Shalador's Lady (The Black Jewels #8)

Shalador's Lady (The Black Jewels #8) Page 37

“She was laughing when she went into that other shop,” Gray said as Daemon led the two men into the bookshop. “Why was she laughing?”

“Once you show those books to any Sceltie, you’ll understand,” Daemon replied dryly.And may the Darkness have mercy on you.

He let them look around while he selected a few books that he thought Cassidy would enjoy since Jaenelle or Marian had liked them. Ranon showed polite interest, but Gray loved books and stories, and kept delaying so that he could see “just one more thing.” Daemon ended up selecting a few more books for them to take back to Eyota and then hauled Gray out of the shop so they could see more of the village.

Gray showed a boyish enthusiasm for everything he saw except, oddly, the bakery, which he glanced at and then bolted past. Ranon’s emotions were more contained and more intense—especially when Daemon showed the Shaladoran the music shop. The place sold sheet music and instruments that spanned the Territories in Kaeleer, as well as the music crystals that had audio spells.

He didn’t tell them Jaenelle owned this shop, which was the reason it had such an eclectic variety of music—and why it had an attached room with a small stage for performances. Twice a month, she joined the musicians and sang there—and on those nights, there was never an empty chair.

He mentioned the performances and pointed out the nearby tavern and coffee shop. Ranon appreciated the potential businesses. Gray was more dazzled by the small courtyards that were shady gathering places accented with flower beds.

By the time they settled at a table in one of those courtyards with glasses of ale and a plate of sandwiches, Daemon had a very good idea what kind of businesses would do well in Eyota.

“All right, gentlemen . . .” he began.

“It’s the boy.”

Daemon rose at the sound of that female voice and was pleased that Gray and Ranon responded just as quickly.

“Tersa,” he said warmly as he kissed her cheek. Her long black hair was always as tangled as her mind, but it gave him comfort to know she could wander around this village and be safe. “Would you join us?”

“You are trying to feed me,” she accused.

Of course he was. Even having a journeymaid Black Widow living with her, Tersa still didn’t remember to eat when her mind traveled its own strange paths.

“Only a little,” he said, giving her a boyish smile.

She gave his arm a light, dismissive smack as she glanced at Ranon. Then she looked at Gray, and Daemon felt the change in her—and saw Gray go absolutely still.

“This is the one,” Tersa said softly. She called in a glass globe supported by a carved wooden base and set it in front of Gray. Then she touched the small amethyst in the base. “Watch.”

Smoke filled the globe as the spell engaged.

Changes,Daemon thought.Metamorphosis. He watched as a dagger was cocooned, then emerged as a small boy who had no limbs. That image cocooned and emerged as a dead tree, which cocooned and emerged as a living tree that bore daggers as its fruit. That image cocooned and emerged as a dragon breathing fire—a powerful warrior.

All the color had drained out of Gray’s face when he saw the first two images—and something Daemon couldn’t name filled those green eyes when Gray saw the last image.

The sequence started again. When the image of the dagger tree cocooned, the sequence stopped.

“This is where you are,” Tersa said.

“How do I get to the last stage?” Gray asked, his eyes fixed on the shrouded image.

“When the time comes, accept the fire that lives within you.”

*Tersa?* Daemon asked.

*Trust your wife—and trust your own heart.*

She kissed him and walked away.

Shaken, he sat down and drained the glass of ale. Gray and Ranon did the same, so he flicked a thought at the tavern owner, who hurried out a minute later with a cold pitcher of ale.

“Who is she?” Ranon asked after the second glass of ale.

“My mother,” Daemon replied.

“She’s . . . different,” Gray said, clearly not wanting to offend, but just as clearly wanting an answer.

“She’s a broken Black Widow,” Daemon said. “She’s been walking the roads of the Twisted Kingdom for a long time, but her mind completely shattered a few centuries ago when she made the choice to forfeit sanity in order to regain her Craft. In the past few years, she’s been living closer to the border of sanity, which lets her have a life in the village.”

“If she can’t wear a Jewel, how does she . . . ?” Ranon asked.

“I don’t know. Even my father doesn’t know. But sane or not, Jewels or not, she has always been a formidable witch.”

“Does Jaenelle know how Tersa regained power through madness?” Gray asked.

