The Fox (71 page)

A sudden silence caused Jeje to look up, and sure enough, it was Tau coming down the stairs from where he’d been put to work writing letters and updating accounts, his handwriting being clear and fine.

Tau wove through the other workers, all of whom watched him, some openly, some surreptitiously. As usual he seemed oblivious.

In silence she fell in step beside him. Her shoulder blades twitched. She knew the others were watching her now. And she knew what they said among themselves, which wasn’t very flattering.

As soon as they were out on the street, he asked, “How are the supply lists?”

“Boring,” she stated. She’d found it mildly interesting, how the Guild Fleet kept record of everything the convoys they arranged started out with and came back in with. Her interest hadn’t lasted long.

Tau said, “Can you bear it here?”

Jeje didn’t look up at him, but at the crowded street, everyone coming out of shops, some of which closed, others that traded watches. Noise everywhere.

“We have to, don’t we?” she mumbled.

Tau sighed. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”

Jeje shrugged. What was there to say? She hated living in the harbor. She hated the smell of mud and horses and rotting vegetation in the summer heat, especially after a huge storm like the one last week.

She missed her friends,
Vixen,
the freedom of the sea. Chim was funny and full of interesting stories, but she saw him rarely now.

No. Think of the good things. Well, the bearable things. She was learning the language fast. Actually, she discovered that except for Sartoran, most words in Dock Talk were Brennish—which made sense, seeing as how this was the biggest harbor on the strait. Harbor folk switched between the two languages a lot, depending on what they were talking about; inland people stayed with Brennish, but she could pretty well follow most of what they said now.

She did have Tau’s company, at least in the mornings for drill and for some meals. But nothing else, since he’d taken to going out at nights and staying out later—she supposed at the pleasure houses. Though every morning before dawn there he was outside her room, waiting for their morning drill.

Yes, that time was good, when they ran through Inda’s and Fox’s drills up on the roof directly over her room.

She snorted. Everyone at the Fleet House thought she and Tau were lovers, and here they’d never even kissed. All they did was practice fighting.

“Problem?” Tau asked.

She was so used to being ignored all day that she had forgotten how to carry on a conversation. It was too easy to get lost inside her head for an entire watch.

She wasn’t about to tell him what she’d been thinking. “I hate being stuck on shore,” she said—so obvious there was no answer.

And Tau did not answer. He knew when he was being deflected.

He also had a good guess why, so instead he indicated they turn left, where a lane led off the main street and curved up onto one of the low hills. Jeje followed reluctantly. The nicer places were on the hills, leading gradually to the long ridge overlooking the harbor where the king and his nobles all had their fine houses. Jeje hadn’t ventured that far inland, though sometimes she looked up at them in the morning light, when the line of the ridge stood out sharply.

The lower hills were where prosperous merchants and ship captains or owners could be seen eating at little tables set in carefully nurtured little gardens. Flowering trees dotted the hills and clustered thickly between the buildings on the ridge: everyone who could have them seemed to like garden plots.

Tau navigated without hesitation, which didn’t surprise Jeje. “Here,” he said presently, indicating a pretty intersection of two curving lanes. Delicious smells filled the air; the four corners all had different kinds of eating establishments, one Sartoran—or so the sign said—one Colendi, one Ymaran, and the last local, its sign a name, not a place. All low buildings with lots of windows half obscured by flowering shrubs.

“What’s Ymaran food like?” Jeje asked, glancing at the blue-walled building as he led her into the cream-yellow Colendi one.

“Not much different than anything you get along the coast,” he said. “Their claim to fame is a kind of baked apple dish that the old queen supposedly liked, with hot cream whipped with honey poured over it.”

“Yum,” she said, but did not dispute his choice.

The proprietor, a young man their age, gave Tau the smile of intimates and waved toward the terrace. Tau gestured his thanks, and soon they had a secluded little table, flowering shrubs on two sides, one side open onto the lane, the other a narrow view of the rest of the terrace.

“I don’t really like Colendi food,” she admitted.

