Whisper of Waves

52

Greengrass, the Year of the Wave (1364 DR)

SECOND QUARTER, INNARLITH

It’s quite something to be buried on Greengrass, isn’t it?” Meykhati asked.

“It’s poetic,” his wife concurred. “More so than the old goat deserved.”

Willem spent as much time as possible for the past nine days in the presence of Meykhati. The senator’s salon had begun to meet more often, very nearly every night, and Willem became a permanent fixture. He had the feeling that everyone knew he’d killed Khonsu, but no one said it. The moment the old man’s body was found they’d all started treating him differently.

They’d started treating him better.

“It’s a lovely tribute,” Willem said.

Meykhati leered at him but Willem tried not to notice. He watched the funeral procession march ever so slowly down Ransar’s Ride, the wide thoroughfare that cut Innarlith in half from the east gate to the harbor. The normal traffic of merchant’s carts, wealthy citizens’ carriages, and the ever-present foot traffic of peasants and aristocrats alike had been pushed to the side by city watchmen. The guards all looked hot, tired, and bored, but they had been paid by Khonsu’s estate, so they did their jobs and the procession soldiered on.

A few senators, merchants, and other wealthy and powerful folk-most of them old enough to be Willem’s grandparents-strolled along behind the procession, following the hearse out the east gate to a cemetery outside the walls.

“Please tell me we don’t have to watch him dropped in his hole,” Salatis huffed.

Willem glanced at the senator and was surprised again by his height. He stood closer to seven feet than six, thin but not gaunt, with a dusting of gray hair to complement his already distinguished Chondathan features. Willem found him intimidating, and not only because of his height, but because Meykhati and the others seemed to fear him as well.

“No, no,” Meykhati said, “I doubt that’ll be necessary, though perhaps you should put in an appearance, dear.”

He took his wife by the arm and with a pained sigh she said, “Oh, no, really?”

“Don’t you think?” Meykhati said, giving her a look that made it obvious he wanted her to step away for reasons other than protocol.

“Ah, well, the Weeping Widow’s Club for me, then,” she acquiesced. “Don’t wait up.”

They kissed the air between them and she whirled away in a cloud of Shou silk and Waterdhavian rose oil.

Willem looked around at the senators who surrounded him, waiting for his own cue to leave. Instead, Meykhati leaned in close and nodded at the door of an inn.

The Peacock Resplendent was a sprawling complex of buildings that was something of a gateway to the Second Quarter, located as it was on Ransar’s Ride, in the shadow of the Palace of Many Spires. He had dined there before, always in the company of the master builder, and had never failed to notice at least half a dozen senators in attendance at any one time.

They entered like a conquering general and his entourage, though Willem wasn’t too sure which of the senators was the general.

Meykhati was a sort of social leader, regaling them all with his constant review of the arts and fashion and the latest gossip and news from across Toril. Salatis was their spiritual leader, always talking about the gods, though Willem couldn’t remember which deity the tall, serious man gave his fealty to. Horemkensi was always content to follow. Asheru was a wizard of some reputation. The laconic man’s power to cast spells always made Willem uneasy, even though Asheru rarely spoke to him. The master builder was there, of course, but appeared content to let Meykhati speak.

Still, Willem caught the odd glance from Inthelph. The master builder had a thin smile on his face, one that made it appear as if he knew something Willem didn’t, and it was something Willem was going to be very happy about. Willem couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with Phyrea.

“This way,” Meykhati said, and only then did Willem notice that they’d left the staff of the inn behind and the senator was showing them into a private chamber well away from the finely appointed common room.

They took their seats around a huge round table by the light of as many as a hundred candelabras. There were no windows in the low ceilinged room, and it was Meykhati, not a serving wench, who poured wine from a graceful crystal decanter into glasses that had been set out on the table. The innkeeper had been expecting them.

Willem’s heart began to race. He sat, and when his palms touched the tabletop they left little ghost prints on the polished wood that quickly evaporated. He folded his hands together to stop them from shaking.

