Free Royal Airs by Sharon Shinn Page A

corrupt old viceroy of Soeche-Tas . . .
    “As it happens, I have a story it might interest you to hear,” said the old woman. “I think the price of the two pieces of information is relatively equal, so no money needs to change hands.”
    “All right.”
    “This Dominic Wollimer. He has just purchased a very large share in a factory down by the southern port.”
    “A factory that supplies elaymotive parts?” Corene asked. Most of the manufacturing down at the docks was centered around the smoker cars; anyone who hadn’t already bought into the transportation business was desperately trying to rectify the omission now.
    “No. A textile plant that processes cotton. His partner didn’t think Dominic’s credit was good enough, so he had to put down cash. All in gold pieces.”
    “Darien will want to know that,” Josetta whispered, and Corene nodded. Social ruin, financial ruin—any way they could harm Dominic sounded appealing.
    “Thank you,” Corene said, using her cane to push herself to her feet. Josetta rose more nimbly. “Don’t forget to tell everyone what I told you.”
    The two princesses had turned toward the stairs when the sister said, “One more thing.”
    They both looked back at her. “Yes?” Corene asked.
    “His wife. Alys. She’s expecting a child.”
    For a moment, Josetta thought Corene had turned to ice, she stood so still and turned so cold. When she spoke, her voice was as chilly as the Marisi in winter. “Really? When is the baby due?”
    “At the end of Quinnasweela or the beginning of Quinnelay.”
    “Oh, I’m sure she’ll do everything in her power to make sure the baby is born in Quinnasweela,” Corene said. “She wouldn’t want anything but a child of fire.”
    “Sometimes the baby has something to say about that,” the sister replied.
    “You don’t know Alys,” Corene said. “Thank you. Do I owe you anything for that piece of knowledge?”
    The blind woman waved a hand. “Soon enough everyone will know. It is information with very little value.”
    Corene fumbled in her pocket anyway, and leaned over to press one of her silver coins in the old woman’s hand. “Value enough for me,” she said. “Thank you again.”
    Josetta thought Corene looked a little unsteady as they climbed down the stairs, back into the color and gaiety of the Plaza. She wanted to hover close, take Corene’s hand, suggest they sit down a moment, perhaps find a refreshment stand. But Corene’s pale skin had flushed; the ice had melted in a fiery surge of temper, and Josetta figured she wasn’t safe to touch.
    Probably not safe to speak to, either, not if she didn’t want to cause a scene right there in the middle of the Plaza. Alys pregnant! It seemed like such a stupid, careless thing for the queen to do, because a baby complicated everything. It tied her inextricably to Dominic, so she would not be able to cast him off if news of his sins spread far enough to turn him into a liability. It limited her freedom, during the duration of her pregnancy, at least, and Alys hated to be left out of any plan. It diminished her political power, because there were always people who considered a pregnant woman or a new mother to be vulnerable and soft. Those people didn’t know Alys, of course, but they could be excused for discounting her during her maternity.
    But Alys was never stupid or careless. Alys never did anything by accident. Could it be that she wanted this baby, that she loved Dominic Wollimer and was choosing this way to show it? And did that mean she would love the baby, too, smother it with delighted kisses, shower it with unfettered affection? As she had never smothered or showered Corene?
    Josetta took another look at that set, sad, angry face, and decided she wouldn’t say a word.
    In silence, they examined the goods at a few more stalls, moving more slowly as Corene began favoring her wounded leg more obviously. Finally, after Corene paused to rest against a merchant’s