A Good Deed
A carriage ride, a long walk, and making a new friend over a hearty lunch have turned my poor morning into a splendid, if a little cloudy, afternoon. At any rate, I don’t feel the need to sulk over that singing lesson for now.
Maisey; her common-school classmate, Adelaide; Edith; and her bodyguard, Gúnder, walk with Judah and me toward the Redden trolley. It’s the quickest way to the fencing dojo from here, but I’m in no hurry. I enjoy half my companions enough to indulge in a stroll through the Long Market.
A variety of peoples, from orcs to swiffoks, crowd the sidewalks as they go from store to kiosk to café. There’s little rhythm to the shops’ arrangement, and I love the surprises; tents and lean-tos that pop up between established shops are liable to disappear from the alleys by week’s end, struts and all. Canvas awnings, decorated as loudly as shouting cart-owners, compete to draw passersby to their wares. A constant din of deal-making and news-trading combines with the occasional rhythmic pounding of ironshod horses and raptors. When one of the Long Market’s green-and-orange trolleys clanks along the rail, pedestrians in the street just meander toward a curb. And in this summer heat, the ambient mixture of mustard, tomatoes, and that barest hint of brick clay wafts through my nostrils as easily and pleasantly as a rare drop of chocolate on my tongue.
Judah walks directly behind me on the shop-side of the sidewalk. Intentionally or not, he keeps the masses from getting too close to our group. Maisey keeps pace with me on my left as though I were still the same size we were when we met. On her other side, well…
Nobody enjoys spending time with someone they don’t like, but sacrifices must be made.
I’m sure Edith Foster-Price is a fine girl when she wants to be. But something has always needled me about the way she walks with her head tilted back, just enough to keep the curls of dark hair out of her eyes. Or maybe it’s to keep snot from pouring out of her nose. She has to maintain her essence, of course. She doesn’t help matters when she speaks, especially to Gúnder.
That poor swiffok. Even though Edith, Maisey, and I all wear our fencing bottoms (suspenders, boots, and all), only Maisey and I carry our own oblong equipment packs; Gúnder follows Edith cradling hers against his chest. He’s not much taller than Maisey, but his physique strains under his tan, padded tunic. He would appear comical, were it not for the wide short sword encased on his hip. The dark tiger’s eye beads in his blonde sideburns are his only hint of anything other than simple business, either by Edith’s family’s allowance or his own.
The conversation lulls, and I realize there’s one voice I haven’t heard since lunch. I look over my shoulder.
Adelaide Shinoda walks between Judah and Gúnder. She’s almost as tall as Judah, but the pale green orc keeps her head tilted down behind a half-curtain of thick, black hair. Instead of the required outfit, Adelaide wears a black blouse, gray trousers, a faded yellow vest, and strapped leather sandals. In fact, the only piece of equipment she carries is her uncle’s epee from the Berkian Secession. The blade and point are dulled, of course, but it’ll be good for her to use something of her own during class, since it’ll be hard enough to find something her size in the communal set.
I smile at her. “I wish I were brave enough to try bangs like yours, Adelaide. They become you.”
An almost inaudible gasp escapes Adelaide. She glances at me, then returns her gaze to the brick sidewalk. She mumbles something, then clears her throat.
“Thank you, Klóe. It’s new. My brother wanted to try something different on me.” She holds the sheathed sword more tightly to her chest.
Maisey whirls around and walks backwards. “Aww, your brother styles your hair for you? That’s fabulous! Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”
She shrugs. “It hadn’t come up, so…” For the first time today, she has a small smile on her lips.
I hum, half for the smile and half out of jealousy. “If only any of my brothers would do that for me. The closest I got was when Angelo offered to halo braid my hair once. He gave up after fifteen minutes.”
Maisey pivots toward me and walks sideways. “Did he do it for a girl?”
I nod once. “Some Linderan half-elf he was trying to impress.”
“How unoriginal.”
I gag. “You cry no news. Anyway, Adelaide, I would love to come over and have your brother style my hair. If it comes out looking half as good as yours, I’d be satisfied.”
Maisey gasps. “Ooh, yeah, me, too. We could make a party of it!”
“Oh!” Adelaide takes in a shuddering breath. “I guess if I ask my parents far enough ahead of time, they may be okay with it. And Darian enjoys meeting new people, so…” She shrugs.
“Excellent!” Without losing a step or tripping over herself, Maisey spins around to face Edith. “What do you say, Edie? Are you in?”
