Syan was in some ways more licentious than home—the women showed far more skin and the men far more leg than did the courtiers in Southmarch—but in others it was more conservative, perhaps because of the strong local influence of the Trigonate faith. The famous temple of the Trigonarch himself sat on a stony hill in the heart of Tessis, its towers looming even higher than Broadhall Palace, and the church’s influence was everywhere. Everyone wore the Triskelion, and nearly every day seemed a holy day of some sort. And just as King Enander was flanked always on his left by Lady Ananka, he was companioned on his other side by the Trigonarch’s most powerful priest, Hierarch Phimon, of whom it was said that the only ones who could get a word into the Trigonarch’s ear more quickly were the three brother gods themselves.
“If you want to get something done around here, your Highness,” Ivgenia said one day in Briony’s chambers, “you really need to have the hierarch on your side. They say the Trigonarch will usually do as he asks. Maybe he would help you get your kingdom back!” Ivgenia, like everyone else in Broadhall Palace, knew at least a little of Briony’s situation: a princess chased out of her own country was not the kind of thing that happened every day, even in a city as large and important as Tessis.
Briony felt a moment’s chill—was she being manipulated? Was Ivgenia going to take what she said directly back to Ananka? “I’m certain Hierarch Phimon has better things to do,” she said carefully. “I will wait until King Enander decides what he wishes to do about Southmarch. I am certain he will make a wise choice.”
Ivgenia shrugged. “Just as well, Highness, since you’re not the type who interests the hierarch anyway. They say that the only three kinds of people Phimon cares about are young boys with pretty voices, old women with lots of money, and trigonarchs.”
“But, Ivvie, there’s only one trigonarch!” Briony protested, laughing.
“Yes, that does make the last one a small category,” said Ivgenia. “And you’re not a young boy, although I heard you tried to pass yourself off as one. So you’d better find a way to get your hands on some money, Grandmother.”
“Oh! You!” Briony threw a cushion at her. If Ivegnia was a traitor she was a very skillful one, and even having a false friend as entertaining as Ivegnia e’ Doursos was far better than living in isolation. Still, each night Briony Eddon slept in Tessian luxury far from her stolen country, it took her longer to fall asleep.
“I’ve heard several people mention Kallikans again today,” Briony asked. “What is a Kallikan?”
Several of the ladies-in-waiting made little noises of dismay, but not Ivgenia. “Do you want to see some? You’d find them quite interesting, I’m sure.”
They were all leaving the Flower Meadow, the biggest marketplace in Tessis, and Briony was quite overwhelmed. The sheer size of the market was boggling—there seemed to be more folk here today, filing past the rows of stalls and blankets, than lived in all of the March Kingdoms, and the fabulous variety of goods on offer made Briony feel not just poor but ignorant: she hadn’t heard of half the things for sale or half the places the things came from.
“Interesting… ?” she repeated slowly, turning to watch an oxcart piled high with gold-painted shrines. Greater Zosimia was only a few weeks away, a popular festival celebrating the end of winter. Back home it was mostly an excuse to drape vines and sprinkle dried flowers on the statues of the gods, but apparently the celebration here in Syan was much more elaborate. “I’m worried that if I see any more interesting things my head will swell up and pop like a bubble… but I suppose we could. Will our guards mind?”
Ivgenia looked at the four soldiers in blue tabards and rolled her eyes. “They’re here to spy on you, not tell us where to go,” she said. “They’ll follow where we lead them.”
Briony leaned closer to her friend. “Do you think that’s true?” she asked in a low voice.
“What? That they’ll follow, or that they’re here to spy on you?” Ivgenia made a face. “All of them may not be spies, your Highness, but I can assure you that at least one of them is going back to the king’s favorite and telling her where you went today. Might as well give them something to tell.”
Her skirts held up so they would not drag in the muddy road, the dark-haired girl led Briony, the ladies-in-waiting, and the soldiers away from the market, but instead of heading back toward the palace they crossed wide, bustling Lantern Broad near Devona Fountain Square and turned down what looked to Briony like an ordinary narrow street, although judging by the line of rooftops it was higher than the streets on either side. Only when they had pushed their way through the eddying crowd did Briony see that the high street was actually a bridge across the river, lined on both sides with shops and houses.
“Over there,” Ivgenia said. “On the far side of the Ester. They call it Underbridge.”
“Who calls it that?”
“You’ll see. Come on!” Ivgenia led Briony, the stoic soldiers, and the anxious girls into the flow of human traffic on the bridge. It was still cold, windy Dimene, less than two months since the beginning of the year, so where did all these people come from? Briony couldn’t help wondering what the place would be like in Hexamene when the sun was warm and fresh fruits, vegetables, and flowers filled the market.
Still, the wonder of this daunting place made her miss her own home—humble Market Square (although she had seldom thought of it as humble before) and even Market Row, which seemed now to be a mere alleyway compared to most of the main roads of Tessis, let alone when placed beside the Lantern Broad, which was wide as a tilting yard, a street with great stone walkways in its middle so people could find a place to stand that was safe from the heavy wagons crowding the thoroughfare. In places people had even crammed small houses onto these raised walkways! Briony could scarcely believe her eyes—a road big enough to have houses in the middle of it!
But it wasn’t home, of course. And more important, they didn’t need her here, or even particularly want her.
On the far side of the bridge Ivgenia made the soldiers stop. She promised she and Briony wouldn’t go out of sight and left the maids to entertain them—a task the girls preferred anyway, since they seemed to regard these Kallikans, whatever they were, as something faintly unsavory. Then Ivgenia led Briony down into a neighborhood of houses and shops so small that at first Briony thought it was something constructed for a royal child—an entire doll’s street instead of just a single dollhouse. The tops of the doors scarcely came to her shoulders.
As Briony stood staring up and down the miniature road, wishing she could get on a stepstool to look into the windows on the upper floors, a woman less than half her size walked out of a house a few doors away to toss out a pan of slops, trailed by a pair of tiny children. The children saw Briony and Ivgenia instantly, and stared at them with unabashed interest, but it was only after the woman had finished shaking out the pan that she discovered she was being watched. Eyes wide, she stared back at the noblewomen for long moments, motionless as a startled mouse, then grabbed her children and scuttled back through her doorway and closed it behind her.
“If we’d been men, or had the soldiers with us, somebody would have rung the bell there.” Ivgenia pointed to a temple tower, half-sized like everything else. “Then likely nobody would have come out at all. The whole street’s full of folk just like her. Dozens and dozens.”
“Funderlings?”
“Kallikans, silly! You wanted to see them.”