CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Welcome to Selimna
Oh, blessed Eyn, deliver us from the sky. Take us down.
Down, to safety.
Down, to new hazards.
Della looked out the window. Beside the Road ran the river Arzenmiri, a small but fierce waterway nothing like the enormous river Ordala, or Pelismara’s well-controlled river Trao. She studied the draping plants at its edge, the flash of light from its waters, the stones and the places where the water turned white. The road inclined alongside the river, and walls rose up on either side of them. Now it was a ravine. There was a waterfall. Then another, and now it was a canyon. Before long, the bright sky persisted only in a narrow gap above, while the canyon cupped them like a pair of hands.
On the other side of the river, rock formations bulged out of forest and reeds, dripping down into the fast-moving waters.
Della forced herself to think about the task ahead. Without the executive power they had counted on, it wasn’t going to be easy. Nekantor should have appointed Tagaret as Alixi, not Unger. Tagaret had discussed it with him many times. Had the assassination attempts forced Nekantor to change his mind? Surely not. Nekantor never gave in to pressure; he didn’t even give in to good advice.
Mai’s truth, he’d accepted her suggestion far too easily.
There had to be hope here, too, however—for others, if not for herself. In the unbalanced time before the Fifth Family solidified its hold, there should be room for action.
“I can do this,” she said. She looked at her Yoral. The shape of his tattoo hinted at sadness, but he didn’t put his thoughts into words.
“Of course you can do this,” said Tagaret. “We can do this together.”
I have to tell him. How can I tell him?
The urge to do something filled her all over again. Whatever they did here, she would have to act while her health was still stable. Soon, she promised. The moment we arrive.
At last, blessed Eyn answered her prayers: the high walls of the canyon folded overhead into the arch of the Selimna Gate. Road and river entered the tunnel side by side. Too-harsh sunlight vanished, replaced by very yellow-looking daylights. As yet, no buildings were visible. The reflection of her face returned to the right side window, while on the left the Arzenmiri stepped down alongside them in a series of small waterfalls. She couldn’t see through the wall of the drivers’ compartment, but watched out her window for the tunnel to open on the city.
It did—and didn’t.
The wall of the tunnel curved away from them suddenly. The river tumbled over another fall and vanished. They descended into a broad space that looked like some kind of transport hub, then leveled out into a curve to the right. It didn’t reveal the city, though; the tunnel walls closed down again seconds later. Skimmers began to pass by in opposite directions, on both sides.
Strange. This roadway had the feel of a major circumference. She could have sworn it was the main city road; these were the curves on the maps in her mind. But why would there be no rampways down, only this intermittent steady descent? And why was the road entirely enclosed? She must be missing something behind her reflection in the window.
A curve pressed her against her seatbelt so strongly that she reached a hand to the wall beside her. It was a long one, too, which could only mean one thing: they’d hit the Bend. But that was the center of town. Why had they had no glimpse of the city? The road doubled fully back on itself, then meandered into another series of descending curves. A gap of light flashed by, and then another. She pressed her hand to the window and tried to see what they were. Another one—this one, at least, an opening into a well-lit area full of parked skimmers—and then another.
Finally, the tunnel walls vanished, and she gasped.
“Tagaret, look!”
The real Selimna faced them at last. Far across a gulf of yellow-bright air rose a cliff that seemed too high to fit into a city—maybe even as tall as three Pelismar city levels. It was densely packed with rectangular buildings, layered all on top of one another. The road they now traveled had a counterpart halfway up the other side of the city, which seemed to run across the roofs of the lower buildings.
She should have oriented her maps vertically.
A great many slender bridges stretched across the gulf, and transports ran up and down the city-cliff at intervals—not skimmers, but funiculars of some kind. If the floater hadn’t still been moving, she’d have run to the window opposite to see how far down it went.
Then the floater followed a curve leftward, bringing the two converging cliff-sides of the city into view, and slowed to a stop.
“Sirin and Eyn,” Tagaret said. “We’re here.”
