me, never seen me.”
My eyes flicked down to his Jereh band, which all Raelechs wore to signal their status through the polished stones set in a bronze or gold torc wrapped around their biceps. They forced all foreign visitors to wear one while within their borders, too. There were always three main stones that echoed the ritual of their formal introductions—patron goddess on the left, rank in the middle, and profession on the right. Fintan’s Jereh was citrine for the poet goddess Kaelin, amethyst for the master rank, and then another citrine stone representing the bards. His wife, Numa, wore a ruby for the huntress Raena, a master’s amethyst, and mother-of-pearl for her profession, linking it visually with the Triune Council, whose members also wore mother-of-pearl on the right side. If you knew the Jereh table—as all Raelechs did—you’d be able to tell at a glance who you were dealing with, and I saw the practicality of that.
“How many people know the colors, would you say? I mean, how familiar are Brynts in general with the Jereh table?”
He winced and sucked at his teeth. “I can point to any fish in the sea and a Brynt can name it for me, but most of you can’t tell a Raelech miner from a beekeeper without a guide. And that’s not a knock against you; it’s the same wherever you go. Most people who aren’t Raelechs don’t know more than the few colors they might see in their daily lives, you know? They know the colors for merchants, certainly, and the blessed craftsmen who are typically employed abroad, like stonecutters and masons, and people in government know about couriers and diplomats, but otherwise we usually have to say out loud who and what we are. Most people miss the relationship status, too.”
“What? I didn’t even know—where’s that?”
Fintan reached across with his left hand and tapped the metal with his finger. “Gold means I’m married, bronze means single.”
“Ah. I have a feeling you brought that up because someone missed that signal.”
He nodded. “I have been the subject of spirited flirting at the Siren’s Call. When I tell them that I’m married, they are utterly surprised even though I advertise it clearly. It’s simply ignorance.”
“Sure, I understand. Maybe I can help a bit with that. Would you mind helping me write down a current Jereh table? For an appendix, perhaps. I don’t know it all myself.”
“Certainly. It’s changed in the last five years anyway.” There was a small bowl of fruit on the table—citrus, of course—and as I got out my writing materials, Fintan casually removed an orange and held it in his palm, considering it. “Do you know what this color signifies in Rael?”
“No.”
“We use the same stone—a special orange garnet—for millers, merchants, coiners, and thieves.”
His eyes fixed on mine as he said “thieves,” and I almost laughed. Rölly had been right; he would say things merely to gauge my reaction. I’m sure he knew that Pelenaut Röllend was dressed entirely in orange that day and furthermore knew that I’d had breakfast with him in the palace.
“Fascinating,” I said. “A reminder to merchants, millers, and coiners that they’re being watched at all times?”
“Yes.” He dropped the orange and sighed. “I know how they must feel now.”
That did elicit a chuckle. “I am not watching you so much as enjoying your company,” I said, acknowledging that I knew he was being watched but carefully making no comment about it.
“True. Aside from performing, it’s my favorite part of the day. Thank you for that. Shall we fill out the Jereh table now and see if we can work faster than the kitchen?”
“By all means.”
That kept us busy until the food came out; it was utterly delicious, and Fintan promised to mention it on the wall, which pleased the owner no end. I waited for him to pull my chain again to see what flushed, but he had no further prodding scheduled, and I didn’t feel like asking him about the Triune Council just yet. That could wait. We worked over drinks, chatted with the Kaurian staff and some other customers who wanted to talk to Fintan, and then it was time to return to the wall. Inspired perhaps by our earlier conversation and a desire to forestall further flirting, he shared a Raelech children’s song about growing up couched in the colored stone markers of their social hierarchy.
Jade and marble till we’re twelve,
Into studies we will delve
And earn our brown apprentice stone,
Keep it till our