Ship of Magic by Robin Hobb
Ronica was silent a moment. “No, it does not,” she said at last. Then she sighed. “I would not be happy to see her go. But, you know, Keffria, I have never heard of any Bingtown man or woman who was kept against their will by the Rain Wild Traders. They seek wives and husbands, not servants. Who would wish to wed someone against their inclination? Some folk go there of their own accord. And some, who go there as part of a contract, return when it suits them. You remember Scilla Appleby? She was carried off to the Rain Wilds when her family failed in a contract. Eight months later, they brought her back to Bingtown, because she was unhappy there. And two months after that, she sent them word that she had made a mistake, and they came for her again. So it cannot be all that bad. ”
“I heard that her family shamed her into returning. That her grandfather and mother both felt she had disgraced the Applebys and broken their pledge when she came back to Bingtown. ”
“I suppose that could be so,” her mother conceded doubtfully.
“I don't want Malta to go there against her will,” Keffria said bluntly. “Not for duty nor for pride. Not even for our good name. If it came down to it, I think I would help her run away myself. ”
“Sa help me, I fear I would, too. ” Her mother's words came some minutes later, uttered in a voice that seemed dragged from her.
Keffria was shocked. Not just by what her mother was admitting, but by the depth of emotion that her voice betrayed. Ronica spoke on.
“There have been times when I hated that ship. How could anything be worth so much? Not just gold they pledged, but their own descendants!”
“If Papa had continued in the Rain Wild trade, the Vivacia would most likely be paid off by now,” Keffria pointed out.
“Most likely. But at what cost?”
“So Papa always said,” Keffria said slowly. “But I never understood it. Papa never explained it or talked about it in front of us girls. The only time I ever asked him about it, he just told me he thought it was an unlucky path to choose. Yet all the other families who have liveships trade with the Rain Wild families. As the Vestrits own a liveship, we have the right to do so, too. Yet Papa refused it. ” She spoke very carefully as she continued, “Perhaps it is a decision we should reconsider. Kyle would be willing. He made that clear when he asked about charts of the Rain Wild River. Before that day, we had not discussed it. I thought that perhaps Papa had already explained to him. Before that day, he had never asked me why we stopped trading up the River. It just never came up. ”
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“And if you manage things cleverly, it never will again,” Ronica said shortly. “Kyle up the Rain Wild River would be a disaster. ”
And here was another uncomfortable topic. Kyle. Keffria sighed. “I remember that when Grandfather was alive, he took the Vivacia upriver. I remember the gifts he used to bring us. A music box that twinkled as it played. ” She shook her head. “I don't even know what became of that. ” More quietly she added, “And I never truly understood why Papa wouldn't trade up the river. ”
Ronica stared into the fire as if she were telling an old tale. “Your father . . . resented the contract with the Festrews. Oh, he loved the ship, and would not have traded her for the world. But much as he loved the Vivacia, he loved you girls more. And like you, he saw the contract as a threat to his children. He disliked being bound by an agreement he'd had no say in. ” Ronica lowered her voice. “In some ways, he thought ill of the Festrews, that they would hold him bound by such a cruel bargain. Perhaps they saw things differently in those days. Perhaps . . . ” Her words faltered for a time. Then, “I suppose I lied to you just now. I speak the way I know I should think: that a bargain is a bargain, and a contract is a contract. But that contract was made in older, harder times. Still, it binds us. ”
“But father resented it,” Keffria said, to draw her mind back to that.
“He despised the terms. He often pointed out that no one ever completely discharged a debt to the Rain Wilds. New debts were always stacked upon the old ones, so that the chains binding the contracting families together only got stronger and stronger as the years passed. He hated that idea. He wanted there to come a time when the ship would be ours, free and clear, and if we chose to pack up and leave Bingtown, we could do so. ”
The very idea shook Keffria to the foundations of her life. Leave Bingtown? Her father had actually thought of taking the family away from Bingtown?
