Around them the sekasha acknowledged each other’s presence and waged their still and silent dominance battle. Not that it was much of a contest — Jewel had only been able to recruit a vanity hand of recent doubles. Against his First Hand, they were just babies.
“Wolf Who Rules Wind.” Jewel Tears smiled warmly at him, and bowed lower than necessary, almost spilling her breasts out of her bodice.
“Jewel Tears on Stone.” He bowed to her, wondering what her flagrant display meant. Was this strictly a personal invitation, however improper, or was the Stone Clan making use of her?
She stepped forward, rising up on her toes as if she meant to kiss him. He stopped her with a look. The spell spheres orbited them as she stood frozen in place.
“Wolf,” she whimpered.
“You are not my sekasha, nor are you my domi.”
“I should be!” She jerked her chin up and glared at him. “You asked me! I told you that I needed time to consider it. I finally make my decision, pack my household to join you here in the Westernlands, and I get your letter saying that you were taking a human — a human — as your domi.”
“I gave you a hundred years. When I was at court last, thirty years ago, we did not even speak to one another.”
“I–I was busy, as were you. And a letter? You could not come and tell me yourself?”
“There was no time.” He wondered what she hoped to gain with this tactic. He would not break his vow to Tinker, no matter how guilty Jewel tried to make him feel. Because Jewel never responded, she had no legal recourse.
She reached out to neaten his sleeve. “We courted for years — that slow exquisite dance of passion. The boat rides on Mist Lake with the whiting of swans. The picnics in the autumn woods. The winter masquerades. We took the time that is proper, to learn each other, to know that we were right for each other. What do you know of this — this — female? How can you know anything?”
He knew even if he tried to explain how a lifetime of understanding could be distilled out of twenty-four hours, she would not believe him. The elves never did — with the exception of Little Horse. “I knew enough. This is not court, where you have eternity to decide, because nothing changes. I was willing to risk whatever may come because if I did not put out my hand, and take her then, she would have been lost to me forever.”
“What of your commitment to me?”
Wolf controlled a flash of anger. “I waited. You did not answer. I moved on.”
“I needed time to think!” she cried and then looked annoyed that she had raised her voice. “I thought you knew me well enough to understand my position. I do not have your resources as the son of the clan leader — a favored cousin to the Queen. You would have been forgiven for taking a domi outside your clan. Both Wind and Fire want you merely because of the other clan’s interest; Wind would never turn you out for the Fire to take in. I do not have your luxury. I had to consider long and hard my responsibilities to my household before committing to you. I couldn’t risk not being able to support them if neither Wind nor Stone sponsored me.”
“If you had come to me, told me your concerns, I could have done something to guarantee that you would always have Wind Clan sponsorship.” Even as he said it, though, he knew that it was better that she hadn’t. He had made a mistake in asking her to be his domi. When he brought her to the Westernlands, dismay had spread across her face when she realized they would spend the rest of their lives in the wilderness, far from court. It had opened his eyes; he had fooled himself in how well they suited one another. He’d been willing to honor that commitment a hundred years ago, even after that realization. Even as recently as thirty years ago, he might have still taken her as his domi. In the last two decades, though, he had considered himself released of his pledge.
Jewel tried to make it all seem his fault. “I was supposed to trust you to take care of me when you couldn’t be bothered to explain anything to me? You would go off and leave me with no idea what you had planned, what you were doing, when you were going to come back.”
“I trusted you to do what you needed to do. I thought you trusted me.”
A look flashed across her face before being hidden away, but he knew her too well not to recognize it and could guess her thoughts. One thing you learn well at court was to trust no one. Not only did she not trust him, she thought him weak for expecting it.
But this left one question. “What made you finally decide?” he asked.
Her nostrils flared and she glanced away from him. “Things have not gone well for me. Some of my ventures failed — I had miscalculated the risks involved on one and in trying to cover my losses, things — cascaded. I was forced to give up my holdings.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “My household was losing faith in me.”
So coming to him was not an act of love but of desperation. It would also explain what she was doing here now — without holdings, she would lose her household and then her clan sponsorship. Jewel Tears was too proud and ambitious to live under someone else’s rule. If she was that destitute, though, she wouldn’t have the funds to set up a holding at Pittsburgh; it could only mean that the Stone Clan chose her and advanced her stake money.
Did the Stone Clan think that if something happened to Tinker, he would turn to Jewel Tears? How far were they willing to go to put their theory to test? He knew Jewel well enough to know that she would let nothing stand in her way of her ambitions. That had been one of the things he loved about her.
Tinker wished the machine room didn’t feel so much like a trap. Whoever designed the room had never considered that there would be anything as dangerous as the black willow between the back room and the front door. Being around the black willow made everyone nervous. There were no signs, however, of it reviving despite a full day of summer heat. Oilcan rotated the steel drums of metal filings, taking the ones saturated with magic to some place to drain and replaced them with fresh drums. Tinker could see no overflow of magic. Still, the sekasha all kept their shields activated just to use up local ambient magic.
She had the old spell jack hammered out of place. She was now carefully prepping the site to lay down the new spell and cement it into place.
Stormsong settled beside her, her sheathed ejae across her knees, her shields a blue aura around her. “Do you mind if we talk?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
Stormsong gave a slight laugh, and then continued with great seriousness. “It’s not my place to advise you. It should be Pony, as your only beholden, or Wraith Arrow, who is Windwolf’s First, but—” Stormsong sighed and shook her head. “Wraith Arrow won’t cross that line and Pony — that boy has a serious case of hero worship for you.”
“Pony?”
“You can do no wrong in his eyes. You know all, see all, understand all — which leaves you up the shit creek because you really don’t and he won’t tell you squat, because he thinks you already know.”
“So you’re going to tell me?”
“You rather walk around with your head up your ass and not know it?”
Tinker groaned. “What am I’m doing wrong now?”
“You need to choose four more sekasha, at minimum.”