Of course, she realized. She walked to the door of that first room, the one that had belonged to his brother. She raised her hand to knock and then lowered it. Gently, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
Rudolfo sat on the small bed. He was wearing nondescript clothing, his curly hair framing his face. He looked younger without the green turban of his office, despite the salt and pepper of his beard. He was holding the small sword in his hands, and he looked up at her.
I will not ask him where he’s been. “I’m glad you’re home.”
His eyes met hers for a split second and then darted away. They had been angry eyes, she saw, and he had not wanted her to see them. “I am glad to be home.”
I will not ask him where he’s been.
But he started talking as if she had asked him. “I’ve been to the Emerald Coasts to speak with your father,” Rudolfo said. “I’ve had a lot of time on the way back to think about what I would say to you, the questions I would ask.”
More than the words, the very tone of his voice struck her like a fist. It was flat and distant, almost devoid of emotion. She’d heard it before, but only during the worst of his grieving over Gregoric. And those times, it was not so calculated.
He knows now. Some part of her had hoped she was wrong about her father. Some part of her that surprised her, that had never existed before meeting this man.
Before, she would have left no room for flights of fancy. But now she realized how desperately she’d hoped she’d been wrong about what her father had done to Rudolfo to make him the man he was.
She didn’t know what else to say. “I’m sorry.”
“How long have you known?”
She stepped into the room and pushed the door closed. “I’ve pieced it together since I’ve come here.”
Rudolfo nodded and stroked his beard, his eyes again meeting hers. “And would you have ever told me?”
She shook her head. “I would not.”
“Did you know that your father is leaving the Named Lands?”
“I wondered when I saw his library arrive,” she said. “I am no longer in communication with my father.”
Rudolfo looked away again. “They are loading the iron armada with livestock and goods. There is another library-a secret library-and your father has burned all of its books.” He looked back to her and his eyes narrowed. “You should know that I have vowed to kill him if I see him again.”
Jin Li Tam blinked and nodded. I might help him, she realized. She felt anger and sorrow on Rudolfo’s behalf, and anger and sorrow of her own. She did not see how her father wasn’t involved in the Desolation of Windwir. He had used Sethbert in the same way that the mad Overseer had used Isaak-dancing him on a string. She believed it with all her being.
The flatness in her own voice surprised her when she spoke. “I think he was behind Sethbert’s genocide.”
Rudolfo looked up, his eyes slightly wider. “You believe your fathe‹€eve yourr brought down Windwir?”
She nodded slowly. “I do.”
The Gypsy King stared at the child’s sword in his hands, then sheathed it and hung the belt back over the peg on the wall. Finally, he looked up at her. “I do not think he did. But he has done enough.”
Jin Li Tam swallowed. “What does this mean?”
Rudolfo stood. “Nothing. The Androfrancines will hold their council. We will plan our nuptials. We will rebuild what we can and we will safeguard it.” He touched the small turban, tracing his finger over it. “I have another question,” he said.
“I will answer it if I can.” She shifted, her feet suddenly eager to move.
His eyes were hard and his jaw clenched. “Your father claims you denounced him. He says it is because you have love for me in your heart. Is this true?”
The directness of his question tangled her tongue. She felt small and naked suddenly. Finally, she found words that she had never imagined saying. “It is true,” she said in a quiet voice. “I do love you.” His silence told her that he could not say the same, but she laid that aside. “What my father did to you is wrong,” she continued. “I see this very clearly. But the man you became-he is formidable and strong. He is able to ruthlessly pursue what is right and appropriate.”
He nodded. “What you say is true. But it is a hard truth.” He picked up the turban and held it to his nose, inhaling. “You know about my brother, then?”
“I do.”
He opened his mouth to ask a question, and she knew what it would be. Was my brother’s death a part of this, too? But then she saw him change his mind. “This was his room,” Rudolfo said. “Tomorrow, I will have it emptied and have his belongings disposed of. I’ve held on to it for too long.”
Tell him. But part of her thought she should wait for a less somber time. Part of her was unsure of how he would react. But tonight was a time for truth. She cleared her voice. “Actually, Lord Rudolfo, I have another idea for this room.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”
She leaned closer to him. “You were wrong about your soldiers.”
He looked at her blankly. “My soldiers?”
Jin Li Tam offered a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been to the River Woman,” she said. She watched as the realization dawned on his face. “It is a boy. I would like to name him Jakob if you will permit it.”
Rudolfo opened his mouth and then closed it again. His brow furrowed. “You’re certain?”
“I am certain. You are to be a father. We will raise a strong heir to guard the light you rekindle here.”
“This,” Rudolfo said slowly, “is unexpected and fortuitous news.” He looked at her with something like wonder on his face. Gradually, it faded.
He knows it was my father’s design.
She wanted to ask him if he thought that he could love her beyond this terrible knowledge. Certainly, he’d felt something then-she’d seen it on his face, heard it in his voice. But it wasn’t love. It was need masquerading, based on the careful manipulations of House Li Tam. She wanted to ask, but she would not.
Instead, she would wait and see what honest thing could be built between them without deception. Jin Li Tam realized she knew very little about love.
But this much she knew-those who truly love should not require reciprocity.
Inclining her head toward her betrothed to show her respect, she slipped out of their future nursery and returned to her solitary bed.
Rudolfo
Rudolfo, Jin Li Tam and Petronus dined together the next night. Rudolfo had arranged it before falling into his bed and sleeping away most of a day. He’d also insisted that Isaak attend, though the metal man did not eat. They started late. Overhead the sky moved from purple to gray, and the moon started its slow, upward crawl.
At Jin’s suggestion, the cooks presented grilled venison and forest mushrooms in a garlic sauce, folded into a bed of rice and served with flat, fried bread and steamed vegetables. They drank crisp, cool lemon-beer and ate creamed berries for dessert.
Isaak sat politely at the table from beginning to end, speaking when spoken to but otherwise just listening. Rudolfo made a point of engaging him in the conversation where appropriate.
Rudolfo looked to him now. “How is the restoration going?”
Z€…
“It’s going well, Lord. Construction is so far ahead of schedule that we’ll have to start working at night to keep up with them.”
Spring was turning to summer now, and the fourteen mechoservitors worked beneath a large silk tent at the base of the hill. They had tables stacked with parchment and quills and bottles of ink, and they reproduced from memory what they could. The completed stacks were bundled, tied with twine and hauled by wheelbarrow to the bindery across the river. Originally, they thought it would take three years to restore what remained of the world’s largest receptacle of knowledge.