Chapter Six
val is eight. She is sitting primly in the formal parlor of her father’s house, awaiting the arrival of her cousins. The parlor—a big space with heavy, dark furniture, and huge portraits of stern-looking ancestors—is possibly her least favorite room in the entire mansion. But it’s the one with the best view of the long, sweeping drive that makes its approach to the house through a double row of majestic oaks. And Val does not want to be surprised by the arrival of visitors. She hates surprises.
Her cousins come every summer to spend three or four ninedays at the house, and Val anticipates the event with mixed feelings. On the one hand, the visitors are noisy and they disrupt her normal routine and they don’t always know the rules about how things should be done and they often don’t care about the rules even when she’s explained them. On the other hand, she mostly likes them and she gets used to them in a few days and, while they’re visiting, someone is always available to play a game. For most of the year, she’s the only child in the house, and it’s sometimes lonely. Now that Darien is twenty, he is indisputably an adult; he almost never wants to spend time with her anymore, and he’s gone to the city with their father more than half the time anyway. Sometimes it’s nice to be around other children.
There are usually five of them, three boys and two girls. They belong to her mother’s two sisters, who also descend on the house for the duration. Her mother and both of her sisters are torz through and through, so nothing makes them happier than gathering in large boisterous groups of people. Her father, like Val, is a little less eager to be surrounded by rambunctious relatives. He usually stays for the first four or five days, then finds a reason to retreat to Chialto.
This year, there will be a sixth child in the mix, another boy, not really a cousin. Aunt Jenty had written to Val’s mother to let her know the circumstances, and Val had been in the room when her mother read the letter out loud at the breakfast table.
It’s rather a sad story. My sister-in-law died earlier this year, leaving the boy essentially on his own. She was never married to his father—a second cousin of Nelson’s, I believe, though I may have that wrong—and the father has never been around much, though apparently he is quite the charmer. Of course I said we could take the boy in. So far he’s been quiet and well-behaved, but I glimpse that Ardelay wildness in his eyes from time to time. I think once he recovers from his grief, he will be quite a handful. Anyway, I plan to bring Sebastian this summer, so make sure there’s a bed for him! We’re all looking forward to coming.
Val isn’t sure how she feels about a stranger coming to live in her house for such a long time, but she knows that she has to be polite. It is one of the rules of life that the lady of the house must extend courtesy to every guest.
It is just past noon when two carriages come lumbering up the long drive. Her girl cousins are already leaning out the windows, pointing and calling. The boy cousins have managed to find seats outside with the coachmen, and they appear to be throwing walnuts at each other over the heads of the tired horses. Of the stranger, there is no sign.
Servants have alerted her mother and father, so they are already waiting in the kierten just inside front door when the carriages shudder to a halt and all the passengers start climbing out. Val comes to stand behind her parents, peering between their bodies to see five of the children racing up the walkway while the women follow more sedately. Behind Aunt Jenty and Aunt Lissa is a small solitary figure trudging slowly up the stone path as if not entirely certain he wants to reach the house.
As the newcomers pour into the kierten, there is so much hugging and exclaiming and laughing that it’s hard to keep track of everyone, but pretty quickly the whole ball of commotion has moved down the hallway and deeper in the house. Except for Val, who is still patiently waiting at the door, and the last laggard arrival, who is still standing on the front walk. He is fine-boned and red-haired, and his expression is both curious and cautious, as if he wants to know what’s on the other side of the door but is afraid he won’t like it. He holds himself with a certain coiled readiness, as if he’s prepared to take off running at the least provocation. He’s properly dressed, in clothes that are as well-made as anything her cousins might wear, but he somehow manages to look a little raffish. Maybe because the jacket is wrinkled from travel. Maybe because the red hair is unkempt. Maybe because there’s something untamed behind his wary eyes.
He sees Val waiting and steps inside. She nods gravely and says, “Welcome to our house.”
