The Inheritance 


Robin Hobb 

IT WAS IN MY GRANDMOTHER’S jewel box. I found it after she died. 
Perhaps jewel box is too fine a name to give to the plain wooden cask 
that held so little. There was a silver ring with the stone long prised 
from the setting, sold to pay family debts no doubt. I wondered why she 
had not sold it whole. There were two necklaces, one of garnets and 
another of polished jasper. At the bottom, wrapped in layer upon layer 
of linen, was the pendant. 

It was a lovely carving of a woman’s face. She looked aristocratic, 
yet merry, and I recognized in her features some of my own. I wondered 
which of my female ancestors she was, and why someone had taken 
such care to make so delicate a carving from such an ugly piece of 
wood. It was grey and checked with age, and weighed unnaturally heavy 
in my hand as I examined it. The chain it was fixed to was fine silver, 
however. I thought it might be worn alone if the pendant could be 
removed. I heard a footstep in the hall outside her bedroom, and hastily 
slipped the chain about my neck. The cameo hung heavy between my 
breasts, concealed by my blouse. 

My cousin Tetlia stood suddenly in the doorway. ‘What do you 
have there?’ she demanded. 

1 


‘Nothing,’ I told her, and hastily set the box back on 
Grandmother’s chest. 
Nothing,’ I told her, and hastily set the box back on 
Grandmother’s chest. 

She swept into the room and snatched it up, opened it and 
dumped the necklaces into her hand. ‘Nice,’ she said, holding up the 
jasper one. My heart sank, for I had liked it best of the three. ‘I’m eldest 
of the grand-daughters,’ she pointed out smugly, and slipped it over her 
head. She weighed the garnets in her hand. ‘And my sister Coreth 
comes next. This is for her.’ Her lips twisted in a smile as she tossed me 
the despoiled ring. ‘For you, Cerise. Not much of an inheritance, but 
she did feed and clothe you for the last two years, and kept you in a 
house that long ago should have come to my father. That is more than 
she ever did for my sister and me.’ 

‘I lived here with her. I looked after her. When her hands twisted 
so that she couldn’t use them anymore, I bathed her and dressed her 
and fed her...’ My hidden anger pushed the words stiffly out. 

Tetlia waved my words away contemptuously. ‘And we all warned 
you that you’d get nothing for it. She burned through her own family 
fortune when she was a girl, Cerise. Everyone knows that if my 
grandfather had not married her, she’d have starved in the streets. And 
my father has been good enough to let her live out her life in a house 
that should have come to him when his father died. Now she’s gone, 
and the house and land revert to my father. That’s life.’ She tossed the 
plundered casket onto my grandmother’s stripped bed and left the 
room. 

‘I loved her,’ I said quietly into the stillness. Rage burned bright 
in me for an instant. It was an old family dispute. Her father was the 
son of Grandfather’s first wife, and the rightful heir to all, as they so 
constantly reminded me. It counted for nothing with them that my 
grandmother had raised their father as if he were her own child. It 
scalded me that Tetlia would claim my grandmother as kin for the sake 
of being entitled to her jewellery, but deny that I had any right to share 
the family wealth. For a second I clutched that anger to me. Then, as if 
I could feel my grandmother’s gentle hand on my shoulder, I let the 

2 


strength of my just wrath leak away from me. ‘Useless to argue,’ I told 
myself. In my grandmother’s looking-glass I saw the same defeated 
resignation I had so often seen in her eyes. ‘It’s not worth fighting for,’ 
she had told me so often. ‘Scandal and strife serve no purpose. Let it go, 
Cerise. Let it go.’ I looked at the gaping ring in my hand, and then 
slipped it onto my finger. It fit as if made for me. Somehow, it seemed 
an appropriate inheritance. 
ength of my just wrath leak away from me. ‘Useless to argue,’ I told 
myself. In my grandmother’s looking-glass I saw the same defeated 
resignation I had so often seen in her eyes. ‘It’s not worth fighting for,’ 
she had told me so often. ‘Scandal and strife serve no purpose. Let it go, 
Cerise. Let it go.’ I looked at the gaping ring in my hand, and then 
slipped it onto my finger. It fit as if made for me. Somehow, it seemed 
an appropriate inheritance. 

