Untalented (16 page)

Saroya blinked as her eyes adjusted to the extra light cast by several candles. Seated on a rocking chair in the far corner of the room, an old woman gazed back at her. A large swatch of needlework lay spread on her lap.

“Come to bring the old lady a drink?” Saroya remembered the cup of cider she held. She offered it to the woman but a gnarled hand waved it away. Saroya marveled that the swollen knuckles were still limber enough to do such intricate sewing.

“At my age, dear, if I have a sip now, it will pass through me at a most inconvenient time of night.” The corners of the woman’s black eyes crinkled. “And who might you be, child? I may be old but I’m not blind yet—those aren’t Roshan colors you’re wearing. Karan, if I’m not mistaken.”

Saroya introduced herself. “I came up here hoping to find someone to talk to who wasn’t up to their neck with party work.”

“Yes, well, old Kimila’s not as spry as she used to be. Still handy with the needle, but I’m as likely to drop a tray as offend one of the guests with my wrinkles. Her Ladyship prefers I stay put on nights like these. What of you? Shouldn’t your neck be just as swamped by party tasks as everybody else’s?”

“I have a few minutes, I think.”

“Not just up here for a bit of gossip, then, are you?”

“Not really. At least, not current gossip. I’m looking for a woman called Veshwa. At least, I think she’s a woman—she might have worked for House Roshan a long time ago—I’m not sure.”

Kimila’s coal eyes narrowed. “And what business do you have with this maybe-woman Veshwa?”

Saroya wondered how much truth to tell. “She’s the only link I have to my mother.”

“And your mother is?”

“Dead.”

Kimila pursed her lips and frowned. The tap-tap of a tree branch knocked against the shutters. Kimila’s silent scrutiny lengthened.

Saroya took her second plunge of the week. “As a baby, I was left at an orphanage with a note from my mother. It said to look for Veshwa if I ever came to U’Veyle.”

“Why House Roshan?”

“The note implied she was a servant here.” Saroya stretched the truth a bit.

“Are you an Untalent, then?”

Deception was pointless. Kimila’s eyes seemed practiced at ferreting out lies. “Yes.”

Oddly, this decided Kimila. She sighed and laid her needlework on the small table beside her.

“Veshwa. Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in many a year. Came to the House with Lady Ashra as part of her dowry when she married Lord Roshan. Not the current one—I mean his father, Airic of Roshan.” A dreamy twinkle flickered across the jet eyes. “Now there was a wedding to behold.”

Saroya stifled an impatient remark; she sensed it wouldn’t do to hurry Kimila.

As though reading her thoughts, Kimila snorted. “Don’t worry, dear, I’ll get to the point. You’d do well to work on your gambling face though—everything you think flits across it for all to see.” She closed her eyes as though cataloguing her memories.

“Veshwa arrived the year little Dhilain was born—not so little now, I suppose, seeing as he’s lord of the manor. She was nursemaid and nanny to all of Ashra’s children. Padvai was her favorite. Always getting into trouble, that one. Veshwa indulged her. But when Airic gave Padvai to Lord Urdig as his wife, Veshwa went to Dhilain, taking care of his children.” Kimila paused, then said more softly, “That really stuck in Isolte’s craw—that her sister went to House Karan. Isolte couldn’t stand making an inferior match to her sister’s. Then again, who could have known that Dorn would waste his Talent in that way?” Kimila shrugged, and gazed out the window. She acted like Saroya should know what she was talking about.

“A few years after the Houses crowned Urdig and they moved to the castle, Padvai summered in the lake country. She begged Dhilain to borrow Veshwa. I lost track of her after that. Don’t rightly know what happened, but I heard rumors—Veshwa left in some disgrace, went to live in the Vergal Quarter.” Kimila’s lined face turned to Saroya. “That’s all I can tell you.”

Saroya knelt down and took one of Kimila’s knobby hands in her own. “It’s enough—you can’t know how grateful I am.” Her mind churned over these revelations. Disgrace. Would an illicit pregnancy qualify as disgrace? Despite the evidence of the ring, could Veshwa be her mother and not Padvai? The ring might have been doubly stolen—first by Veshwa, then by Martezha.

Kimila smiled. “Better get back, now. You’ll catch trouble if anybody finds you up here.” Saroya turned to go. “And girl—” Saroya looked back. “Even Untalents can do well for themselves in this world. Don’t let nobody tell you otherwise.” Saroya met the opaque gaze leveled at her and, though puzzled, nodded. No matter how wrong the old woman might be about Untalents, Saroya had to believe she was telling the truth about Veshwa.

Orjen, the port captain, frowned at the newly arrived ship—the only vessel from the king’s trade delegation to Kurtya that had returned. His irritation was not due to the loss of four ships. He marched up the gangplank, prepared to give the ship’s master an earful, but stopped in puzzlement when no one greeted him at the top.

