The Continent (The Continent #1)(48)

“I’ve never bought groceries before!”

She gives me a sidelong glance. “That seems odd. Did your husband see to your household affairs in the Nations Beyond the Sea?”

My face turns red. “I’m not married. I’m scarcely of age!”

She stops walking. “How old are you? Fifteen, sixteen, surely?”

“I’ll be seventeen on my next birthday,” I say. “People do not marry so young in the Spire—there must be a long courtship, and all of the social traditions must be observed, and of course, a large wedding is something everyone desires.” I close my eyes for a moment, lost in reverie. “Ah, the cakes and sandwiches and wine, the bridal gowns and ribbons, and—”

“The Aven’ei marry with a word, so long as it is witnessed by others,” Yuki says, looking puzzled. “There is no cake.”

“You just…declare that you want to marry one another?”

“Of course.”

“Oh,” I say. “Well. I’m sure that’s quite lovely, in its way.”

“I was wed at fourteen,” she says. “But my husband, he took ill shortly afterward and died the following summer. Since then, I’ve been on my own.” She leans closer to me, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “To be honest, I prefer it that way. I’ve no interest in marriage.”

I give her another, longer look. She is so beautiful, so seemingly indifferent to all things inconsequential. Her eyes sweep over the crowd, over the wares in the marketplace, with a calculation that makes me feel oblivious in comparison. Along the final row, we stop before a table covered in books, and she turns to me once again.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

She takes a tattered book, thumbs through the pages, then sets it down. “In days long ago—when your people still came to the Continent and broke bread with the Aven’ei—we are told that the nations of your land battled fiercely.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“Mmm. And your leaders chose to abandon such conflicts, and this new resolve was the reason you withdrew from the Continent and isolated yourselves.”

“That is also true.”

She rests a palm on the table and taps her fingers on the cover of a fat volume titled Sheep: a Treatise. “But…have your people managed to uphold such an ideal? Do you truly come from a place of peace?”

“Yes. The Spire has not seen battle for more than two centuries.”

She smiles. “I thought it was a legend—nothing more than whispers and words. I can’t begin to imagine a life without the drums of war. Tell me, what is it like?”

As I turn the question in my mind, I think for perhaps the first time on the enormity of what I have left behind—the sense of utter safety. “It is quiet,” I say finally. “Not in a literal sense—how can I explain? I mean to say there is a…a tranquillity in the absence of such a threat.”

“Quiet,” she says, her dark eyes thoughtful. “Yes. I can imagine it, if I try. But…is there crime, at least? Surely the Spire is no utopia?”

“There is certainly crime,” I say. “A person can make a weapon out of anything if they like, and there are always those who do…but criminals are dealt with swiftly, and the justice of the courts prevails.”

“And there is no war.”

“No. I wish the Aven’ei could know such peace.”

She laughs, plucks a slim volume from the back of the table, and passes an oka to the merchant. “As long as a single Topi lives and breathes, there will be war upon the Continent.”

“But why?” I say. “Why do they seek to destroy you?”

“A debt is owed,” she says. “And furthermore, the Topi now understand the riches of the south. The fertility of our soil, the safety of our shores. The agriculture we have cultivated. They love the north, but desire what the north cannot deliver. And so they seek to take it from us, here in the south and east.”

“Well…the nations of the Spire eventually found a way to make a lasting accord. Perhaps some day, such an agreement might be found between the Topi and the Aven’ei—a sharing of resources and land.”

Her eyebrows rise, and she smiles. “You believe this—I can see it in your face!”

“With all my heart.”

A sadness comes upon her lovely features, and she shakes her head. “This hope of yours, I fear it will do you no good. Set it aside, or you will not see death when it comes.”

“I will never give up hope,” I say, but wonder for half a second if this is true.

She shrugs. “Hope for things that are possible, then. Hope for clear skies amidst the storms of summer, or for the safe return of our warriors from the battlefields at Sana-Zo and the Narrow Corner. Hope for a happy marriage and many sons, if that should please you. Never hope for peace, Vaela. Not here. Not on the Continent.”

“I can’t help it. After all, hope is not sustained by the likeliness of a thing, but by the desire for it, and it is my dearest wish that you and all your people would know the peace I have described.”

Yuki smiles. “What faith you have, and what goodwill.” She clasps a hand around mine. “It is good to know you, Vaela Sun.”