Edith’s square jaw clenches in suppressed laughter. “Thank you for the invitation, Maisey, but I will most definitely pass. I will simply not allow anyone but Hamish to touch this hair.” She twists a lock of hair near her cheek around two fingers.
I turn a wince into a long blink. Maybe Edith doesn’t realize I’m trying to welcome Adealide into the group? With the hope of being right, I try something different.
“My family retains a pair of stylists, too, but I think it would be fun to see what somewhat else could do with what I’ve got. Don’t you want a new style perspective? You know, break the monotony?”
Edith looks askance at me. “I prefer to call your monotony ‘tradition,’ but I can’t fault your reasoning. After all, you and your family love to adopt the new and shocking.” She smirks over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you say, Judah?”
I sneer, nearly snarl, at Edith. Her facetious tone is as bad as four years’ worth of strangers’ dirty looks. My construct bodyguard’s personhood may be foreign, but he is neither pet nor slave, nor a mere fashion statement. I hold my breath and wait for Edith to turn--
Maisey hops with a clap. “Oh, wait, you said Lindera, right, Klóe? Where Angelo’s old pursuit was from? Isn’t Instructor Alderman from that country, too? Wouldn’t it be so weird and neat if they knew each other?”
I exhale and look to Judah. He walks along normally, but his smooth, mostly featureless, ceramic alloy face is locked toward Edith. Something about him is strange. The lights of his eyes seem… denser?
He lifts his chin. Even though he sees the entirety of the street around us, he must feel negligent at losing his focus because of such a stupid slight.
I know I do. Thankfully, I have Maisey to keep me focused on the peace.
I relax and smile at her. “Yes. It would. Lindera is quite the large island, though, so the odds are small.”
Maisey clucks her teeth. “Aww, that’s too bad. I bet she was a cutie, though?”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. Angelo didn’t bring her to the house even once.”
“Sure, but Linderans are all just so gorgeous, aren’t they? Not just their elf-blooded, either. It must be in the grass there; From the shortest swiffok to the tallest poma, each and all are impeccable.”
“Have you seen them all for yourself?”
“She doesn’t have to,” Edith replies. “We only need look at Instructor Alderman to prove her point.” She rolls her tongue in a manner not unlike a flicker cat.
I mumble, “Your sample size is abysmal.”
Maisey giggles. “What if Instructor Alderman is one of the ugly ones?”
Edith moans. “Then I’d happily choose a suitor from their rejects. As far as I’m concerned, Rowan Alderman is just the sweetest cream of any crop.”
I try to ignore the insinuation. Adelaide doesn’t know our instructor; how is she supposed to participate in this conversation?
Maisey makes an unusual sound, a groan somewhere between agreement and disapproval. “I suppose, with his platinum blonde hair and those piercing, mismatched eyes and that honeyed, trust-me-I-can-teach-you-anything smile with a pinch of—”
“Cull your list, Dazey-Maisey,” Edith mutters.
“--then, sure, I could find him as attractive as the next girl would. But he’s already so old. I’d rather have someone who’ll stick around at least half as long as I do.”
Edith gives a throaty chuckle. “He’ll stay young enough for me, no doubt. Speaking of the next girl, what do you think, Klóe? You’ve stayed remarkably mum about the hottest instructor in Quinlantia.”
I shrug. “He’s fine enough, I suppose.”
The Long Market’s ambient noise creeps through the lull in our conversation. Edith’s cackle breaks the peace.
“Ha! ‘Fine enough, I suppose?’ Klóe, are you broken?”
I wrinkle nose. “How do you even mean?” I ask, as if who I don’t find alluring makes any impact on her well-being.
“You’re trying to tell me you’ve either met a more attractive creature than our dear fencing instructor, or you don’t think he’s attractive from the start. Neither option flatters you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be sure to adjust appropriately in the future.”
“Edie, different girls like different types. There’s a first for all things, even girls disinterested Instructor Alderman.”
Edith narrows her eyes at me. “Not in my experience, Maisey.”
Even with Maisey between us, I adjust my path to walk a little farther from Edith. I don’t know what she’s searching me for, but she won’t find it.
Behind me, Judah stammers. “Y… Klóe?”
I stop and turn to him, but he faces the stores. I follow his gaze to Adelaide, standing at a storefront window with her arms around herself. I raise an eyebrow and approach her, Judah in tow.
I place my hand just above Adelaide’s elbow. “What’s the matter, Adela—?” I cut myself off with a gasp when I look into the window.
Displayed on an orc-framed mannequin is a full, stark-white, immaculately assembled fencing kit. The jacket’s open flap reveals the plastron vest beneath. A matching carrying pack hangs upright from the small stand next to it.