He peered towards the stern, looking for the sailors who had tossed the mooring lines ashore. At first, he saw nothing. Then, squinting at the bow, he spotted a man slumped against the strakes. His heart beating faster, he went forward, but still halted a good distance away.

“You, there!” The sailor turned his head with obvious effort. The port captain could clearly see the sheen of perspiration on the crewman’s forehead. It was a cool day. Orjen swallowed.

“Why has this ship come to the docks without clearance first? Where is the master?”

The sailor licked dry, cracked lips. “Dead. The master is dead.”

“Dead of what?”

“The fever. The fever got him. Please. Bring healers. We need healers.”

Orjen backed away. “You fools. Do you know what you’ve done?” He hurried back to the top of the gangplank. He held out a hand in warning to the customs inspectors preparing to board.

“This ship is under quarantine effective immediately.” He looked around for his assistant. “Bring food and water, send for a healer, and notify the castle. I need two guards posted here at the docks—and get this gangplank removed. Now! No one is to board or leave the ship.” He glanced forward, his expression grim. “I’ll find out if anybody already has.”

His assistant bustled away, fully aware that with Orjen stuck on the ship, he was now the acting port captain. Orjen went to find himself a comfortable place aboard to await his fate.

Saroya picked herself up out of the muddy puddle and dodged a kick.

“Mine!” her attacker shouted.

She held her hands up palms out and slowly backed away. The filthy beggar who’d shoved her from behind shook his fist at her.

“My corner! My pile! Go away!”

Saroya stared wistfully at the pile of trash she’d been combing through in hopes of finding a stale crust of bread, overripe apple, or a trinket she could pawn at the market.

The beggar glowered. What scared Saroya the most about him wasn’t his fierce territoriality, but his eyes. Despite the brief glow of rage when he discovered her, they exhibited nothing but defeat. No curiosity. No spark of animation. No interest in the rest of the world. Saroya didn’t recognize herself in those eyes, refused to.

This man had no friends, no family to turn to for help. His Untalent condemned him not only to destitution, but to a life of solitude. Saroya had a friend. A friend she’d betrayed. But maybe she could heal that rift. With Kimila’s information, maybe she could find Veshwa. And through Veshwa, family. A place to belong.

Saroya spun on her heels and took off in search of a washhouse that wouldn’t bar her entry on sight so she could clean off the mud clinging to her tunic. Running down the street, she chanted over and over.

“Not me. That’s not me. It’ll never be me. Not me …”

Saroya waited nervously in the atrium of the Healer’s Guild. The boy sent to fetch Nalini had not returned. Saroya had ruined her one friendship and where did it get her? Nowhere. Begging Nalini for forgiveness seemed a small price to pay to salvage their friendship. She would admit to Nalini how much she’d wronged her. Nalini might never understand Saroya but at least she listened. At the sound of approaching footsteps, Saroya lifted her head. Nalini stood before her.

Saroya searched her face for some sign of welcome, but Nalini stayed silent and stony. Saroya held out a small pouch.

“I found this Mourner’s Veil in the market and thought you might like some. I didn’t think it grew in the gardens here.”

Nalini ignored the pouch. She folded her arms across her chest.

Saroya sighed. “Look, I know what I did to Goha didn’t help you with your parents. I couldn’t stay in the castle anymore. I didn’t know what else to do.” Saroya stood up, leaving the pouch on the bench she’d just vacated. “Keep the herbs; they’ll help someone feel better.” With a last forlorn look at Nalini, Saroya headed for the door.

Something hit Saroya in the shoulder and she spun around. The herb pouch lay at her feet. Saroya winced at the strength of Nalini’s anger.

“I could use some help carrying it to my room,” Nalini said. “I’ve got a stack of books to pick up from the library along the way.”

Saroya gaped.

Nalini grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m still sore at you. But Goha wrote how impressed he was by how far you got. He smoothed things over with my parents. Come on, we never finished the full tour last time.”

Saroya felt like she was walking on air as they set off down the hall.

Saroya enjoyed her tour of the guildhall. While the infirmary sick rooms were off-limits due to the presence of patients, she noted that many healers still worked in their studies. The conservatory impressed her the most: all those special plants, each with its own use for treating injury or illness. Saroya didn’t think it possible for a single person to remember all their names, but Nalini had to know the entire catalogue of the conservatory before her guildmaster would allow her to move past apprenticeship.

They neared the atrium again, rounded a corner and encountered a knot of healers, heads bent together in animated discussion. Their conversation cut off when they noticed the two friends. Saroya was conscious of their eyes following them as they passed the group, then the muttering resumed as the girls moved out of earshot.