He remembered the conversation they'd had shortly after Rusk attacked him in the Arch Wood. Even over the buzz of the crowd, there was no mistaking the irritation in her voice.
Before he could defend himself, she went on. "The last time we talked, you scolded me for acting like a servant instead of your friend."
"No," said Tal, remembering his shame and anger after their last meeting. "The last time we talked, Thamalon dragged me off for a lecture on fraternizing with the help."
"What?"
"Why do you find that so surprising? Of course he'd want to keep you to himself." Thamalon had never come out and said so, but there was no doubt he was claiming Larajin as his property when he scolded Tal for being too familiar with her.
"So he told you…?"
"He said enough that I could figure out the rest. I'm not as thick as everyone thinks," Tal said.
"And you're upset about it."
"Of course I'm upset! Thamalon acts like some paragon of honor and integrity, but he's the biggest hypocrite in Selgaunt. I can't believe he keeps you at Stormweather, especially after he and Mother started getting along again last winter."
Larajin's chin sank. "I've often felt terrible about that," she said.
"Then why don't you leave?" he said, more harshly than he expected. He realized for the first time that he'd been as angry with Larajin as he had been with Thamalon. "Haven't you caused enough trouble? After Mother gave up her whole life for the rest of us, how can you stay in her sight? She deserves better."
Tears welled in Larajin's eyes. She tried to blink them away, but they rolled down her cheeks. "I know," she said. "I know. Often I've wanted to tell her myself, but I could never work up the courage."
"Oh, I think she knows."
"Do you really?"
"How could she not see it? I bet she's kept quiet only to save the family reputation."
"I'm sorry!" said Larajin, defiantly. "You should have said something sooner if you felt so strongly about it. I was going to tell you that last time we spoke."
"You were going to tell me? Did you think I'd be happy to hear it?"
"You always treated me like a sister anyway," she said.
"Like a sister? How could I think of you that way when you're sleeping with my own father?"
"What?"
"That makes it even worse," he said. "It's bad enough that you're his mistress without acting like you're part of the family."
Larajin slapped his face. He barely felt the blow, but it shocked him nonetheless. Larajin's eyes hardened. It was the first time Tal had seen her truly angry with him. The sight made his stomach shrink.
"How could you think that?" She dropped her packages and punched him in the arm. The crowd began to move away from them, forming a small clearing around their argument.
"Ow! Yes, well-"
"You thought I was his mistress?" She kicked him on the shin.
"Ow! No! I mean, obviously, you're not." He scooped up some of the fallen packages and smiled awkwardly at the people who had begun to stare.
"That's revolting!"
"I know. I thought so, too. Ow! Quit it!" he said, trying to use the packages as a shield.
Larajin held up both fists as if to redouble her pummel-ing, but then she saw the confusion on Tal's face.
"You assumed… he never told you!" Larajin's fury transformed to astonishment. "After all that has happened this year, he never told you the truth?"
"What is the truth?" Tal asked, keeping an eye on her fists.
Larajin watched Tal's face carefully, alert for any trace of subterfuge. Satisfied that he wasn't acting a part for her, she shook her head and smiled as she had years before, when they were children.
"I should probably leave it to Lord Uskevren to explain," she said tentatively.
"Obviously, he doesn't tell me the truth," protested Tal. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm not Lord Uskevren's mistress," said Larajin. "I'm his daughter."
Tal felt dizzy. "His what?"
"Your half sister."
Since their quarrel subsided, the jostling crowd pressed in on them again. Tal felt seasick in the tide of bobbing heads. He wanted to sit down. He wanted a drink of ale. More than either of those, he wanted to hear that he'd just misunderstood what he thought he'd heard. No matter how fantastic it seemed, it did explain some things.
Larajin seemed to read his mind. "That's why he was so upset when he thought you and I were…"
"When he thought you and / were doing what I thought you and he were doing."
"Yes."
Tal stood still for a few moments looking over the market crowd toward the heart of the city. In the distance, the morning sun set the spires and towers of central Selgaunt to gleaming. Dozens of family crests waved in the sea breeze, their bright colors creating the illusion of a blooming garden.
"Larajin, I don't know how to begin apologizing."
"Try anyway," she said. Indignation lingered in her tone.
"I am unutterably sorry," he began. "The fault is entirely mine." He paused, torn between inventing a more formal apology and wondering at the ramifications of what he had just learned.
"Say more things like that."
"I couldn't have been more wrong," he added. "None of this confusion would have happened if I weren't born an idiot."
"That part isn't your fault," said Larajin. "It's hereditary." She covered her mouth like a child who'd just said a naughty word in range of her parents. Then she laughed.
"At least among the Uskevren men," agreed Tal.
"Right."
Tal salvaged the dropped parcels, and they stood a while in silence as the crowd jostled them.
"Want to help me carry these back to Stormweather?"
"I… I can't at the moment. There are some things I have to do first."
"Like finding a set of clothes that fit?" Larajin plucked at the fabric of his stolen shirt.
"Among other things," said Tal. "Listen, there are some things happening lately… I have to deal with them. It means I won't be around Stormweather for a little while longer, but I'll come back soon. And I promise not to avoid you."
"Yes, master Talbot," she said. "Whatever you say, master Talbot."
"Oh, stop it. Even before we knew you're my sister-"
"Not so loud!" warned Larajin. "I haven't told anyone else."
"Why not? He's got to recognize you, doesn't he?"
"Maybe he is thinking of Lady Shamur."
"Oh," said Tal.
Thamalon might not be keeping a mistress these days, but Larajin was born after Tamlin. That much was obvious. Now that his parents were getting along so much better these days, Tal saw why Thamalon might choose not to disturb the past.
"But don't you deserve to be recognized as an Uskevren?"
"I thought about that," said Larajin. "Perhaps one day that's what I will want. For now, there are too many other changes happening in my life. I'm not ready to begin a new one."
"I know what you mean," said Tal. "Everything was a lot simpler when we were young."
"We're still young, you great goof. We're just not children anymore."
"Maybe that's why it used to be a lot easier."
Chapter 19
Tarsakh, 1372 DR
At first, Darrow feared he might have the wrong street. In the afternoon light, there was no question of identifying a known house, but he knew Talbot Uskevren's tallhouse only by description. Alaspar Lane seemed right, but he wasn't sure which one he wanted until he saw the guards.
He spotted the family guards first. They made no effort to bide. Two of them stood to either side of the front door of the three-story building, while two more guarded either end of the lane. Their bright blue cloaks and yellow horse-at-anchor emblems marked them clearly as Uskevren house guards. Their conspicuous locations confirmed Barrow's suspicion that they were posted more to warn Talbot off than to apprehend him.