I left the room and went to my own chamber to pack. It did not 
take long. I had one set of clothes besides my own, and her old Trader’s 
robe of soft saffron. I hesitated before I put it in my rucksack. I had 
never seen her wear it. Once I had asked her about that only unused 
garment in her chest. She had shaken her head. ‘I don’t know why I 
kept it. It has nothing to do with my life any more. In Bingtown, Trader 
families wear them when they go to the Traders’ Council to vote on 
Trader matters. Saffron was my family’s colour, the Lantis family. But I 
gave all that up years ago.’ 

I fingered the soft wool. It was cut in an archaic style, but the 
wool would be warm, I told myself. Besides, I had no intention of leaving 
it for my cousins. Now that my grandmother was dead, her little house 
on the seacliffs and the sheep pastures behind it would go to my uncle. 
And I, the sole daughter of her daughter, would have to make my own 
way in the world. My uncle had scowled at me when I had told him last 
night that I had nowhere to go, and asked his leave to stay on for a 
week. 

He replied heavily, ‘The old woman was dying for two years, 
Cerise. If, in two years, you couldn’t make a plan for your future, you 
won’t do it in a week. We need this house, and it’s lawfully mine. I’m 
sorry, but you’ll have to go.’ 

So I went, but not far. Hetta, the shepherd’s wife took me in for 
the night. They were as angry with my uncle as I was, for he had 
already announced to there that he was raising their rent. In all the 
years that they had been my grandmother’s tenants, she had never 
raised their rent. Hetta was older than I, but that had never kept us 

3 


from being good friends. She had two small children and was big with 
her third. She was glad to offer me a bed by the fire and a hot supper in 
exchange for help with her chores, ‘for as long as you want.’ I tidied the 
house as we talked, while she was relieved to sit down, put her feet up 
and put the last stitches into a quilt. I showed her both my ring and my 
pendant and chain. She exclaimed at the sight of the pendant and 
pushed it away from her. 
her third. She was glad to offer me a bed by the fire and a hot supper in 
exchange for help with her chores, ‘for as long as you want.’ I tidied the 
house as we talked, while she was relieved to sit down, put her feet up 
and put the last stitches into a quilt. I showed her both my ring and my 
pendant and chain. She exclaimed at the sight of the pendant and 
pushed it away from her. 

‘The chain will bring you some coin, and maybe the empty ring. 
But that pendant is an evil thing. I’d get rid of it if I were you. Throw it 
in the sea. It’s wizardwood, the stuff a liveship is made from. I wouldn’t 
wear it next to my skin for the world.’ 

I picked up the pendant and looked at it more closely. In the 
candlelight, I could see faint colours on it, as if it had once been 
painted but had faded. The grain of the wood seemed finer, the features 
of the face more distinct than I recalled. ‘Why is it evil?’ I demanded of 
Hetta. ‘Liveships aren’t evil. Their figureheads come to life and talk and 
guide the boat on its way. They’re magic, but I’ve never heard them 
called evil.’ 

Hetta shook her head stubbornly. ‘It’s Rain Wild magic, and all 
know no good ever came down the Rain Wild River. A lot of folk say that 
that’s where the Blood Plague came from. Leave magic like that to those 
Trader folk who are born to it. It’s not for you and me. It’s bound to 
bring you bad luck, Cerise, same as it brought your grandmother. Get 
rid of it.’ 

‘She came from Trader stock,’ I reply stoutly. ‘Maybe that’s how it 
came to Grandma. Maybe she inherited from the days when we were 
Traders.’ 

Hetta pursed her mouth in disapproval as I put the chain back 
around my neck. I heard Hetta’s husband at the door and hastily 
slipped the pendant inside my shirt again. I’d always liked Hetta, but 
her husband made me edgy. 

Tonight was no exception. He grinned to see me there, and 
grinned broader when Hetta said she’d invited me to stay the night. 

4 


‘You’re always welcome here, Cerise, for as long as you want to stay. 
There’s many a wifely chore that Hetta hasn’t been able to do for a time. 
You could take them on for room and board here.’ 
You’re always welcome here, Cerise, for as long as you want to stay. 
There’s many a wifely chore that Hetta hasn’t been able to do for a time. 
You could take them on for room and board here.’ 

