flicked from face to face. To his right walked Theran. The older brother smiled at Nirem and Gohren, but his expression became more forced as he met Danjin’s eyes. Instead of dismissing his youngest brother, as he usually did, Theran raised his eyebrows.

“Danjin. I was not expecting you to come. Father says your duties at the Temple keep you from attending most family gatherings.”

“Not tonight,” Danjin replied. And how could I miss the opportunity to be scornfully ignored or made the butt of your jokes?

The old man moved to a long bench and sat down. The rest of the family paused, waiting to be invited to sit. Fa-Spear waved a hand.

“Sit. Sit,” he said, as if their formality embarrassed him. Yet Danjin knew any deviation from this ritual of manners always infuriated his father. They sat at places long established by family tradition: Theran on Fa-Spear’s right, Nirem and his wife on his left, Gohren next to Theran, and Danjin furthest from his father beside Nirem’s wife.

As a succession of delicacies were brought by female servants the conversation turned to trade. Danjin forced himself to listen, and remained prudently silent. He had long ago learned to avoid joining these discussions. Any observation or question he made on the subject of trade was examined as proof of his ignorance of such matters.

No matter how silent he remained, his father always made a point of discussing Danjin’s work. As Theran finished a long description of a successful deal, Fa-Spear looked up at his youngest son.