I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back in my chair. Mister Rosy’s cheeks were burgundy, and his brows were so tightly drawn that it looked like he had an entire mountain range of wrinkles spanning his forehead. My answer, obviously, hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. It would take a great deal of study for me to learn how to do this job without inciting the ire of my subjects.
“Lord Gyllen is right. The High Council and I have worked hard to ensure that taxes in the empire are not a burden on anyone’s shoulders unless they simply do not plan. It is never any use to stick your head in the sand and ignore your responsibilities, Mister Rosy. That said, however, I appreciate that you sought my guidance and help, and I will have my secretary provide suggestions for bookkeepers with honest reputations to help you manage your business. Further, the royal treasury will pay the bookkeeper’s fees for the time between now and when your taxes come due.”
The tailor bowed, muttered his thanks and retreated into the crowd.
The rest of the day was much the same. We listened to troubles as large as a housekeeper accused of stealing a noblewoman’s jewels—only to find that the noblewoman’s husband had gambled away their entire fortune—and as small as an argument between two street vendors over a particular corner in a park.
Runa showed each of them the same amount of respect, and even made certain to include Patrise and Lisette in the consideration of certain petitions. She paid careful attention to the needs of the poor and destitute, and made notes of the bevy of ways in which the social services provided by the Alskad throne were failing. She frequently asked my opinion, and most of the time, she agreed with my assessments. When she and I were at odds, she explained her thinking to both me and the gathered petitioners, and every time, I saw how her logic was sounder than mine. There was so much I didn’t know, and the plethora of ways in which the privilege of my wealth had coddled me and shrouded me from the everyday challenges of the Alskad people continued to shock me.
By the time the chamber emptied, we’d heard more than thirty petitions, and my brain felt like mush. That was the moment Queen Runa decided to begin quizzing me about the shipbuilding industry.
VI
With only hours left until his departure, Sawny and I stayed awake all night, teasing and telling stories and remembering and acting like nothing would change when we were an ocean apart. Even Lily managed to endure my presence in their shared room with a bare minimum of complaints. She had, after all, gotten her way.
We’d planned to leave the temple quietly before first adulations, but the anchorites who’d taken the most responsibility in raising us—Lugine, Bethea and Sula—were waiting for Sawny and Lily in the entrance hall. They wore informal yellow robes and thick wool scarves in golden orange wrapped tight around their shoulders. The color flattered Sula’s and Lugine’s dark brown skin, making them glow. Unfortunately, for a woman committed to a lifetime wearing a very limited palette, yellow turned Bethea’s thin, pale wrinkles sallow and sickly.
“You’ll not sneak away in the night like thieves,” Bethea said grumpily, but she leaned one of her canes against her hip and pulled Lily in for a hug.
I pressed myself into the wall. This was their moment, and I wanted more than anything to become invisible. The anchorites had never hugged me. Not even once. Sawny and Lily and the other twins like them were, in their own way, the children these women would never give birth to themselves, committed as they were to their goddesses. Though we three were all wards of the temple, the fact that I was a dimmy made me a threat.
I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of goodbye I would get when my time came.
Sula slipped a bulging satchel over Sawny’s shoulder and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “We’d extra copies of some cookery books in the library. I thought you might find them useful in your new life.”
Lugine cupped Sawny’s and Lily’s cheeks, one in each hand, a warm smile lighting her face. “Magritte protect you both. Write often, and let us know how you are.”
“And get yourselves to adulations,” Bethea added. “Just because we’re not there to worry you into the haven hall doesn’t mean you can stop showing up.”
Lily burst into tears and flung her arms around Bethea. Sawny, chin trembling, bit his lip and nodded. I sank farther back into the shadows, tears welling in my own eyes. Even though we’d grown up in the same hall, in the same building, raised by these same women, our lives could not have been more different, and it had taken me until that moment to realize it fully. I would never be missed, never be wanted, never be anything but a burden.
We walked in silence through Penby’s quiet streets in the faint glow of the waning moon, only one of its halves fully visible. I laced my arm through Sawny’s, trying to burn him into my memory. He’d been my best friend my whole life, and it didn’t seem possible that when I trudged back up the hill to the temple later, I would be alone.
The city came alive as we got closer to the docks, where the great iron sunships, Alskad’s greatest pride, were moored. Sailors hauled trunks and crates up and down long gangplanks, officers shouted orders from the decks, and vendors pushed carts, hawking the kinds of trinkets a person might not realize they needed until they were on the verge of leaving everything they knew and loved behind. The whole scene was lit by the hazy, flickering light of sunlamps and the first rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon.
“The ship is called the Lucrecia,” Lily said. “I spoke to a woman named Whippleston to arrange our passage.”
We walked down the docks, scanning the names painted large on the backs of the ships.
“There’s still time to back out,” I said quietly to Sawny, fingering the small pouch I’d stuffed into my pocket after supper the night before. “The anchorites would let you stay a bit longer. Work’s sure to open up somewhere in the city. If not, I’ll be sixteen soon. I know there’s work up north we can take.”
But just as I finished speaking, the Lucrecia loomed up out of the darkness at the end of the dock, her name painted in bright white across the stern far above our heads. A brat couldn’t grow up in Alskad without learning a bit about sunships. Even in the cheap cabins set aside for contract workers, Sawny and Lily would experience more luxury in the short trip across the Tethys than we’d ever imagined. There would be endless buffets, libraries and game rooms. They’d sleep on soft beds, and for the first—and only—time in their lives, they’d wake each morning with nothing to do. A part of me wished that I could walk onto the sunship with Lily and Sawny, just to see, but that would never happen. Not for a dimmy. Not for me.
An imposing woman stood at the end of the gangplank, a sheaf of papers in one hand, a pen in the other. The light gray fur of her jacket’s collar set off her high cheekbones and deep, russet-brown skin. She eyed the three of us as we approached.
“Names?” she asked.
I turned to Sawny. “You’re sure?”
“There’s more opportunity there than we could ever hope for here,” Sawny said, his eyes begging me to understand. “It’ll be a better life. An easier life.”
I retied the bit of string at the end of my braid. Lily reached out and squeezed my shoulder, and I started slightly. It was the first time she’d touched me in years.
“We’ll take care of