Her mother spoke on. “And though his father and grandmother had traded in Ram Wild goods, he always felt they were tainted. That was how he put it. Tainted. Too much magic. He always felt that sooner or later, such magic would have to be paid for. And he did not think it was . . . honorable, in a way, for him to bring back to our world the magic of another place and time, a magic that had, perhaps, been the downfall of another folk. Perhaps the downfall of the entire Cursed Shores. Sometimes he spoke of it, late at night, saying he feared we would destroy ourselves and our world, just as the Elder folk did. ”
Ronica fell silent. Both women were still, thinking. These things were so seldom spoken aloud. Just as the charts of difficult channels represented a major trading advantage, so did the hard-won knowledge shared by Bingtown and Rain Wild Traders. The secrets they shared were as great a basis for their wealth as the goods they bartered.
Ronica cleared her throat. “So he did a thing both brave and hard. He stopped trading up the river. It meant he had to work twice as hard and be gone three times as much to turn the same profit. Instead of the Rain Wilds, he sought out the odd little places in the inland channels, to the south of Jamaillia. He traded with the native folk there, for goods that were exotic and rare. But not magical. He swore that would make our fortune. And if he had lived, it probably would have. ”
“Did Papa think the Blood Plague was due to the magic?” Keffria asked carefully.
“Where did you hear such a thing?” Ronica demanded.
“I was very little. It was right after the boys died. Davad was here, I remember. And Papa was crying and I was hiding outside the door. You were all in this same room. I wanted to come in but I was afraid to. Because Papa never cried. And I heard Davad Restart curse the Rain Wild Traders, saying they had dug up the disease in their mining of the city. His wife and children were dead, too. And Davad said . . . ”
“I remember,” Ronica said suddenly. “I remember what Davad said. But what you were too small to understand was that he was in the throes of a terrible grief. A terrible grief. ” Ronica shook her head and her eyes were bleak, remembering. “A man says things at such times that he doesn't truly mean. Or even believe. Davad badly needed someone or something to blame for his loss. For a time he blamed the Rain Wild Traders. But he got past that a long time ago. ”
Keffria took a careful breath. “Is it true, that Davad's son-”
“What was that?” Her mother's sudden exclamation cut off Keffria's words. They both sat up and were still, listening. Ronica's eyes were so wide, the white showed all round them.
“It sounded like a gong,” Keffria whispered into the gathered silence. It was eerie to hear a Rain Wild gong when they had been discussing them. She thought that she heard the scuff of footsteps in the hallway. With a wild look at her mother, she leapt to her feet. When she reached the door and pulled it open, her mother was right behind her. But all she caught was a brief glimpse of Malta at the end of the hall.
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“Malta!” she called out sharply.
“Yes, mother?” The girl came back from around the corner. She was in her night-robe and carrying a cup and saucer.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” Keffria demanded.
For answer, Malta held up the cup. “I couldn't sleep. I made myself some chamomile tea. ”
“Did you hear an odd sound, a few moments ago?”
Malta shrugged. “Not really. Perhaps the cat knocked something down. ”
“Perhaps not,” Ronica muttered worriedly. She brushed past Keffria and headed towards the kitchen. Keffria followed her and Malta, cup in hand, trailed after them curiously.
The kitchen was dark save for the glow of the banked fires. There were the familiar, somehow safe smells of the room: the cook fire, the yeasty smell of the slow bread put out to rise for the morning's baking, the lingering aroma of the night's meat. Ronica had brought a candle from the den; she crossed the familiar room to the outside door and tugged it open. Winter cold flowed in, making mist ghosts in the room.
“Is there anyone there?” Keffria asked as the candle guttered in the breeze.
“Not anymore,” her mother replied grimly. She stepped out of the door onto the icy porch. She looked all around, and then stooped down to retrieve something. She came back into the kitchen and shut the door firmly.
“What is it?” Keffria and Malta asked together.
