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THE BELL AT THE GATE rang, and Luca tried to calm himself. It could be Falten Isen, returning to his house. It could be someone looking for Isen, a friend or neighbor.
It was Thir.
He left his litter at the gate and came across the little yard, with Cole following. Luca gulped as they passed the fountain and took a step backward in the tiny entry. “Thir,” he said weakly. “I...”
Thir came into the shadowed entry and looked hard at Luca. A moment passed, and then he released a long breath. “Flames.”
Luca shifted, his gaze wavering.
Thir shook his head. “You’re a different man.” He rubbed his forehead with a finger. “Though of course you’d be; how could you not?”
Luca licked his lips. “Different...”
“Not different the way he meant it,” snapped Thir. “Sweet all, I know my own brother.” He shook his head again. “Luca, I can’t believe it. No, I do believe it, but...”
The slaves were watering at the fountain. Luca made a tentative gesture toward the house’s interior. “Will you come in?”
“I can’t. I lied about an extra appointment and worked the bearers hard to reach you as it is.” His face was lined and tired. “Last night—I wouldn’t have left of my own accord. Flames, Luca, it was a shock to see you, but I was glad. Most glad. But Father is... I went with him to see that he didn’t—come to harm,” he said gruffly. “To keep him safe. I thought to speak with you in the morning.”
Luca stared at him with blurring vision. “I couldn’t stay.”
Thir looked at him. “What passed between you?”
Luca started. “What?”
“I found him taking—he eats viante now, did Jarrick tell you? Ever since—but I found him taking it in the dead of night. He said... I thought he’d seen you. And then you were gone.”
Luca clenched his fists and turned to hide the treacherous emotion. “We didn’t speak.”
There was a long pause. “He’s not well,” Thir’s voice came finally.
Luca could not answer.
Thir sighed. “I have to get back,” he said heavily. “But I had to see you, and I had to bring you this.” Thick paper rustled against leather. “I wrote it out and marked it this morning. It’s wholly legal.”
Luca rubbed at his eyes and glanced back. “What is?”
“This is your inheritance.” Thir held out the sealed letter. “After Sara’s dowry, this is one third of our house.”
Luca stared. “But—but he doesn’t even recognize me! How can I be an heir? And even if I were, one third is—”
“The house has been his in name only for two years now,” Thir confessed. “My signature and seal are binding. You are not living as a younger son in our household, so I won’t see you given only a younger son’s share. And I won’t see you make your way with nothing from us.” He pushed the letter toward Luca. “Take it. Our credit is good again. You can exchange that nearly anywhere.”
Luca’s hand seemed to move without his volition, reaching for the letter. The heavy paper was richly textured; Thir had used the best quality. His throat closed.
Thir gave him a sad, heavy look and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Write to us,” he said solemnly. “If you won’t stay—and I understand that—then write to us. We do know our brother.”
Tears came hot to Luca’s eyes and he couldn’t speak. Thir’s fingers tightened on his shoulders and then he turned, going out into the yard and calling to the litter bearers. He never paused, leaving them to scramble together and hurry out the gate behind him.
LUCA STARED ACROSS the table, his chin resting on his hands folded across the wood, hardly seeing the lettering on the envelope. The ridges in the wax seal seemed to deepen in the slanting evening sun from the window.
An entire life lay before him. He did not know what a third of their wealth might be, but their house had obviously recovered and fared well enough at the moment. If they thought they could sustain a contract with an army... Whatever that envelope represented was enough to allow Luca a small home and a reasonable start wherever he liked.
Where did he want to be?
Cole cleared his throat from the door. Luca dragged his eyes away from the envelope without lifting his head. “Yes?”
“I’ve finished.”
“Nothing else, then,” Luca answered flatly. He looked back at the envelope. “Your time is your own.”
“Would you like something to eat, my lord?” another voice asked. He hadn’t seen Marla behind Cole. “You’ve not had much today.”
“I don’t want anything.” A moment passed. “But, you two, go ahead and eat. Don’t wait on me.”
The bell at the gate rang, sending a thrill of apprehension through Luca. Who now? He rose and placed the precious envelope on a high shelf, weighted by a jar of honey. He could hear indistinct voices from the garden.
He met them as they passed through the entry. “Luca!” Sara threw herself at him. “Where did you go? Why did you leave?”
Luca held her automatically, looking first at her and then at Jarrick behind her. “I... I couldn’t stay.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Come in, please.”
Marla was ready with drinks, and she served them silently and then retreated to the kitchen. Luca saw Cole pass the sitting room doorway and continue without pausing. He looked back at his siblings’ anxious faces.
“What happened?” Jarrick asked simply.
Luca folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. How could he tell them? “I saw Father. He—he wouldn’t speak to me.”
“Still?” asked Sara in disbelief.
“I couldn’t stay in his house! Do you understand? How could I stay in the house of a man who won’t even—”
“But it’s not his house alone!” protested Sara. “It’s your home!”
Luca shook his head. “Not anymore.”
Sara hesitated, bowed her head, nodded. “It’s not mine, either. I’m marrying Stefan—now, I mean, not next month. I’m staying in Abbar tonight, and then tomorrow we’ll have a justice there.”
“Tomorrow?” Luca echoed. “In Abbar?”
She nodded. “Thir gave me my dowry today. After what Father said last night—I understand, Luca. I don’t want to be a part of that, either.”
So Thir had spent the hours before dawn writing out the dissolution of his family. Luca turned toward Jarrick questioningly.
Jarrick shook his head. “I’ve already made my stand. I won’t be a part of the mercantile alliance anymore, or anything like it. Thir knows that.” He sighed. “I’ll stay on with Thir. There’s nowhere else for me to go, and he’ll need help. Father will be little use in a few years.” The bitterness was heavy in his voice.
“What about you?” Sara asked Luca. “You could stay with Jarrick and Thir. I know they’d have you.”
Luca shook his head. “I’m going to find a place where no one knows my history.”
Jarrick nodded slowly. “I have some money saved. I can give you—”
“Didn’t Thir tell you? He gave me money, too. My inheritance.”
“Your blood money,” Jarrick muttered. “Good, I’m glad you have it. Where will you go?”
Luca chewed at his lip. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Jarrick looked at him steadily. “Wherever you go, you write. Do you understand? I don’t want to lose you again for his actions.”
Luca nodded. The strands between them were tenuous, but holding. “Will you take care of Andrew?”
“Of course.”
“Come tomorrow,” Sara urged. “Come to the wedding. It will be nothing like we’d thought, but I don’t care for that, and Stefan understands.”
“You told Stefan? About me?”
“In part.” She looked at him. “Don’t you want it known that you’ve come back?”
Luca hesitated. Did others need to know? Deserve to know? He tried to think of his first days in slavery, chained in Trader Laren’s stable, waiting desperately to hear his father’s voice ringing down the aisle. He had barely thought of his friends, those with whom he passed his free hours. Of course, he’d had fewer friends as their fortunes slipped, and they had not come for him, either. They had not been so dear as they pretended.
And he did not want to be a social oddity, the once-slave now paraded through Ivat’s homes and held at arm’s length for observation... He shook his head. “I don’t want to announce myself.”
“But Stefan and I will know, right? And you’ll come?”
He felt his stiff face fold into an awkward smile. “I’ll come. Where? When?”