The two hours crept by until Ainjrejeu and Tareuk returned to the wagon. They poured over stacks of papers and marked them with charcoal pencils even as they walked, making an especially odd sight as Tareuk had to hunch down and Ainjrejeu stood almost on tiptoe. When they reached the wagon, Tareuk carried his armful of papers inside carefully while Ainjrejeu broke away to speak to the driver.
Nykol and Miar retrieved lunch supplies with Tareuk inside the wagon, but Kalolin peered around the side to eavesdrop.
“But we will still be able to reach Setsuza’oa before nightfall?” Ainjrejeu asked.
“Thereabouts,” the driver confirmed.
“Good,” nodded Ainjrejeu. “That will keep us on schedule.”
As Ainjrejeu turned, Kalolin had almost ducked back behind the wagon when Kalem pulled Ainjrejeu aside. Curiosity got the better of her and she kept her eyes on them as they spoke in imperceptible, hushed tones. Ainjrejeu said something that caused the musician to lean in close, his hand against the side of Ainjrejeu’s face as he bent slightly to whisper in his ear. This, too, was done in the same over-familiar manner as everything else Kalem did.
It lasted only a moment before Ainjrejeu frowned and shoved Kalem away by the shoulder.
“Cease or decease, will you!” grumbled Ainjrejeu.
Kalem laughed the full laughter of a singer with strong lungs and they both returned to the others.
Miar handed out palm-sized pastries stuffed with ground meat and fragrant herbs.
“I’m going to take a walk out over the lake while I eat,” Ainjrejeu announced.
Tareuk, on the other hand, sighed and sat down on the step of the wagon, causing the whole thing to tilt slightly.
“Don’t you ever get tired of walking?” chuckled Kalem.
“Of course not,” replied Ainjrejeu. “After the Raethkalm the Teveri’ine were without a home for many turns. The road to Ben was long and fraught, but my—”
“Your people walked.” Kalem groaned. “I think I’ve heard that, once or twice.”
Ainjrejeu sniffed. “Rest your delicate Sarnain feet, then. I won’t be gone long.”
He turned to leave, and Kalolin skittered after him. He raised a single questioning eyebrow at her.
“I could use the chance to stretch my legs,” she offered as explanation.
Dark waves lapped at the wooden piers as they made their way further out onto the lake. The walkways were twisting and narrow, and Kalolin kept her eyes on her feet, scared she might accidentally topple sideways into the water. The lake water could be heard lapping at the piles below them, and Kalolin unwittingly began to walk in time to the sound. The air drifting up from the surface of the water was warm and damp, but a cool breeze swept it away.
“It’s not the Kaenykyn,” Ainjrejeu shrugged. “But it’s the next best thing.”
“I’ve been, once,” said Kalolin quietly between bites of her meal.
“You live less than a day’s walk from the sea and you’ve only ever been once?” he scoffed.
“It’s a day there and a day back. Too long to be away from the orchard.”
Ainjrejeu groaned. “If only time could be bought with coin, I’d take a boat out on the water every day just to eat lunch. Er knows I could afford it.”
He opened his mouth wide, practically unhinging his jaw, and stuffed the entire pastry inside in one bite. Kalolin waited for him to chew and swallow, which took easily one quarter as long as would have been healthy.
“Your work keeps you busy then?”
“What do you think an heir is for?” He laughed. “Of course I am busy. Ceaselessly, constantly, infuriatingly busy. Anyone could have told you that for free.”
He reached out a finger and poked her lightly on the tip of her nose. She wiped it with the back of her hand as though he had dirtied it somehow.
“I am an executive, if you know what that means,” he said. “Really I am the Chief Executive in all but name, seeing as my Father doesn’t lift a finger unless he has to. Tareuk and Terim manage much of the day to day, but all new projects go through me until we have a standardized process for them. All new consignors, suppliers, buyers, and companimen are onboarded by me personally, all new major contracts are negotiated by me, and each new ship, route, or timetable requires my approval.”
“Like this new branch?” asked Kalolin.
He hopped across the walkway in front of Kalolin and spun on his heel, then started walking backwards, keeping pace with her. He locked intense eyes with hers.
“This dog has sharp ears,” he furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you’re not employed by a rival company?”
“What? No, it was just something Miar said,” Kalolin held her hands up in front of her chest.
Ainjrejeu chuckled at her panic. “If so, you’re not very good at your job. I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you, regardless. But yes, I have to personally oversee the development of a new branch. It’s past time we get river boats out on the Elerhem.”
“Then what are you doing out here?” asked Kalolin. “Surely you’ll need to build the branch in Hanzo.”
Ainjrejeu laughed, tucking his arms behind his back. “Dear girl, land is far too expensive in Hanzo to have more than a small office there. For warehouses and a shipyard, we’ll need to do something upriver.”
“I see,” Kalolin nodded. “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Whatever for?” Ainjrejeu made a face that was almost like disgust, but not quite. “It’s not any of your business.”
Kalolin sniffed. “A wife needs to be able to carry a conversation with her husband about his work. Unless you Sarnains prefer your wives stupid and helpless, that is.”
“Yes, in general, they do.” He shook his head. “I have been trying to determine whether your issue is one of pride or idiotic overconfidence,” said Ainjrejeu. “I'm afraid that it is decidedly both.”