Ronica set the candle down on the table. Beside it she placed a small wooden box. She peered at it for a moment, then turned a narrowed gaze on Malta.
“It's addressed to Malta. ”
“It is?” Malta cried in delight. “What is it? Who is it from?” She surged towards the table, her face alight with anticipation. She had always loved surprises.
Her grandmother put a firm hand on top of the box as Malta reached for it. Her denial was plain. “What it is,” Ronica went on in an icy tone, “I believe, is a dream-box. It is a traditional Rain Wild courting gift. ”
Keffria felt her heart pause inside her. She couldn't get her breath, but Malta only tugged at the box under her grandmother's forbidding grip. “What's in it?” she demanded. “Give it to me. ”
“No. ” Ronica's voice was full of authority. “You will come back with us to your grandfather's study. You have some explaining to do, young woman. ”
Ronica scooped up the box and strode from the room.
“Mother, it's not fair, it's addressed to me! Make Grandma give it to me. Mother? Mother!”
Keffria realized she was leaning on the table. She straightened up slowly. “Malta. Didn't you hear what your grandmother just told you? It's a courting gift! How could this be?”
Malta shrugged elaborately. “I don't know! I don't even know who it's from or what's in it! How can I tell you something about it if Grandma won't even let me look at it?”
“Come to the study,” Keffria instructed her with a sigh. Malta raced off ahead of her. By the time Keffria entered the room, she was already arguing with her grandmother.
“Can't I at least look at it? It's for me, isn't it?”
“No. You can't. Malta, this is serious, far more serious than you seem to understand. This is a dream-box. And it's marked with the crest of the Khuprus family. They are perhaps the most prestigious family of the Rain Wild Traders. It was not a coincidence that they came to represent all the Rain Wild families at the last gathering. They are not a family to offend, or to take lightly. Knowing that, do you still want this box?” Ronica held it out to the child.
“Yes!” Malta replied indignantly and made a grab for it. Ronica snatched it back.
“Malta!” cried Keffria. “Don't be foolish. It's a courting gift. It must be sent back, but very politely. It must be made clear to them that you are too young to consider any man's suit. But in a very courteous way. ”
“No, I'm not,” Malta protested. “I'm too young to be promised to a man, yet, but why can't I consider his suit? Please, Grandma, at least let me see what's in it!”
“It's a dream-box,” Ronica said brusquely. “So it has a dream in it. You don't open it to see what's in it, you open it to have the dream. ”
“How can there be a dream in a box?” Keffria asked.
“Magic,” Ronica said brusquely. “Rain Wild magic. ”
The sudden intake of Malta's breath betrayed her excitement. “Can I have it tonight?”
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“No!” Ronica exploded. “Malta, you are not listening. You cannot have it at all. It has to be returned as it is, unopened, with an extremely courteous explanation that somehow there has been a misunderstanding. If you open this box and have this dream, you have consented to his suit. You have given him permission to court you. ”
“Well, what's so terrible about that? It's not like I'm promising to marry him!”
“If we allow you to open it, then we are accepting his suit as well. Which is the same thing as saying that we consider you a woman, and eligible to have suitors. Which we do not,” Ronica finished firmly.
Malta crossed her arms on her chest, then flung herself back into a chair. She stuck her chin out. “I shall be so glad when my father comes home,” she declared sulkily.
“Will you?” asked Ronica acidly.
Watching them both, Keffria felt invisible. And useless. To watch these two strong wills clash was like watching young bulls in the spring, when they pushed and snorted and challenged one another. There was a battle going on here, a battle for dominance, to determine which of these women was going to set the rules for the household while Kyle was away. No, she suddenly realized. Kyle was but a game-piece Malta threw in. Because Malta had already discovered she could manipulate her father. He was no match for her juvenile deviousness; as she grew, he would be even less of a problem to her. Plainly, she believed that only her grandmother stood in her path. Her own mother she had dismissed as insignificant.
