Sorrows of Adoration (43 page)

I stared at him for a
moment, my heartbeat so loud that I wondered if they could hear it.
“How interesting that you say that in the past tense.”

Kurit slammed his fists
on his desk. “Curse it, Aenna, that’s not what I meant, and you
know it!”

“I know nothing any
more, Kurit, except that I could have been one of those that you
condemn as unworthy of your assistance,” I said quietly, turning my
face from them both. “You used to be delighted to see me. Now I am
but an irritation. And today I am an irritation bearing unpleasant
tidings. I am so very, dreadfully sorry to have disturbed your busy
day, Your Majesty.”

I went to the door and
left before I had to hear his reply. I bustled through the Great
Hall to the corridors of guest rooms. I heard Jarik following me
and ignored him until I had reached the steps to the southeast
tower.

Without even turning to
face him, I said, “Leave me be. I’m furious with both of you to
know that if I had been anything other than a young and pretty
maiden when we met, I would be contemptible now in your eyes.” I
began climbing the steps to the tower and did not hear him follow
me.

When I reached the top
landing, the guard on duty stood to immediate attention. I tried
not to sound angry as I said, “I wish to be alone. Go now. You may
return when I leave.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he
said as he complied immediately.

I had never before been
to this tower, only to the south-western one, from where the east
end of the city could not be seen. I moved one of the wooden chairs
to the eastern window and sat there, looking out at the city. The
poor houses and run-down shops were made mostly of wood, whereas
the other buildings were made largely of white stone. The drastic
difference made the area look like an unpleasant stain. I cursed
myself repeatedly for not having known of this before. I could not
fathom how I had been so ignorant and naïve.

Everything about the
area looked cramped. As the city had grown within its walls, it
appeared that no space from the wealthy areas had been sacrificed.
Instead, the poor were squeezed in tighter and tighter, until now
it looked as though entire families had to live in single rooms.
How could they possibly be expected to make anything of themselves
if they lived like that? How could the nobility fathom that anyone
who had to struggle just to survive would have the time to educate
themselves or reach for higher goals?

It was all quite
ridiculous. There was so much empty space outside the city walls,
but of course there the people would be easy prey for thieves and
other ruffians. Further, if many of them were employed as servants,
as Jarik had said, then living outside the city walls would mean
long walks to the gates and then through the city, back and forth
every day.

I thought of poor
Melly, who was so kind and dedicated despite her slow head. I
wondered if she lived there. Did she have to walk through that
stench every morning and evening? I knew the palace servants were
paid a fair wage, but it seemed there was no middle ground in the
city. Certainly she did not go home to one of the elegant, white
stone houses with their pretty little gardens.

How did they expect her
to better her conditions? How did they expect any of the poor to do
so? There was no room to build—that much was clear. I had witnessed
myself the hard-working merchants, but if those around them could
not afford their wares, all of the effort in Keshaerlan would make
no difference.

I had a flash of
inspiration. What they needed was the entire area to be rebuilt. If
those merchants were the family of the servants, then between them
there should be sufficient wage to live decently. But if the
merchants could not derive sufficient profit from selling only to
the lowest class, it was the upper classes who needed to be
attracted to their market. The upper classes had no desire to be in
such a squalid, crowded, smelly place. But if the area was cleaned
and rebuilt, perhaps that would attract a more profitable group of
buyers. Then the poor families would be able to have sufficient
income to not have to live in such poverty.

The entire plan flooded
into my mind. The city walls simply had to be extended to allow for
more room. Then, the old wooden shacks could be torn out and
replaced with proper housing. A whole market could be built, where
all manner of merchants could decently display their wares and
better attract buyers of all classes. And if the merchants made
money, then their families would have more money to spend
themselves! All that was needed was an initial investment, and I
believed that elementary economics would take care of the rest.

Furthermore, if the
whole area was restructured with more room and better roads, sewage
and waste could be properly disposed of, as it was throughout the
rest of Endren. Plus, a more open area would be easier to guard, so
it wouldn’t be as unsafe as Jarik had claimed the current area to
be.

It wasn’t a lack of
work that kept many of the poor down in the gutter. It was a lack
of the necessary space and means to succeed. If I could give them
the space and the means, then I was confident everyone would
benefit. Even the wealthy merchants who held their shops in the
rest of Endren stood to benefit if these people had more money in
their pockets to spend.

I heard a noise behind
me and turned around. There stood Kurit, looking at me with an odd
expression. I turned away from him again, hoping he would leave
rather than find new ways to tear at me with his words.

He came and stood
behind me, looking over my head, out of the window. “It is
wretched, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“I am ashamed that I
did not know of it before today,” was all I could say in reply.

Kurit was quiet for a
few minutes, and his proximity behind me forced me to sit stiff in
the chair, lest I should shiver. Then he put a hand on my shoulder,
and the shiver came. He raised his hand from me for a moment and
then set it back on my shoulder again. “Has it been so long since I
have touched you, that my touch makes you shake so?” he said
softly. I did not answer. He put his other hand on my other
shoulder and bent to kiss the top of my head. “I do love you, you
know. It hurts me greatly that you should think otherwise.”

“And what would you
have me think, when you spend every moment buried in tasks of your
own and mine and whomever else’s, always avoiding me, shooing me
away with nasty words when I force you to pay attention to me?” I
continued staring out of the window, though I was no longer looking
at anything. “I am not your wife, Kurit. I am your burden. I am not
so foolish as to not see that.”

He slipped his arms
down to embrace me about my shoulders, putting his head beside
mine. Kurit kissed my cheek and held me tight. His breath on my
neck tickled me, but I was not amused and sat very still. “Aenna,
that’s not true,” he whispered. “Don’t say such things.”

