His voice was deep and resounding.Likely it wasn’t his true voice, but how he’d been trained to speak.Dayne’s voice wasn’t his own either; grainkeepers needed to command with authority.
I studied the potential husband.His brows were straight but heavy, as if he were actually deeply sad and trying to hide it by raising them.
To my surprise, it was Dayne who spoke next.“I hear the sea dogs have been raiding along the east.”
Sea dogs, as I understood them at the time, were demon-cursed creatures akin to seals but with some human faculties.They organized attacks wherein they stole shiny things and human flesh to be consumed raw.They had human hands so could carry shields and tie together driftwood islands where they lived in the thousands.
“Aye, they have,” Loric said.“The season is mostly over, but they’ve been keeping us very busy.I—” He halted, as if he were about to say something he shouldn’t.“I have mind to build ships and meet them at sea next season.”
Dayne perked up at the sentiment, though he quickly returned to his performance of disinterest.When he spoke, he was condescending.“A fine idea.Tell me, how many ships have you built before?”
Loric didn’t react to the tone in Dayne’s voice.“Only a few, Gentlesir, but I have been studying what they leave behind and triremes from history.Next season, I hope to put an end to all of this.”
I could tell Dayne was about to say something abrasive and shot him a warning look.
Loric continued, “We must act.Half the farmland on the east coast is ablaze.The people who work the land have no kepens to guard them.If I am to be Grainkeeper of the Hard-Won Kepen, I should like to keep my people free from terror.”
I’d never been privy to these sorts of conversations, so I began to find Loric a little thrilling.
He didn’t seem to think he was having this effect.He grimaced and looked around—first to Emery and Hamon, who hadn’t been listening, and then to me.“Forgive me, Gentlewoman.”
“For what, Sir?”
“Uh…” He scraped his bottom lip on his teeth.“For speaking of work at the table, Gentlewoman.”It was a mild way of saying,for speaking of grainkeeping things in front of a goldkeeper.
“I will bear no grudge over it,” I said.
He looked down at his hands.“I’d come over to… or well?—”
He turned his head back to the dais where his father seemed to be summoning him with a wave.He patted his tunic quickly, before pulling a single, delicate stem from his breast pocket and presenting it to me with just the right amount of awkwardness for the gesture to be sweet.“I hope we will speak more.”
He stood and bowed first to me, and then to Dayne before rigidly making his way back to the dais and his father’s summons.
I stared at the frail gift—a deep green stem decorated with dainty white blossoms.It wasn’t just a flower.It was a blossom from an honesty vine.
Once upon a time, back when the Isle had a crowned king, the king was looking to choose an heir as he had no children.He gave a vine to each of his knights, asking them to care for the plant for a year.He told them he would make his choice based on the vine’s health when the time was up, as he wished to select the most diligent and caring from among them.
The following year, each knight brought their vine before the king.Thirteen knights had beautiful blooms, but the fourteenth had no leaves or flowers on his branches.The king chose the fourteenth knight to rule upon his death, explaining that the vines only bloomed every other year.He’d given each of his swords vines that would not blossom, wanting to see if any would seek to deceive him.
I watched Loric for several more moments—he listened to my father and then his father and then my father again.I no longer judged him dim-witted.
“He’s licking your boots,” Dayne warned quietly.“Father’s as well.”
“Pray not,” I said, noticing the way our father and Loric’s laughed together.They did indeed have the appearance of old friends, and I think it was that moment which made my circumstances feel real to me for the first time.I was struck by an all-encompassing loneliness, by a type of sickness I now believe comes from choicelessness.
Even in my dreams I was alone, wandering across an endless stretch of dry sand.Yellow as far as I could see.
Three
On the second day of their visit, my father, Dayne, and our guests went for a hunt along with the younger boys.
It was hard to think nothing of this.
At first, I tried to pass the time pleasantly, continuing the weaving of a basket I’d begun several days back.The grass would not obey me, and I soon gave up, opting instead to visit the kepen gallery—an arched corridor that wound around the central vault, containing moth-eaten tapestries and menacing sculptures.It was a place my mother despised and avoided, so often, it was a great solace to me.
I ran my fingers along the cool, stone wall as I wandered, finding my way to a painting I was especially fond of—a grand battle scene with uncountable warriors leaping toward each other on an endless beach with no water.Their blades were oddly shaped, nearly diamond-like, as if someone had pinched the steel on either side before it had cooled, so it had two smaller points in addition to the central large one.It was a great mystery in my home as no one knew where the work had come from or which artist had captured so much pain in the grimacing expressions.It was nothing like the paintings that were typically found in my country.
Once I was looking at it, I was struck by the memory of my dream from the evening before.I had trained myself to forget my dreams as dreaming was against prescription, and besides, it was one of the signs of a conjurer.But I had dreamt of an endless sand, just like in the painting, and the air had tasted like bark and something else… distinct…
