Convergence (7 page)

"It got me to the point of thinking," I countered, a response that startled her. "I found myself wondering
why
the law was on Father's side even without his paying a bribe, so I looked into it. What the law really says is that I'm required to obey Father
as long as I live under his roof.
And since that doesn't happen to be the case any longer, we now understand why Father intends to claim this house. I'm sure it
would
bring him a tidy sum in gold, but even more to the point it would bring me back under his roof. Well, the two of you can forget about that, because it isn't going to happen."

"And how do you intend to
keep
it from happening?" she asked, back to the usual calm she showed the world. "Your father and I had children for a purpose, not to give in to their every wish and whim. You'll do exactly as you're told, just as your sisters have, or you'll find out what true suffering is. This wasn't the most profitable match your father could have found for you, but concern kept him from accepting any of the others. If you give him even one more bit of trouble, the next time that concern will be absent."

"Concern," I echoed, almost beyond speech—and starting to feel chilled. "You two don't know the meaning of the word.
Which is why I've already arranged to put in my own claim to this house.
If Father tries to do the same he'll have to plead his case in court, where I'll get to have
my
say. The law is clear there too, so tell him to save his bribes. The judges won't be able to find against me no matter
how
much he pays them."

"What an innocent you are," she said with the vilest amusement I'd ever seen,
then
she rose to her feet. "The law first supports the good friends of the court, one of whom is your father. This house will be taken away from you, and then you will be destitute. When your father offers to take you back into his care, the law will insist that you go. There are enough paupers on the indigent rolls that keeping someone off them is considered a public service. My advice to you is to withdraw your claim to this house as quickly as possible, and then apologize to your father and me. If you refuse, don't complain about what happens."

And with that she sailed out of the room, heading for the front door. In two years' time this was only her second visit, the first being when she and Father came as guests to my first anniversary party. Gimmis had still been fairly active then, so they hadn't enjoyed the party or stayed very long. Now that my husband was dead, their mood had improved considerably.

"She's gone," Warla hurried in to say, obviously having waited until the door closed behind our "guest." "What are you going to do, Dama?"

I walked over to the chair my mother had been in, smoothed my skirt, and then sat. The chair had belonged to Gimmis, and was the only really comfortable one in the whole sitting room. What a surprise that Mother had made straight for it as soon as she entered the room.

"I refuse to simply roll over and play dead," I muttered, rubbing at my arms to chase away the cold trying to cover me. "I'd rather
be
dead than give in to them, so what have I got to lose? I'm going ahead with the plans just as I told her I would."

"But how can you?" Warla protested, wide-eyed and all but wringing her hands. "You heard what the Dama your mother said, you won't win. Why make things worse by fighting if you know you can't win?"

"But I
don't
know that," I countered, forcibly pulling myself together. "What my mother said and what the truth is don't necessarily have to be the same thing. A successful merchant always
acts
as if he's telling the truth, and most customers will take his word for it without finding out for sure. That's what my father says, and my mother has been hearing it for much longer than I have."

Hearing it and following it, I added to myself. Father had always chuckled and called Mother his best student, but I'd never really understood the comment until a few minutes ago.

"What if she is telling the truth?" Warla ventured, still looking frightened and unsure. "You could end up being sent back to them, and then you'd
have
to obey."

"Now, that's something that isn't true at all," I said, reaching for the cup of tea my mother hadn't even glanced at when Warla served it to her. "Two years ago they talked me into believing I had no choice, but I
could
have refused to obey. It would have meant a lot of trouble and pain, but I got those anyway. I saved myself nothing by obeying, so I won't make the mistake a second time.
Even if it comes to that."

"You're still hoping you'll pass the tests for High practitioner," Warla said after a moment, a fairly safe guess on her part. "The Dama your mother never said anything about that, even when you asked her."

"That's because she knows how these things work," I answered sourly after sipping at the tea. "Now that someone has noticed that I qualify for Middle strength, I
have
to test for High. But they send people here from all over the Empire to do the same thing, and there are only so many positions as
High
awarded. You have to be absolutely
tops,
and even then you might have to wait until a position is vacated. But if you
are
waiting, there are certain protections you enjoy until you move into the position—as long as no one comes along to knock you out of line."

"It all sounds so . . . conditional and uncertain," Warla fretted as she came over to
freshen
the tea in my cup. "If so few positions as High are available, why do they keep sending people here from all over? Wouldn't it be better to just leave them where they are?"

"And risk leaving some supposed Middle out there who's actually stronger than their seated Highs?" I shook my head with a very unamused smile. "They're not
that
stupid, not when there are people around who don't like the way this Empire is run. One of those unhappy people could conceivably put together a Blending that would cause serious trouble before it was stopped, so why take the chance?"

"That means they're doing it for themselves rather than for the people involved," Warla observed with a frown. "That doesn't sound very nice, but—
What
happens to the people who
don't
qualify for High? There must be an awful lot of them."