In the window’s transparent reflection, Maisey, Edith, and Gúnder join us to investigate. As usual, Maisey ends the silence.
“Nice eye, Adelaide. The embroidery on the collar is so subtle, you barely notice it until it pops.”
Adelaide nods and squeezes her sword against her chest. “It repeats on all the pieces, even the socks. The brochure made the suit seem sophisticated, regal; but seeing the real thing up close is just…”
“Well?” I tug gently on Adelaide’s arm. “You can say it.”
Adelaide sighs and frowns at me.
I smile back.
She relaxes enough for her sheathed sword to slide through her arms a little.
“It’s exhilarating,” she mutters. She continues more audibly, “But it doesn’t matter, because it’s a Sava Galure suit. My family has finally settled in, maybe, so it’s not the time for luxuries.”
“I agree,” Edith says, almost like a yawn. “Now is not the time. Shall we continue?”
Maisey wrinkles her brow and walks to Adelaide’s other side. “I’ve seen you fence fundamentals at school, Adelaide. You’re excellent even without the proper gear. Wouldn’t you want to shine in an outfit like that?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“You heard her, Maisey,” Edith says. “The Shinodas are barely hanging on to the roof over their heads. They need to focus on necessities, not luxuries.”
Maisey gasps. “Edith! That’s not—”
Adelaide shakes her head. “No, no, it’s fine. Maisey, your friend is right. Even if I could convince my parents to take a loan for it, we would probably need years to pay off the debt and the interest.” She shuts her eyes and clutches her epee. “Let’s just go, please?”
I raise an eyebrow. This kit could make Adelaide’s day, maybe the rest of her year. Her weapon is already battle-tested, so it’s profession-ready; why shouldn’t she have an outfit to match? It may not be a household necessity, but wouldn’t a Sava Galure be a sound investment for a future in sport fencing?
I look back at Judah with wide-eyes and a slight grin. His eyes shimmer quizzically.
Adelaide slouches and walks down the sidewalk.
I rush in front of her and hold up one hand. “What if we bought it for you?”
Adelaide steps back. “What?”
Edith leans around Adelaide to frown at me. “What?”
Maisey tilts her head. “Hmm, well…”
My smile grows as Judah walks behind me.
Adelaide shakes her head firmly. “No. I thank you for your offer, but no.”
“Well, why not?”
“It costs too much. I don’t even know when I’d be able to pay you back.”
“But this isn’t a loan, or anything like that. I was just thinking you could have it, no strings attached.”
“What?”
Edith stomps toward me, with Gúnder keeping pace to stop between her and Adelaide.
Maisey approaches Adelaide on her street side with a slightly wrinkled brow. “It is only about one hundred and four seats for the whole set. Between the three of us, we might be able to haggle the owner down?”
Adelaide turns to her. “That’s very kind, really, but I don’t think I should.”
I reach for Adelaide’s wrist. “Why not just think of it as a ‘welcome to Quinlanti’ present?”
Adelaide blinks twice. Her breath comes short and shallow. “I…” She looks from me to Maisey with glistening eyes. “You…” The rest of her statement gets caught in her throat.
I poke Adelaide in the ribcage. “Is that a ‘yes’?”
Maisey grins and hops. “I think that’s a ‘yes’!”
Adelaide looks at the storefront. She turns to Maisey, then to me. She nods, shaking loose a tear.
“Absolutely not!”
Edith’s screech cuts off our celebration.
“You cannot simply conscript my coinage for this charity nonsense. I won’t allow it.”
Adelaide lowers her chin to her chest. Maisey frowns at Edith, but whispers to Adalaide while stroking her back.
I glare at Edith. How trying to do a good thing for someone be nonsense? Because it’s an idea she doesn’t like?
Likewise, my distaste for her opinion is no cause to dismiss it. I smile through my frustration.
“You’re right, Edith. I should not have presumed your involvement. But would you, at least, consider contributing to this happy endeavor?”
Edith closes her eyes and draws in a long, deep breath. She lowers her head and huffs the breath out. When she looks up at me, she also wears a smile.
“May I speak to you over here, Klóe?” She tilts her head over her shoulder to indicate some nebulous location on the sidewalk many yards away from the rest of the group.
The forced cordiality hangs so heavily between us it could choke us. “Of course.”
I follow Edith for a few steps. She pivots and focuses past my shoulder.
“I wish to speak with your mistress alone!”
Judah’s footsteps have become like echoes of my own over the years. And for how little I tolerate how Judah refers to me in a higher station, I have even less tolerance for others’ presumptions.
