“Your sister is a little old to begin such an apprenticeship, I believe, but then seventeen is quite old to begin as a deisa at a House. Mage Ankennes has mentioned, once or twice recently, his difficulty in finding a suitable young person. Perhaps he will make an exception as I have done. And,” she added delicately, “I believe you will find your young sister will be safe in his house. His inclinations do not lie in that direction.”
Enelle looked quickly at Nemienne and nodded, looking at least moderately reassured. Nemienne did not say anything. She was thinking of mages, and the Lane of Shadows, and magic rolling off the flanks of the mountains like mist.
“Well,” said Enelle, rather blankly after she and Nemienne had left Cloisonné House. She gathered the reins of the carriage into her hands, but her hands were shaking so that the horses tossed their heads and sidled away sideways.
Nemienne took the reins away from her sister and started the horses moving toward the nearest bridge that crossed the Niarre toward the Lane of Shadows. She herself now felt a tremendous sense of relief. She had liked Cloisonné House. Or not liked, but admired. She’d wanted to stay with Karah rather than have either of them thrown out into the world completely alone. And yet… and yet… “Karah will do well there,” Nemienne ventured, giving Enelle a sideways glance to see whether her sister was of any mind to hear an optimistic prediction. “That Narienneh is clever, don’t you think? She’ll want Karah to be happy.”
Enelle gave a stricken little nod. “I hope so. I can’t believe…” She fell silent.
How big a hole Karah left in their lives, and how immediately. And poor Enelle would have to leave Nemienne also and drive home all by herself. They should have let Ananda come. But none of them had thought ahead to Enelle’s painful, solitary drive. “None of this is your fault,” Nemienne told Enelle, as they had all been at pains to tell her over the past days.
“No,” Enelle whispered. “Do you think… do you think she will be happy?”
“Yes,” said Nemienne. And when her sister gave her a shocked look, added, “Why not? Everyone will love her. She’ll be famous and wealthy. Girls all over Lonne will fix their hair the way she does and embroider their robes to echo hers. A hundred men will admire her and give her gifts. I’m sure dozens of them will want to be her keisonne.” She gave Enelle a sideways look. “I know you were never interested in glamour, but you must know how many girls would like to be keiso, except they haven’t the accomplishments or the beauty. Just think how Liaska admires keiso and always wants to follow the fashions they set.”
“But—” Enelle began, too upset to admit the obvious.
“Karah might have preferred to stay with us, and of course we’ll miss her terribly, but she’ll be a wonderful keiso. She’ll find a keisonne from among the men of the court—half the men who frequent Cloisonné House must surely be from the Laodd, don’t you think? Some of them must be perfectly nice. She’ll choose the nicest of them, of course, someone who loves her. Her sons will grow up with the children of princes.”
“I… you’re right. I suppose you’re right,” Enelle murmured doubtfully.
“Of course I am.”
The Niarre River, running out of the shadow of the great mountain to the sea, seemed to carry the sound of magic with it as it washed around the bridge pilings. Nemienne glanced down at the water, her attention momentarily caught. Then they were across the bridge, and she tucked their little carriage behind a much bigger four-in-hand and turned down Herringbone Lane to the east, heading for the mountain’s shadow.
“I… I never noticed anything about your eyes,” Enelle confessed quietly. She was not quite looking at Nemienne, but rather off along the streets. It seemed to have caught up with her at last that she was on her way to losing a second sister, and in a way that carried less esteem and more—well, if not peril, then at least uncertainty.
Nemienne herself would have liked a chance to look at her eyes in a mirror. But there wasn’t even a clear puddle of water on the street. “Probably you have to meet lots of mages before you’d see—whatever Narienneh saw. Look, there’s the Lane of Shadows. Which house did she say?”
“The third.” Enelle leaned forward to look for it. They had left the traffic behind them as they passed under the shadow of Kerre Maraddras, entering a district of quiet dimness that seemed only minimally connected to the city proper. “Is that it?” She sounded a little uncertain.