“Thank the Wanderer for her grace.” Della pulled her gloves on, released her seatbelt, and stood up. Her legs wobbled, but Yoral came and offered his arm. She took it, thanked the Kartunnen driver who opened the door, and stepped out.
The rock under her feet now was tame, not wild: a roadway of heavy stone that crossed the chasm. Beside the floater, the Residence of the Selimna Society of the Grobal rose up. Its wings stretched outward to the cliffs on either side, their carven balconies and bright windows forming a rock face almost like its own small city. That wasn’t the city she cared about, though. She turned her back on it and crossed to the rail to look out.
The two sloping cliffsides of Selimna converged far below on the banks of the Arzenmiri, which looked narrow enough for her Yoral to jump across. She could see shockingly far up the river, miles maybe, before the view was lost to the Bend; and in all that space she could identify maybe twelve shinca trees. No wonder the air was so chill, and the daylight so yellow. A buzz of faraway voices and traffic floated on the air.
There had to be close to a hundred thousand people living in just the areas she could see—people she needed to talk to.
Tagaret joined her at the stone rail. He sighed, laying his gloved hand over hers. “Dear gods, we’re really here.”
She nodded. “It’s real. Do you feel it?”
“I’m trying.”
She was, too. She’d rather dive into those voices, but the movement in her stomach kicked her back into herself. I have to tell him. She took a breath, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Noble sir, noble Lady, greetings of the day,” a Selimnar voice said.
They turned around. A delegation of servants had emerged from the near doors of the Residence. It appeared they had already spoken to the floater drivers and begun the process of unloading. The Imbati who’d just hailed them was an older woman in a black silk dress and velvet cap who wore the crescent cross tattoo of the Household.
“Thank you, Imbati,” Tagaret said.
“So, your pardon, noble Sir,” the Imbati said, subtly smiling. “Forgive while I presume, but I believe I have made the acquaintance of your noble mother, the Lady Alixi Tamelera?”
Tagaret’s face lit with a grin more delighted than Della had seen in years. “Yes!”
Della prompted, “We’re pleased to meet you . . .”
“My name is Aimali, noble Lady.” She bowed. “I’m the Household Director, so. If you’ll allow me, I’ll escort you to your suite.”
“Yes, please.” Della took Tagaret’s hand, and they followed Aimali into the Residence. Its internal architecture demonstrated a clear nostalgia for the Eminence’s Residence in Pelismara, and several prominent paintings of the capital hung on the walls. A stone alcove outside the main central hall held a fancy portrait of the Eminence Herin. Tagaret didn’t slow down, but Della paused in front of it, shaking her head at Herin’s grandly tilted head and brilliant smile.
“I guess I didn’t need to bring a portrait, after all.”
Household Director Aimali led them into a long residential corridor. The view out the windows here was not into gardens, but into a strikingly lit vista of wild river-cavern: the path of the Arzenmiri continuing beyond the city’s limits. Aimali walked some distance down the hall, and then turned into the entrance of a spiral stairway. Tagaret and his Kuarmei headed right in after her.
Della had begun to follow when movement back along the hall caught her eye. An Imbati manservant was walking nearer, purposefully enough that her Yoral interposed himself between them. Beyond the unfamiliar manservant, though, a balding man with a sharp noble nose entered the hallway and vanished into one of the suite doors.
No.
That man was not supposed to be here.
She’d done no more than shiver before the unfamiliar manservant reached her. He bowed formally.
“Excuse me, Lady.” His accent was fully Pelismara, striking after the speech of the Household Director. “My name is Unger’s Fyani, of the Household of the Fifth Family. I’m here to inform you that my Master, the Alixi Unger, expects your attendance, and your partner’s, at an official tour of the city beginning in one hour.”
Della made sure to look at him, rather than staring down the hall over his shoulder. She also made sure to smile. Their travel would not have been secret, and naturally, the new Alixi would want to keep eyes on them—as they did on him. “Thank you very much, Fyani.”
“Please meet us at the Residence funicular at six afternoon,” the servant said. “I hope you will understand that your attendance at the tour is not optional.”