I clench my jaw and restrain my words. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Judah.”
Edith groans. “Whatever.” She turns with a hard toss of her hair and walks away.
My heart stops. I turn to Judah to find him staring at me with steady eyes, similarly dumbfounded. He and I don’t often talk about the pantheon or the Evers beyond them, but I know Judah has enough faith to balk at a blasphemy when he hears one.
My desire to talk to Edith wanes by the moment; as Gúnder finally walks past Judah and me, though, I suppose I should lend her my ear. What worse could she spew?
Judah and I meet Edith and Gúnder at her designated spot. She and I stand eye to eye, with Judah behind me and Gúnder at her side.
Edith chuckles. “Klóe. I know you feel you’re doing the right thing, or that your heart’s in the right place, but…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Woman to woman, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
I knit my eyebrows and look at her sideways. “I know.”
“So, why don’t you drop the act? Hmm? You made your good gesture for the day; now, let us all go attend class with some dignity.”
I wring my hands around the strap of my equipment pack. “You’ve seen the state of the communal suits at the dojo, yes? Regardless if Adelaide finds one that fits, she would be lucky to find one that offers full protection.”
“Well, that would certainly encourage her to dodge and parry effectively, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s not funny.”
Edith sighs, then slouches. “Listen, I understand. You’re a bright girl with a big heart. You’re young, full of hope and rainbows—”
“I’m only a year younger than you.”
“--but the world won’t rise to your lofty expectations. Some folks simply cannot be helped. It’s too late for Maisey, but you can still heed my advice: don’t spend any more money on that tusk-jaw than she needs.”
I gasp. I start to step forward and sling my pack off of my shoulder, but Judah’s hand clamps the strap down and holds me fast.
Edith lurches back. Gúnder throws an arm in front of her and reaches for his sword.
Judah pulls me back, probably out of Gúnder’s range. I press my back to Judah’s left side, stare at Edith, and point at Maisey and Adelaide.
How I wish Asherti Onlarion had taught me to reach into someone’s thoughts. It’s a dark art, but the risk of imprisonment might be worth setting Edith straight.
“You go over there and apologize, right now. To both of them!”
Maisey calls over, “What’s going on, you two?”
Edith waves her away. “Oh, it’s nothing, Maisey. We’re just—”
I stomp and point again. “It is absolutely not nothing. How could you call somebody something so foul? How can you stand there and pretend—?”
Edith stage-laughs and sings at me, “Okay, Klóe, calm down. Folks are staring. You’re making us look bad.”
I drop my arm to my side. Trying to get her to be better is useless.
“You do a good enough job of that for the both of us, Edith Foster-Price.”
She puts a hand to her chest as her jaw drops.
Gúnder raises a flat, empty hand from his sword to his shoulder.
Judah pins my arms to my sides, lifts me, spins me, and sets me back on the sidewalk behind him in a single, daresay graceful, motion. He releases me and turns away while I regain my balance. I turn around to find him, his fists raised and shining, facing a worried Gúnder with his hand back at his sword’s hilt.
I want some kind of punishment for Edith, and for Gúnder for not reining her in. But, as a small ring of folks forms around the four of us, I realize that the punishment isn’t for us to deal. Whether Edith or I started this spiraling mess, it needs to end.
I throw myself against Judah’s side. I pull on his shoulder to reach what would’ve been his ear.
“Don’t do it, Judah.”
He holds still, but lowers his arms a little. Their lights dim, but not to normal.
Has that happened to him before? What was that supposed to do?
Gúnder retreats toward his charge with his hand still on his hilt.
Edith lowers her hand with a sigh. Maisey pushes through the crowd to meet us. A smirk seeps onto Edith’s face.
“I’ll see you at fencing, Maisey. Apparently, I make the DiRossi look bad.” She walks into the cluster of gawking folks, and her bodyguard follows.
Maisey turns to me. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath. I purse my lips until I can find the appropriately measured words. “How can you be friends with her, Maisey? She’s petty, and cruel, and—and—”
Maisey looks around at the dispersing, disappointed crowd. She rubs my arm and shrugs. “She’s always been nice to me.”
Adelaide joins us. “We should leave, too. I don’t want to be late.”
I shake my head and reach into a pocket of my equipment pack. I pull out a pewter watch the size of my palm on a chain and flip it open.
“Don’t worry about that. We have plenty of time to get you fitted for breeches and a plastron, at least.” I smile at Adelaide. “If nothing else, this will be the first and only class you’ll take wearing someone else’s gear. I’ll make sure of it.”
