The Magic of Recluce - L. E. Modesitt [50]
“You’re quite a pair,” began Isolde, her voice matter-of-fact. “One of you believes that success lies in accomplishment, and the other believes that having answers will explain everything. One of you hates privilege but covets it desperately; the other has it and has rejected it unthinkingly.”
Tamra and I exchanged glances.
“You’re both in for some real surprises.” Isolde took a deep swallow of the tea and pulled a pile of mixed fruit off one platter—mostly dried apples. Next came some of the squarish and crumbly biscuits. The guide in the faded green jumpsuit alternated fruit, biscuits, and tea.
I drank more of my own tea, bitter even with the large glob of honey I had dropped into it.
Tamra nibbled at a biscuit, sipping from her mug enough to be able to swallow the crumbs she had placed in her mouth. Without a colored scarf, dressed just in dark gray, she looked washed-out, like a limp china doll.
Finally, as the silence dragged out, I put my half-empty cup in one of the holder slots in the center of the table and stood up, glancing from Isolde to Tamra and back. Neither looked at me, and neither said anything. Isolde just kept eating, slowly and methodically. Tamra stared at the smooth brown wood of the table beside her mug.
I almost paused to see if either would say anything, but kept moving.
Outside on the main deck, the wind had picked up and whipped through my short hair. My steps took me toward the bow, where I stood with the sun on my back watching the wind carry spray from the crests of the dark-blue waves. The Eidolon didn’t exactly cut through the sea, nor did she lumber. Just like Isolde, the ship was efficiently matter-of-fact.
That solidity was helpful, because my thoughts were anything but solid. Me—a potential order-master? Born to privilege? Convinced that answers would solve everything? How could I even decide what I wanted to do without knowing? Talryn, Kerwin, my parents, even Isolde—they were all saying that everything was obvious, that I was blinding myself, and that I just had to choose. Choose what? What did it mean? Eternal boredom if I chose order? Early death if I chose chaos? From what I already saw, the alternatives weren’t exactly wonderful.
Whhstttt…The Eidolon plowed into a bigger-than-normal wave, the spray from the impact almost reaching the railing where I leaned. The ship seemed quieter.
Of course! The paddles were silent, and the steam engine was cold. While the wind held, the captain didn’t need to burn the coal.
I wondered if my belated recognitions were typical, that I didn’t see things obvious to others until later.
“May I join you?”
I jumped. Tamra stood almost next to me, not quite so pale as at breakfast.
“Fine.”
“You looked worried…” Her voice was softer, but still carried an edge.
Did I really want to talk to her? Ever since I’d started the dangergeld she’d been a bitch. I sighed. What would it cost me? We weren’t exactly going anywhere, and she certainly wasn’t boring.
“Yes…I guess I was…”
“You didn’t know your father was a high temple master?”
“No.”
“I…I’m sorry…”
Her words didn’t sound sorry.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Do we have to fight?” she asked.
“No. But do you have to doubt everything I say or do?”
“It’s…hard…I look at you. You had everything. And…”
“And what?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she just leaned on the rail next to me and looked at the waves.
Silence and the swishing of the sea were preferable to a dubious discussion. So I watched the water too.
“Lerris?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For…why do you make it so hard for me?” Her voice was tight again.
I thought for a moment, biting back what I really wanted to say—that she was a conceited bitch who wanted to run the entire world. But what good would that have done?
Whhhhssstttt… The spray almost touched