Della forced her grin wider. “Oh, don’t worry! We’d be delighted to attend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’ve just arrived, and we have to clean up. So kind of you to include us.” Sick to her stomach, she walked away quickly and entered the spiral stairway, calling, “Tagaret? Tagaret!”
“Della? What is it, love? What’s wrong?”
She found him, paused on the stairs; the back of Director Aimali’s dress was just visible by the central column beyond him. She would have preferred to cling to him, but she pulled him down by the shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“I think we’re in danger. I just saw Innis of the Fifth Family.”
Punctuality seemed the best approach to—if not engender good will, then at least deny Alixi Unger additional excuses to surveil them. Also, conveniently, a tour of the city would provide a perfect way to look for places where the caste system might not quite be working as intended. For gaps of opportunity.
Neither she nor Tagaret had caught any further glimpses of Innis, but most of their scant hour had been spent in their new suite, showering and changing clothes. His presence here could not be a good sign. If Sirin was smiling, he might only be here trying to escape from whatever retaliation Nekantor intended to bring upon him. If not, Innis might be operating on some kind of new plan. She hated thinking of him moving in places where she couldn’t see.
She also hated to imagine the awful conversation with Tagaret that, somehow, she would have to initiate.
It was a blessing that they would have the distraction of going out.
Their new friend, Household Director Aimali, assigned a messenger child to show them the way to the funicular—a word, the girl archly informed them, that true Selimnai never used. “We name it the Ride, so.” Her name was Xira, and she wore the same style of black velvet cap that Director Aimali had. It left her forehead uncovered, showing the Imbati child’s circle of black paint between her eyebrows. She was quite willing to volunteer information, which instantly made her more talkative than any Imbati Della had ever met.
“So here, on your right, noble Lady, noble sir, is the Lady’s Walk,” Xira said. “Many ages ago, the Arzenmiri whorled and shaped this magnificent formation, so. Now it’s a cultural center for Selimna’s Kartunnen community.”
Della squeezed Tagaret’s arm in excitement. It was astonishing to think of the river creating this vast smooth cylinder; its walls rose at least a hundred feet high. Only a single row of stone buildings had been built along the curve at its bottom, but heavy steel scaffolding rose above it in layers, supporting less permanent shops. Here, where they were walking, they just passed through the edge of a colorful crowd. Deeper in, she could see Kartunnen painters and dancers. A painted street sign read, The Circle.
“Tagaret, the Circle!” she said. “Simi and Benyin were right.”
“Noble Lady,” said Xira, indignantly. “Nobody names it that anymore. It’s the Lady’s Walk, so.”
“Exactly, thank you, Xira. We should definitely ask to have the sign changed. I wish we weren’t keeping Alixi Unger’s time tonight, or I’d stop.”
Tagaret chuckled. “Darling, we live here now. We can stop by tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that.”
She couldn’t help a grin. “Mai’s truth, we can.”
Xira left them not far from a graceful arch of braided metal that indicated the Ride stop. It was a shorter walk than she’d imagined; they were eight minutes early, and Alixi Unger’s party had not yet arrived.
The Kartunnen had done beautiful work here. Pedestrians were prevented from falling into the deep, angled track by a surprisingly delicate barrier in the same style as the arch. Where the street met the barrier, a huge metal plate was embedded in the ground; the sound of their footsteps changed as they stepped onto it.
Beyond the barrier, and well below their feet, the track began to hum.
“I have so many questions,” Tagaret sighed. “I wish Xira had stayed. Ooh, what’s that?” He walked to a console near the barrier, beside what looked like a maintenance stairway. “Della, it has buttons like an elevator.”
“Tagaret, don’t press—”
Too late. Beneath her feet, the metal plate lurched. She reached out in a panic, but Yoral was quick, and steadied her. They were going down—in seconds, the gap between her and ground level was too far to jump.
“Tagaret, what did you do?” It was an elevator, all right.
“Sorry . . .”