Maisey; her common-school classmate, Adelaide; Edith; and her bodyguard, Gúnder, walk with Judah and me toward the Redden trolley. It’s the quickest way to the fencing dojo from here, but I’m in no hurry. I enjoy half my companions enough to indulge in a stroll through the Long Market.
A variety of peoples, from orcs to swiffoks, crowd the sidewalks as they go from store to kiosk to café. There’s little rhythm to the shops’ arrangement, and I love the surprises; tents and lean-tos that pop up between established shops are liable to disappear from the alleys by week’s end, struts and all. Canvas awnings, decorated as loudly as shouting cart-owners, compete to draw passersby to their wares. A constant din of deal-making and news-trading combines with the occasional rhythmic pounding of ironshod horses and raptors. When one of the Long Market’s green-and-orange trolleys clanks along the rail, pedestrians in the street just meander toward a curb. And in this summer heat, the ambient mixture of mustard, tomatoes, and that barest hint of brick clay wafts through my nostrils as easily and pleasantly as a rare drop of chocolate on my tongue.
Judah walks directly behind me on the shop-side of the sidewalk. Intentionally or not, he keeps the masses from getting too close to our group. Maisey keeps pace with me on my left as though I were still the same size we were when we met. On her other side, well…
Nobody enjoys spending time with someone they don’t like, but sacrifices must be made.
I’m sure Edith Foster-Price is a fine girl when she wants to be. But something has always needled me about the way she walks with her head tilted back, just enough to keep the curls of dark hair out of her eyes. Or maybe it’s to keep snot from pouring out of her nose. She has to maintain her essence, of course. She doesn’t help matters when she speaks, especially to Gúnder.
That poor swiffok. Even though Edith, Maisey, and I all wear our fencing bottoms (suspenders, boots, and all), only Maisey and I carry our own oblong equipment packs; Gúnder follows Edith cradling hers against his chest. He’s not much taller than Maisey, but his physique strains under his tan, padded tunic. He would appear comical, were it not for the wide short sword encased on his hip. The dark tiger’s eye beads in his blonde sideburns are his only hint of anything other than simple business, either by Edith’s family’s allowance or his own.
The conversation lulls, and I realize there’s one voice I haven’t heard since lunch. I look over my shoulder.
Adelaide Shinoda walks between Judah and Gúnder. She’s almost as tall as Judah, but the pale green orc keeps her head tilted down behind a half-curtain of thick, black hair. Instead of the required outfit, Adelaide wears a black blouse, gray trousers, a faded yellow vest, and strapped leather sandals. In fact, the only piece of equipment she carries is her uncle’s epee from the Berkian Secession. The blade and point are dulled, of course, but it’ll be good for her to use something of her own during class, since it’ll be hard enough to find something her size in the communal set.
I smile at her. “I wish I were brave enough to try bangs like yours, Adelaide. They become you.”
An almost inaudible gasp escapes Adelaide. She glances at me, then returns her gaze to the brick sidewalk. She mumbles something, then clears her throat.
“Thank you, Klóe. It’s new. My brother wanted to try something different on me.” She holds the sheathed sword more tightly to her chest.
Maisey whirls around and walks backwards. “Aww, your brother styles your hair for you? That’s fabulous! Why didn’t you mention it sooner?”
She shrugs. “It hadn’t come up, so…” For the first time today, she has a small smile on her lips.
I hum, half for the smile and half out of jealousy. “If only any of my brothers would do that for me. The closest I got was when Angelo offered to halo braid my hair once. He gave up after fifteen minutes.”
Maisey pivots toward me and walks sideways. “Did he do it for a girl?”
I nod once. “Some Linderan half-elf he was trying to impress.”
“How unoriginal.”
I gag. “You cry no news. Anyway, Adelaide, I would love to come over and have your brother style my hair. If it comes out looking half as good as yours, I’d be satisfied.”
Maisey gasps. “Ooh, yeah, me, too. We could make a party of it!”
“Oh!” Adelaide takes in a shuddering breath. “I guess if I ask my parents far enough ahead of time, they may be okay with it. And Darian enjoys meeting new people, so…” She shrugs.
“Excellent!” Without losing a step or tripping over herself, Maisey spins around to face Edith. “What do you say, Edie? Are you in?”
Edith’s square jaw clenches in suppressed laughter. “Thank you for the invitation, Maisey, but I will most definitely pass. I will simply not allow anyone but Hamish to touch this hair.” She twists a lock of hair near her cheek around two fingers.