“Excuse me,” Kalolin frowned. “I’ll have you know this is distilled stubbornness.”
“Alright then,” he smirked at her. “If you’re so keen to learn, then what about this location?”
“Well, it’s still close to Hanzo,” she mused. “But it’s a pretty small town and a pretty big lake, so the land is probably not too expensive. Plus, the lake itself gives you room for a boatyard, and I don’t really see how you could do without one. I’d say it seems like the ideal location, except that you clearly don’t think so.”
“What makes you say that?”
“For some reason, you’ve already decided against this spot, probably more than a couple of hours ago. You’re very interested in the lake itself, but you’ve hardly looked up at the land around it. Certainly less than you’ve been looking at the landscape of my chest,” she teased.
Ainjrejeu raised his copper eyebrows at her. It was the most sincere expression of surprise she had seen from him yet. It was immediately topped, however, by a look of genuine panic.
There was a wet squeak, a yip liked a kicked dog, and a terrible splash.
It took Kalolin a second to register that Ainjrejeu Kaelkarim had disappeared from the pier entirely. Somehow, it took less time for her body to start moving.
She dove into the water. It was ice against her skin but the water was calm. There was no battering current like in the Elerhem river back home. She reached out into the darkness below her but found herself clawing through the folds of Ainjrejeu’s cloak before she made contact with the more solid mass of him. Wrapping an arm around him, she swam upward with all her might. The drag against him was ridiculous, but they managed to breach the surface.
Kalolin reached up blindly, using the shadow of the pier against the brilliant sun to find her way. She scrabbled at the wooden planks with her fingers, looking for dry purchase.
“Hold on!” she shouted, then she let go of Ainjrejeu, freeing up both her arms while hoping desperately that he had heard her. When she felt him wrap an arm around her shoulders, she began pulling them both up the side of the pier.
Eventually they were close enough to the top that Ainjrejeu was able to fling his upper body onto the pier and scramble up the rest of the way. Kalolin pulled herself up with more grace.
She wiped the lakewater from her eyes with an arm. Ainjrejeu was soaked. His waterlogged hair was a rusty brown, his wet cloak a dark, slimy void. She had once seen a mother fox drag her pup out of the river by its scruff. He looked like that.
“You do know I can swim?” Ainjrejeu glared her way, pausing for breath, “I wasn’t going to drown, so you haven’t earned my favor or anything.”
She met his gaze with wordless confusion.
His eyes flickered downward. “Maybe you’re just looking for another excuse to show me your breasts.”
Kalolin looked down and rushed to cover her exposed chest with her arms. Her top had vanished completely. She cast her eyes out at the water, searching for flash of red, but found none. The chain must have weighed it down. It was at the bottom of the lake by now.
Getting shakily to his feet, Ainjrejeu tossed his cloak to Kalolin. She opted to merely hold it in front of her chest, rather than putting on the ice cold fabric.
Ainjrejeu’s boots were still audibly squelching when they reached the lake-shore and found the others outside the stable. The two horses, one ivory and one a deeper cream color, were grazing nearby under the tender supervision of Hakim, their driver and caretaker. He spoke to them softly, and they whickered in reply.
The other four were seated on a blanket in the shade of the covered wagon, sharing some fruit and potted cheese to wash down the rest of their lunch. They greeted the newcomers with affectionate waves, but once they were close enough to make out Ainjrejeu’s drenched form, they stood up and rushed over.
“Oh curses, what happened?” Miar breathed.
Kalolin heard Ainjrejeu inhale beside her—a short, stalling pause.
He’s had plenty of time to think up an excuse, so why hesitate now?
Kalolin let out a short, weary sob. Clutching Ainjrejeu’s cloak tight to her chest, she shivered and wavered on her feet. All eyes shifted to her.
In the smallest, most shaken voice she could manage, she said, “I fell in.”
“Oh, you poor, poor dear,” consoled Miar.
Beside her, Nykol laid a warm hand on Kalolin’s pale shoulder. “You’re ice cold, honey,” she frowned. It was almost an admonishment.
“I’m so sorry,” whimpered Kalolin.
“I should have left her back in Hanzo,” Ainjrejeu grumbled. “She’s proving to be a real pain.”
The musician Kalem tried putting a hand on one of Ainjrejeu’s shoulders, only to recoil from the cool dampness. “If she’s such a pain why did you jump in after her?”
“I did no such thing.”
The ineffectual denial brought a smile to Nykol and Miar’s lips.
Kalem laughed. “I never figured you for the brave, hero type, kad’ha.”
“Do you need to take a swim in the lake?” threatened Ainjrejeu, eyebrows furrowed and ears flushing maroon with frustration.
“Oh, please, sehr, no,” mocked Kalem. “I would surely drown under the weight of my giant—.” He bit off the rest of his words (just the one, really). Kalolin had to fight not to roll her eyes.
They stopped next in Setsuza’oa. Ainjrejeu had not so much as spoken to Kalolin since they left Laikeung Elerhem. He had looked at her; she had felt his eyes boring holes in the back of her head a couple of times, but whenever she sought to catch his gaze, he was conveniently concerned with something else.
