Free The Waters Rising by Sheri S. Tepper

thing. When the nurses went in this morning, she was gone, child. She died last night.”
    Xulai was silent. For a long moment, her mind was completely empty. Had she known, really? Had she lied to herself when she thought the princess was sleeping? Or had it happened later? Had Abasio known? Almost certainly he had known. That was why he had told her to look at the princess’s face. To see it at peace. To see the pain gone. She had only been waiting for Xulai to complete her task, then she had let the pain go. She had quit fighting it. And that was why Abasio had cried. Why? He didn’t even know her.
    “ No, ” said a voice in her mind. “ But he knows you. ”
    Xulai turned and went back upstairs to her room, and there she allowed herself to weep as she could not recall ever having wept before. She was not interrupted. Precious Wind didn’t bother her. Great Bear stayed away. Nobody bothered her. It was as though they had decided she should have this time to herself, so she had it and wept.
    Even in the midst of it she reminded herself to thank Abasio. Whether Ushiloma had sent him or not, he had helped her, he had helped the princess, and those who help should always be thanked, in one way or another.
    S everal days later, in the Old Dark House, the Duchess of Altamont learned the duke’s wife had died. She had arrived home only the evening before and was told by a passing traveler, so she knew the woman had died the very night she, Alicia, had been there. During the day that followed, she felt joyous, really joyous, as though she had swallowed a balloon and might float away at any moment. When her maid sloshed tea into the saucer, Alicia only slapped her a few times instead of having her whipped. She actually thanked a footman for holding the stirrup of her horse. She and Jenger rode together south along the road that led, eventually, to the Lake of the Clouds, and she teased him about something or other and laughed with him.
    “Have you let Hulix know?” Jenger asked.
    She sat very still. Hulix. Her face darkened as though a shadow had crossed it.
    Jenger read the expression on her face. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, abjectly. “I’ve said something wrong.”
    “When Falredi died, Hulix became duke of Kamfels,” she said.
    He did not trust himself to speak as he could not think of anything it would be safe to say. He was silent, head slightly cocked, waiting for her to head them down whatever dark road her thoughts might lead to.
    “I was older than Hulix! I took care of all the details. I should have been duchess then. He was only a boy, but he became the duke.”
    He thought furiously. “On several occasions I’ve heard your mother, the queen, say that titles don’t matter. She says only power matters.”
    “Yes,” she muttered. “But I wanted the title.” She turned her horse, her face twisted with hatred. He let his horse fall behind and followed her without speaking. When she was in a mood like this, it was better not to speak at all.
    She said something he could not hear. He rode up beside her and said, “Sorry, ma’am, I couldn’t hear.”
    “I said Falyrion, my father, was the duke. When he died, Falredi became the duke. That day, when he became the duke, I asked him if I would be duchess if he died. He said no, Hulix would be the next duke, because he was a boy. He said the only way I could become a duchess was if I married a duke, if any duke would have me. He was wrong. I did become a duchess, of Altamont. I have a title. I proved he was wrong.”
    He said nothing. What was there to say? Yet, he had to say something. She would insist that he say something eventually. Not answering would be taken as agreeing with what young Falyrion had said.
    “I have no idea why he should have said anything like that,” he blurted at last. “It makes no sense at all. Of course you have the title.”
    After a time her face cleared a little. “Of course,” she said. “Falyrion said I could