I turn a wince into a long blink. Maybe Edith doesn’t realize I’m trying to welcome Adealide into the group? With the hope of being right, I try something different.
“My family retains a pair of stylists, too, but I think it would be fun to see what somewhat else could do with what I’ve got. Don’t you want a new style perspective? You know, break the monotony?”
Edith looks askance at me. “I prefer to call your monotony ‘tradition,’ but I can’t fault your reasoning. After all, you and your family love to adopt the new and shocking.” She smirks over her shoulder. “Wouldn’t you say, Judah?”
I sneer, nearly snarl, at Edith. Her facetious tone is as bad as four years’ worth of strangers’ dirty looks. My construct bodyguard’s personhood may be foreign, but he is neither pet nor slave, nor a mere fashion statement. I hold my breath and wait for Edith to turn--
Maisey hops with a clap. “Oh, wait, you said Lindera, right, Klóe? Where Angelo’s old pursuit was from? Isn’t Instructor Alderman from that country, too? Wouldn’t it be so weird and neat if they knew each other?”
I exhale and look to Judah. He walks along normally, but his smooth, mostly featureless, ceramic alloy face is locked toward Edith. Something about him is strange. The lights of his eyes seem… denser?
He lifts his chin. Even though he sees the entirety of the street around us, he must feel negligent at losing his focus because of such a stupid slight.
I know I do. Thankfully, I have Maisey to keep me focused on the peace.
I relax and smile at her. “Yes. It would. Lindera is quite the large island, though, so the odds are small.”
Maisey clucks her teeth. “Aww, that’s too bad. I bet she was a cutie, though?”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. Angelo didn’t bring her to the house even once.”
“Sure, but Linderans are all just so gorgeous, aren’t they? Not just their elf-blooded, either. It must be in the grass there; From the shortest swiffok to the tallest poma, each and all are impeccable.”
“Have you seen them all for yourself?”
“She doesn’t have to,” Edith replies. “We only need look at Instructor Alderman to prove her point.” She rolls her tongue in a manner not unlike a flicker cat.
I mumble, “Your sample size is abysmal.”
Maisey giggles. “What if Instructor Alderman is one of the ugly ones?”
Edith moans. “Then I’d happily choose a suitor from their rejects. As far as I’m concerned, Rowan Alderman is just the sweetest cream of any crop.”
I try to ignore the insinuation. Adelaide doesn’t know our instructor; how is she supposed to participate in this conversation?
Maisey makes an unusual sound, a groan somewhere between agreement and disapproval. “I suppose, with his platinum blonde hair and those piercing, mismatched eyes and that honeyed, trust-me-I-can-teach-you-anything smile with a pinch of—”
“Cull your list, Dazey-Maisey,” Edith mutters.
“--then, sure, I could find him as attractive as the next girl would. But he’s already so old. I’d rather have someone who’ll stick around at least half as long as I do.”
Edith gives a throaty chuckle. “He’ll stay young enough for me, no doubt. Speaking of the next girl, what do you think, Klóe? You’ve stayed remarkably mum about the hottest instructor in Quinlantia.”
I shrug. “He’s fine enough, I suppose.”
The Long Market’s ambient noise creeps through the lull in our conversation. Edith’s cackle breaks the peace.
“Ha! ‘Fine enough, I suppose?’ Klóe, are you broken?”
I wrinkle nose. “How do you even mean?” I ask, as if who I don’t find alluring makes any impact on her well-being.
“You’re trying to tell me you’ve either met a more attractive creature than our dear fencing instructor, or you don’t think he’s attractive from the start. Neither option flatters you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll be sure to adjust appropriately in the future.”
“Edie, different girls like different types. There’s a first for all things, even girls disinterested Instructor Alderman.”
Edith narrows her eyes at me. “Not in my experience, Maisey.”
Even with Maisey between us, I adjust my path to walk a little farther from Edith. I don’t know what she’s searching me for, but she won’t find it.
Behind me, Judah stammers. “Y… Klóe?”
I stop and turn to him, but he faces the stores. I follow his gaze to Adelaide, standing at a storefront window with her arms around herself. I raise an eyebrow and approach her, Judah in tow.
I place my hand just above Adelaide’s elbow. “What’s the matter, Adela—?” I cut myself off with a gasp when I look into the window.
Displayed on an orc-framed mannequin is a full, stark-white, immaculately assembled fencing kit. The jacket’s open flap reveals the plastron vest beneath. A matching carrying pack hangs upright from the small stand next to it.
