An Accident of Stars

miss?”
“Some chuckle from the silks, no doubt,” said the other.

“Slipped away, has she?”
“Slipped and been caught by willing hands,” Luy said,

smoothly. Both men laughed. “Come now! Surely you won’t
deny my fun? Just because I wear these robes doesn’t mean
there’s nothing under them.” And he gave Viya’s shoulder a
squeeze.

Like a bellows, she forced out a wheezy giggle. The first guard
leaned in close, peering at her. Viya’s heart beat fast as a
tambour. She flashed up her gaze coquettishly, then down again,
which evidently satisfied the guard; he laughed and leaned back.

“Tell me, Shavaktiin,” he drawled, “when you ride, do you
keep that face-smock on? Or do you let them as mounts you
peer beneath?”

“Why, honoured sword!” Luy’s tone turned smoky. “Was
that an invitation?”

“It might have been.” The guard leaned in again, his voice
low. “I’ve a powerful curiosity for hidden things. When you’re
done with her, you find me after the feast tonight, and I’ll show
you tricks your stories never have.”

“I just well might,” Luy purred.
The other guard rolled his eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” he told
his friend.
“Better that than a self-gelded mule.” He winked and stood
aside. “Go on, then. If you decide to find me later, ask for Rican.”
“I will,” said Luy, but kept his arm around Viya. Through the
gate they went, and out to the gardens, following the goldstone

151 of 541

path to the roa stables.
Once they were out of earshot, Luy chuckled under his

breath. “He wasn’t bad looking, truly. I might well take him up
on it.”

Viya bit back a rude reply and pressed her lips together,
sending a silent prayer of thanks to Ke and Na, who understood
all things, and to Sahu, who governed wisdom. Gods grant me
safety and knowledge.

In sight of the stables, Luy left her crouching by a flowerbed
and went on alone in case there were any grooms about. The
minutes of his absence crawled by for Viya like insects over bare
flesh; she yearned to leap up and follow him, skin prickling with
the threat of exposure, and yet she didn’t dare move. Had Luy
abandoned her? The possibility made her sweat, until she
remembered she’d never asked for his help. She’d taken it
because she had no choice, but if he truly had gone, then she
was still capable of setting herself free. That realisation soothed
her, and when Luy finally did return with a white-and-grey roa,
she was able to thank him calmly.

“Take the Green Gate,” he advised, “and tell the guards there
you’re riding a message for me. They’ll let you through.”

“How could they know that already?”
“Because I do plan to send a message today, which I told
them at sunup. When my rider finally does go through – I’ll
make it late tonight, for your sake – they’ll realise something’s
gone wrong, and come looking. I’d advise you to be well on your
way by then.”
Viya mounted while he spoke. The roa snorted uneasily

152 of 541

beneath her, as though able to sense her dislike of it. It was
Rixevet who’d insisted she learn to ride roas as well as horses,
making it one of the few things Viya had resented her for. Now,
though, she was forced to concede the wisdom of her
secondmother’s choices. “My thanks to you,” she said formally.
And then, more out of curiosity than concern, “Will Leoden
blame you for this, do you think?”

Luy laughed. “Your husband is not the only one skilled in
laying the blame for his actions on other people. The difference
between us is that I don’t scapegoat innocents. Ride on, Cuivexa.
And if…” he hesitated, voice changing slightly, “…if you should
happen to meet my people in your travels, tell them… tell them
the story will speak for itself.”

“I will,” said Viya, though privately she wished never to meet
a Shavaktiin again. Luy had helped her, true, and she was
grateful for that, but except for the shape of his hands and the
sound of his speech, she had no conception of who he was, and
disliked the disadvantage that put her at.

“Go on, go!” he repeated, and with that, Viya clicked to the
roa, riding out of the palace and into treason.

