?nnywella sits in her father's chair, far too large for her—she would need to be sitting on her knees to look normal. She despises the council room: the glass is distracting the way it colors the light and casts it about; the cluttered table with papers, quills, maps, and ink strewn along its surface; the way the sound bounces and echoes off the black-stone walls and tall ceiling; the portraits hung stare at her, judging each decision, each word as if they, the dead, could do it better. She wants to send the portraits to the Hall of Memories and be done with them and line the walls with shelves, but she cannot justify this choice rationally; thus, she meets with people in the queen's library at every chance she gets. Unfortunately, this was not one of those chances; seven guests was too much for the small library, and Brenwal certainly would not fit anywhere besides her couch.
The guests had all greeted the queen, with the exception of Brenwal, who insisted on being last as he had a gift, and Tyes Letser, who had not stepped foot in the room, instead having Ferran take him to Awenela’s quarters.
“A gift for you, vela’Herst.” Brenwal’s voice is warm as he hands a wooden case to Gekaryna. Made of wood and stained a dark walnut, the case has brass corner guards and a matching hasp and is no larger than a wine bottle. With a slight bow, he heads for the seat next to his wife.
“A thousand thanks, Brenwal.” ?nnywella sets the case down and opens it. Inside, seated snuggly within velvet lining, rests a ship-in-a-bottle, one matching the description of the boats owned by Franz Nefen. She looks at it inquisitively and sucks on her cigarette; it’s an interesting gift. It puzzles her as to why Brenwal thought this would be a fitting gift, a replica of a ship from a rival kingdom, but she’s more interested in how the man, with fingers the size of Niw?r festival sausages, could have gotten the small pieces inside of the bottle. “Is this one of Nefens?”
“Why yes! it is! I’m glad you recognized it—I put great care into making it.” Brenwal smiles widely, his long waxed mustache going up in line with his eyes. Gelae had said that no one would recognize the ship; she said it was a ‘blurry mess inside a foggy bottle.’ She had no appreciation for his hobbies and simply refused to wear her glasses. “I figured you would like to know what they looked like, seeing as how you asked about them.”
Bereas’s ears perk up, and he turns to face the queen. Being the eldest son of Prawyll Skypwyr, he is set to inherit both the wealth of the Skypwyr name and their family business, which, as the name Skypwyr suggests, is building ships. The conversation before him presents a wonderful business opportunity. “Have you taken an interest in sailing, vela’Herst?”
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?nnywella taps the ashes from the end of her cigarette into the ashtray before her. “Not intrinsically sailing, no. I have taken an interest in boats more generally. Your family owns the Ianor? dockyards, do they not?” The Skypwyrs had been brought up in discussion when she was younger—back when Lydy was still her attendant—but they had not been brought up since then; if it wasn’t for ?denora, she would have forgotten about the Skypwyrs ove’Ianor? entirely. She continues to inspect the detailed ship in a bottle.
“Do the Hersts not have any ships?” Bereas asks.
“Verily, we don’t and haven’t in quite some time.” ?nnywella motions to Brenwal, pointing with her cigarette. “I suppose I could use yours if I wished. But I have no need. What would I do with them—little more than sail north?”
“What’s a queen without a navy?” Bereas shakes his head. “Even High Priestess Seliani has ships [1]—now, not of quality, but ships nonetheless.”
“Bereas, I live atop a mountain, over a hundred kilometers from the sea. I have little need of a navy.” ?nnywella chuckles, hiding her mild annoyance at the man’s pushing for her to engage in wanton, foolish spending. She returns the ship to its place in the bottle.
“What about just a single vessel?” Bereas raised his index fingers at the suggestion. “Have you ever been on a boat before, vela’Herst? felt the sea breeze in your hair?”
?nnywella shakes her head. “No, I have not.” She lied; she had been on a boat. She had snuck out with Soren a few maidens before him going abroad; the two had taken a small rowboat out into the caldera waters to—among other things—look at the night sky on a cloudless night.
“Oh!” Bereas clicks his tongue. “You simply do not know what you are missing. The next time you are in Ianor?, I would love to have you spend the weekend on the finest ships we have to offer.”
Arka chimes in, slightly embarrassed with her husband’s pushing. “Yes, it’s quite fun, Gekaryna.”
Taking a drag from her cigarette, ?nnywella taps her chin. “Perhaps in the spring.” Slides the ship in the bottle to Bereas—he should make himself useful before trying to sell her novelty commodities. “Do you know who made Nefen’s fleet?”
“Yes! I do!” Bereas proudly proclaims. “It was ?ld’Tekhlyn and his apprentices in M?shkan.”
“Excellent.” ?nnywella takes a piece of white-coated paper from the pile in front of her. She writes the name down with the pointed tip of the full finger ring on her little finger. Tapping the point of the ring on the table—poor K?spar, such a busy man; if such an opportunity arises, she will find him an apprentice. “If anyone is hungry, lunch will be prepared in the grand hall. Specially made for the wedding guests staying here.”
Footnotes
[1] High Priestess of Lunella Eue-Lys? Gyrshke Seliani does not herself actively control a fleet; however, if she wishes, she could take command over all the naval vessels under the control of the Order of the Three Moons, but doing so would require a majority vote from the Arch Priestesses and permission from the Master of the Watch.
