Page 35 of A Trade of Blood

“If you call upon Aimafall tomorrow,” said Ippeas heavily, “we will see what can be arranged. But I still am unsure what speaking to Velona can do—unless you mean to solve this entire curse upon my family.”

With a frown, I produced my engraver’s satchel, slid out the vial of lilac aroma, and took a sniff, anchoring this conversation in my memory. It was a common act for me, but when I looked back I saw both of them watching me, anxious and disturbed. In a mere second, I had gone from a confidant to something very different. Much like a porpoise swimming alongside a school of fish, we could see commonalities shared among us, but it was clear I was very different.

I cleared my throat. “I thank you for this,” I said. “I’ll take your leave, and report all this to my superior.”

“You want to go?” said Fotia, surprised. “But we just sat down together.”

“You wish to socialize now?” I said. “After we’ve spoken of such death and sorrow?”

“Well, we could talk of something else,” she said crossly.

“All right.” I looked at Ippeas. “What are your conditions for marrying my sister?”

“Din!” said Fotia, outraged.

“I understand gentry marriage contracts are very different from those of common folk,” I continued. “I am most interested in learning what language will be applied to your union.”

“M-mine will be a far cry from complex,” said Ippeas, coloring again. “Since I’m not of the prime clan.”

“All right. Then it will be simple. So—why have you not married already?”

Now it was their turn to sit in awkward silence. Fotia glared at me furiously.

“You’ve not decided on a date?” I suggested.

“No!” said Fotia, irritated. “And it is something of a sore subject!”

I looked back at Ippeas. “Are you leading my sister on?”

“Din!” said Fotia. “Damn it all!”

“No,” said Ippeas. “But…”

“But?”

“Well—Signum Kol, I’d not wish her to marry me with my circumstances being as they are!” said Ippeas. “I’m not a prime son. I’m hardly more than a drover here. I serve a family that seems cursed to many. And even if we were not cursed, we’d still be in a murderous feud with the Buravs, with many openly wishing for war. I…I wish to wait, to try to better my position.” He looked to me. “I don’t think it such an unreasonable thing. Could you ask someone to anchor themself to you, with your future so dismal and uncertain?”

I studied them: Ippeas, so nakedly earnest and conflicted; Fotia, so anguished and distraught. How odd it was, to hear a gentryman speak of his circumstances the way so many common folk did of their own.

“I…don’t know, to be honest,” I said finally. “I hadn’t considered it. Imperial Sublimes do not marry.”

“No?” said Ippeas.

“Usually no. We do not engender children, and we do not live long lives. Few would desire such a union.”

At that, the discomfort about the table twisted again, like the wind changing directions. Ippeas and Fotia both shifted in their seats.

“I, ah, see,” said Ippeas. He opened his mouth to say more but coughed and fell silent.

I stood. “I’ll take your leave,” I said stiffly. “Your friend has befallen a tragedy, and I’m an interloping presence. This day has been difficult enough.” I raised my hand as Fotia stood and opened her mouth to speak. “I’ll see you tomorrow, of course, Fo. But I warn you—I’ll likely come with my superior. And though I may seem strange to you now, she’ll be far stranger.”

“I don’t care about that,” she said. “But will I get to see you again after? I’ll not let you become a ghost to me again, goddamn it!”

I attempted to smile. “I shall haunt you plenty. Let us hope it’s the only haunting that happens in this place.”

It was a weak joke and died as it met air. I put down a few talints for the wine, then left to return to my inn.

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