“How often have you had it?” Tau responded, leaning his elbows on the table, chin on his hands. He did not stare directly at her—which she hated—but turned his head slightly, ostensibly to watch the other tables.

“Just in Freeport. Inda and I went once together, when we came back with our first big pay. Called Taste of Alsayas—”

“That place,” Tau stated, “ought to be burned down. Colendi food! It’s leftovers smothered with over-flavored sauces so you won’t notice that the chicken has been twice-boiled. ”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “Some of our brethren at Freeport like spicy food—for them good taste means spices so hot you can’t actually taste the food, only the burn.”

Jeje snickered. “All right. But what should I try?”

“Kerrem will bring the best. Don’t worry about the food. Let’s get back to our situation.”

“Which is a big nothing,” she said. “How am I supposed to be finding people to train when I can’t even get anyone at Fleet to talk to me, much less strangers?”

“I’m about to take care of part of the problem, if you agree with my idea,” he said. “It’s certainly easy for me to be upstairs writing out records and second-copying convoy letters for Chim, but it’s a waste because I only learn what he learns. I believe we can rely on him to tell us any news we need to know.”

Jeje nodded.

“And so, if you agree, I’m going to head farther up the hill,” Tau said, with a flick of his chin over his shoulder. “The kind of information I think Inda really needs—to say nothing of my own need—is to be found in court circles.”

Jeje blew her breath out. “Do the nobles even have bawdy houses? I thought they summoned their own favorites.”

Tau chuckled. “Some do, some don’t. There are very discreet, very exclusive places, but that world is bounded by strict laws of confidentiality. I don’t actually plan to confine myself to those.”

“So how else can you get anywhere near court people? You might be able to get the fancy clothes, but what about the rest?”

“You mean I haven’t birth, wealth, or position?” Tau asked with a pretence of affront, and when she chortled, he said, “Not a problem—if I am quick, clever, decorative, and connected with the world of the theater.”

Jeje pursed her lips in a soundless whistle. “That’s something I’ve never even seen.”

“You will, if you like,” Tau promised. “As soon as I get myself ensconced where I think I need to be.”

“Never mind. I heard a couple of people talking once. You can’t even get past the doors if you don’t wear fancy duds. Can you see me in a big dress with a lot of lace and feathers?” She dusted her fingers over her neck and head.

“You would be charming,” Tau said, grinning again. “In any case, feathers are not in fashion. Nor for that matter is lace. It’s unpatriotic right now to wear lace, which mostly comes from western Colend, as there have been disputes in high places—most notably, the new King Lael of Colend unaccountably does not favor the crown princess’ suit.” He said it with a mocking air. “Braid and embroidery are now what everyone who wishes to be thought in style wears.”

Jeje sighed, falling quiet as the young man brought plates and set them down. He gave Jeje a perfunctory smile, then addressed Tau: “Spring vintage?”

“Just a glass apiece,” Tau said, knowing Jeje never drank more.

The food was fresh fish, perfectly grilled. The sauce was light, with complicated flavors of sweet and tart; she could identify no single ingredient.

“Hoo,” she said.

“Told you!” Tau’s smile was completely unchallenging.

Jeje put her fork down. “I feel stupid,” she admitted. “I don’t know the half of what seems necessary.”

Tau also set his fork down, and then he did something he never had before: stretched out his hand and lightly touched hers. “Not stupid. Never that. Inexperienced in these matters, yes. But your strengths lie in other directions. ”

“Counting up blocks and beckets?” Jeje fought the impulse to let her hand lie in case he’d do it again. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and rubbed. “I would have believed that about inexperience when we were small, but I’ve been in enough bawdy houses by now to know that most of those people don’t know half what you know. But your mother’s place was only a harbor house like any along Rosebud Row.”

“Yes. I am only myself beginning to realize just how much knowledge my mother had that I can’t easily explain, ” he said. Then he leaned forward. “I mean to find her, Jeje. I realize Inda’s search must come first. And yet I suspect—it’s only instinct, though strong—his search for information and my own might not be as unrelated as one might reasonably assume.”