As her downward movement stopped, the funicular car rose up from the lower part of the city. It was quite big. Its decorative roof passed her position; then the empty passenger compartment, large enough for at least twenty to stand; then its floor. A second, lower compartment stopped right before her feet.
Clearly, someone was supposed to board here. “Tagaret,” she called, stepping into the spacious bottom of the car. “Come look at this.”
Tagaret hopped down the maintenance stairway and joined her. He wrapped his arms around her, warm in the cool air. Her body tingled, and she breathed in his scent. Seconds later, a hiss drew her eyes back to the elevator plate; it was returning automatically to its previous position.
Tagaret laughed ruefully. “Sorry about that, love.”
She shrugged. “I survived. But look: what do you think this space is for?” She gestured around. The opening into this section of the car was nearly as wide as the car itself, and the walls were dinged and dented. “Luggage?”
“Freight, Lady,” her Yoral murmured.
“Freight.” She weighed the word. “Of course. If there’s only one road, you have to have a way to get everything up and down the citysides.”
“I suspect it’s also for Akrabitti,” said Tagaret.
She sighed. “That makes sense.” Akrabitti were going to be so hard to reach—she hardly knew how to start looking. It was almost sad no one was here.
Footsteps resounded on the elevator plate, moving into the upper part of the funicular car. Della blushed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. That had to be Alixi Unger’s party. They’re counting on us to be punctual, and here we are, exploring the freight area?
“Arbiter Innis, get off my back,” came a voice from above. “Of course I’ll be signing the papers. I’m not going back to Pelismara. I deserve this.”
Della looked at Tagaret, and found him staring, eyes wide. He laid a finger across his lips, and waved to his Kuarmei. The small Imbati woman moved instantly to assess the situation, creeping to one side of the freight space and peering up the side of the car.
“Gnash it, you’re missing my point,” Innis replied, in the nasal voice that made her shudder. They had never spoken much, even when Innis had bargained with her birth Family Council against her parents’ wishes, trying to take her as his life’s partner. “This isn’t about whether you deserve an Alixi position. It’s not about you or your skills. They’re just fine.”
“Maybe it’s about you, then,” Alixi Unger retorted. “You wish you’d accomplished so much by twenty-seven. Well, sorry. I won’t give up this opportunity just to soothe the pride of my Family’s Arbiter.”
Innis gave an exasperated sigh. “Unger. Stop thinking so small. The Heir Nekantor sent you out here. He’s also sent people to keep an eye on you. Don’t you think there’s a reason for that?”
Yoral touched her sleeve, and Della remembered herself with a start. He was right—they had to get out of here before Unger, Innis, or their manservants realized they’d been overheard. Kuarmei was already shooing Tagaret into the maintenance stairway on the opposite side of the car. Della scooped up her skirts and followed, with Yoral steadying her from behind.
“You forced Nekantor’s hand,” Unger said, while Della tried to keep her footsteps from making noise on the tight metal stairs. When she reached the top, she found Tagaret’s Kuarmei indicating they should cross the narrow alley and enter the side door of a building nearby.
“I did no such thing,” said Innis. “And this isn’t your particular accomplishment, or Satenya’s.”
What does that mean? But Yoral touched her sleeve again, so she tiptoed across the alley and into a door that Tagaret’s Kuarmei held open. The air inside smelled delicious and indescribable.
Their arrival caused some fluster. A round-armed Melumalai woman wearing a snug white hat and a chrysolite pendant on a silver chain gaped at Tagaret across a scratched steel counter, stammering.
“Oh! Oh, noble sir, noble Lady, the wrong—not this door—oh, your honorable graces—Heile aid me! Please, I implore you, come this way, so.” She pulled aside a plastic curtain, and ushered them into a tidy, well-appointed shop that appeared to specialize in breads. Here, the indescribable scent was so overwhelming that tears sprang into Della’s eyes. A Melumalai man who looked like he must be the woman’s brother bowed and apologized to them, and pressed warm, leaf-wrapped buns into their hands.