I smiled stiffly as I shook my head. ‘Thank you all the same, but I 
think I need to find a future for myself. I think I’ll go to Bingtown and 
see what work I can find there.’ 

‘Bingtown!’ Hetta was horrified. ‘That den of vice? Stay in the 
country, girl, where folks have hearts. No one will treat you well in the 
city.’ 

‘Stay,’ her husband urged me. His eyes decided me as he 
declared, ‘Live here, and I’ll treat you just like one of my own.’ 

And that night, he was as good as his word. As I slept on the 
hearth, I heard the scuff of his big bare feet as he came into the room. 
His children slept in the loft, and Hetta in their small bedchamber. In 
the past, he had done no more than stroke my buttock as I passed him, 
or casually brush my breast with the back of his hand as he reached 
past me, as if it were an accident. But I had never slept the night in his 
cottage. I smelled his sweat as he hunkered down beside me. ‘Cerise?’ 
he whispered in the darkness. I kept my eyes shut and pretended to be 
asleep. My heart was hammering as I felt him lift the corner of the 
blanket Hetta had given me. His big hand came to rest on the angle of 
my neck. I gritted my teeth but could do no more than that. Useless to 
resist. Hetta and the children might wake, and then what would I say? I 
tried to be as stoic as my long-enduring grandmother. Let him touch 
me. If I refused to wake, surely he would leave me alone. 

‘Cerise, honey;’ he whispered again, inching his fingers along my 
flesh. 

‘Faithless man!’ a whisper answered him. Every muscle in my 
body tightened, for it seemed to come from my own throat. ‘Touch me, 
and I’ll rake your face with scratches that Hetta won’t ignore.’ 

He jerked his hand back from me as if scalded, so startled that 
he sat down hard on the floor behind me. I lay still, frozen in silent 
terror. 

5 


‘And that’s how you’d pay back my hospitality, is it? Go to 
Bingtown, then, you little baggage. There the men will take what they 
want of you, and not offer you a roof nor a bed in exchange for it.’ 
And that’s how you’d pay back my hospitality, is it? Go to 
Bingtown, then, you little baggage. There the men will take what they 
want of you, and not offer you a roof nor a bed in exchange for it.’ 

I said nothing, fearing his words were true. I heard him get to his 
feet and then shuffle back to his marriage bed. I lay still and sleepless 
the rest of the night, trying to pretend that I had said those words. The 
pendant lay against my skin like cold toad; I feared to touch it to 
remove it. 

I left the next morning, though Hetta near wept as she urged me 
to stay. All my possessions still made a light load. Bingtown was only 
two days away by foot, but even so, I’d only been there twice in my life. 
Both times, I had gone with my parents. My father had carried me 
sometimes on his shoulder, and my mother had cooked food for us at 
night. But they were both long gone. Now I walked the road alone, and 
my heart pounded fearfully at the sight of every passing traveller. Even 
when I was alone, fear rode with me, dangling from the necklace about 
my neck. 

That night I left the road, to unroll my blanket in the lee of some 
rocks. There were no trees for shelter, no friendly nearby stream, only a 
hillside of lichen-sided boulders and scrubby brush. Hetta had given me 
a little sack of meal-cakes to last me on my way. I was too frightened of 
thieves to build a fire that might draw them, so as the westering sun 
stole the colours from the day, I huddled in my blanket and nibbled on 
one of my meal-cakes. 

‘A fine beginning to my new life,’ I muttered when the last dry 
crumbs of the cake were gone. 

‘No worse than what other women of your line have faced,’ 
whispered a voice. It came from my shirtfront. In an instant, I had 
snatched off chain and pendant and flung it from me. It caught on a 
bush and hung there, silver chain glinting in the last of the sunset. The 
dangling pendant came to rest facing me. Even in the fading light, I 
could see that it had taken on lifelike colours. It raised tiny eyebrows at 
me in disdain. ‘It’s a foolish choice you’re making, girl,’ it warned me. 