In the window’s transparent reflection, Maisey, Edith, and Gúnder join us to investigate. As usual, Maisey ends the silence.
“Nice eye, Adelaide. The embroidery on the collar is so subtle, you barely notice it until it pops.”
Adelaide nods and squeezes her sword against her chest. “It repeats on all the pieces, even the socks. The brochure made the suit seem sophisticated, regal; but seeing the real thing up close is just…”
“Well?” I tug gently on Adelaide’s arm. “You can say it.”
Adelaide sighs and frowns at me.
I smile back.
She relaxes enough for her sheathed sword to slide through her arms a little.
“It’s exhilarating,” she mutters. She continues more audibly, “But it doesn’t matter, because it’s a Sava Galure suit. My family has finally settled in, maybe, so it’s not the time for luxuries.”
“I agree,” Edith says, almost like a yawn. “Now is not the time. Shall we continue?”
Maisey wrinkles her brow and walks to Adelaide’s other side. “I’ve seen you fence fundamentals at school, Adelaide. You’re excellent even without the proper gear. Wouldn’t you want to shine in an outfit like that?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“You heard her, Maisey,” Edith says. “The Shinodas are barely hanging on to the roof over their heads. They need to focus on necessities, not luxuries.”
Maisey gasps. “Edith! That’s not—”
Adelaide shakes her head. “No, no, it’s fine. Maisey, your friend is right. Even if I could convince my parents to take a loan for it, we would probably need years to pay off the debt and the interest.” She shuts her eyes and clutches her epee. “Let’s just go, please?”
I raise an eyebrow. This kit could make Adelaide’s day, maybe the rest of her year. Her weapon is already battle-tested, so it’s profession-ready; why shouldn’t she have an outfit to match? It may not be a household necessity, but wouldn’t a Sava Galure be a sound investment for a future in sport fencing?
I look back at Judah with wide-eyes and a slight grin. His eyes shimmer quizzically.
Adelaide slouches and walks down the sidewalk.
I rush in front of her and hold up one hand. “What if we bought it for you?”
Adelaide steps back. “What?”
Edith leans around Adelaide to frown at me. “What?”
Maisey tilts her head. “Hmm, well…”
My smile grows as Judah walks behind me.
Adelaide shakes her head firmly. “No. I thank you for your offer, but no.”
“Well, why not?”
“It costs too much. I don’t even know when I’d be able to pay you back.”
“But this isn’t a loan, or anything like that. I was just thinking you could have it, no strings attached.”
“What?”
Edith stomps toward me, with Gúnder keeping pace to stop between her and Adelaide.
Maisey approaches Adelaide on her street side with a slightly wrinkled brow. “It is only about one hundred and four seats for the whole set. Between the three of us, we might be able to haggle the owner down?”
Adelaide turns to her. “That’s very kind, really, but I don’t think I should.”
I reach for Adelaide’s wrist. “Why not just think of it as a ‘welcome to Quinlanti’ present?”
Adelaide blinks twice. Her breath comes short and shallow. “I…” She looks from me to Maisey with glistening eyes. “You…” The rest of her statement gets caught in her throat.
I poke Adelaide in the ribcage. “Is that a ‘yes’?”
Maisey grins and hops. “I think that’s a ‘yes’!”
Adelaide looks at the storefront. She turns to Maisey, then to me. She nods, shaking loose a tear.
“Absolutely not!”
Edith’s screech cuts off our celebration.
“You cannot simply conscript my coinage for this charity nonsense. I won’t allow it.”
Adelaide lowers her chin to her chest. Maisey frowns at Edith, but whispers to Adalaide while stroking her back.
I glare at Edith. How trying to do a good thing for someone be nonsense? Because it’s an idea she doesn’t like?
Likewise, my distaste for her opinion is no cause to dismiss it. I smile through my frustration.
“You’re right, Edith. I should not have presumed your involvement. But would you, at least, consider contributing to this happy endeavor?”
Edith closes her eyes and draws in a long, deep breath. She lowers her head and huffs the breath out. When she looks up at me, she also wears a smile.
“May I speak to you over here, Klóe?” She tilts her head over her shoulder to indicate some nebulous location on the sidewalk many yards away from the rest of the group.
The forced cordiality hangs so heavily between us it could choke us. “Of course.”
I follow Edith for a few steps. She pivots and focuses past my shoulder.
“I wish to speak with your mistress alone!”
Judah’s footsteps have become like echoes of my own over the years. And for how little I tolerate how Judah refers to me in a higher station, I have even less tolerance for others’ presumptions.