Della blinked away her irrational tears. “Thank you, we should pay you for these . . .”
“Oh, noble Lady,” said the man, “No need, no need, so.”
“Thank you,” added Tagaret. “We’ll bring you our custom another time.” He opened the shop’s front door decisively, and walked out into the street. Della flashed a smile at the Melumalai, and followed.
At least now they had an excellent excuse for a few seconds’ delay. She was hungrier than she’d thought. But it wasn’t as if she could eat this, after her reaction to the smell alone. She was not going to cry with food in her mouth in front of Innis.
“Tagaret of the First Family,” exclaimed Alixi Unger. He’d taken a seat on one of the benches along the wall of the Ride car, his arms extended across the back and his legs crossed. He looked even younger than twenty-seven, long and lean with pale cheeks and flowing blond hair down past his shoulders. “So good of you to join us.”
“Why, it’s our pleasure, Alixi,” Tagaret replied, bowing. He had always known how to maintain a polite façade as a form of self-defense. “Della wouldn’t have missed it.”
“I most certainly would not,” she agreed. “Selimna is such a beautiful city.” She took Tagaret’s free hand in hers, hiding the bun behind her back. Her Yoral immediately plucked it away. She brushed the crumbs from her fingertips, and placed herself so Tagaret’s body was between her and Innis’ calculating smile.
“It’s a pleasure to see you both,” said Innis, though surely it was not.
“Is that all that brings you here, Lady?” Alixi Unger asked.
“Oh, I’m sure!” she gushed. “Alixi, I’ve dreamed of this place. Have you seen the Lady’s Walk?”
Alixi Unger smiled—polite bafflement. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Lady.”
Uncertainty struck her. Of course, it made sense that he wouldn’t know the local names for funiculars, or for The Circle. He’d just arrived, and Aimali had apparently not provided him a guide. But, if she explained, he’d surely disdain her interest in the arts of Lowers. She’d seen Tagaret receive more than enough pitying looks because of his choice of her. Not today.
“It’s a fascinating district I’ve heard of, sir,” she replied. “There are so many.”
Alixi Unger nodded. “Indeed, there are. We’ll be surveying them today.”
And I’m going to know them better than you ever will.
A new voice said, “So, so, Lady, you’re correct! So it’s a perfect opportunity for a tour.”
Lorman? It couldn’t be! She jerked her head around. But, no—the voice was wrong, and there had been no stench of mustache wax. The man who’d just arrived was older than Innis, with a streak of white in his long black hair. He wore a blue velvet cap with a long white feather that trailed over his shoulder, and moved in a cloud of some kind of sweet leaf perfume. Hearing that same accent out of his mouth, though, was weird. There were three other men with him, all of whom wore similar feathered hats. Unger stood to greet them.
Innis excused himself.
One of the four newly arrived manservants pressed a button near the door, and the Ride started to glide upward.
The men introduced themselves as the leaders of the sub-districts of Selimna, who directed the city in the absence of an Alixi. The perfumed man was Chaile, in charge of the Up-Bend district nearest the Selimna Gate. The Bend district was run by a handsome, heavy man named Kudzina. Down-Bend, which included the Alixi’s Residence, was in the care of Orindi, a golden-skinned man with frown lines who nevertheless gave Della a warm smile as he kissed her hand. The last man was Vix, who ran a district referred to as the Venorai tributary. He was pale, but had actual sunmarks across his cheeks.
By the time she’d heard the same accent out of every one of their mouths, she figured it out: Arbiter Lorman hadn’t invented this. It was obviously the speech adopted by Grobal transplants to Selimna. She didn’t need Imbati Xira to explain how ‘real Selimnai’ would feel about that. But she couldn’t ever be a real Selimnai, even if she tried to learn a real Selimnar accent. What should she do to escape the Selimnai’s scorn, and earn their trust?
Mai grant her good judgment to find the right way.
The Ride car passed upward for several minutes, stopping at stations where Lowers ceded them right of way and didn’t bother to board. Finally, the buildings on either side of the track disappeared, and the car passed through a woven deck of metal, followed by another. The doors opened.