6 


‘Throw me away, and you throw away your inheritance. Just as 
your grandmother did.’ Frightened as I was, the small voice was so like 
my grandmother’s that I could not ignore it. ‘What are you?’ I 
demanded. 
Throw me away, and you throw away your inheritance. Just as 
your grandmother did.’ Frightened as I was, the small voice was so like 
my grandmother’s that I could not ignore it. ‘What are you?’ I 
demanded. 

‘Oh, come,’ the pendant exclaimed in disdain. ‘I am exactly what 
you see and know me to be. Let us not waste time on foolishness.’ 

‘You were grey and still when I took you from Grandmother’s 
jewellery box.’ 

‘She had not worn me for many a year. She put me aside, just as 
she put aside the rest of her life. But you have revived me. You are 
young and your anma rushes strong as your blood through your veins.’ 

The pendant had a tiny voice, and despite my fear, I drew closer 
to hear its words. The eyes that met mine held kindly amusement. A 
smile bent the mouth. ‘What are you afraid of?’ she demanded. ‘For 
generations I have been in your family, passed down from mother to 
daughter. With me comes all the wisdom of your line. You were wise 
enough to steal me. Are you so foolish that you will fear your fortune 
now that it is in your hands?’ 

‘You’re magic,’ I said. ‘You’re alive.’ 

‘I am. And so are you, if you would bother to find it in yourself. 
It’s part of your inheritance, and if you are wise, it will be the first part 
you reclaim.’ 

‘My inheritance?’ I asked quietly. 

The little eyes narrowed. ‘What goes with the empty ring that you 
wear: that is your inheritance. As you have donned both it and me, I 
suggest that you reclaim all that went with it. All that your 
grandmother Aubretia possessed before she chose to set us aside and 
live quietly.’ 

It was growing darker. Strange as may be, the little carved face 
seemed like a companion in the night. I took up the pendant and held 
the carved face closer to my own so I could see it. ‘Tell me,’ I begged. 
‘For all the years that I lived with my grandmother and cared for her, I 
know little of her past.’ 

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‘Well.’ The small dark eyes, so like my own, flitted about 
consideringly. ‘Where shall I begin? Tell me what you do know of her.’ 
Well.’ The small dark eyes, so like my own, flitted about 
consideringly. ‘Where shall I begin? Tell me what you do know of her.’ 

I cast my mind back. ‘She told me little. Mostly I have guessed. I 
think that when she was very small, her family was wealthy. She often 
warned me against trusting handsome young men. While I lived with 
her, she would not permit anyone to court me. So I think that-’ 

‘You think that her heart was broken when she was young. And 
you are correct. Aubretia did grow up in a family that had substance if 
not real wealth. Her father died when she was young. The Lantis family 
had little wealth save their name but her mother was wise, and set 
aside an inheritance for her youngest daughter. It was her intention 
that her child need never marry for wealth, only for love. I told them I 
did not see why the two could not go hand in hand, but they both 
dismissed it as a jest. When your great-grandmother was on her 
deathbed, she passed me to her daughter. And she left this world in 
peace, knowing she has passed on both worldly wealth and a secret 
counsellor to Aubretia.’ 

I tugged my blanket closer around my shoulders and leaned back 
against the largest rock. It still held some small heat from the day. I 
drew my knees up and set the pendant upon them to listen to her tale. 
Night crept closer around us. 

‘For a time, she lived wisely and well. Then she met a young 
man, a lovely young man. He was new to Bingtown, come to the great 
trading city to make his fortune. Howarth was a younger son, with no 
fortune to his name but rich in ambition. Aubretia would have married 
him a day after she met him, but he would not take her so. ‘When I 
have made a fortune of my own, then I will claim you as a bride. I will 
not have folk say I wed you for your money.’ And so Howarth courted 
her with bouquets of simple wayside flowers, and sat in her house 
before her fire and told her daily of how hard he struggled to wrest out 
a living as a clerk in a mercantile. He often scoffed at the fellow who 
owned the store where he worked, for he said the man had no 
imagination in his dealings, and that he might easily be twice as 

8 


successful if he had but a bit of daring and imagination. Howarth 
planned that as soon as he had money enough to finance it, he would 
go on a trading journey to far Jamaillia, and bring back fine goods such 
as all Bingtown would clamour to buy. On his dreams were your 
grandmother’s dreams founded. 
planned that as soon as he had money enough to finance it, he would 
go on a trading journey to far Jamaillia, and bring back fine goods such 
as all Bingtown would clamour to buy. On his dreams were your 
grandmother’s dreams founded. 

