His eyes were shining as he waited patiently for me to pick up the charcoal.There was a sense of daring in his expression.
My cheeks blazed hot.I didn’t want to do it, but Ididwant to remain in his good graces, to be granted passage home swiftly.To refuse… it didn’t feel like a true option.
The lines I drew weren’t straight—my hand was too twitchy.Still, I made a rectangle for the great hall and began drawing rooms along the sides of it.As the charcoal slid across the page, I wondered how I could include falsities.
He will not know if I move rooms around, if I add things or take them away.
But each time I thought of a lie to add to the drawing, my bravery left me, and I drew it as I remembered it which wasn’t easy since kepens had so many rooms.I had to pause many times and strain my mind.I drew no details for the vault, deciding that if I were asked, I would refer to its location as the gallery.It was fine for the gallery to be a bit bigger in the map.
When I was done, I gently pushed the parchment closer to the king.He studied it with care, sometimes asking me what one room or another was used for.He pulled another page from a stack of parchment and seemed to be comparing the two.
“You have pleased me,” he said finally, pushing both pages back across the table so I could see them.
The second map—the one he’d taken from his own stackwasthe Kepen at the Arched Cliffs.It was labelled in my own language.He hadn’t needed my drawing at all.
“Why would you ask me to make another of something you already had?”
The king shrugged.“I wished to know how good your memory was.It is fine, though not so fine as you might think.”He leaned over the table, the eye-totem on his necklace hanging above my drawing.He pointed to the passage between the kitchens and the great hall with a smirk.I had placed it on the southern side of the hall, but on the other map, it was to the north.As soon as I saw it, I remembered the correct layout and felt foolish.How had I forgotten so quickly?
“Why would you want to know about my memory?”
He shrugged again.“I like knowing things… I would know everything if I could.Learning is one of life’s great joys, do you not think?”
He collected the parchment, placing a sheet between them to prevent the charcoal from smudging and then added them to one of his many stacks.
“You have given attention to my necklace twice now.You have thoughts about it?”
“It has to do with the god of truth,” I said, recalling my conversation with Loric’s attendant, the broken-nosed man.
The king’s eyes narrowed impishly.“And what does a young goldkeeper know about the god of truth?”
“Not much.I know truth worshippers fought a great battle in the sand once with the sun worshippers.Far away from here.”
“Do you know who won that battle?”
I was deft enough to assume King Arik worshipped the god of truth, or at least cared for the heretical god enough to wear its emblem, but I also felt certain the king would know if I lied, if I simply said that his preference had won.I repeated the broken-nosed man’s words.“Some say the god of truth won, as his soldiers were left standing at the end of the fray.But others say it was the sun, since the survivors all went mad from the heat before they returned home.”
The king had gone still as stone, his eyes dancing like a little fire was lit in his mind.“Ha!”he exclaimed finally.“Ha!You are delightfully full of surprises, Gentlewoman.”
I’d had so few conversations outside of prescription prior to knowing King Arik that I found myself in a heightened, frenetic state.There was something a little frightening, but also fun, about speaking and not knowing where the talk would lead.
The thrill ended abruptly with his next words.He frowned suddenly.“Gentlewoman, are you bleeding?”
I was, but it wasn’t a thing I had ever spoken to a man about.Indeed, after the first time, I’d spoken to no one about it at all.My face grew hot so fast I felt nauseous.How had he known?My best guess was the scent of blood.
“I will have someone take you to the bleeding house, if you wish,” he said.“Bleeding is hard work, is it not?”
I couldn’t think of a response.My mouth was dead to me.My mind scalding hot.
“Ah, I have turned you to sea foam.That was not my intention, Gentlewoman.I only wish you to be comfortable during your stay.”
The idea that bleeding was difficult, that it was something that earned rest, was entirely foreign to me.It was something to be hidden and ignored.
“Sea foam?”
“Never mind, Gentlewoman.Take theshoka.Here, I will bring you to a place of rest.”
The bleeding house was nothing like what you might imagine, having heard its name.It was also not a place, as I’d first assumed, for women only.There were two sea dogs there when I arrived.One was a woman; I expected she was bleeding in the same way I was, as I could see no obvious wound.But the other was a man with a bloody cloth pressed to his nose.He kept his head tilted forward so the blood would move out his nostrils rather than back through his throat.