I slipped out of his
arms and moved to stand at the other end of the tower, facing him.
“It is true. First the bottle was your mistress, and now it is your
books and records and writings and meetings. What’s next, Kurit? In
what diversion will you bury your pain next?”

He did not answer. He
stood quietly, his hands on his hips, looking at the floor
grimly.

I sighed. “Why do I
waste my breath? My opinion means nothing to you. You still drink
yourself to sleep every night, then rise to hide away the hours in
your workroom. The sight of myself or your son does not please
you—it disturbs you. I don’t know whether it’s because you’re
afraid if you love us then we’ll disappear, or if you are so lost
in your world of self-torment that interruptions of our reality
threaten you.”

He looked at me and
said simply, “The first one, I suppose.”

His candour surprised
me, and I could think of nothing else to say.

Kurit sighed and ran
his hands through his hair. He chuckled sadly and said, “Absurd,
isn’t it? I close you out of my life for fear that you will be out
of my life.” He slowly crossed the landing to me, and despite my
frustration, I let him embrace me.

“I had nearly forgotten
what this felt like,” I said.

“Forgive me. I can no
longer count the ways that I have failed you.”

“Oh, stop it, Kurit,” I
said, stepping back from him, out of his arms. “Stop finding ways
to pity yourself. You’re not a poor man without resources, and
you’re not a stupid man without the wit to make your own decisions.
Stop brooding about the things in the past that you cannot change,
and start making the changes in your present that will give you a
better future.”

He turned and walked
back to the east window, gazing out of it. “And them? Those that
don’t have the resources? What would you have me do for them?”

“I have some ideas. I
would discuss them with you, if you wished to hear my
thoughts.”

Kurit pulled the chair
by the window slightly off to one side, and then fetched another
and placed it nearby. He looked to me and extended a hand to one of
the chairs. “Sit with me. I want to hear your ideas. I want to hear
your voice.”

I nodded and sat with
him. I summarized my earlier thoughts and plans, pointing out the
window to indicate how vast a space there was to work with. He
listened intently, looking at me with a tenderness in his eye that
I had not seen since I had recovered from my trek from Wusul.

When I was finished, he
thought in silence for some time. He took my hand in his and stared
out the window. The light of day was beginning to fade into the
oranges and reds of the sunset in the opposite direction. The
bottoms of the clouds reflected the colours magnificently.

“Your logic seems
sound,” he finally said, “but I don’t know that I’ll be able to
convince the tax-paying lords that their money should be spent on
the poor. It would cost a fortune to bring in so many materials, to
hire such a labour force.

“There are unemployed
men in Endren, in those streets,” I said. “And what if I could get
those who lived there to agree to help build it, for their own
betterment? I could find the best price for the stone possible. The
quarries are largely unused in these times, and I know I could
bargain with their owners. Besides, the costs would be recouped in
a more profitable city for everyone. And if it’s taxes they’re
concerned with, remind them that the destitute do not pay taxes. If
all of those people down there had the chance to earn a decent
living, they could contribute back as is right.”

“
There will still
be beggars, Aenna. There will always be those who are incapable of
earning a wage or who
chose to be lazy and not do so.”

“Of course. But many of
the people I saw struggling this afternoon weren’t incapable, nor
were they lazy. They were working, despite knowing they would be
unlikely to take home a profit today. I have no desire to save the
lazy. I wish only to give those willing to work the chance to do so
for a decent living.”

He nodded. “Good, then.
Look into it further. Come up with a solid plan and a proper
budget, with confirmed prices and costs. We’ll present it to the
Council together. If they approve, you can go ahead.”

I smiled, delighted to
suddenly have something worthwhile to do and ecstatic that Kurit
had said ‘together’. I threw my arms around him happily, pondering
for the first time in many months the possibility of a good future
for us.

He pulled me into his
lap and held me. His hand reached up to touch my cheek softly, and
then he kissed me. It had been so long since he had shown such
affection that my heart raced and my skin tingled.

“Will you come to my
room tonight?” I asked.

He did not answer but
kissed me again, which I took to mean he would. We went back down
the tower steps, hand in hand. I felt so giddy I actually had to
resist the urge to skip like a young girl as I walked to my
chambers when we finally parted.

He smiled at me
frequently during dinner and even leaned over once to kiss my
cheek. The public affection caused a small stir amongst the others
present. I caught a glimpse of Kasha, sitting on his other side.
She had remained mostly out of sight since the King’s death, and I
was glad of it. After this kiss, her face became hard and bitter. I
decided to ignore her.

Jarik did not come to
dinner, and I felt guilty for having been so cross with him before.
I went to his chambers afterwards and apologized to him. He was
quiet, but I did not think he was upset with me so much as the
unpleasant situation. I told him I was working on a solution, and
that seemed to cheer him somewhat.

I bathed with prettily
scented bath salts before bed and put on my most revealing
nightdress. I positioned myself on my bed in what I imagined to be
a sensual pose and waited for Kurit to come knocking.

Time passed, and no
knock came. Eventually, I rose and knocked on his door. There was
no answer, but it was not locked, so I entered.

There was Kurit,
sleeping in his chair, still wearing the day’s clothes. On the
floor under his right hand a glass lay on its side, and on the
table beside him sat an empty decanter. I shook my head sadly at
him as he snored.

I went back to my rooms
and changed into something more respectable. Then I returned to
Kurit’s rooms and summoned Gilrin.

“Help me get him
changed and into bed,” I said, and he did. Kurit did not so much as
stir, even as we dragged his corpse around the room.

* * *

The next day Kurit
looked at me sheepishly as I passed him in the corridor, but I was
too frustrated to let myself be duped into another promise of
affection. Instead, I began my planning and preparations for the
large project I was about to undertake.