‘But her dreams and his were a long time in coming true. Your 
grandmother’s lover saved his coins, true, but Howarth no sooner had 
one to stack upon two than he had to spend it for new boots or a winter 
cloak. Your grandmother despaired that he would ever wed her. She 
begged him to marry her, saying she did not care if he was penniless, 
that with his job her inheritance would be sufficient for them both. But 
again he refused, saying he would not wed until he had built a fortune 
of his own.’ 

The pendant fell silent for a time, the small face gone pensive. I 
waited. 

The small face pursed its lips in disapproval. ‘Then Aubretia had 
an idea. I warned her against it. In vain, I tried to persuade her to let 
this young man go his own way, but she would not listen. She went to 
Howarth and offered him money. He could take her money off to 
Jamaillia to buy the trade goods that would make them both wealthy. 
Half of whatever profits they made would be his, and then they could be 
married. He quickly agreed. Far too quickly for my liking. 

‘Howarth took her money and sailed away. Months passed, and 
Aubretia pined, but I was relieved, knowing that even though her money 
was gone, he was gone with it. She still had enough left to get on with, 
and now perhaps was wiser. But just when she began to put memories 
of him aside, he returned. He wore fine clothes and brought gifts with 
him, perfumes and silk, but little else. Most of the coin, he told her, had 
been spent to court trading partners in that distant city. All was in 
readiness, now, and as soon as he had worked hard and saved a bit of 
money, he could go south and make their fortune.’ My heart sank in 
me. I thought of my gentle grandmother and the unspoken sorrows that 
had seemed to live behind her eyes. ‘She believed him?’ I murmured. 

9 


‘Of course. And she persuaded him to take more of her money 
and set out again immediately. Aubretia kept back only the tidy little 
house she lived in, some family jewels, and enough to support herself 
until he returned. When over a year passed with no word from him, she 
admitted to me she had been a fool. More, she admitted it to her friends 
and they aided her, not only with money but with introductions to 
suitable young men. But she swore her love would not be easily won 
again. She lived quietly and simply and alone.’ 
Of course. And she persuaded him to take more of her money 
and set out again immediately. Aubretia kept back only the tidy little 
house she lived in, some family jewels, and enough to support herself 
until he returned. When over a year passed with no word from him, she 
admitted to me she had been a fool. More, she admitted it to her friends 
and they aided her, not only with money but with introductions to 
suitable young men. But she swore her love would not be easily won 
again. She lived quietly and simply and alone.’ 

‘Until she met my grandfather?’ I guessed. 

The charm scowled at me. ‘Your grandfather was a hard-handed, 
flinty-hearted man. He married your grandmother solely to have 
someone to tend to his squalling son and keep his house in order after 
his first wife died of his ill treatment. She married him solely to have a 
place to rest her head at night. But he does not come into this story. 
Not yet.’ 

Ignoring my shocked silence, the pendant spoke on. ‘One cold 
wet evening, who should come and knock at her door but her wayward 
suitor. I thought surely Aubretia would drive him away, but she 
welcomed him in and unquestioningly embraced him. Howarth wept, 
telling her that all had gone awry for him, and that he had been too 
ashamed to come home and face her, but finally his heart could stand 
to be parted from her no longer. He had come back, to beg her 
forgiveness.’ The little face gave a disdainful snort. ‘And she believed 
him.’ 

‘But you did not?’ 

‘I believed he had spent all her money, that it was not his heart 
that had brought him back, but his greed. She told him it mattered 
nothing to her, that all would be well if he would but marry her. Side by 
side they could toil and still make a good, if simple life for themselves. 
She still had her house and some family jewellery and somehow they 
would manage.’ 

I closed my eyes, pitying my grandmother that she could love so 
much and so blindly. 