They had both changed out of their wet clothes: Kalolin into a matching amber top and skirt, with long slits above her mid thigh, and Ainjrejeu into something more locally inconspicuous. Kalolin had to wear an outfit sized for Miar, which was slightly too long and a little tight around the hips, but which actually stayed on her body, unlike those sized for Nykol. While the yellow color of the silk was rich and warm against Miar’s dark skin, it made the paler Kalolin look sickly, which only compelled the other women to dote on her further.
Ainjrejeu had left his leather boots off for a few hours until they at least looked dry from the outside, though Kalolin was sure they were still gross on the inside (an apt comparison to the beautifully cruel man himself). He traded his simple, brown trousers for a pair of stiff black pants that flared wider slightly at the ankle to accommodate the boots underneath. He spent several minutes shoving the excess fabric into his boots in a way which suggested he was much more rural than he was. This was paired with a wide-sleeved, off-white shirt, a deep violet vest, cropped short in the Fenlander fashion, and a matching scarf tied around his head. It wasn’t so early in the year that such a scarf was unusual, but Kalolin knew by the way that his long braid had been carefully tucked inside that he wasn’t wearing it to keep his head warm.
Setsuza’oa was the largest town they had passed through since Hanzo. With the town square perched on the top of a gentle hill, it was beautifully scenic, matching the reputation for quaintness ascribed to it further downriver.
The town overlooked the sloping riverbank that touched the wide Elerhem, blurry and inconsistent at the edges, always changing with the weather. Sprawling fields of bright orange and yellow flowers filled the lowlands between the town and the river. The flowers encircled the whole town at the foot of the hill, like a moat made from the sunset.
Even within the town itself, a few of the flowers sprung up like weeds in disused corners. They had long, narrow petals that curled out and underneath themselves like some sort of vibrant tongues. The center of the flower was a deep, bloody red, disappearing into a channel that seemed to continue on into the stem of the flower. Their sweet, spicy scent filled every breath, their presence undeniable. There was something magic in them; she could feel it.
“Pretty, right?” Nykol smiled at her, catching Kalolin take another look back at the river. “They’re his favorite, y’know.”
“Whose?...Mister Kaelkarim’s?” Kalolin picked up the pace and closed the gap between herself and the others. Ainjrejeu and Tareuk had split off from the group once again, the rest to make their way into the heart of the town at their leisure.
Nykol nodded brightly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if taking this route was just an excuse to come here.”
The wide pedestrian avenue was lined with shops and businesses. Upstairs, the owners lived in apartments like they did in Hanzo, but without the elaborate balconies and rooftop gardens. Blue and white walls connected wooden posts and lintels that supported sharp gables. More of the striking flowers decorated the buildings in window-boxes underneath wooden shutters.
A block down the street, a small crowd mulled outside of a sizable, square building, set apart from the other shops. As they grew closer to it, Kalolin put her hand between her eyes and the glowing sunset and was able to make out a large, painted sign mounted above the front door. The intricate, curling font read ‘Zangti’ in Txhague. Kalolin wasn’t sure if it was a name, or simply a word she didn’t know, but the warm, sharp smell made it clear the building was a restaurant.
“I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve eaten real food,” bemoaned Kalem, leading the head of the group with the driver, Hakim, beside him. “You think I should just get one of everything?” he asked rhetorically.
“Only if you’re prepared for another lecture on ‘straining the budget’,” Nykol chuckled from behind him.
Kalem stopped and turned half around to shrug in her direction. “What’s the kad’ha gonna do about it? Dock my allowance some more?”
“Do you always speak so glibly of your own patron?” Kalolin asked. Her voice was an icy calm, and no one else could hear the acid bite of the words, though she could taste it in her mouth.
“Yep,” replied Kalem cheerfully. “Thanks for noticing.”
The crowd at the front of the restaurant was mostly made up of men smoking and gossiping amongst themselves, hands on bellies content from a good meal. They parted to let the visitors enter unmolested by anything more than a pleasant tip of the hat. The friendly energy was even stronger inside, a stocky host greeting them as though they were old friends.
“Welcome, welcome! My home is your home,” the man grinned. This was a customary up-river greeting. Back in Hanzo-gal, it was traditional to say ‘good day’ in a manner that was more threatening than it was polite.
The host led them through the dining area, packed with round tables each covered with a tablecloth in a different floral pattern. The chaos burned at Kalolin’s eyes. The host seated them at one of the larger tables near the back wall where they were served rice wine and a spicy, floral tea.
Hakim ordered for the table, based on the fact that he was the one carrying the money so that he could purchase feed for the horses, and whatnot. He carefully counted out several of the dull, metal discs—Fenlander minki coins rather than Sarnain bank notes or the less portable gold coins sometimes used there.
Miar put her elbows on the table and laced her elegant fingers together, then rested her angular chin on top of them. “Any plans to bring back a souvenir from the Northlands for your wife, Hakim?”
“Thinking long and hard about it,” he tilted his head into a nod. “I brought her back some honeyed nuts last time, which she enjoyed. I’m not sure if I should take the easy route and get her some more, or if the novelty is more the draw and I should find something else.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it either way,” smiled Miar delicately.
“So you and Tareuk, huh?” the driver grinned.