He looks around, glancing down the hallway and noting the wide, restful proportions of the kierten. Every house has a kierten, of course—an area entirely empty of furnishings, proof that a home’s owner can afford to waste the space—but Val wonders if he has ever seen one as grand as this. It is almost as large as the parlor, and its two longest walls are lined with huge pots planted with slim, tough, decorative trees. Their narrow trunks grow straight up alongside the walls and their whippy branches spring out from tall crowns, creating an interwoven canopy under the skylight of the high ceiling. Val has always thought that standing in the kierten is as close as anyone can come inside to standing outside in a forest.
“It’s your house?” he asks. “Your family owns it?”
“It’s the house of the hunti prime,” she says. “The next prime will live here after my father is gone.”
“What’s his name?”
“My father and mother are Damon and Merra Serlast. I’m Valentina Serlast, but people call me Val.”
“I’m Sebastian Ardelay.”
“How old are you?” she asks.
“Seven.”
“I’m eight. What are your blessings?”
It is tradition in Welce for every child to receive three random blessings before he or she is five hours old. In the cities, there are stories of dazed and exhausted parents racing out into the night to find the closest temple and hope there are three strangers on hand to pull coins from the barrel. In big houses like the prime’s estate, plenty of visitors and staff members are always on hand to perform the ritual—and of course, every large household has a cask of blessings somewhere on the premises. Often more than one.
Val is old enough to know that sometimes people have the most unexpected blessings that do not seem to match them at all. And other times their blessings illuminate who they are down to their very core. She is always intrigued to discover which one it is.
“Luck, innovation, and loyalty,” he says.
She tilts her head. “Do you think they suit you?”
He grins and nods. “What are yours?”
“Determination. Certainty.” She glances at him. “And loyalty.”
“Like me!” When she nods, he adds, “And very hunti.”
“Hunti is my elemental affiliation. Like my father. What about you?”
The ghost of a smile crosses his watchful face. “You can’t tell from the red hair? Sweela, just like my father.”
“My mother is torz,” she says.
“My mother was torz, too.”
“I understand your mother died,” Val says gravely. “I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
That catches his complete attention, and he fixes his brown eyes on her face. “No one seems to want to talk about it,” he says. “No one says her name to me.”
“You can talk to me about her,” Val replies. “I’ll say her name. What is it?”
“Helia Danzen.”
“That’s a pretty name.”
“She was pretty,” he says. “She was always laughing.”
“You must miss her very much.”
“I do. She was never mad at me. She told me stories. She hugged me when I was sad.” He shrugs.
“I’ll hug you if you want,” Val says.
He looks at her a moment, as if judging the sincerity of the offer. “All right.”
They each step forward until they are nose to nose, then Val puts her arms around him. He feels thinner than he looks, his bones prominent under the fine clothes. She presses her cool cheek against his warm one and feels his hair tickle her forehead; he is maybe an inch shorter than she is and probably about the same weight. He smells like moss and cedar chips and boy. She thinks it has probably been a while since anyone has held him, so she lets him cling to her as long as he wants. It is a minute or two before he steps away.
“It’s not like my mother’s hugs,” he says. “But it’s nice.”
“I’m glad. Are you hungry? Everyone else is probably in the dining room.”
“I’m starving.”
“Then let’s go eat.”
***
The first nineday passes in a blur. As expected, Val’s father and Darien decamp for the city as soon as they can do so without appearing rude. Her mother and her aunts spend most days lounging outdoors on one of the shaded patios, sipping fruited water and telling each other stories that make them double over in laughter. The seven children go running through the gardens and farther afield. The cousins love playing in the lively stream that borders the southern edge of the property, and in the heat of the day they might spend hours splashing through the cool water, dousing themselves and each other.
Val is the one who organizes expeditions to the forest that spreads out for miles from the northern edge of the estate. Everyone is willing to go in deep enough to get a sense of the profound silence and watchful stillness of the trees, and they welcome the chill created by the dense shade. But not one of them is hunti, and they’re all reluctant to wander too far away from the sunlit edges of the woods. They don’t believe Val when she says she couldn’t possibly get lost in the forest. It’s too vast for them, too full of whispers and hazards. Even Sebastian, who doesn’t seem to be afraid of much, won’t go past a certain safe distance.