153 of 541

NINE
HIDE & SEEK

A day ago, the idea of being present while another person
washed, let alone assisting in the process, would have freaked
Saffron out completely. It still did, if she was honest – but there
was something about being in Karavos, or else the fact that
Trishka had seen her cry, that suspended normal conventions. So
when the older woman sat up a little straighter and declared that
she was feeling much better for having rested, and could Saffron
help make her presentable? Her response had been, “Of course.”

Following Trishka’s instructions, she left the room and went
in search of the same tub she’d washed in earlier. It was just
where she’d left it, along with the bucket used to fill it from the
pump in the courtyard. For a moment, she contemplated just
filling the tub and then carrying it inside, but it would be too
heavy to lift when full. Irritation stung her. She’d have to go
back and forth, back and forth, until Trishka had enough water

154 of 541

to wash in. Couldn’t someone else do it? But then she felt guilty,
realising that this was how everyone in the compound washed –
she was just resentful of how long it took because she was used
to indoor plumbing. Trying not to sigh, Saffron carried the tub
back to Trishka, and then began the arduous process of walking
out to the pump, hauling down on the arm, then heaving the
full bucket all the way back to Trishka’s rooms. The whole
process took nearly twenty minutes, and even though she knew
that someone must have done the same for her earlier, she still
resented the way her arms ached by the end of it.

With the final bucket emptied into the tub, Saffron set up a
modesty screen, standing aside as Trishka came gingerly to her
feet. She was short and stocky, dressed in a long-sleeved robe
like a dressing gown that belted at the waist. She was shaky on
her feet, but managed to walk to the tub unassisted. Even so, she
needed Saffron’s help to pull her arms free of the robe, and then
further assistance to lower herself steadily into the bath. Not sure
what else was expected of her, Saffron perched on the end of the
bed, waiting.

“I’m not normally this weak,” Trishka said. “But the
jahudemet is always draining, the more so the further I have to
reach.”

Saffron rolled the Kenan word, jahudemet, around in her
head. It meant something like the spark that moves through air,
though that was a deeply imperfect translation. Her knowledge
of Kenan was instinctive and incomplete, and every time she ran
up against such an alien term, a little shudder went through her
at the strangeness of it.

155 of 541

“That must be frustrating,” she said instead.
A sloshing noise came from behind the screen, which Saffron
took to indicate a shrug.
“I’d like to say I’m used to it, but if I could wish away the side
effects, I would.” A pause; the sound of scrubbing. “You’ll need
to learn Vekshi, too,” she said suddenly.
Saffron blinked. “What?”
“I was watching earlier, when Yasha and Gwen were talking.
You’re heading north. Gwen doesn’t speak much Vekshi – there
was never a need – but if you’re going to act the part, you’ll need
to speak the language.” A languid splash. “You’re already joined
in zuymet with Zech, which is good, but she’s still new to her
gifts, and I’m not sure she’d be best suited to teaching you two
tongues at once. Matu ought to do it.”
Saffron chose her words carefully. “Is he very, ah… stable?”
Trishka laughed. “Oh, he’s wild enough at times, but we like
him that way, and he knows it. Even Yasha approves of him, and
there’s not many men of whom that’s true, though she’d never
admit it. At any rate, he’s Zechalia’s master in the zuymet, and a
skilled practitioner. You can trust him with that.”
Saffron raised an eyebrow, remembering what else she’d
heard about Matu. “And can I trust him with me, too?”
“Now that,” said Trishka, “depends entirely on what you
want to do with him. If it’s children you’re after, don’t bother,
but for anything else, it’s your own affair. Only don’t go chasing
his heart, child, or you’ll get yours burned. However he might
pass his nights, he’s only and all for Amenet.”
A mortified blush crept up Saffron’s cheeks. “That’s not what

156 of 541

I meant! I wouldn’t want any of that – I’m way too young for
kids and anyway, I prefer women to men. I mean, I do
sometimes like men, but I usually like women more.” The latter
admission slipped from her by accident. She’d never outed
herself as bisexual to an adult before, and was a little scared by
how easy it was. “I mean, am I safe with him? If he’s so… free
with himself.”