They walked out onto the deck. This place was up high, right against the cavern roof. She could actually see the bulky shape of the atmospheric lamps, and their light struck at an odd angle. Stalactites had been lopped into stubs above her head, so close she could reach up and feel the texture of the saw-cuts with her fingers. Tagaret was stooping cautiously.
Her stomach growled. Della crossed her arms tightly, but then her Yoral slipped something into her hand. Through her gloves, she couldn’t feel what it was, but when she looked, it was a small pinch of bun. She feigned rubbing her mouth, and popped it in.
Oh, dear gods, bread was not supposed to taste so good. She blinked fast against the tears, and glanced over her shoulder, nodding. Yoral gave her another piece, and she chewed it gratefully.
“So, so. These roof transports were first built a hundred and fifty years ago,” explained Orindi, rubbing his frown lines with one gloved hand, and extending the other toward the edge of the deck, where a new type of car awaited them. It had broad windows, and its body was painted all over with clouds. “So they were restored fifteen years ago, now. The paint is new last year. So they give the best view of the city.”
It was weird to climb into the car, knowing that it dangled over nothing. The view from the inside was magnificent, though, and its action was perfectly smooth as it carried them gradually upslope along the cityside. The buildings below were so tightly packed that only occasional alleys could be glimpsed between them. Della spotted at least two places that looked like restaurants with seating areas on their roofs. Orindi, whose district this was, narrated the entire way, ignoring the stations they passed. Alixi Unger was either not curious enough to ask questions, or unwilling to show any weakness by suggesting lack of knowledge. “And so, you see those? The green buildings across there,” Orindi said with a proud smile. “So that is the University of the Selimnar Kartunnen.”
Alixi Unger didn’t react.
Della swallowed a bite of bread. “What a wonderful resource.”
Orindi chuckled. “So, so. They have good ideas, but they’re always asking for more money.” Kudzina laughed with him, but Chaile and Vix put on smiles that didn’t touch their eyes. The car angled slightly left and passed through another station. Orindi sat down, and Kudzina took his place to talk about the Bend.
Kudzina was a storyteller. Not only did his delivery make the odd accent tolerable, but he made his district seem both lively and interesting. Not necessarily full of the potential she and Tagaret were looking for, though. The car’s path curved dramatically here; below, the cityside curved as well, into a shape that was almost like its own small mountain, with a peak directly below them. The Alixi’s Residence was no longer visible. Silver light entered the car, and they passed a large shinca trunk on the left side.
“So, now, you might think a district’s night attractions might be its most famous feature,” Kudzina said, and raised a finger. “We have plenty of those, rest assured. So, see the lighted tower there? You wouldn’t want to miss the restaurants and dance clubs surrounding it. So we have the arena of the Selimna Thunderers. We also have the banking district, and ah, the things I could tell you about our business dealings, so, so. What’s more, we have the largest, busiest, most successful medical center in the entire city.”
“Really?” asked Tagaret. “Fascinating.”
Chaile spoke up coldly. “Except. The Iyemmelim Medical Center is not actually in Bend. Strictly speaking, it’s in Up-Bend. So, look, there, where you see the green globes.”
Kudzina looked annoyed, but there was a blush on his cheeks suggesting Chaile was correct. “So it’s in Bend, too.”
“Two of the Center’s twelve buildings are in Bend,” said Chaile.
Della tried to distract the men from their disagreement. “Are you saying then, sirs, that it’s a draw for people from the entire city?”
“So, so. Well, not the entire city,” Orindi of Down-Bend put in. “So the Residence has its own medical facility, naturally.”
“Of course,” said Alixi Unger. “I would expect no less.”
“So, Doctor Iyemmelim has treated people from every district,” Chaile said.
“Including mine,” said Vix.
Tagaret raised his eyebrows. “That seems quite a workload for one doctor. I imagine he has a team. He can’t be in twelve buildings at once.”
“Yes, well, of course,” said Chaile.