Val is disappointed, but not surprised. Her father and Darien are the only ones who have ever been willing to explore the forest with her. There are paths she thinks that no one has ever seen except the three of them. And the other primes, perhaps, the ones who lived here before. The ones who recognized each tree for its own unique beauty and wandered among the great looming trunks as among a crowd of friends.
Because she considers herself the hostess for the youngest visitors, Val pays attention to everyone’s well-being. The youngest cousin, a girl who is only five, is coru and absolutely fearless. Someone always has to be chasing after her before she wades out too far in the stream and gets carried away by the water. Val likes little Saska, though, because she says what she thinks and never seems to have any mean thoughts in her head.
Val is less fond of the two oldest boys, who are twelve and thirteen and think it’s fun to harass their younger cousins. They’ll tip someone over into the water or snatch a pastry right out of someone else’s hand, and the games they devise are usually rougher than the others like. One time, the oldest one snatched Saska up in the air and tossed her to his brother, and they passed her back and forth three times before Val could rescue her, screaming at the top of her lungs. Since then, Val keeps Saska close by her side and glares at the boys any time they come near. She hasn’t bothered reporting their bad behavior to her mother or theirs, since experience has taught her the adults expect the children to work out their own problems. But she is beginning to think she might dislike them.
Sebastian doesn’t seem to mind their boisterous ways, and he has even introduced them to a couple of games that seem to involve a lot of running and shouting. He moves easily between the rowdy activities of the older children and the quieter pastimes of the younger ones, and Val notices that everyone seems to like him. She also notices that, although he appears relaxed and nonchalant, he is always constrained by a certain wariness. He waits to be invited into the circle, waits to be spoken to. He has an uncanny sense of where everyone is at every moment, and the older boys—who love to sneak up on the girls and terrify them with a pounce—have never caught him unaware.
One day, all seven of them are gathered at the edge of the stream, trying to get comfortable on the mingled grass and gravel. Saska is sitting with her feet in the water. Morgan, the oldest, is standing on a level boulder at the water’s edge, taking turns balancing on one foot and then the other for as long as he can hold the pose. Sebastian is teaching Val how to toss stones so they skip across the water. The others are lying flat on their backs, drowsy with sun and exercise.
So far, Val has not succeeded in getting a stone to bounce more than once. “I think you have to be torz to have any luck with rocks,” she says.
“I’m torz,” Morgan says. “Once I skipped a stone seven times before it fell in the water.”
Sebastian gives him a considering look. “I’d like to see that.”
Morgan shrugs. “I don’t feel like doing it now.”
Sebastian nods, but his expression makes it clear that he doesn’t believe this claim. Morgan is instantly irritated.
“So what are you, sweela? What can you do with fire?” he demands.
“I try to be careful with fire,” Sebastian replies. “My father says you can’t ever forget how dangerous it is.”
“Your father,” Morgan says, and his voice is taunting. “I bet you don’t see much of him.”
“I see him enough,” Sebastian replies in an even tone.
“My father says you’re a bastard.”
Saska looks up at that. “What’s a bastard?”
Val answers before Morgan can give a more hateful definition. “Someone whose parents aren’t married to each other.”
“Is that bad?”
“No,” Val says.
Morgan snorts and switches to his other leg, swaying a little before he regains his balance. “Some people think it’s bad,” he says.
“Why?” Saska wants to know.
“Well, you can’t inherit property unless there’s a special will or something. And people won’t want to marry you.”
Saska is concerned. “You mean, no one will marry Sebastian?”
“That’s right.”
“I’ll marry him,” Saska says.
“You’re too young to get married,” Morgan scoffs.
“But someday.”
Sebastian makes an underhanded throw of a small, flat rock, and it touches the water five times before it disappears. “Thanks, Saska,” he says. “But I don’t think I want to marry anybody.”