“Oh, well…” Miar’s eyes widened. “Is it that obvious?”
Hakim shrugged casually. “Maybe not of itself, but sehr Kaelkarim seems to know something.”
Miar sighed and blew the steam away from her cup of tea. “Tareuk cares deeply for me, and I for him, but...I told him it couldn’t be more than that until I had discussed it with Ainjrejeu. Somehow, that still hasn’t happened yet. I think sometimes the kad’ha teases me the way he does just to make it that much harder to have serious conversations with him.”
“Ainjrejeu will certainly be happy for you two,” said Nykol.
“I hope so,” frowned Miar. “But...I don’t think he’s ready.”
“More likely you’re the one who isn’t ready,” the younger woman shrugged. “So, Lylia,” Nykol changed the subject, leaning forward with her elbows on the table until her round breasts joined them (she didn’t have to lean far). “With Ainjrejeu jumping into a lake to save you from drowning, I don’t suppose you’ve been put off the marriage idea, then?”
“I probably wouldn’t have drowned,” Kalolin said defensively. “But yes, someone diving into a lake after you is quite a show of devotion, I should think.” She straightened her skirt where the blue and yellow tablecloth laid across it and tried not to look too smug.
“It hasn’t even been a turn and he’s jumping into lakes after farmgirls,” Kalem shook his head.
“Oh, so now you’re kheti about it,” huffed Nykol. “You were all ‘you’re a hero, kad’ha’ to his face.” She waved her white-lacquered nails at him dismissively.
“I’m a lot of things to his face,” Kalem sneered under his dark mustache. “I don’t mind him getting all heroic; he’s never been able to keep out of trouble. It’s just everything else.”
He shrugged his shoulders as though they were causing him pain. “But what am I supposed to say to him? Don’t be so impulsive? Don’t lose your head about girls? You know what he thinks of my opinion. If I tell him I wouldn’t touch a girl with a ten foot rod, he’ll have her bent over the wedding shrine before I can put my ten foot rod back in my pants.”
Nykol let out an exasperated laugh. “There isn’t a girl alive or dead you wouldn’t touch.”
“There’s you, basket-eater,” he scowled.
“Only because they wouldn’t find your body.”
“Miar,” Kalem turned, holding his frown. “Isn’t this the part where you tell us to stop bickering like children?”
Miar sipped her tea delicately before looking up only long enough to answer. “Ainjrejeu was explicit in his purpose for bringing Nykol along on this leg of the journey. I do not intend to supersede him.”
“Perhaps this is his way of getting rid of you,” suggested Hakim. The older man’s brown face was furrowed with smile lines. “Aren’t you some sort of Fei that ceases to exist when there isn’t a woman left that’s interested in you?”
“I’m a musician,” Kalem’s frown cracked into a smile. “So, yes.”
The food arrived as two young serving women, both with sandy-beige skin, black hair, and overly-agreeable smiles, unloaded bowls and platters onto every inch of the table. The smells mingled together into something sweet, spicy, and earthy. Very earthy. Roast duck, grilled fish, and fried vegetable pancakes filled delicate serving dishes. Everything was served over rice and drenched in a deep red sauce.
Nykol graciously scooped duck and rice onto Kalolin’s plate with a warm smile. The duck was rich and tender. The sauce was at first bitter, but grew sweeter in the back of the mouth, with a sharp sweetness filling Kalolin’s nose as she ate.
“I just think he’s acting unlike himself,” said Kalem between bites of fish. “He and Lhanna have been attached at the hip for two years now.”
Hakim shook his head with a smile. “All men go through a phase where they’re afraid to settle down. Took my wife three years to convince me to get married. He’ll come around.”
Kalem sighed. “But Ainjrejeu is a companiman. He’s not supposed to make any big decisions without,” he waggled his fingers whimsically, “doing math about it first.”
“His father is a companiman,” Miar gestured with a hand, “and he’s always been so fickle.”
“Virdas,” Kalem growled, “married a wild animal so that he could rub my—other women’s noses in it. Ainjrejeu’s different.”
After dinner they returned to their rooms at the local public house, which was named The Hilltop Lodge despite being built at the bottom of the hill. It was quite near the water, nestled tenderly beside a field of yellow and orange flowers, with stilts under the building to protect against the occasional floodwaters of the Elerhem.
Kalolin plucked a few particularly vibrant flowers and brought them up to Ainjrejeu’s room, where she put them in a small painted vase atop a chest of drawers.
Wandering to the end of the third floor hallway, she found an intricate, windowed door that opened onto a small balcony overlooking the river. She couldn’t see the final rays of the sunset from this side of the building, but she could still see their orange cast over the water. Taking a seat on a wooden bench and tucking her knees under her chin, she watched the river go by, calm and lazy compared to the rushing of thoughts in her head.
Kalolin wasn’t left alone with her thoughts for long. She looked over her shoulder when the door creaked behind her, and found Miar stepping out to join her on the balcony.
“Enjoying the fresh air?” the woman asked, setting herself down gently on the bench beside Kalolin.
“Yes,” replied Kalolin. “And thinking.”
“Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting your silent contemplation,” she smiled. With the beautiful, elegant woman seated beside her, dressed in an almost identical outfit, Kalolin felt even more out of place than usual.
