“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Zephyr marveled as he and Nico walked the wingfields between the copper plots of sorghum. “These fields are an impressive feat of construction and engineering. I understand now why you’re so proud of them.”
She smiled, pleased. She had pumped not only her magic, but also so much of her sweat into these fields. The temple may have been the heart of the Elder, but the lifeblood flowed here.
“Imagine these fields stretching on forever,” she said. She could see the dream so clearly—the lush greenery, the rich soil, constructed aqueducts, and food plentiful enough to overflow rations.
“How was work? You looked quite busy when I arrived,” he noted. They had a lunch planned, and she had told him if he arrived early, she could give him a tour, but she had only managed to show him a third of it.
“We found an infestation of aphids in the wheat fields,” she said with a sigh. “We had to hose down each individual plant, which had been a massive-unplanned drain on our water supply that left me responsible for replacing it.”
And then there were the endless meetings among the botanists on how to prevent the infestation from happening again—from introducing more ladybugs and lacewings to growing more pungent smelling crops like onion and garlic around the fields. Most likely she and the other botanists would decide on what to do when they met later this evening.
Finally, the lunch drum rolled through the Grankull. The following drum signaled high noon, and the next drum signaled a return to work. Lunch often lasted over an extended two-drum period, ending well after the hottest part of the day.
“You’re ready?” she asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said.
They joined the crowd of people breaking for lunch. Some headed toward the market to get some errands done, to their homes for lunch, or to the bathhouses. They walked toward the Belly neighborhood. Zephyr had brought the guest gifts, and they walked down the street with a gift in their hands.
The Belly Councilor glared at both Nico and Zephyr as they approached up the road, from where the Councilor sat playing mehen on the veranda of their house. The home was one of the largest dwellings in the Belly district, built with swooping arches and columns of the new geometric art style sweeping the richer areas.
Nico gave her best smile and bowed her head in acknowledgement. “Nakimin Belly Councilor. I appreciate you agreeing to meet with me.”
“Nicolai Dragonshield,” the Belly Councilor acknowledged and didn’t bother to incline her head. They hadn’t bothered to get up to greet them either, but since they were an elder, Nico let it pass without comment.
She offered the prepared guest gift, a bag of tea leaves from her garden. Neema, who was attending her granta, accepted the gift on her granta’s behalf. Nico hadn’t seen Neema since the namepour and judging by her expression, she hadn’t wanted to be seen. Her braids were intricate and woven immaculately. During the Forging, she had worn clips of dragonglass. Now she wore expensive rubies and turquoise decorating her hair. The Belly Councilor had plenty of grandchildren. Choosing Neema to serve her today had been a calculated choice.
“I understand this is some sort of introduction?” the Belly Councilor asked.
“Yes. I have been requested to introduce you to Zephyrus Dragonblood, the child of Raiment Zara-kulani. As you are aware, Raiment-shi is only allowed to do business in the Claws district, but now that his child is of age, Zephyr-kull has been tasked with settling a few business items for him. I have been asked to make an introduction.”
“Zephyrus Dragonblood,” Zephyr said, introducing himself. “I appreciate you meeting with me.”
Zephyr pulled back the linen from the basket he carried to display several bottles of assorted foreign wine. Neema’s eyes bulged at the expense. “I thought this was the custom. I apologize if this is not the standard guest gift.”
Neema’s eyes narrowed at him, smelling Zephyr’s horseshit, but his face stayed unbreakable. She snatched the basket away and then crouched over to show the gift to her granta.
“It is acceptable,” the Belly Councilor said and waved a dismissive hand. “Join me for tea.”
Neema withdrew to carry the gifts into the house and returned with a tray of tea. She cleared the table of the coiled snake board and the matching game pieces.
Nico and Zephyr sat down on the opposing cushions. Neema served the tea, first her granta, and then Zephyr, and then Nico. It was a subtle insult. The order all wrong. You always served the guests first. Then you served by the number of names.
“What is this about?” the Councilor asked. She looked at Nico, but Nico was only here for the “introduction.” Nico left this part for Zephyr to handle. She picked up the hand-painted teacup to take a sip of the hibiscus tea, a light and refreshing tea often served during high noon.
“I regret to inform you that my father’s clients are becoming a little disinterested in the evory trade,” Zephyr began. “As most of our supply comes from your family, my father is considering diversifying his assets.”
A clatter rang out when Neema stumbled with the tray. The Belly Councilor narrowed their eyes dangerously. The evory trade made up most of the family’s income.
“And how much are you planning to diversify?” the Councilor asked and took a sip of tea. Neema mumbled out an apology that her granta didn’t acknowledge.
Zephyr’s face flattened with so little emotion, he had turned into another person, one born of a merchant. “We have decided not to buy any of your evory this season. It’s just business.”
The Belly Councilor swiveled and pointed their finger at Nico. “Your tah murdered my grandchild and now you’re trying to ruin my family?!”
“Excuse me,” Zephyr interrupted. “Your vote for a purge is on record. Why would my family want to do business with someone who is trying to ruin them? Did you think there wouldn’t be any consequences?”
“Your family would have had special protections,” the Belly Councilor said. “It was the rest of the Tents we wanted to purge. The Grankull would not have risked its relationship with your tah. In fact, we were planning on strengthening it.”
After everyone was dead, and Raiment didn’t have a choice, Nico had no doubt.
“You further disrespect us,” he said, dark and disapproving. “My father would have not taken that deal out of respect for his kulani. Zara-ta does not care for the Grankull. You think you know us, but you do not. You will learn soon though, for I am here now to ensure my family has a voice.”
Nico did not doubt that the reason Zephyr didn’t experience the same difficulties as Kai during the Naming Ceremony was because the Grankull wanted his father’s wealth. They thought accepting him into the community would further ingratiate the Council with his father, without ever considering who Zephyr might be. The Belly Councilor now looked as if they were regretting that choice.
The Councilor snapped, “What do you want?”
“Step down as Belly Councilor,” Nico said, finally joining the conversation. “Azan’s tah plans to run this season, and you will make sure he runs unopposed.”
The Belly Councilor spat in Nico’s tea. She placed a hand on Zephyr’s arm and did not let that deter her.
“Ava-ta owed you a blood price,” she said. “I understand that, but she is gone now, and all blood debts are left with the dead. Therefore, your actions against me and my family have been wholly unjustified. In fact, there might be certain,” she tapped a fingernail against the teacup, “cases if I ever learn about that might entitle me to a blood price. I certainly seem to be collecting quite a few recently.”
“Leave my veranda.”
The Belly Councilor was a stubborn old carrion, and if the decision was up to them alone, Nico doubted she would ever convince the old bird to step down, but Neema had been there to overhear and relay the news. This was a family matter, and the family might decide differently.
“Thank you for your time,” she said. She and Zephyr got up. As they started away, she turned to look over her shoulder at the white-haired elder, bitter and stubborn in their old age. Then she looked at Neema, who had always glared at her with daggers. Nico said, “It is time you choose what is more important: your hatred or your future.”
Hate never dies.
Perhaps someday, Neema could allow herself to let her hate go.