55.Tallowgill

Thrice more Cian had me pray at some farm or another with a pricked right thumb or palm in the dirt, praying to the goddess.

Again, I would ask for privacy and again, I would ask her what I was supposed to do to identify my penchant.

All three times, I grew somewhat despondent while praying, but I did not weep as I had the first time.

While I was disappointed by my lack of magic, I found myself liking speaking to my new deity.

And having been a professional scribe for all of my thirties, I found the administrative tasks in the antechamber to be doable.

I was a fast learner and picked up the work easily.

Hazel had me dealing directly with Tintarian farmers’ complaints on occasion and I found it stimulating but not overly daunting.

At night, I noticed less restlessness from my husband.

By candlelight, he added a drop of lightleaf to a cup of water at night and swilled it quickly before climbing into our bed.

Whether or not he knew I was watching him do this, I did not know.

I now stared Vinia in the eye whenever I caught her inspections in the baths.

I maintained the stare with a cold smile on my face until she looked away.

I had found her a source of mystery and some jealousy before, but now I disliked her for what she had done to Isabeau, who had seemed innocent if indiscreet.

From my vantage point in the dining hall, I could see the far tables that sat peerage.

The lady’s husband had the same streak of white hair as his sons.

I could only observe them at a distance and could not hear their conversation.

I wondered if he had heard the rumor that his daughter was not his.

Another moon had nearly passed after my conversation with Isabeau.

I felt that our flock of women was settling in as well as could be expected.

Catrin had become a fixture in Modwenna’s chambers, the old dowager leaning on her more and more and any snobbery Catrin had experienced from Tintarian noblewomen was decreasing due to this approval.

River and Quinn fit in with the staff in the temple of Sister Sea, River eager every day to learn something new, becoming a bottomless well of information about the industry of fishing.

Quinn, quieter in her contentment, listened to her lover speak and affirmed River’s tidbits here and there.

Mischa continued to keep us updated with the activity of Jeremanthy’s office and amused us with stories of her purposeful flirting with infantrymen in front of Perch.

“What is your aim?”

Helena clucked, slicing a plum.

“You will end up having to marry the man.

He will despise you by winter if you keep it up.

You will both be in misery.”

“I know what I do,”

Mischa said.

“I am slowly driving him mad.

There is an aim in that.”

We shook our heads at her, but I relished our collective humor and was grateful Mischa always gave us this, a chance to laugh.

“He is watching our table,”

Maureen added.

“Fish man?”

Mischa asked.

Maureen started to giggle.

“Yes, Sergeant Fish is watching us.

So are the captain and your betrothed, mother,”

she said to me and Helena.

Helena and I looked at each other and continued to eat.

“It’s because they can tell we are laughing at poor Perch’s expense,”

said Catrin.

“I do think it is humorous to watch men trip on their own feet because a woman is fine,”

chirped River.

“I can sympathize, but I have never acted a fool.”

“River,”

Quinn groused.

“They know,”

River said, waving her tin fork around our group.

“They have all known the whole time.

Haven’t you?”

“I have,”

Mischa said, not to be seen as ever ignorant of anything.

“I did not, not right away,”

answered Catrin.

“But I do not care!”

“We none of us do,”

said Helena.

“I care that you were together when Tintar invaded.

The separation and not knowing would have been worse for you both.”

“Yes, it would,”

River said, her usually eager face pinched.

Quinn set her fork down.

“I am grateful for the five of you,”

she said, looking at the rest of us and away from River next to her.

Then drolly, she said, “There is no one with whom I would rather be kidnapped.”

Helena let out a titter of pure levity that was more than just due to the wine oft served with dinner.

She covered her mouth and leaned into me, continuing to laugh.

I glanced over to the Procurers and noticed most of them watching, Thatcher’s eyes alight as he watched her mirth.

I put my arm around her shoulders and smiled at Quinn.

“I agree.”

That night in the dormitories, our mood shifted from blithesome to frantic.

The six of them had been allotted small chests that fit under their beds.

When River, who often took her Tallowgill at night with some water, looked inside her chest, she could not find her Tallowgill jar.

We were a week from the next moon’s pay and Quinn said she did not want River to go a full ten days without the medicine.

Her seizure the night of our first bath in Nyossa had been bad.

I had not witnessed it, but Quinn reminded River that she had bitten her tongue.

“Where could it be?”

Quinn said, both arms in River’s wooden chest.

“I don’t know,”

River cried, standing behind Quinn, peering over her shoulder.

“I don’t know.

Oh my gods, all your coin spent on this.”

She turned to the rest of us.

“Do we have enough coin for another jar?”

Mischa said, pouring her two remaining copper coins onto a pile Quinn had started with her and River’s coin.

Catrin, Helena and Maureen added to the pile.

Together there was enough for one silver coin, but the Tallowgill cost two.

I had been working lavender into my unbraided hair and I felt such guilt at my spending my remaining copper on it.

“Let me ask Alric.”

All of them looked to me.

“The worst he can do is say no,”

I said, standing up from my seat on Helena’s bed.

I handed her my tin cup of wine.

“Give me time.

I may have to track him down.”