“Probably, since my Lady has walked roads even darker than the ones Tersa has traveled.” But this was not something he wanted to think about right now, so he said, “Gentlemen. Let’s talk about doing business.”

TERREILLE

Thank the Darkness neither of us have to drive this Coach,Ranon thought as he and Gray huddled in the comfortable back compartment of the SaDiablo Coach provided by Daemon. They’d had a delicious dinner. At least, he assumed it was delicious. He couldn’t remember a single bite of it. Afterward, Sadi had opened the Gate next to the Hall and instructed one of the drivers who worked for the SaDiablo family to take his guests back to Dena Nehele. So they were heading home directly from the Hall, riding the Opal Winds.

“Mother Night, Gray,” Ranon said, keeping his voice low even though they couldn’t be heard through the closed door separating their compartment from the driver’s. “Five million gold marks. Do you have any idea how much that is?”

Gray shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve everseen a gold mark. I got a ten silver mark once for my birthday, and I thought it was a fortune. Do you really think we could spend that many gold marks?”

Ranon took a deep breath and felt his body tremble as he breathed out. “Wouldn’t be hard to do. We’ve had so little for so long, it wouldn’t be hard to do. Paying it back is a different thing altogether.”

“Shops and supplies,” Gray said. “Forage for the animals if the harvest falls short this year.”

“Food for us if the crops fall short this year,” Ranon said. Although with so many Blood dead in the past two years, having people starve was less likely. Having the crops rot in the fields because there weren’t enough hands to harvest them was a possibility, even if the Blood used Craft and drained their power every day to get the harvest in.

“We’ll have to find the right kinds of buildings for the shops Daemon wants.”

“We’ll find them.”

Ranon closed his eyes. A music shop like the one he’d seen in Halaway. A room where the Tradition Keepers like his grandfather could teach openly what had been forbidden for so many years. And Sadi’s gift . . .

“It’s not the same,” Daemon had said, “but the music of Scelt has a complex simplicity that I think is similar to Shalador’s music. At least as I remember it. You might enjoy it.”

The music crystals and the brass stand. Such a simple thing, really, and not so simple. Like Sadi casually pointing out some folk music from Dharo that could be played on a flute.

Sharing customs. Sharing hopes.

Kind of funny, actually. Now that the Shaladorans could honor their own traditions, it didn’t sting to look beyond his own people and consider what other traditions might have to offer.

KAELEER

A quick scan of the messages that had arrived that afternoon confirmed that nothing required his immediate attention, so Daemon went up to Jaenelle’s sitting room. When she marked her place in her book and set it aside, he took that as an invitation. He picked her up, then sat down in the stuffed chair with her on his lap.

“Our guests are on their way home?” She ran her fingers through his hair, a soothing caress.

“They are.” He called in Jared’s journal and held it up for her to see.

“They didn’t want it?” Disappointment filled her voice and eyes.

“They want to preserve the original and also be able to share the contents. Cassidy sent a note with the journal asking if the Queen’s gift could be extended to having a couple of copies made so that people could read Jared’s account of his journey with Lia.”

She studied him. “That doesn’t sound like an extravagant request.”

“It’s not. It’s also not a practical request.”

“Ah. And what would my darling Prince consider a practical request?”

He shrugged. “A thousand copies would be a good start.”

She laughed. “What are you going to do with a thousand copies?”

“For one thing, sell them in the merchant’s shop I’m opening in Eyota. They can buy the book there, then go over to the coffee shop I’m also opening and read while enjoying a cup or two of their favorite beverage.”

She hooted. “How many shops did Gray and Ranon talk you into opening?”

He laughed with her. “Four. Plus a loan the court can use to help the people start rebuilding their lives and villages.”

Then his laughter faded. He cuddled Jaenelle, needing that comfort.

“What’s troubling you?” she asked.

“Did I do the right thing?”

“How big a loan did you give them?” she asked.

“Five million gold marks.”

She laughed softly. “That explains why they both looked like they couldn’t remember how to breathe when you brought them back from the village and couldn’t string words together in a coherent sentence all through dinner.”

“Jaenelle, did I do the right thing?”

“Why would you ask that?

“Because Dena Nehele is going to fall.”

She rested a hand over his heart. “Daemon, pretend you never heard that.Act as if you’d never heard that. That’s what I’m going to do.”