He hesitated, and two wine glasses appeared before them.

Kerrem said, “Are you going to Asfar House tonight?”

Tau gave his head a quick shake. “I promised Eris I’d come to her musical. I need to practice.”

“If
you
do, none of us have a hope,” Kerrem said, and then was gone.

“There you go again.” Jeje pointed an accusing finger. “Expert in yet another thing.”

“Not really.” Tau sat back, the wineglass cradled in his hands. “I’ve had a minimum of training in a wide variety of skills, but I did inherit my mother’s quick ear and eye. Most of these people, like me, play for fun, and many don’t hear how very much better someone is who’s had a lifetime of training. That means practice.” He smiled. “And listening.”

Jeje heard about half of what he said. As she ate, she thought about how very rarely Tau talked about anything personal. But she’d seen on her single visit how close he and his mother were despite their very different attitudes and very strong wills. She said tentatively, “I hope you can find news of your mother, but . . . well, Parayid is all the way in the west, and wasn’t she taken by a pirate?”

Tau nodded, not speaking as a couple stood nearby, waiting for a table to be cleared.

When they were seated, Jeje spoke again. “You didn’t have a dad, did you?”

“Magic birth. And no. No relatives left on her side, either. Or, if still alive, none she ever owned up to.”

“The more I think about it, the odder it seems,” she said. “I mean, where in Parayid did she get her training? There not being much, oh, courtly custom in Iasca Leror.” She grinned.

That unexpected, wicked grin, framed by long dimples, was so ravishing. Tau had to grin back. “One of my very earliest memories is her saying our name was now Darian.
Daraen—friend in Sartor—what could be more appropriate for us?
That’s exactly what she said. I think my interest in languages stems from that time.”

Jeje set her fork down. “I never had fresh peas this good. How do they fix them so they don’t moosh? Never mind, it’s not like I’ll ever cook anyway.” She sat back, tasting the wine. Her brow cleared. “Good!”

Tau sipped his. It was delicious, complex in flavor in a way that complemented the food, didn’t overwhelm it. But he only drank half; tonight he would begin his campaign, and that meant his head must be completely clear.

“The question of my departure from Fleet lies before you,” he said.

Jeje snorted. “Oh, Tau. I’m really going to say no, you have to stay right in the Fleet House.”

Tau smiled in apology. “I will be back to practice with you, that I promise.”

“Good. I can do it on my own,” she said quickly. “Though Fox said it’s better with a partner.”

“Certainly. When we are called upon to begin training people—though I don’t see how any more than you do— we’ve got to be in fighting trim.”

She grunted an agreement.

He opened his hands. “Done?”

“You mean you need to get going,” she said, looking around.

Dusk had fallen, soft and unnoticed. The eatery people had hung paper lanterns all around the terrace, and the windows on the lane glowed golden.

“I’ll see you at dawn,” he promised.

Her throat was tight. She managed a nod and a careless shrug, and forced herself to be the first to depart.

Leaving him looking somewhat wistfully after her. But he knew she would be fine—in fact, if he was gone from Fleet House they might treat her better. Not that he’d say anything about that—it was just the sort of comment he loathed himself.

So instead he used the money he’d changed earlier while doing an errand for Chim and went to pick up the new suit of clothes he’d ordered a few days before.

It was time to go on stage.

Jeje did not look back. She tramped back down the lane to the harbor and its familiar strong smell of fish, brine, old wood mold, and stale beer.

Since she’d never spoken to anyone at Fleet House, she knew nothing about the harbor other than what she’d already observed while roaming about. The air was warm and still, and her fast march made her hot and sticky, which added to her vile mood.

When she reached the bottom of the road that led to the older part of the harbor, she looked around, her hair swinging into her mouth. She spat it out, but it stuck to her cheek, tickling horribly. Impatiently she yanked out one of her knives, gathered her hair in back, and then sawed it off.

The coolness on her neck was a relief until she turned her head—and her earring smacked her cheek.