“But sad, nonetheless,” Sedric said quietly.
“Why sad? We’ll all be getting what we want.”
“Not precisely,” Sedric muttered. “And not honestly.” He sighed. “And Alise deserves better. She’s a good person. A kind person.”
“You, my friend, are too prone to sentiment. And honesty is vastly overrated. Why, if we imposed honesty on Bingtown in general, all the Traders would be paupers by next week.”
Sedric found he could not frame a reply to that. After a moment, Hest asked defensively, “Why did you put the idea in my head, if you didn’t intend me to act on it?”
Sedric gave a small shrug. He hadn’t, truly, expected that Hest would follow up on his cynical suggestion. That he had done so slightly undercut his admiration for the man. “It’s an old saying. If you want to be happy, marry an ugly woman and live with a grateful wife.” Then he admitted uncomfortably, “I was in my cups when I made the suggestion to you and feeling a bit morose about my own situation. Alise isn’t a bad person. And she’s certainly not ugly. Just not, well, not beautiful. Not by Bingtown standards. But she’s kind. She used to come visit my sisters when we were younger. She was kind to me during a time when most girls treated me as if I had some sort of a disease.”
“Oh, yes. I’d forgotten that spotty phase you went through,” Hest needled him merrily. “She probably thought you’d keep your spots and they’d match her freckles.” His green eyes danced mischievously.
Sedric resisted a smile. “My ‘spots’ were more than a phase; they seemed to last a lifetime! So her kindness, her willingness to be my partner at cards or to sit beside me at the table when she stayed for luncheon was important to me. She was my friend then. Not that I know her well now—I don’t—just well enough to know that she was nice and had a good mind, if not a pretty face or a fortune.” Sedric shook his head unhappily, and then pushed his unruly hair back from his eyes. “I would never wish ill on her. When I suggested she’d make you a fine, undemanding wife, I never thought you would actually propose to her.”
“Oh, of course you did!” Hest was heartless in his accusation. “You’ve been by my side for most of my courtship of her. And you’ve been instrumental to the whole plan! You picked her out, you even told me what gift, exactly, might warm her toward me. And I should let you know that you were precisely correct on that! I thought the whole game was lost, until I trotted out that scroll. Turned the whole situation around for me, it did.”
“You’re welcome,” Sedric replied sourly. He tried not to think of his role in Hest’s scheme; he felt sullied by it now. Alise had been his friend. What had he been thinking, the night her name had rolled off his drunken tongue? He knew the guilty answer to that. He’d been thinking of himself, and how pleasant life was at the side of Hest Finbok. He’d been thinking of how he could keep that life intact and still advance his friend’s ambitions for himself.
He pushed the thought aside and busied himself guiding the horse around the worst of the potholes. Bingtown had focused its efforts on rebuilding burned and vandalized buildings and neglected maintenance of the existing roads. By the time they got around to them again, there would be a whole season of repairs to be done. Sedric shook his head. Lately he felt as if the whole city was eroding away; everything that had made him so proud to be the son of a Bingtown Trader was now broken or tarnished or changed.
In the aftermath of the Chalcedean raids, the various factions of Bingtown had turned on one another to settle old scores. When those had finally been resolved, the rebuilding had seemed slow and dispirited. It was better now, for the Traders’ Council had finally resumed its authority and enforced the laws. People felt it was safe now to rebuild, and with limited trade resuming, some had the resources to do so. But the new buildings going up seemed to have less character than the old ones, for they were built with haste rather than deliberation, and many looked almost identical. And Sedric was still not sure he agreed with the Council’s decision to allow so many non-Traders to share power and decisions in the rebuilding process. Former slaves, fishermen, and newcomers were mingling with the Traders now. It was all changing too fast. Bingtown would never be restored to what it was. Last night, when he had lamented the situation to his father, the man had been singularly unsympathetic to his view.
“Don’t be an idiot, Sedric. You’re so dramatic about these things. Bingtown will go on. But it will never be what it was before, because Bingtown never was ‘what it was before.’ Bingtown thrives on change. Bingtown is change. And those of us who can change will prosper right along with our town as it changes. A little change won’t hurt any of us. Wherever there is change, a clever man can find a profit. That’s what you should be turning your wits toward. How can you make this change benefit your family?” And then his father had taken his short-stemmed pipe from his mouth, pointed it at his son, and demanded, “Have you thought that maybe a bit of personal change would do you good? This arrangement you have as secretary for Hest and his right-hand man, well, it’s a good connection for you. You’ll meet many of his trading partners. You need to think how you can use those connections. You can’t spend your entire life playing second fiddle to your friend, no matter how deep the friendship or how pleasant a lifestyle it offers. And you should make the best of what you have, since you’ve thrown away all the opportunities I won for you.”