“That’s a relief,” Taul said softly. “With that strange look of his, I’ve not been able to sleep. Did the sleeping powders harm him in any way?”
“Not that I can tell. They should suppress his memories. But he’s reserved, so it’s hard to tell.”
“I noticed that. Solemn is the word Ryldia used. A sign of his bloodline?”
“What line is that?”
“Ryldia doesn’t give much credence to the Voravin line.”
Balniss shook his head, his three tattoos shining briefly in the sconce-light. He cradled the golden liquid in his hands. This blend came from Lor’Rylamar, from a middle-aged orchard of waning power. Still, Balniss didn’t seem to notice. He hesitated, starting one thought and changing to another.
“Few do,” he said. “Not really. All houses harbor a secret desire to have that blood in them, that it might solve all their problems.”
“It’s a legend only, then?” Taul asked.
“Vakayne makes no claim to it at all. That says much. I’ve not even heard Daushalan utter it.” Balniss’s gaze drifted off to nothing, that pensive look he got when too many ideas crowded his mind. “Those two lines seem strong. I suspect they will find a way to the heights again. In time, of course.”
Taul sniffed his glass. There was a staleness in the liquid. “What does that mean for the rest of us?” he asked. A sadness settled on him. What if all his efforts were for nought? What if, in the end, none of it mattered?
He couldn’t afford to think that way. His duty was to serve his matron and consort. The rest could all burn. The thought unsettled him, but it was the power of the binding speaking. Like a sharp beam of light piercing through to the orchard floor, duty was everything. Even if all else failed, his matron would not. The fierceness of the notion caused his neck and jaw to blush hot.
Balniss shook his head. “There are movements, currents beneath the everyday comings and goings. Profound change.”
Taul nodded. His brother often shifted to deep, foreboding thoughts when drinking. The truth was Taul had not noticed a thing since the troubles of his own house consumed him. The problems of his people had not even entered his mind. Balniss was always cryptic anyway, an alien even among his brother diviners.
He’d been pushing aside the thought that they weren’t blood brothers. Looking at him now, revulsion churned his being. So deep was house affinity in all Mornae. That was one reason for the secrecy around adoptions.
“The problem of Lor’Toshtolin is the problem of this age, brother,” Balniss said. “Surely you see it. Even Ilor’Hosmyr faces it. Zauhune for certain. Their godling will die someday in the arena, and the vultures will come for them as well. Though their situation has improved. New bloodlines have joined theirs. Wouldn’t it be a cruel joke if Zauhune somehow survived us all? Eh?”
Balniss chuckled, but Taul didn’t understand. He forced a laugh. Balniss was downing brandy like he needed courage.
“Do the best you can with the boy,” Taul said.
Balniss nodded. “He’ll not be a warrior. I can tell you that. Before the Fall, he would have been a sorcerer. But alas, he may have to settle for a merchant’s knowledge.”
They touched glasses and drank deeply. Taul rubbed the empty glass between his palms.
“What troubles you?” Balniss asked.
“Ryldia has given me a command.”
“At least she’s speaking again.”
Taul nodded slowly, deciding how best to tell his brother. He leaned close, whispering, “She wants a girl. She commands me to get her one.” He sat back, stomach tight with excitement, lightheaded, the need to please her building heat at the base of his skull, down his neck; an all-encompassing, demanding, intransigent master. “Should I try to convince her otherwise?” he asked.
“And she ordered it?” Balniss asked, far too loudly. “Commanded?”
“Yes,” Taul answered forcefully. The reminder of her command was a powerful tug within him, driving him to fulfill it. “She wore the matron’s ring while seated in audience.” He placed his hand on his chest, fingers splayed open, as Ryldia had done.
Balniss looked at him with concern, even pity. Then he looked to the ceiling beams, his gaze held there. Taul could almost hear Zeldra’s branches swaying in his mind, the rattle of limbs and leaves as the winds roared through them. Here he was again, the younger brother in the elder’s stead, making a mess of things, driving his matron to outrageous demands. It was at times like this that he secretly hoped Balniss was Ryldia’s consort in his stead. He was so level-headed and thoughtful.
“Don’t risk upsetting her. If it’s a command, then you must do it,” Balniss said, returning to him, eyes bleary but alert. “This is nigh impossible. A girl?”
Taul nodded. “I must try. No, I must do it. I will not sour our bond.”
“She may be the one to cause it.” Balniss shook his head.
Taul wanted to say something, to correct him, but his brother’s words felt true.
“A girl will not acquiesce like the boy,” Balniss said. “From their earliest days, boys learn they will someday leave their houses. They know their place is outside their birth house. Quite the opposite with a girl. Her house will groom her for rule from her first breath. They see the world differently, even from a tender age. They are of the goddess. Do you understand?”
“Even if it’s before declaration?”
“These days? In the past, maybe? Most houses don’t even wait five years, and before that, they hide the girls like chits in a vault.”
Taul imagined the thief—an unfortunate trick of the mind that the thief looked just like Ren—climbing through the halls of a great estate, past guards, past alarms, and sweeping away a child with a shadowy arm.
“She must be of a good line that will not fail to have offspring,” Taul said. “We must have an heiress!”
“Are you hearing me, brother?”
“A valley child?” Taul asked, feeling buoyant, encouraged by the conversation. Yes, that is an excellent thought. It had to be easier in the valley. “Hearty and fertile. She can consort a fine lad later to smooth out the rough bits. Pemzen’s consort can help arrange that.”
“Taul! Are you listening?”
The tavern’s patrons huddled closer around their drinks. Balniss blushed, his jaw tight.
Taul hissed at him. “What? I have a command. Should I neglect it? It will eat at me day and night. She won’t even look at me until it’s done. You don’t know what this is like, do you?”