She thought that was the right way to phrase it; she’d meant
to say promiscuous, but none of the equivalent Kenan terms had
quite the same inference as in English. As best as Saffron could
figure it, saying Matu was free with himself simply meant that he
was an untethered, unmarried, uncommitted person who
nonetheless enjoyed sex.

“Safe?” The question took Trishka aback, though to Saffron’s
relief, she was utterly unfazed by her orientation. “Why
wouldn’t you… oh. This is an Earth thing, isn’t it? You worry he
might try without your consent?”

“Not worry, exactly.” Saffron twisted her hands, embarrassed,
and tried not to think about Jared Blake. “I just want to know
where I stand.”

Trishka sighed. “I won’t pretend this world is perfect. Men
and women force others here, the same as they do in your
realm. But it is not tolerated, not excused, and especially not in
Veksh or Kena. Whatever you want from Matu, or don’t want,
he’ll respect it.”

“Good to know,” said Saffron, awkwardly.
Trishka only chuckled. “I’m not offended you asked, child.
But if you feel the need for penance, come over here and help

157 of 541

me out. This water’s so cold, I’m like to freeze my nipples off.
Oh! And there’s a towel on that chair in the corner, if you
please.”

For neither the first nor last time, Viya cursed Luy for making
her take a roa. Surely she’d have been just as well off with a
horse? Better, even, because she could ride them more
competently, and because common crowds knew to step aside
when they saw one coming. Instead, she was forced to endure
being jostled about by low-ranking ignorants who didn’t know
any better. The beast itself – she’d named it Mara, for spite – was
hard-mouthed and stubborn, responding so slowly to Viya’s
commands that by the time they’d moved, whatever gap she’d
spied in the crush had closed. Part of her wanted to scream,
don’t you know who I am? But of course, she was in disguise; it
was good that they looked away, and anyway, shouting about
rank was ugly and undignified.

If real life were like the moon-tales Rixevet had told her as a
child, Viya thought, some stalwart or other would recognise her
anyway. They’d creep up, lay a hand on Mara’s bridle and in
low, passionate tones, declare their undying loyalty to the
Cuivexa and her cause. Then she’d be led down secret paths,
away from the crowds and into the protection of her
secondmother’s agents, who would long since have set out to
reclaim her.

But of course this didn’t happen, and instead Viya was forced

158 of 541

to sweat and push and wait and dodge her way through the
chaos of roa riders, carts, foot traffic, stalls, corners, dead ends
and shouting that made up the Lower Circle. When she finally
spied the massive gates that led to the Warren, she hissed with
impatience, dug her heels into Mara’s sides and made for it so
quickly that the roa clipped a man in passing.

“Hoy!” he shouted after her. A ripple of murmurs spread
through the crowd.

Viya didn’t turn. The man didn’t matter. She was almost at
the gates–

An irate stranger in the opulent taal of a wealthy merchant
laid a hand on Mara’s bridle, jerking them both to a halt. Viya
was furious. “Let go!” she shouted, trying to tug the rein from his
grasp. But the man refused to obey her. Mara tossed his head
back, kreeing as their tug-of-war put pressure on his mouth.

“Insolent chit!” the man bellowed. “I don’t know what hovel
you rode in from, but above that gate–” he gestured to Viya’s
destination, “–we act and ride with decorum. Apologise for
hitting me!”

“Hovel?” Viya hissed, goaded by the term. It was too much,
all of it! Oh, if only he knew who she was! “You dare, you filthy
thumbcoin?”

Now it was the merchant’s turn to look furious. He flushed
above his beard, but his voice, when he spoke, was dangerously
low. “You would be well-placed, girl, to reconsider that insult.”
He tightened his grip on Mara, winding the rein about his hand,
so that the poor beast’s head was pulled backwards at an angle.
Viya felt him shift under her, and tasted metallic fear in her

159 of 541