It Falls the Way it Leans
Sorrow didn’t celebrate that night. Because the election was the following day, and the results would be announced in Istevar, they returned to the Winter Palace, but she declined Irris’s suggestion that they order a lavish meal to her rooms, and instead she went straight to bed. The image of Mael’s wretched, shattered expression wouldn’t leave her; every time she blinked she could see it, the wildness there. The fear. Of being alone. Of having no one. Of being no one.
She’d done that to him. She, who knew better than anyone what it was like to mean so little to the people who were supposed to love you. But she hadn’t done it alone. What had Vespus said to Mael to break him so completely?
How much of the misery all of Rhannon had suffered lay at Vespus’s door?
It made her furious he was there, in the palace right now, secure in his status as ambassador once more. Sleeping under her roof, in her country. Not for long, she thought viciously. At least, not outside of a jail cell. One more day. Then she could have her revenge.
A bird tapped her window and she got out of bed, opening it. The hawk remained still as she took the letter from the bag attached to its foot, and then vanished into the night.
She expected it to be from Luvian, congratulating her.
But it was from Vespus.
Come to my room, was all it said, signed with a neat V.
There were guards outside all of the wings, to prevent them from trying to get to each other. But she could use the passageway. And she wanted to. She wanted to lash out. She wanted to let Vespus know he wasn’t as clever, or a sly, as he thought. That he didn’t have all the aces.
She didn’t stop to think, quickly dressing in a tunic and trousers, and turning her lamp on. Then she disappeared into her wardrobe, opened the passage and vanished into it.
Sorrow realized as the bureau moved she didn’t know which room was Vespus’s, but a hunch saw her knocking lightly at the door of Rasmus’s old room.
When it swung open and his father stood there, smiling as though she’d pleased him, she knew she was right.
He held the door open for her and she entered.
“Hello, Sorrow,” he said once the door had closed.
“What do you want?” Sorrow wouldn’t be polite. Not to him. Not any more.
He said nothing, moving to sit at Rasmus’s desk, where he’d obviously been before she arrived. There was a single candle on the table, beside a crystal flask full of clear liquid and two tumblers. Vespus’s eyes glittered as he looked at her.
“Won’t you have a seat?” he said, his Rhannish as perfect as ever. “Can I get you a drink?”
Sorrow eyed the flask. “If it’s Starwater, no, thank you.” She didn’t bother to use the Rhyllian form. “I’m aware of the consequences of it.”
“Are you now?” Vespus smiled silkily.
“I’m not here to play games, Lord Vespus. I’m tired of games. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. So let’s please not waste either of our nights with wordplay and sport. What do you want?” She said each word slowly, deliberately, holding his gaze.
“I want to make a deal with you.”
Sorrow laughed. “Are you joking?”
“Not in the least.” He poured himself a little of the liquid and drank.
“All right. Why?” she asked.
“You know why. A little bird told me you know.” He smirked. “Land, Sorrow. I want land in the north of Rhannon. Specifically the North Marches. The soil there is of exceptional quality, the light is good, the weather fair, but not too hot, and it’s close to the river. Irrigation would be easy. In short, the conditions are perfect for raising Alvus trees. Even someone without my ability could, with the right amount of expertize, do it.”
“So this is all because you want to be a farmer?”
“You said no sport, Sorrow.” There was an edge to his voice. “Do you know anything about the Alvus tree?”
She wasn’t sure if she was meant to answer, so said nothing until he looked at her pointedly, then recited, “The wood makes exceptional musical instruments.” When his eyes flickered to the flask, she continued. “And if the sap is fermented, mixed with water, and then distilled, it creates a liquid called Starwater, which increases the effects of alcohol, at least in Rhyllians. In others, it’s intoxicating in a less pleasant way.” She didn’t tell him she knew about Lamentia. Not yet. She’d play that card only once she’d seen his hand.
“Very good. Well done, Sorrow. Well done.”
“I also know your half-sister hates it.”
“Because she knows what it can do. What it can really do, not what my idiot son and idiot niece achieve when they lace their champagne with it.”
Sorrow frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You were there, at the Naming. You saw the Blessers, feted, celebrated for their special gifts. And you know that not every Rhyllian is born with an ability. It’s down to fate, or nature. Or the will of the stars, if the old fairy tale is to be believed. Either way, there’s no predicting who will or won’t have one. Some families have no one with an ability; in some everyone has one.”
Sorrow nodded.
“Starwater heightens abilities,” Vespus said, picking up the flask. “Taken by anyone who has one, it enhances the power of it fivefold. It’s not the effect on other alcohol that makes Rasmus and Eirlys giddy. It’s power. They’re drunk on their own power.”
Sorrow remembered the party in Rhylla, the mania in Rasmus’s eyes and how it had scared her. She was scared now, she realized, as the magnitude of what Vespus was telling her sank in. Enhanced abilities. “How do you know?” she managed.
“How do you think?” Vespus looked at her.
“You’ve been testing on people?”
“Myself, first. Then others, when I realized what was happening. The same thing every time. That’s the true reason Melisia hates it. Why she’s not fond of me any more. Because it would be a political disaster for her if it got out. A race of people who not only have gifts beyond what their neighbours have, but who have the power to amplify them. You know the tale of Adavere and Namyra? Imagine that power, already strong, magnified. Or Eirlys’s power with ice?”
Sorrow saw exactly why it would be a problem. It would be tantamount to painting a target across the entire country; weaponizing the people would make Rhylla a potential threat to every land in Laethea. Every country would be forced to take action to get reassurances from them that they wouldn’t use it. Astria and Nyrssea would be in uproar if they found out. They wouldn’t settle for promises, or treaties. They’d want all sources of Starwater destroyed, perhaps even calling for the imprisonment of Rhyllians with abilities.
Unless they tried to harness them. Kidnapping them. Buying services from less scrupulous Rhyllians. Like Vespus.