“Is Hakim right? Is Ainjrejeu going to marry Lhanna?”
“I don’t think so,” said Miar. “Has he told you about his thoughts on marriage?”
“That he doesn’t need a wife?” Kalolin sniffed. “So I’ve heard. It’s blatantly ridiculous.”
“The Benni don’t have marriage. That’s where he gets the idea from,” Miar said. “If there’s one thing I know about Ainjrejeu, it’s that he keeps his word, even the ones you’d really rather he didn’t.”
“You do seem to know a lot about him.” Kalolin rolled her head to the side, still resting on the top of her knees.
“More than anyone else alive,” Miar nodded. “I was his nursemaid, after all.”
Kalolin sat up straight. “Impossible! You look far too young,” she grinned.
“I appreciate the flattery.” Miar tilted her head and smiled sweetly, her braids cascading across her back.
“I was only fourteen when I became a keptmaid for Virdas Kaelkarim,” she explained. “At that time Ainjrejeu was mostly living in the dog kennels with his mother, so I didn’t see him very much. When he was about six years old someone finally noticed he could speak Khandin, and that’s when Virdas started teaching him reading and math. He genuinely enjoyed learning, and behaved well enough for his father as long as their were numbers involved. Everything else fell on the women of the estate.”
She shuddered. “Bath time? Screaming. Top of his lungs. The entire time. Putting on clothes or brushing his hair? I got more than my fair share of bites doing that. Getting him to eat a food he didn’t like? Multi-day fast just because you had the gall to try. Asking him if he’d taken a kitchen knife and where the hex he’d put it? Suddenly he only speaks Benni and good luck getting to sleep that night,” she said with a shake of her head.
The sun had finished setting, and the sky above was now a deep blue, streaks of moonlight reflecting off the surface of the river. The field of flowers below them was now invisible in the darkness, apparent only by the rustling of endless petals in the gentle breeze.
“But that’s nothing compared to when he and Kalem started fighting. Ainjrejeu was always biting and stepping on toes, or just punching Kalem in the ribs because the mood struck him. Of course, half the time it was Kalem starting it, though he was five years older and I knew he knew better. With him it was the hair pulling, and the spitting, and the name calling. Ainjrejeu picked up the language fast enough without Kalem teaching him every rude word he could think of. I could have gone without being compared to all the different parts of a cow’s anatomy that one spring.”
Kalolin covered her mouth as she laughed. “Sounds just like my younger brothers. Though it was always my sister having to break up the fights. I’m more likely to pick a side and jump in.” When her stomach started to hurt from laughing she pressed a hand to it and took a deep breath. “From what I’ve seen, they haven’t changed all that much.”
Miar nodded. “That’s why if Ainjrejeu says he isn’t going to get married, I don’t think even Lhanna will be able to make him.”
Kalolin’s face fell. “And not even me.”
“Why are you so set on the idea anyway?” Miar asked. “It would be easy for you to find a wealthy husband once we reach Sarnai. Companimen are always trying to poach their betters’ keptmaids as a sign of status.”
“I’m not interested in marrying some bumbling merchant twice my age,” Kalolin crossed her arms defiantly. “If I don’t marry Mister Kaelkarim, I might as well go home with my tail between my legs and marry Rhomeili-gwaixhem’s son.” Her cheeks were growing flushed with frustration. “His last two wives have both died in childbirth, probably because his children keep inheriting his big, ugly head!” Kalolin hadn’t meant to yell, but she was doing it anyway.
Miar looked thoughtful for a moment. “Ainjrejeu treats you very differently than he treated Lhanna.”
“What does that mean?” Kalolin frowned.
Miar stood up smoothly from the bench and moved to the door back into the building. She looked at Kalolin over her shoulder with pursed lips and shrugged her shoulders.
When Miar opened the door, the sound of voices from inside the hall made them aware that Ainjrejeu and Tareuk had returned.
“Out of all the idiots, maybe not,” Ainjrejeu was saying to Tareuk as they climbed the stairs. “But certainly within the top ten.”
“I take that to mean you aren’t interested in working with him,” replied Tareuk.
“Oh, far from it!” said Ainjrejeu. “Like your father once said, ‘the only man better to make a deal with than a smart man is a stupid one.’ And he would know.”
“Of course,” agreed Tareuk. “He works with your father, after all.”
Ainjrejeu furrowed his brow. “How dare you say something so unarguably true?”
Tareuk raised a hand to greet Miar silently as they headed down the hallway. Ainjrejeu continued speaking. “I want you to write up a contract for him tomorrow, and we can negotiate it before we leave town. We’ll purchase in bulk with an agreement for several seasons in the future. Advanced payment annually. Make sure to say market price but in the contract write the current market price.”
They came to a stop halfway down the hallway where the women met them.
“And what happens next year when he expects our price to go up and it doesn’t?” asked Tareuk.
“Hmm,” Ainjrejeu stroked his delicate chin thoughtfully. “I guess I’ll tell him...khakti.”
“Language,” Miar frowned.
