“Hmph,” she said. “I do not need to praise you, if you are going to praise yourself.”
He barked a humorless laugh. “Forgive me. I may have forgotten how to recognize recognition itself.”
“Do they not appreciate you, then, up on the Hill?”
“I am necessary to them. But I do not think they consider it often, any more than they consider water or sunlight or any of the other things they cannot manage without.”
“Do you mind?”
“It is how it should be,” he said. “If they thought too much about how they needed me, they might begin to resent me. And to consider: Is it only me they resent? Or all Ashkar? Malgasi is not the only example, you know. Not the only place we have been driven from, after thinking ourselves safe.” He shook his head. “This is too grim a discussion. I am disappointed today, yes, and angry, but I will survive. Castellane will survive. An alliance with Sarthe is not such a terrible thing.”
“So it is true,” she said. “They presented the Prince with a little girl, and now he must marry her?”
“They will not marry yet,” he said. “She will live in the Little Palace, and be tutored there, and likely encounter the Prince only on occasion. After eight years or so, they will marry. It is strange, but most royal marriages are strange. It is countries that marry, after all, not people.”
“But you’re disappointed,” she said. She knew she was reaching for the answer to a question she had not asked, and could not: How is the Prince? He had resigned himself to one thing, and now must face quite another.
“In myself,” he said. “I should have seen the signs of this. What Conor did, he did out of desperation. He was ashamed to go to the Treasury for what he needed, so he hatched this half-cocked plan with Sarthe—” He shook his head. “But he has had no proper guidance. Jolivet teaches him to fight, and I try to teach him to think, but how do you learn to be a king? From the king before you. And if that cannot happen . . .” He looked at her. She could not see his eyes clearly, only the bluish reflection of the moon. “Have you given any thought to my suggestion?”
“About finding the Sault too small?” Lin said. She put her elbows on the table; Chana Dorin would have been annoyed. “If that was a suggestion, you will have to be clearer about what you mean.”
“Don’t test me, Lin. The Ambassador from Sarthe threw a plate at me today, and I am an old man.”
She smiled in the dark. “Very well. You are asking if I would like to be Counselor after you. And . . .” And yes I would, but to be the Counselor to the King that this Prince will become, to be with him all day every day, is an idea that should repulse me. If it does not repulse me, is that not a reason not to do it?
“I have worked so hard to become a physician,” she said. “I do not think I could give it up to be Counselor to House Aurelian, and I do not know how I could do both.”
“I think you could,” he said. “When I said you were the best physician in the Sault, it is not only because you had the best scores on the tests.”
Lin had not been aware he knew of her scores. Perhaps Chana had told him?
“It is because you are always challenging yourself,” he said. “You have pushed past so many barriers set up to stop you, and I can tell you from my own experience, once you conquer one challenge, you will want another. You will hunger for it.”
And Lin realized he was right, if not entirely in the way he thought. Magic. That was what she hungered for. To bring light back to Petrov’s stone, to feel that pulse again, that surge of power through her blood. If I were the Counselor to Marivent, what could I not reach out and find? Qasmuna’s book, surely. Others like it. Nothing is forbidden to those with enough power . . .
“House Roverge is holding a welcoming party tomorrow night,” said Mayesh. “It was meant to be a welcome for Princess Aimada. They have planned it all this past fortnight, and do not intend to cancel now; it will simply be for Princess Luisa instead. Just as the Palace is still planning their Ascension Day festivities, only they will call it a celebration of the union between Sarthe and Castellane instead. I do not think they are even changing the decorations.”
“House Roverge,” Lin said slowly. “Theirs is the dye Charter?” Mayesh nodded. “I have heard rumors of them,” she added, recalling what she had overheard in the Black Mansion. “That they recently used their influence to drive a family of ink merchants from Castellane. It seems they are bothered by even a hint of competition. But surely that is not really in the spirit of the Charters?”
Mayesh snorted. “Profit is in the spirit of the Charters,” he said. “But yes, the Roverges are especially ruthless in their pursuit of it. Even the other nobles look upon them with some mistrust. As for their treatment of the Cabrols, it was abhorrent, and if I were them, I might worry about revenge.”
Lin felt as if she were holding her breath. If she were to tell Mayesh what she knew—but she could not; her talk with the Ragpicker King had made that clear. She had indicated to him that she would not say anything about Cabrol’s plan, and she knew if she did, he would see it as a betrayal. Besides, the thought of trying to explain to Mayesh how she knew what she did made her feel ill.
In the end, this was not Ashkari business; the Roverges were malbushim, and it seemed they had done dreadful things. Some part of her wished to lay the moral puzzle of it at Mayesh’s feet and have him sort it out. But it would not be fair to him. The less he knew about the whole business, the better.
“Are you worried about revenge, zai?”
He shook his head. “That is for the Roverges to concern themselves with. I am concerned with the affairs of House Aurelian, and with the place of the Ashkar in Castellane. That is as far as my remit extends.”
Lin felt a faint sting of relief. Not only did her grandfather seem uninterested in the idea of revenge against the Roverges, he seemed truly to not want to know more. It was part of their being Ashkar, she thought: There was always that layer of something like glass between them and the doings of the outside world.
“If they are so unpleasant,” she said, as lightly as she could, “must we then attend their party?”
Mayesh chuckled. “Parties are rarely about who throws them,” he said. “It will be a small affair, just the Charter Families and the guest of honor. It will be a good opportunity for you to observe them all. To imagine what it might be like to work among them. Accompany me there, and you can give me your answer afterward.”
A party on the Hill. As a child, Lin had taught herself not to want to follow Mayesh to the Hill, to see what he did, to be a part of his life and his duties. But here he was, offering what she had told herself she would never ask for—and not just offering, asking.
“But,” she said, and she knew she was about to say yes, “I have nothing to wear to a party on the Hill.”
For the first time that evening, her grandfather smiled. “Consult with Mariam,” he said. “I think you’ll find that you do.”
After the Sundering and the destruction of Aram, Judah Makabi was named the Exilarch, the leader of the exiled Ashkar, who had no longer any home. He led the Ashkar to the west, where they wandered in the wilderness for generations, during which time Makabi remained young, and did not die, for the blessing of their Queen was upon him.