I clench my jaw and restrain my words. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Judah.”
Edith groans. “Whatever.” She turns with a hard toss of her hair and walks away.
My heart stops. I turn to Judah to find him staring at me with steady eyes, similarly dumbfounded. He and I don’t often talk about the pantheon or the Evers beyond them, but I know Judah has enough faith to balk at a blasphemy when he hears one.
My desire to talk to Edith wanes by the moment; as Gúnder finally walks past Judah and me, though, I suppose I should lend her my ear. What worse could she spew?
Judah and I meet Edith and Gúnder at her designated spot. She and I stand eye to eye, with Judah behind me and Gúnder at her side.
Edith chuckles. “Klóe. I know you feel you’re doing the right thing, or that your heart’s in the right place, but…” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Woman to woman, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
I knit my eyebrows and look at her sideways. “I know.”
“So, why don’t you drop the act? Hmm? You made your good gesture for the day; now, let us all go attend class with some dignity.”
I wring my hands around the strap of my equipment pack. “You’ve seen the state of the communal suits at the dojo, yes? Regardless if Adelaide finds one that fits, she would be lucky to find one that offers full protection.”
“Well, that would certainly encourage her to dodge and parry effectively, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s not funny.”
Edith sighs, then slouches. “Listen, I understand. You’re a bright girl with a big heart. You’re young, full of hope and rainbows—”
“I’m only a year younger than you.”
“--but the world won’t rise to your lofty expectations. Some folks simply cannot be helped. It’s too late for Maisey, but you can still heed my advice: don’t spend any more money on that tusk-jaw than she needs.”
I gasp. I start to step forward and sling my pack off of my shoulder, but Judah’s hand clamps the strap down and holds me fast.
Edith lurches back. Gúnder throws an arm in front of her and reaches for his sword.
Judah pulls me back, probably out of Gúnder’s range. I press my back to Judah’s left side, stare at Edith, and point at Maisey and Adelaide.
How I wish Asherti Onlarion had taught me to reach into someone’s thoughts. It’s a dark art, but the risk of imprisonment might be worth setting Edith straight.
“You go over there and apologize, right now. To both of them!”
Maisey calls over, “What’s going on, you two?”
Edith waves her away. “Oh, it’s nothing, Maisey. We’re just—”
I stomp and point again. “It is absolutely not nothing. How could you call somebody something so foul? How can you stand there and pretend—?”
Edith stage-laughs and sings at me, “Okay, Klóe, calm down. Folks are staring. You’re making us look bad.”
I drop my arm to my side. Trying to get her to be better is useless.
“You do a good enough job of that for the both of us, Edith Foster-Price.”
She puts a hand to her chest as her jaw drops.
Gúnder raises a flat, empty hand from his sword to his shoulder.
Judah pins my arms to my sides, lifts me, spins me, and sets me back on the sidewalk behind him in a single, daresay graceful, motion. He releases me and turns away while I regain my balance. I turn around to find him, his fists raised and shining, facing a worried Gúnder with his hand back at his sword’s hilt.
I want some kind of punishment for Edith, and for Gúnder for not reining her in. But, as a small ring of folks forms around the four of us, I realize that the punishment isn’t for us to deal. Whether Edith or I started this spiraling mess, it needs to end.
I throw myself against Judah’s side. I pull on his shoulder to reach what would’ve been his ear.
“Don’t do it, Judah.”
He holds still, but lowers his arms a little. Their lights dim, but not to normal.
Has that happened to him before? What was that supposed to do?
Gúnder retreats toward his charge with his hand still on his hilt.
Edith lowers her hand with a sigh. Maisey pushes through the crowd to meet us. A smirk seeps onto Edith’s face.
“I’ll see you at fencing, Maisey. Apparently, I make the DiRossi look bad.” She walks into the cluster of gawking folks, and her bodyguard follows.
Maisey turns to me. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath. I purse my lips until I can find the appropriately measured words. “How can you be friends with her, Maisey? She’s petty, and cruel, and—and—”
Maisey looks around at the dispersing, disappointed crowd. She rubs my arm and shrugs. “She’s always been nice to me.”
Adelaide joins us. “We should leave, too. I don’t want to be late.”
I shake my head and reach into a pocket of my equipment pack. I pull out a pewter watch the size of my palm on a chain and flip it open.
“Don’t worry about that. We have plenty of time to get you fitted for breeches and a plastron, at least.” I smile at Adelaide. “If nothing else, this will be the first and only class you’ll take wearing someone else’s gear. I’ll make sure of it.”