“Oh, you’re right,” Ainjrejeu smiled brightly at her. “He’s Fenlander, so I’ll have to tell him to ‘suck my cock.’” He let the words linger in the air as Miar sighed, then he continued. “In all seriousness, I will simply blacklist him from all Kaelkarim ships on the Elerhem until he agrees to abide by the contract. Each year, we’ll own a higher percentage of vessels coming through Setsuza’oa, he’ll become more desperate, and eventually he’ll break.” Ainjrejeu shrugged, as though it was an obvious solution.
“Yes, sehr,” said Tareuk, ending the conversation. “How was dinner?” he asked Miar.
She smiled warmly at him. “Would have been better if you could join us. I brought back some of these delightful savory pancakes in case you two didn’t grab anything while you were out.” She gestured in the direction of her room.
“Aren’t you a lovely guardian spirit,” Tareuk grinned. “I’m starving.”
“Are they Kat-tun or Gaji-tun?” Ainjrejeu asked, eyes wide, then he shook his head and held up a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t feel like eating.”
“Really?” Miar raised her thin, dark eyebrows. “Are you feeling alright?”
Ainjrejeu nodded emphatically. “I’m fine. It’s been a long day, and I’d like to get some rest.” He shouldered past them towards his own room as though to prove it. The door to the small room rattled shut behind him, and Kalem stuck his head out of his own door, as though he’d been waiting for Ainjrejeu to leave.
“Do you think something’s wrong with him?” Kalolin asked.
Miar pursed her lips. “He’s probably fine, but I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on him. If he’s sick, I can at least do something about that.”
“Eh,” Kalem leaned against the door frame beside them and crossed his brown arms over his deep blue shirt. “I’ll bet it’s just some more of the ‘sins of the father, purity through pain’ khet he starts mumbling about when he’s short of sleep.”
“Ainjrejeu doesn’t believe in that sort of superstitious nonsense,” Miar’s eyes narrowed.
Kalem shrugged, but didn’t argue.
“We should take him at his word,” said Tareuk. “Let him sleep, and I’m sure he’ll be fine in the morning.”
“Regardless,” Kalolin stated with certainty. “I must go to him.”
“Sleep well,” said Miar.
Kalolin waved a quiet farewell to them as she reached the door of Ainjrejeu’s room and carefully let herself inside.
A cheerful, round wall sconce was lit inside the room, matching those in the hallway outside. Ainjrejeu had piled his vest, a bag of papers, and his coin purse on the seat of a chair in the corner of the room, and now was working to untie his scarf from around his braided hair. He finished and tossed his scarf onto the same pile just as Kalolin moved to help him.
He turned, almost snapping in her direction, and she flinched backward.
“What was that earlier?” he growled.
“Sorry, sehr?”
“Today. At the lake. What was that?”
“You mean rescuing you?” Kalolin asked. “Just doing my duty as your loyal servant, sehr.”
“No. After,” he demanded. He had inched closer to her.
“Ah, I see. Where I’m from it’s called Meilan, sehr.”
“My image is just fine, thank you,” he narrowed his eyes at her. “I suppose I already knew that you were a shameless dog, but now you’ve also shown to be quite the little actress.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. She moved to bow her head respectfully, but Ainjrejeu grabbed her chin, keeping her eyes on his.
“Don’t think you’ll be able to hold this over me,” he warned. “I am, unfortunately, notorious for such incidences.”
Kalolin struggled to shake her head. “That was never my intention.”
“And how am I supposed to trust a single word that comes out of this mouth when its lies and its truth sound the same?” He planted his fist on the door behind her, boxing her in.
“I…” Kalolin paused. “I can’t make you trust me,” she admitted.
He was so close to her now, they were almost nose to nose.
Any woman would be proud to marry Mister Kaelkarim.
She tried to will herself to be calm, but the muscles of her chest were tight, keeping her from taking in breath. Every time she cowered before a man she promised herself it would be the last. And every time it was a lie.
She took a step back and smacked into the door, pressing herself against it for support, but he only continued to close in on her.
“If you’re going to hit me go ahead and do it,” she muttered through gritted teeth.
“Would you leave me if I did?” His voice dropped to a whisper.
“No,” Kalolin didn’t hesitate. “I told you to do whatever you wanted with me, and that wasn’t a lie.”
He released her chin abruptly, and she fought not to stumble.
“I won’t waste my time, then.”
Kalolin let out her held breath quietly as he turned his back to her.
“Go fetch my comb from Miar,” said Ainjrejeu flatly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He tucked one leg underneath himself atop the wool mattress, and let the other leg hang down toward the floor.
“Of course, sehr,” Kalolin reached shakily behind herself for the doorknob.
“Those clothes are ill-fitting on you. Remove them.”
“Ah,” Kalolin stammered, caught between two tasks. “Yes, sehr.” She abandoned her groping quest for the door and instead carefully removed her silk top. She laid it out on the top of the chest of drawers beside the vase of flowers, hoping to return it to Miar in good condition. As Miar had taught her was customary in Sarnai, she wore no undergarments beneath her clothes. She felt the cold air creep across her spine and wondered whether she was feeling the pinprick of Ainjrejeu’s eyes on her, or if she was imagining it. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder.
When she was fully undressed, she turned around. She was surprised to find Ainjrejeu was not looking at her, but instead was busy undressing himself.
Her heart skipped in her chest, and then it tumbled over itself down a flight of stairs.