“So, Willem,” Meykhati began, and Willem had to suppress the urge to stand up and flee, “you know everyone here, and everyone here knows you. Tell me, then, what is the only thing that’s different about you?”

Willem couldn’t make himself comprehend the question.

“How are you different, my boy?” Inthelph prompted.

“From us?”

“You are …” Willem chanced. “You all sit on the Senate of Innarlith?”

“That’s right,” Meykhati said with a broad, toothy grin. “We are all senators, and you are not, but that is an imbalance that shall be corrected in due course.”

Willem smiled. He was relieved, surprised, frightened, nervous … all that and more at once.

“There are details, of course,” Meykhati went on, “but nothing that can’t be settled. I should think that you’ll have your seat by the fall.”

Willem’s head filled with one question after another.

“Congratulations, my boy,” Inthelph said.

“Yes, indeed,” Horemkensi all but shouted. “Hear hear!”

Salatis and Asheru tipped their wineglasses at him but remained silent.

“I don’t know what to say,” Willem said. “Thank you, of course. Thank you all.” He glanced at Inthelph, but kept his attention on Meykhati. “Your vote of confidence is flattering beyond description, but there are matters … I don’t quite know how to …”

“Matters of finance?” Meykhati asked.

“Yes, Senator,” Willem replied, looking down at the table in front of him.

“It’s all well and good that we want you on the senate, but there’s the pesky matter of the thousands and thousands and thousands of gold that a seat sells for, no?” Meykhati said.

Willem could only nod. He had spent every copper he had on that ridiculous sculpture for Phyrea and had had to borrow just to run his house.

“We’re aware of your difficulties in that regard, Korvan,” Salatis said, “and we’re prepared to see you clear.”

“See me …?” Willem started.

“I would hate to see the senate lose a man like you,” Inthelph cut in, “over my daughter’s affections.”

“Your-?” Willem started again.

“We’ve all been young, Willem,” said Meykhati, “and we’ve all been in love with a girl. It’s a good match, and I hope your forty-five thousand wins her for you, though I can imagine the master builder spends that every month to keep her in the style to which she’s grown accustomed.”

He sent a wry wink Inthelph’s way and the master builder returned it with a smile and a tip of his glass.

“She’s gone off to the country estate for the summer,” Inthelph said. “You’ll be able to concentrate on important business at hand, then in the fall, perhaps, another ceremony.”

Willem’s mouth went dry. He opened it to speak, but nothing came out.

Meykhati laughed and said, “Has she run out on you, Willem?”

“No!” Willem blurted, then blushed. He added more calmly, “She informed me of her intention to take some time in the country air. I thought it would be good for her.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure it will be,” said Meykhati, “but back to the matter at hand. We’ll buy you your seat, Willem.”

“We?” Willem had to ask.

“The five of us,” Salatis answered.

“But I …” Willem stammered. “I–I mean, I couldn’t possibly …”

“Oh, stop it, young man,” Asheru said. The wizard’s forehead was wrinkled in irritation, and for a moment Willem feared for his life. “Dispense with the ‘I couldn’t possiblies’ and ‘but I’m not worthies.’ We’re not philanthropists, we’re investors.”

Willem did understand, and he did think himself worthy, so he took Asheru’s advice and kept his mouth closed.

“In return for your seat on the senate,” Meykhati said, after shooting an irritated glance at Asheru, “we will expect your first five years’ votes.”

Willem looked at him and their eyes locked. Meykhati looked strange, like a different man entirely, he was so serious, but Willem didn’t need to consider the bargain. He likely would have voted with Meykhati and the master builder anyway. If they were going to elevate him to the aristocracy, make his entire life different, realize all his greatest dreams for him, and do it in a few months’ time with but a wave of their hands and a scattering of coins, well, the least he could do was vote the way they wished for five years.

Willem stood, raised his glass, and said, “It will be an honor to serve with you, gentlemen. You have my eternal gratitude.”

“Your gratitude for five years will suffice, Senator Willem Korvan,” Meykhati said.

While the five senators returned his toast, Willem let those three words repeat over and over in his mind:

Senator Willem Korvan.