| She had been intending, with some real apprehension, to go northwest to CorteThat had always been the next-to-last destination in her plansShe had seriously wondered, almost every night as she lay awake, whether three years in Certando would be enough to shake off anyone pursuing the true history of her lifeShe'd had no good ideas about what else she could do, though
And so it was that a few nights later, in the largest of the taverns in Fort Sinave, a cheerful crowd of young people watched their new friend drink more than was good for her for the first time since she'd arrivedMore than one of the men saw cause for cautious optimism in that, with respect to possibilities later in the evening
"You've settled it then!" Dianora cried in her attractive, south-country voiceShe leaned for support against the shoulder of a bemused cartwright"Hand to the new plow for me tomorrowI'm over the border as soon as I can to visit The Queen of Ygrath! Triad bless her days!"
Triad shelter and hold my soul, she was thinking as she spoke, absolutely sober, cold to her bones with the sense of the words she was so glibly shouting
They silenced her, laughing uproariously, in part to cover her wordsIn Barbadian Certando it was a long way from the path of wisdom to thus salute Ygrath's QueenDianora giggled quite endearingly but she subsidedThe cartwright and another man tried to see her up to her room afterwards, but found themselves charmingly put off and drinking together amid off-duty mercenaries in the one fake gucci handbags all-night tavern Fort Sinave possessed
She was just a little too untutored, too country, to succeed in her ambitious hopes, they agreed sagelyThey also agreed, a few drinks later, that she had the most extraordinarily appealing smileSomething about her eyes, what happened to them when she was pleased
In the morning Dianora was dressed and packed and waiting very early at the main gate of the fortShe struck a bargain for passage to Stevanien with a pleasant-enough middle-aged merchant from Senzio carrying Barbadian spices for the luxury tradeHis only reason for going to dreary, flattened Stevanien, she learned as they started west, was because of the new restaurant, The QueenShe took that coincidence as a good omen, closing the fingers of her left hand over the thumb three times to make the wish come true
The roads were better than she remembered; certainly the merchants traveling them seemed to feel saferRolling along in the cart, she asked the Senzian about itHe grinned sardonically
"The Tyrants have cleaned out most of the highway brigandsJust a matter of protecting their own interestsThey want to make sure no one else robs us before they do with their border tariffs and taxes He spat, discreetly, into the dust of the road"Personally I preferred the brigandsThere were ways of dealing with them
Not long after that she saw evidence of what he was talking about: they passed two death-wheels beside the roadway, the bodies of would-be thieves spreadeagled upon them, spiraling lazily in the sun, severed chanel necklace hands rotting in their mouthsThe smell was very bad
The Senzian stopped just across the border to do some dealing in the fort of ForeseHe also paid his transit duties there scrupulously, waiting patiently in line to have his cart examined and leviedThe death-wheels, he pointed out to her after, in the acerbic Senzian manner, were not reserved for highway thieves and captured wizards
Thus delayed, they spent the night at a coach-house on the well-traveled road, joining a party of Ferraut traders for dinnerDianora excused herself early and went to bedShe'd paid for a room alone and took the precaution of pushing an oak dresser in front of her doorNothing disturbed her though, except her dreamsShe was back in Tigana and yet she wasn't, because it wasn't thereShe whispered the name to herself like a talisman or a prayer before falling into a restless sleep shot through with images of destruction from the burning year
They spent the second night at another inn beside the river, just outside the walls of Stevanien, having arrived after sundown curfew closed the city gatesThey ate alone this time, and she talked to the Senzian until lateHe was decent and sober, belying the cliches about his decadent province, and it was clear that he liked herShe enjoyed his company, and she was even attracted to his dry, witty mannerShe went to bed alone thoughThis was not the village in Certando: she had no obligations
Or not those kinds of obligationsAnd as for pleasure, or the ordinary needs of human interaction she balenciaga designer would have been honestly uncomprehending if anyone had mentioned them to her
She was nineteen years old and in Tigana that-had-been
In the morning, just inside the city walls, she bade farewell to the Senzian, touching palm to palm only brieflyHe seemed somewhat affected by the night before but she turned and walked away before he could find whatever words his eyes were reaching for
She found a hostelry not far away, one where her family had never stayedShe wasn't really worried about being recognized though; she knew how much she had changed and how many girls named Dianora there were scattered across the PalmShe paid in advance for three nights' lodging and left her belongings there
Then she walked out into the streets of what had been Avalle of the Towers not very long agoAvalle, on the green banks of the Sperion just before the river turned west to find the seaThere was an ache building in her as she went, and what hurt most of all, she found, was how much the same a place could be after everything had changed
She went through the leather district and the wool districtShe could remember skipping along beside her mother when they had all come inland to Avalle to see one of her father's sculptures ceremoniously placed in some square or loggiaShe even recognized the tiny shop where she'd purchased her first grey leather gloves, with coins hoarded from her naming day in the summer for just such a thing
Grey was a color for grown young women, not for little girls, the red-bearded artisan had teasedI rolex oyster know, six-year-old Dianora had said proudly that autumn long agoHer mother had laughedOnce upon a time her mother had been a woman who laughedDianora could remember
In the wool quarter she saw women and girls working tirelessly, carding and spinning as they had for centuries in doorways open to the early-summer early-morning lightOver by the river she could see and smell the dyeing sheds and yards
When Quileia beyond the mountains to the south had folded inward upon its matriarchy, hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, Avalle had lost a great dealMore perhaps than any other city in the PalmOnce poised directly on one of the two main trade routes through the mountains, it had found itself in danger of sudden inconsequentiallyWith a collective ingenuity bordering on genius the city had decisively shifted its orientation and focus
Within a generation that city of banking and trade to north and south had become the principal center in all of the Palm for works in leather and for sumptuously dyed wool
Hardly missing a beat, Avalle pursued its new prosperity and its prideAnd the towers kept rising
With a catch to her heart Dianora finally acknowledged that she had been carefully working her way around the edges of Stevanien, the outlying districts, the artisans' quarters, looking outwards only and into doorwaysNot into the center, up towards the hillWhere the towers were gone
And so, realizing that, she did look, standing stock still in the middle of a wide square at the bottom of the street of the tiffany bean earrings Woolguil |
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