What is he going to do to me? she asked herself, nauseous anticipation gripping her stomach.
He pulled his shirt up over his head. He was slight, though not at all scrawny, his bones not obvious except for his collarbone. A supple, delicate body, rather than a sharp and angular one. He looked warm and soft to the touch, at odds with that harsh glare still burned into the back of her eyes.
Of course, he does eat well, she thought. It was such an incongruous thought that it put her further off balance. Why couldn’t he look as frightening as he is?
“You can wear this,” he said. “And bring some tea back, also.”
Kalolin stared blankly at Ainjrejeu for a moment. She gasped as his shirt collided with her face.
Picking it up off the floor, she slid the shirt on over her head. It was loose on her, the sleeves covering her hands to halfway down her fingers. It was designed to be worn with the high-waisted pants Ainjrejeu still wore, however, and so came down only to the tops of her thighs in a fashion which would be immodest even in Sarnai.
When Kalolin continued to stand before him, unmoving, Ainjrejeu lifted two fingers and started counting. “Comb. Tea. Yes?”
“Ah! Yes, sehr,” said Kalolin, scurrying out of the room.
The door to Miar’s room stood open, three doors down from Ainjrejeu’s. Kalolin found her way there, careful to walk slowly and keep her legs together to preserve what little dignity she had. When she reached the room, she found Miar seated beside Tareuk on the bed, where he was munching happily away at one of the pancakes that had been saved for him. Across from them, Kalem was sitting on a wooden chair leaned so far back that two of its legs had left the floor. At the sight of her, he lost balance and the back of the chair slammed nosily into the wall.
“Sorry to bother you, Miar,” Kalolin began.
“You’ve only been in there for a couple of minutes!” protested Kalem. Kalolin didn’t recognize him with a response.
“I’ve come to fetch Mister Kaelkarims things...or uh, personal effects,” she said.
“And you are dressed like that because…?” Miar raised an eyebrow at her.
“Oh, uh, Mister Kaelkarim didn’t like the clothes I had on,” explained Kalolin. She was far too proud to admit that she was being punished.
Kalem grumbled to himself in the corner. “I guess any line will do when the girls are paid to sleep with you.”
“I see,” Miar said skeptically, but she led Kalolin over to an orange knit bag and began sorting through its contents. She handed the painted comb to Kalolin, as well as a small jar of shriveled purple and white flowers.
“Lavender, tilia, and poppy seed at night.” She dug a second jar out of the bag. “Everflower for tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you,” said Kalolin. She took the comb and wove the neckline of her shirt through its tines until it hung on her chest unaided. Then she took both jars of herbs in one arm, making sure she would be able to carry a kettle back up the stairs as well. Despite doing her best to receive the items by extending her arms, rather than bending over, when she turned around she still found Kalem’s eyes trained on the spot where her thighs met. She tugged the hem of the shirt down with her free hand.
“Surely you are going to change before going down to the kitchen?” asked Miar.
“If Ainjrejeu wished me to wear something else for my trip to the kitchen, I would be wearing something else,” assured Kalolin. “Have a good night,” she headed out the door before there could be any more argument.
Besides the cook making a face like he had seen a ghost for the entire time it took the kettle to boil, Kalolin’s trip to the kitchen was uneventful. She was careful on her way back up the stairs, particularly worried that the outside of the hot kettle might touch her bare skin, but it did not.
Ainjrejeu was waiting patiently when she returned. Despite his stern face, there was less tension in the air than when she’d left.
She had added a pinch of the nighttime blend of herbs into the kettle in the kitchen, but expected it needed a few more minutes to steep, so she sat the kettle down on the nightstand, removing the accompanying teacup from where she had balanced it on the spout.
“Those look fresh. Who brought them in?” Ainjrejeu pointed across the room at the vase of flowers.
“I did, sehr,” answered Kalolin. She sat behind Ainjrejeu on the bed and pulled the comb from where it hung on her shirt.
“Why?”
“Nykol said they were your favorite. Was that wrong?”
“No,” he replied coldly.
A thin leather cord held the end of his long, red hair. As gently as she could, Kalolin teased apart the knot and worked her fingers up through the hair until it hung loose, little rippling waves still lingering in it from the pattern of the plait. Between the dust of the road and the dried lake water, she had to forcefully pry the strands apart.
“My mother used to tell me stories about them,” Ainjrejeu’s voice softened. “About flowers with hearts that could bleed. I didn’t think they were real until we got a shipment at the estate once, when I was younger. My mother’d never seen one, only knew the stories, so I brought her as many as I could.”
“Are you going to build the branch here then, to be nearer them?”
“No,” Ainjrejeu scoffed. “What an absurd idea.”
Kalolin held her hand between Ainjrejeu’s hair and his bare back, protecting him from the tines of the comb with the palm of her hand, but she wasn’t able to keep her knuckles from brushing against his skin. It seemed as soft as she had expected, though it was difficult to tell only through her knuckles. Perhaps if she placed her palm on his back, only for a moment, she could know for sure.
Kalolin’s impulsive thought won out over the tiny scrap of her dignity that remained, and she found herself with her hand against Ainjrejeu’s back, feeling the contours where it came in slightly at his waist. From behind, he could make a convincing girl. Kalolin was grateful that he was looking the other way, so he couldn’t see how flushed her cheeks had grown.
