In the meantime, we are now out of Namorn and in Olart. Aloud, Daja said, “Here come Zhegorz and Gudruny. Isn’t it past midday? I’m ravenous!”
Sandry mounted her horse. While Briar and Daja rode on, she stood before the gate, frowning.
Things undone, thought Sandry. What have I left undone? Tris is right: Revenge isn’t worth the trouble.
She turned her mount away and followed the others. She came up in time to hear Briar say, “Now, if memory serves me, when we came here last, we ate at Ratey’s. The Traders were having some fasting holy day. Ratey’s had the best fish casserole I’ve ever eaten. I wonder if it’s on the bill of fare today?”
Their reaction to the magic they had worked set in over midday. Suddenly it was all even Briar could do to keep putting food into his mouth. All three young mages soon apologized to the cook for not finishing their meal and retreated to the rooms that Gudruny had thought to hire for them.
When they woke, they had slept the night through noon. Ambros and Tris had arrived after sunset, though Tris, worn out by trying to catch up to them, woke as they were finishing their second midday. When she limped out to their garden table, Chime on her shoulder, Zhegorz rushed to help.
“I did as you said,” he told her. “Did I tell you last night?” He helped her sit on the bench next to Briar. “They know you see things on the wind now. I don’t think they believe you are conceited.”
Tris sighed. “No doubt you’re right. Zhegorz, thank you for helping them. I knew you could do it. Now, please, I would like to eat, if it’s all right. I’m starved.” She looked at Briar’s plate. “Is that cabbage rolls? I don’t care if I never see another cabbage roll in my life.”
A girl who had waited on them came to tell Tris the day’s selections. Once Tris had chosen, a brief silence fell. It was broken by Zhegorz, who said, “I liked it.”
Tris and the others turned to look at him. He had chosen a bench at the table next to theirs. From the tilt of his brass-lensed spectacles, he was staring into the distance. “Liked what, Zhegorz?” Sandry asked gently.
“Being attended to. Being heard. Being useful.” There was wistfulness in his voice. “I was never any of those things before, only crazy. I don’t want to go back to being the crazy man who hears all manner of things and sometimes sees them. I like being attended to.” He got up and wandered off, his hands in his pockets.
“Zhegorz,” called Tris. He stopped, though he didn’t look back at her. “It is nice. I know,” she told him.
He nodded, and left them alone in the garden.
Once he was gone, Ambros looked at Briar, Daja, and Sandry. “Your friend over there is very determined,” he said with respect, nodding to Tris.
“Oh, all three girls are like that,” Briar said carelessly. “Sometimes you need to hit them with a brick to get their attention. They get it from our mothers, I think.”
“It occurs to me, that it’s possible to be too determined,” Daja remarked with a glance at Sandry. “Determined to the point of not doing right by people because we insist on only seeing things one way.”
“Determined that what’s good for you is just good,” drawled Tris.
Sandry scowled, knowing they were trying to tell her something. “Hush. I have things on my mind,” she informed them, picking at her berry pie.
“Not enough things,” Briar grumbled.
The maid returned with Tris’s food, while Ambros excused himself to buy supplies for his trip home in the morning. Sandry picked up her embroidery hoop after she finished her own meal. Something was still bothering her. Embroidery usually helped her to think clearly, but not that afternoon. She snipped off one color of thread. Chime was seated in her basket, holding up the next color she needed, when Sandry realized that Briar, Tris, and Daja were watching her.
“What?” she asked. Briar whistled silently. Tris drummed her fingers on the table. Daja leaned her head on her brass-mittened hand and watched Sandry calmly.
What?! Sandry demanded.
Maybe you got what you wanted, but the empress still gets most of what she wants, too, Daja told her. She can tax Ambros until he calls for your help, and you’ll have to come or leave him to flounder. And if you come, it will be this all over again—
Except now they know what we can do, and they’ll be ready, interrupted Briar. They’ll have more great mages waiting.
And the women of Landreg will have no one to go to, added Tris. Unless Ambros does that really expensive double registering thing you thought of, where he pays twice to enroll women as your subjects and his. He still won’t have seats in the assembly to influence the other nobles to vote down new taxes. You saw how she treated him. She acts like he’s a caretaker, and he is. The power’s all yours.
Sandry stared at them. “Stop nagging me,” she snapped. “It’s not your history. It’s not your family.”
No, said Daja. But it’s his. And frankly, he’s put a great deal more work into it than you have.
There’s one way you can make sure Berenene doesn’t win anything, Briar said. After all you put us through there, you ought to be decent enough to admit it.
It’s mine, argued Sandry, though the remark felt watery and overused to her.
How much more rich than disgusting rich do you want to be? asked Briar.
Sometimes you owe your people a little less pride and a little more respect, Daja added.