She looks worried. “Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll have adventures. I’ll travel around the world, maybe.”
“You’ll get a job, maybe,” Morgan says. “Since you don’t have any money and you won’t get any from your family because you’re a bastard.”
Val moves closer to where Morgan is standing and bends over to sort through the debris on the bank. She picks up a handful of loose stones. “You’re being mean,” she says. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m just being honest,” he says.
“What kind of job would you get?” Saska asks Sebastian.
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll move to Chialto someday and just look around.”
“You can work in the stables somewhere,” Morgan says. “You can work down on the docks. I think that’s where bastards go to find jobs.”
Val throws a small stone and hits him right on the nose.
“Hey!” he shouts, hopping in surprise.
She throws another one, and another one, fast and hard and accurate, striking him on his cheek, his shoulder, and his forehead. He draws his hands up before his face, and her next shots hit his palms and wrists and then his shoulder again. Behind her, she hears Saska shriek and Sebastian say “Stop it” in a quiet voice, but she keeps on flinging the rocks. Morgan jerks back from the assault, slips on the wet surface of the boulder, and tumbles headfirst into the stream.
He’s upright in seconds, shaking water out of his hair and spitting with rage. The other cousins are all on their feet, laughing and pointing, as Morgan charges out of the stream as if he wants to barrel right into Val and knock her over. She stands her ground as he splashes onto the bank, soaking her with great gusts of water.
“I ought to throw you in,” he snarls.
“You ought to be nicer to people,” she replies, staring him down.
Sebastian has moved to stand next to her, clearly ready to fight, and Saska has scrambled over to cling to her tunic. “Don’t you hurt Val!” Saska wails.
“Don’t be a jerk, Morgan,” his brother calls. “You deserved it.”
For a moment, Val thinks Morgan might hit her anyway, or pick her up and drag her into the water. But instead, he makes a deep growling sound and stomps away, heading back toward the house.
Saska throws her arms around Val and buries her head in Val’s stomach. Sebastian gives her a long, steady look.
“You don’t have to protect me,” he says. “I can take care of myself.”
She’s annoyed. “You’re my guest,” she says. “You’re my responsibility. No one should mistreat you in my house.”
“You’re just a kid,” he says.
“The rules still apply,” she answers in a huffy voice.
The other cousins have drawn near to form a circle around them. “You’re going to get in so much trouble,” says the eleven-year-old girl.
“Only if Morgan tells,” says Sebastian.
“He’ll tell,” his brother replies.
“He’s not even hurt,” Val said. “He’s the one who should get in trouble.”
***
As it turns out, both of them receive punishment, but the sentences are light. Morgan’s mother draws him aside to deliver a stern lecture about treating other people with respect, and Val’s mother sends her to her room before supper. Of course, she also sends up a dinner tray, so Val doesn’t really suffer. And Saska and Sebastian join her, so she actually enjoys herself.
An odd thought crosses her mind as they pass around the food. In Welce, the numbers three, five, and eight are considered propitious, and people always try to make sure some combination of these numbers is present at the launch of any new enterprise. At this moment, Val is eight and Saska is five; three people are sitting in the room together. All the coveted numbers have united to preside over this little impromptu meal.
“Lissa thinks your mother needs to come up with a harsher punishment,” Sebastian informs her as he helps himself to her potatoes. “But your mother said it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Why not?” Saska demands.
Sebastian grins at her. “Because she says Valentina never does the wrong thing on purpose. Whatever it is, she thinks it’s the right thing to do. Merra said, ‘How can you discipline something like that out of a child? And really, how can you want to?’ Lissa thought that you should apologize to Morgan, anyway.”
“Well, I’m not going to.”
“Are you going to have to stay in your room forever?” Saska asks, wide-eyed.
Val gives her an absent pat on the head. “No. Just for tonight. My mother never stays mad for long.”
“You didn’t have to do it,” Sebastian says. “But thank you.”
“You’re my guest,” she says again. “You’re my friend. I’ll always take care of you.”