Ainjrejeu sat up straighter, as though her hand was cold, but didn’t scold her, so she didn’t remove it. Instead, he slowly leaned away from her. She pulled her hand away, but he continued moving, tipping forward until he fell face-first into the mattress.
“Sorry, sehr,” she grimaced. “There was uh...a stray hair.”
He mumbled something into the bed, and didn’t sit back up. Kalolin tried to return to combing his hair but it was difficult with the strands splayed over his back, arms, and some distance onto the bed itself.
“Could you sit back up, please, sehr?”
“Hmh-hm,” he shook his head against the mattress.
“I guess I’ll make it up in the morning,” grumbled Kalolin, standing up from the bed and laying the comb down on the nightstand. She grabbed the kettle and poured some of the tisane into the cylindrical, ceramic cup beside it. Steam billowed up both from the cup and the spout of the kettle.
“Will you sit up to drink tea?” she asked him. She tried not to let herself sound like she was negotiating with a toddler, but wasn’t sure she managed.
Ainjrejeu shifted, propping himself up on one elbow without sitting up. He held out his other hand to take the cup from her, and sipped the hot liquid cautiously.
Kalolin sat back down on the edge of the bed near Ainjrejeu’s feet and closed her eyes, letting herself feel tired until she swayed a little where she sat. A small grumble came from beside her and she flicked her eyes open.
“Was that your stomach?” she asked. She only remembered ‘sehr’ too long after it made sense to say it.
“Ridiculous,” replied Ainjrejeu, but his refusal to meet her gaze undermined him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a fast.”
“So it is related to that ‘purity through pain’ thing, then?”
Ainjrejeu’s look was an arrow knocked on a bow string.
“I’m sorry, sehr. I’ve said something wrong,” she held her hands up defensively, as though pleading with him not to loose the arrow. “It was just something Kalem mentioned.”
He rolled his big, bird-like eyes at her. “You’d be better off not listening to anything Kalem says. A single word and you’re stupider for it.”
She sighed relief. “Whatever do you keep him around for, then?”
Ainjrejeu held her in a measuring gaze for a moment as he sipped his tea. “I’ll give you that one for free. I owe Kalem my life.” He shrugged, and did not elaborate.
“I see,” replied Kalolin. She did not see.
“Here,” Ainjrejeu sat upright. “You can make it up to me.”
Kalolin braced herself as Ainjrejeu gestured to the floor at his feet.
“I have done quite a bit of walking today,” he began. Kalolin could now recognize his tone of voice, the way he pulled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up, projecting for his audience. The pronouncement of her punishment had to be delivered just so.
“My feet are tired,” he continued. “You will rub them for me.”
Kalolin stood up from the bed. “Sounds easy enough...what’s the catch?” She knelt down cautiously.
Ainjrejeu raised his coppery brows. “Must there be a catch?”
He extended an ankle and Kalolin took his foot in her hands. It was warm, and smooth, with skin so soft it was as though he’d never even heard of a rock, much less stepped on one. It smelled a little, of sweat and lake water and wet leather. That was the only sign of the day’s travel.
Kalolin had never rubbed anyone’s feet before, so she simply applied gentle pressure to the spots where her own feet always ached after a long day at the orchard. Ainjrejeu watched her, providing feedback neither verbally nor by expression. After a few minutes he merely offered her his other foot.
As Kalolin worked, Ainjrejeu sipped his tea in silence. Frowning down into his cup, he stuck a finger in the liquid to check the temperature. After a moment he nodded to himself, satisfied.
He tugged his ankle away from Kalolin, who let her hands drop to her lap, happy to be done. The feeling vanished as the bottom of a foot met her face. She fell backward, catching herself with her hands behind her. It was only a temporary loss of balance—he’d lightly pushed her rather that actually kicked her—but she didn’t have time to recover from that shock before there was another. Warm water splashed over her face, dripping from her hair down onto her clothing and turning the ivory fabric translucent.
“Hex!” she cursed, blinking the floral smelling liquid from her eyelashes.
Ainjrejeu was grinning, leaning toward her with his elbows on his knees impishly and his empty cup inverted completely over her head.
“See?” he said, “suffering can be quite cleansing. Don’t you feel the guilt leaving your body as we speak?”
“All I'm feeling is the urge to knock you in your smug face," Kalolin said through gritted teeth.
“Oh, have I crossed a line?” Ainjrejeu feigned surprise. “I didn’t think there were any to cross.”
“There’s a reason you’re not laid out on the floor already,” growled Kalolin.
Ainjrejeu frowned. Somehow it looked like genuine disappointment. “Well, be sure to clean up this mess you’ve made.”
With a sigh, Kalolin pulled her damp shirt up over her head, using it to dry her hair in the process. She plopped it down onto the floor and began to mop up the small puddle that had formed around her.
She simmered silently as she cleaned. She felt naive for having let her guard down, for having believed he had actually forgiven her. His reason for being mad at her in the first place was probably a lie, as well.
Too angry to be embarrassed, she stood up, fully naked, and threw the wet garment into Ainjrejeu’s lap. “Happy now?”
“Indeed,” he beamed at her.
