movement through the fronds and heard a cry of unmistakable ardor. I had not pressed Tvril for a further look, but now it seemed I would have no choice.
Thank you, I said, and rose.
Wait, he said, and went behind his desk. He rummaged through the drawers for a moment, then straightened, holding a small, beautifully painted ceramic flask. He handed this to me.
See if that helps, he said. He could buy himself bucketsful if he wanted, but he likes being bribed.
I pocketed the flask and memorized the information. Yet the whole exchange raised a new question. Tvril, why are you helping me?
I wish I knew, he replied, sounding abruptly weary. Its clearly bad for me; that flask cost me a months wages. I was saving it for whenever I needed a favor from Relad.
I was wealthy now. I made a mental note to order three of the flasks sent to Tvril in compensation. Then why?
He looked at me for a long moment, perhaps trying to decide the answer for himself. Finally he sighed. Because I dont like what theyre doing to you. Because youre like me. I honestly dont know.
Like him. An outsider? He had been raised here, had as much connection to the Central Family as me, but he would never be a true Arameri in Dekartas eyes. Or did he mean that I was the only other decent, honorable soul in the whole place? If that was true.
Did you know my mother? I asked.
He looked surprised. Lady Kinneth? I was a child when she left to be with your father. I cant say I remember her well.
What do you remember?
He leaned against the edge of his desk, folding his arms and thinking. In the Skystuff light his braided hair shone like copper rope, a color that would have seemed unnatural to me only a short time before. Now I lived among the Arameri and consorted with gods. My standards had changed.
She was beautiful, he said. Well, the Central Family are all beautiful; what nature doesnt give them, magic can. But it was more than that with her. He frowned to himself. She always seemed a little sad to me, somehow. I never saw her smile.
I remembered my mothers smile. She had done it more often while my father was alive, but sometimes she had smiled for me, too. I swallowed against a knot in my throat, and coughed to cover it. I imagine she was kind to you. She always liked children.
No. Tvrils expression was sober. He had probably noticed my momentary lapse, but thankfully he was too much the diplomat to mention it. She was polite, certainly, but I was only a halfblood, being raised by servants. It would have been strange if shed shown kindness, or even interest, toward any of us.
I frowned before I could stop myself. In Darr, my mother had seen to it that all the children of our servants got gifts for their birthing days and light-dedication ceremonies. During the hot, thick Darr summers, she had allowed the servants to take their rest hours in our garden, where it was cooler. Shed treated our steward like a member of the family.
I was a child, Tvril said again. If you want a better recollection, you should speak to the older servants.
Is there anyone youd recommend?
Any of them will speak to you. As for which one might remember your mother bestthat I cant say. He shrugged.
Not quite what Id hoped for, but it was something Id have to look into later. Thank you again, Tvril, I said, and went in search of Relad.
* * *
In a childs eyes, a mother is a goddess. She can be glorious or terrible, benevolent or filled with wrath, but she commands love either way. I am convinced that this is the greatest power in the universe.
My mother
No. Not yet.
* * *
In the solarium the air was warm and humid and fragrant with flowering trees. Above the trees rose one of Skys spiresthe centralmost and tallest one, whose entrance must have been somewhere amid the winding paths. Unlike the rest of the spires, this one quickly tapered to a point only a few feet in diameter, too narrow to house apartments or chambers of any great size. Perhaps it was purely decorative.
If I kept my eyes half-lidded, I could ignore the spire and almost imagine I was in Darr. The trees were wrongtoo tall and thin, too far apart. In my land the forests were thick and wet and