Page 72 of Dark Water Daughter

“We are identical, he and I,” I said. “There was a woman who loved me, a married woman. I refused her. But my brother found the letters she had written to me. He wrote back to her, under my name. He met with her, all the while pretending to be me. They had a child.”

The jeweler set the coffeepot down with a start, eyes wide in horror and incredulity. The oil behind him burned lower, bluish flames licking across the belly of the bowl.

“No!” the man exclaimed. “How could a brother do such a thing?”

“He was jealous. He always was, of any woman in my life. Andhe…Hehas not the conscience of a normal man, even before the Black Tide broke him.” I rubbed my jaw, feeling tension skitter up the back of my skull. “Everyone assumed he was me. The woman believed he was me. Yet if I had tried to prove otherwise, I knew the repercussions would destroy him. So, I took the fall.His…position,the rules, the structure and the respect he is given, they are the only things that keep him from total depravity. I knew I could survive the fall into disgrace. He could not.”

At that moment, the light of the oil fire went out. The murky daylight filtering through the window returned to prominence, and the jeweler slowly shook his head.

“That is madness, my friend, and I do not envy you. Here.” He picked up the bowl and held it out to me. “Go ahead, it’s quite cool.”

He was right. I picked up the coin, brushing off bits of ash from its chill surface and settling it in my palm. Warmth spread up my arm and I felt a wash of quiet, like the sun on a summer morning. Thoughts of Benedict and a little girl with his eyes faded. I was at home in my flesh once more, and it made my eyes burn with fatigue and unspent emotion.

“It will weaken as time goes on,” the jeweler told me with some regret.

My heart sank. “How long?”

“A month, if you only use it here and there. A week or two, if you use it all the time.”

I rubbed my forehead with the back of one hand. A month, at most? Would that be enough time to find Mary and reclaim my oldtalisman—ifshe still had it?

It would have to be.

“Thank you,” I said to the Mereish man. “How much do I owe you?”

He named a price, which I paid without question. When I asked if I could return for another coin in the future he nodded, but cautioned me, “This will not heal you, and it will make it harder to use your gift.”

Curse, I corrected silently. Aloud I said, “I know. And if I was to convince my brother to be healed, where would we go?”

The man shook his head. “I only know that it’s possible. A healer-mage could tell you more, but they rarely leave the Mereish Mainland.Perhaps…”

The man turned and made for a shelf on the far wall. There, he rummaged around for a moment before taking down a book, its red cover embossed with Mereish words.

He held it out to me. “I think you should take this.”

I accepted it, the soft passage of my fingers over leather loud in the quiet room. So, too, was the rustle of paper as I flipped to the title page. It took me a minute to translate, but when I did, my eyes widened.

A History of Ghistlore and the Blessed; Those Bound to the Second World and the Power Therein.

“I think you will need that more than I,” the Mereish man said. “But tell no one where you found it, Aead. My country guards their secrets. Too selfishly, I say. So I am in Usti.” At the last, he shrugged, and I glimpsed an unspoken story behind his tight smile. But he said no more, and I did not ask.

My fingers tightened on the tome. I had never held this kind of knowledge before, let alone Mereish knowledge.

I took that with a fortifying breath and pulled another coin from my pocket, then thought better of it. A book like this was worth more than I had.

Awkward, I grimaced. “I haven’t enough to pay you.”

“It’s a gift,” the Mereish man said, waving me towards the door. “Go on.”

I considered protesting, but the book felt heavy in myhands—heavyand right.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Of course.” He cast me a smile. “Remember my kindness next time you meet my children at war.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Lady Phira’s Steward

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