The car passed into another station, and stopped. The doors opened.
Chaile indicated the open doorway. “So, so. Come out onto the deck for the best view. Vix and I will be presenting from here.”
Della squeezed Tagaret’s hand, and glanced up at him. He met her eyes and nodded. Stopping here meant they wouldn’t get a full tour of the remaining two districts. There had to be reasons for that—best guess, those reasons would be poverty and disrepair.
The view from here was marvelous, though: it was a river confluence, lit in a familiar silvery light by several shinca trees. Traveling by the entry road, she could easily have imagined the Arzenmiri as the sole waterway of Selimna, though the maps she’d studied said otherwise. Before her now, the Arzenmiri’s path curved off to the left between the citysides, and on the right side, there was a gorgeous waterfall. Water from the path of a second river at least a hundred feet above the Arzenmiri fell in a cascade that glittered in the silvery shinca-light, landing in a wide zone of glowing white mists, and then continuing down via a stone chute to join the larger river below. In the shadow of an opening above the waterfall, she could just glimpse the first buildings of another section of the city.
“So, Kudzina is more interesting than I could ever be,” said Chaile, “though I will draw your attention to our medical center. It has expanded into two buildings in Bend in recent years. So we produce labor, and we have the Mist Market, located just below us, where everything is kept naturally cool. So, so. It’s a commodities market, where Venorai produce is distributed to the rest of the city, and sold for export.”
“So, well, it’s the natural place for a market,” agreed Vix. “Just at the entrance to the Venorai tributary.”
Della nodded. “Why is your district called that?”
Vix gave a blushing smile that made his sunmarks stand out even more sharply. “It’s actually the Arzenmiri tributary, Lady,” he said. “But, so, with all its access points to the fields, it’s where all the Venorai live.”
“What, all of them?” That wasn’t good. Could a caste entirely isolate itself? That would make accessing them far, far harder. Her tone brought everyone in the car around to look at her, and all the strangenesses of her body sprang into sharp focus.
Dear sweet Heile, don’t let any of them realize she was in a condition . . .
“So a small number do live in Up-Bend near the Mist Market, Lady,” Vix replied.
“Oh, naturally.”
Tagaret squeezed her shoulders and kindly relieved her of the group’s attention. “And where do the Melumalai live?” he asked. “Do they have an extreme concentration, too?”
“Less so,” Chaile answered easily. “So a great many are naturally concentrated in Up-Bend, but they are also in the Bend, and a few in Down-Bend.”
“So, so. Our banking centers would not function near as well, otherwise,” agreed Kudzina.
“Nor our business districts,” added Orindi.
Della felt Tagaret’s arm tense around her—he was about to take a risk. “And where do the Akrabitti live, then, sirs?”
She held her breath.
Alixi Unger’s mouth dropped open; he was clearly too appalled to protest aloud.
Chaile, though, only seemed resigned. “So, I’ll be honest. You can’t keep a city clean without them. They are a challenge, because Akrabitti who are asked to work in the Venorai tributary often become . . . so . . .”
“So insubordinate,” said Vix.
Chaile nodded. “So they’re generally housed near their workplaces.”
Now Alixi Unger found his voice. “They’re not near the medical clinic, are they?”
Chaile grew cautious, and didn’t meet the Alixi’s eyes. He answered, “So, well, I’m not sure where all the garbage centers are located, Alixi. So, so. The crematory is in its own cave pocket not far from the Selimna Gate.”
“Well, we need to find out where they are,” Alixi Unger declared. “I need to understand exactly how to contain the Akrabitti and keep them away from places like the medical center.”
Della’s heart went cold. She held Tagaret’s arm tightly. “Akrabitti get injured, too, Alixi, sir. They get sick, and need care.”
Alixi Unger made a face, and cast a look at Tagaret that she’d seen all too many times: a mix of pity and disgust.
Della clenched her fists on the fabric of Tagaret’s sleeve. Varin gnash Nekantor. They had always known this was going to be hard; with a new Alixi on a rampage against the Akrabitti, now it would be near impossible.