Well, wasn't she? For years she had washed about with the ebb and flow of the household. Her father had sailed, her mother ran the on-shore holdings. She lived in her father's house still, as she always had. When Kyle had come home, they had spent his wages mostly on amusing themselves. Now her father was dead, and Kyle and her mother were battling over the helm, while Malta and her mother struggled over who would set the rules of the household. No matter how it was decided, Keffria would remain invisible and unheeded. Malta paid no attention to her floundering attempts at authority. No one did.
Keffria crossed the room abruptly. “Mother, give me the gift,” she demanded peremptorily. “As my daughter has caused this unfortunate misunderstanding, I believe it is up to me to rectify the matter. ”
For a moment, she thought her mother would deny her. Then, with a glance at Malta, she handed it over to her. Keffria took the small wooden box. It weighed light in her hands. She became aware that it gave off a sweet scent, spicier than sandalwood. Malta's eyes tracked the box into her possession the way a hungry dog follows a piece of raw meat. “I shall write to them first thing in the morning. I think I can ask the Kendry to ferry it upriver for me. ”
Her mother was nodding. “But take care to wrap the box well. It would not do for anyone else to know what is being returned. The refusal of a courting suit, for any reason, is a delicate thing. It would be best if this were kept a secret between the two parties. ” As Keffria nodded to this, her mother suddenly turned to Malta. “Do you fully understand that, Malta? This cannot be spoken of to others, not to your little friends, not to the servants. This misunderstanding must be ended swiftly and completely. ”
The sullen girl looked at her mutely.
“Malta!” barked Keffria, and her daughter jumped. “Do you understand? Answer. ”
“I understand,” she mumbled. She shot a defiant glance up at her mother, then wadded herself farther into her chair.
“Good. It's all settled then. ” Keffria had decided to end the battle while she was still winning. “And I'm ready to go to bed. ”
“Wait. ” Ronica's voice was serious. “There is one thing more you should know about a dream-box, Keffria. They are not common items. Each one is individually made, keyed to a certain person. ”
“How?” Keffria asked unwillingly.
“Well, of course I don't know. But one thing I do know is that to create one, the maker must begin with a personal item from the intended recipient. ” Her mother sighed as she leaned back in her chair.
“Oh, Malta, no!” Keffria cried in dismay.
“I did not,” Malta sat up defiantly. “I did not!” She raised her voice in a shout.
Keffria got up and went to the door. Once she was sure it was firmly closed, she came back to confront her daughter. “I want the truth,” she said quietly and simply. “What happened and when? How did you meet this young man? Why would he think you'd accept a courting gift from him?”
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Malta glanced from one to die other. “At the Trader gathering,” she admitted in disgust. “I went outside for some air. I said good evening to a coachman as I passed by. I think he was leaning on die Khuprus coach. That's all. ”
“What did he look like?” Ronica demanded.
“I don't know,” Malta said, her words slowed with sarcasm. “He was from the Rain Wilds. They wear veils and hoods, you know. ”
“Yes, I do know,” her grandmother retorted. “But their coachman does not. You foolish girl, do you think they drove a coach down die river? The Rain Wild families store their coaches here, and use them only when they come to Bingtown. So their hired drivers are from Bingtown. If you talked to a veiled man, you talked to a Rain Wild Trader. What did you say, and what did you give him?”
“Nothing,” Malta flared. “I said 'good evening' as I passed him. He said die same. That's all. ”
“Then how does he know your name? How does he make you a dream?” Ronica pressed.
“I don't know,” Malta retorted. “Maybe he guessed my family from my robe color, and asked someone. ” Suddenly, to Keffria's complete amazement, Malta burst into tears. “Why do you always treat me like this? You never say anything nice to me, it's always accusations and scolding. You think I'm some kind of a whore or a liar or something. Someone sends me a present, you won't even let me look at it, and you say it's all my fault. I don't know what you want from me anymore. You want me to be a little girl, but then you expect me to know everything and be responsible for everything. It's not fair!” She lowered her face into her hands and sobbed.