"That's something I
don't
know," I admitted, having already worried at the question myself. "I tried to find out, but people talk around the details or simply refuse to answer. The worst of the applicants are allowed to go home, I think, but the rest? There's a good chance I may find out firsthand."

"And you s
till
intend to try?" Warla exclaimed, back to being really upset. "I don't understand you, Dama. Wouldn't it be so much easier just to apologize to your parents and do as they tell you? Maybe this time your father will find you a husband you really like."

"Of course he will," I agreed dryly.
"Unless there's another old sadist who wants me as much as my father wants the man's business interests.
A lot of them won't even care that I'm no longer a virgin, just as long as they can do anything they please to me. Warla, go and find out if dinner will be served on time tonight."

Warla parted her lips, probably to remind me that dinner was always served on time,
then
she got it. I wanted no more conversation from her, and hadn't simply ordered her to leave because I don't believe in treating innocent people like that. She smiled tremulously, curtsied her agreement,
then
left without another word.

Once she was gone I took a deep breath, needing it to free myself from the tendrils of helplessness Warla always spun all around
herself—
and around those near her. If I hadn't known better I would have thought it was a talent, but none of the aspects covered such complete readiness to surrender to anything at any and all times. Warla's born aspect was Water, which helped to make her a good companion and lady's maid. The baths she drew were always the perfect temperature, a pot of tea never grew too cold to drink, and ice was always available when it was wanted.

But there were servants with other aspects able to do the same things, and Warla had been engaged originally by my husband rather than by me. He must have wanted her to teach
me
the right attitudes, and her plainness had kept him out of her bed and saved her from what
I'd
gone through-After my husband died everyone in the house had expected me to send her away, but that was the last thing I'd do. I needed her horrible example constantly in front of my eyes, to show me what
I
could become if I ever let them have their way again.

Them.
I'd learned from acquaintances that most people don't think about their parents like that, lumped together without personality and always on the opposite and enemy side of the line. No one quite understood why I had trouble controlling my temper whenever it became necessary to discuss
them,
but I found it equally impossible to understand other viewpoints. Your mother came to tend your house and children when you were sick in bed? Why? What did she expect to get out of something like that? She didn't expect to get anything? She did it because she loves you? Sure, right, tell me another one.

I got out of the chair and began to pace, more disturbed than I'd admitted to Warla. I don't need a mirror to tell me what desirable merchandise I am, with reddish-blond hair and violet eyes, an incredibly beautiful face and a lush figure. Every man I meet seems to want me from the first glance, especially the old, rich ones with no conscience or sense of right and wrong. At almost twenty I was getting on in years, but even aging didn't seem able to kill the attraction. My parents had no intentions of letting me out of their clutches until I became really useless to them, so it was either give in at once and completely, or get ready for the dirtiest fight of my life.

So I had to think about the fight, since giving in was completely out of the question. I did have a couple of weapons I'd never had the nerve to use, but two years in the hands of a brute either kills your nerve completely or toughens it to the point of iron. If Gimmis hadn't become incapacitated when he did, I wouldn't have just stood there letting him die in his own good time. I'd been no more than a step away from doing it myself and at once when he fell to that final illness, and the memory of my state of mind still haunted my dreams.
If anyone ever pressed me that hard again. . . .

The house abruptly became stifling, and I just had to get out for some air. The street would be almost empty at that time of the afternoon, but the possibility of meeting even one person I knew was more of a chance than I cared to take. I couldn't have handled polite conversation if my life had depended on it, so I left the sitting room and hurried all the way to the back of the house and out to the gardens. Our gardens weren't as large as some, but they had a ten foot stone wall surrounding them.

It was possible to make myself slow down once I'd gone a short distance along the flagstoned path, but not because I'd managed to calm myself. On the inside my emotions still raged around, which meant it was a good thing Gimmis was dead. The agitation kept me from paying attention to the thorns on the bushes, and the catches and pulls they caused in my skirts would have had my husband reaching for his belt. A girl too fuzzy-headed to care properly for her clothing needed to be taught better, he'd always said.

And that brought on all the other memories, mostly of the times I'd run into the garden to hide. That had been right at the beginning, when I'd still thought it would be possible to avoid whatever my husband wanted to do to me. Once I learned the futility of that hope I stopped running, and simply crept out to be alone once he was through doing whatever he'd decided to. The time came when I also got past the creeping stage, and then I used the garden to brood in. It was also where I first decided to kill
Gimmis. . . .

When my breath started to come in harder and harder gasps, I finally admitted it had been a mistake to come out here. Even having to engage in polite conversation with a neighbor wouldn't have been as bad as
that,
so I turned around to go back. I couldn't have taken more than two steps when I felt the sudden stirring of magic . . .
my
kind of magic . . . and then a really large fireball appeared. It hovered between me and the house, and then it stopped hovering and began to move toward me.