Della couldn’t sleep, though fatigue penetrated to her bones. You have to tell him.
They had a window in their bedroom, and she was unreasonably pleased about that. Their suite was at the far end of the Residence closest to the Lady’s Walk, and from here, with her elbows leaning on the stone sill, it seemed no distance at all to the upper scaffolds. No one was there to see her in her nightgown.
“Della, love?” Tagaret’s voice spoke behind her, and she startled. His warm arms enfolded her. She hadn’t felt the flutter in a few minutes, but she couldn’t forget it—looking out the window was easier than looking at him.
“Imagine,” she said. “Imagine if we could get someone to sit right there and play for us. A piper, maybe, with her legs hanging down off the end of the scaffold and her elbows on the rail.”
He chuckled. “There’s an idea. But I’d rather go out, I think.”
She nodded. She’d rather be out there, lost in that view that went on for miles, than here inside herself. She had to tell him. What would happen when she told him?
Tagaret held her closer and kissed her hair. “The sooner we go to bed, the sooner we’ll be out there in the morning.”
“Tagaret?” Her voice shook on the word.
He squeezed her tighter. “Are you all right?”
Tell him. “I can’t.”
“You can’t? Can’t what?” She could hear a frown in his voice.
Fear and necessity wrestled for her tongue. She blurted, “I won’t go back to Pelismara!” and started to cry. Her face twisted up and her body shook—feelings that seemed outside her, almost as if they were happening to someone else.
“No, no, sweet Della, love,” Tagaret said gently. “Of course not. Of course we won’t . . .”
His voice cut off. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything at all. In the gap that should have been silence, her uneven sobs were unseemly, ugly. Why was she still crying?
She pressed both hands to her face, trying to press the tears away.
“Oh, gods,” Tagaret breathed suddenly. “Heile and Elinda help us, are you—”
NO! she wanted to shout, but only a moan came out. She turned in his arms and buried her face in his chest. He was breathing fast, chest heaving, but he gently stroked her hair.
“We shouldn’t have come,” she whispered.
“Of course we should have. I want to be here with you, right now.”
“It’s going to be the same.”
Tagaret nudged her back from him. His hand lifted and touched her hair, pushing it away from her face. “We don’t know how it will be, love. But don’t forget why we’re here. We’re here to break traditions, and if the first one we break is ‘no children outside of Pelismara,’ then so be it.”
He sounded braver than he looked. But maybe here, in a new place, it could be different.
“I was checked at my house before we left,” she said. “And my Yoral checked me, too, on the way here.”
“Bless Yoral,” said Tagaret. “We’re so fortunate to have him.”
“We can’t tell anyone.”
“Not a soul, I promise.”
She looked up at his face, which trembled on the edge of hope and fear. “That means no visits to the Grobal medical center. But I have Yoral, and I have time to look for a doctor here. In case.”
Tagaret pressed his lips together.
“I can ask Director Aimali for help finding someone.”
He nodded. “Good idea.”
She pressed her face into his chest again, and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so tired.”
Without letting go of her, Tagaret started backing away from the window toward the bed, which had already been turned down for nighttime. When he reached it, he climbed backward into it, keeping hold of her hand. “Of course you’re tired. You’ve been traveling all day, and I sent you down an elevator, and we walked through an Akrabitti door into a bakery . . .”
She gave him the smile he was trying for, and climbed into bed beside him. It was different from their bed at home, but soft, with smooth sheets that caressed her skin. When she lay down, exhaling, she could feel herself sink in. There came the flutter again—she curled around it, toward him.
Don’t panic. In Selimna, everything could be different.
“Can I hold you?” Tagaret murmured.
“Mm.” She pulled herself so her head lay on his shoulder, and her arm across his chest. Tagaret stroked her hair, her shoulder, her side, down to her hip. It felt amazing, but the fatigue was too powerful to resist. “Sleepy.”
He kissed her forehead. “All right, sleep, then.”
She could do it, now that she and her secret were no longer alone.