10 


‘I warned her. Her friends warned her, saying that if she listened 
to that rogue again, they would disown her. But Aubretia cared nothing 
for anyone but him. And he, speaking so nobly, said he would not let 
her family think her a fool. Howarth would not marry her while he was 
penniless. A fortune was still within his grasp. If only he had enough 
money, he could recoup his losses and go on.’ 
I warned her. Her friends warned her, saying that if she listened 
to that rogue again, they would disown her. But Aubretia cared nothing 
for anyone but him. And he, speaking so nobly, said he would not let 
her family think her a fool. Howarth would not marry her while he was 
penniless. A fortune was still within his grasp. If only he had enough 
money, he could recoup his losses and go on.’ 

‘How could that be?’ I demanded. 

‘An excellent question. One that your grandmother never asked, 
or at least not directly. He implied all sorts of things. That a bribe to a 
tariff official would free up a seized shipment, that it he were seen to be 
successful, others would lend him the money to complete some 
transaction. He spoke so skillfully and knowingly of how one must have 
money and spend money in order to make money.’ 

A terrible sadness welled up in me. How often had I heard my 
mother lament our poor circumstances and wish for better days, only to 
have Grandmother say, ‘But it is hopeless, my dear. One must have 
money in order to make money.’ 

‘She went to her grave believing that was so’ I said. 

The pendant was silent for a moment. Then it gave a tiny sigh. ‘I 
feared as much. For of course you have guessed the rest of the story. 
Aubretia sold all she had and gave him the money to redeem his 
fortune. When she dared to ask to go with him, he said that her passage 
south would cost too much, and the hardships would be too much for 
her to endure. That ring you wear once held an emerald, flawless and 
deep green. Even that he took. Howarth pried the stone out of the 
setting himself, saying he would sell the stone in Jamaillia only if he 
had to, but that he hoped to bring it back and restore it to her hand. He 
promised her that, no matter how he fared, he would come back within 
a year. She watched him sail from the Bingtown docks. Then she went 
to her oldest friend and confessed her situation. She threw herself on 
her mercy. Well, they had been friends since girlhood. Despite her 
threats, she took your grandmother in, and gave her a bed to sleep in 
and a place at the table. Aubretia was, after all, still a Lantis and a 

11 


Trader. It was expected that she would find a way to make her way in 
the world, and eventually make a suitable match. There is a saying in 
Bingtown. ‘Money does not make a Trader, it is the Trader that makes 
the money.’ Her friends hoped she had learned her lesson. 
make her way in 
the world, and eventually make a suitable match. There is a saying in 
Bingtown. ‘Money does not make a Trader, it is the Trader that makes 
the money.’ Her friends hoped she had learned her lesson. 

Yet it was hard for them to be patient with her, for she did little 
except moon after her absent lover. A year went by and then another. 
All of us told her both man and fortune were gone, and she should 
make a fresh start for herself. Aubretia insisted she would wait, that 
Howarth would come back from her.’ The carved face pursed its lips in 
ancient disappointment. ‘She waited. And that was all she did.’ 

‘Did Howarth ever come back?’ I asked in a whisper. The 
pendant’s small face twisted in disgust. ‘Oh, yes. He returned. Some 
three years later, he came back to Bingtown, but it was months before 
your grandmother knew of it. She recognized him one day as he strolled 
through the Market with his fine foreign wife at his side. A servant 
walked behind them, carrying a parasol to shade them. A nurse carried 
their little son. And his pale, plump Jamaillian wife wore the Lantis 
emerald at her throat.’ 

‘What did she do?’ I whispered. 

The pendant’s small voice grew heavy with an old weariness. I 
sensed it was a memory often pondered but still painfully fresh. ‘She 
stood and stared. She could not believe her eyes. And then a cry of 
purest disbelief broke out of her. At the sound, he turned. Howarth 
recognized her, and yet he turned aside from her. She shrieked his 
name, demanding to know why he had abandoned her. In the streets of 
Bingtown, before Traders and common merchants, she wailed like a 
madwoman and tore out her hair. She fell to her knees and begged him 
to come back to her, wailing that she could not live without him. But 
Howarth only took his wife’s arm and hurried her way, whispering 
something to her about "that poor mad woman." ‘ 

The pendant fell silent. 

‘Then what happened?’ I demanded. My heart was beating 
strangely fast. ‘Did she go to him and confront him and his wife, 

12 


denounce how he had taken her fortune, demand the return of her fortune, demand the return of her 

emerald?’ 

In a trembling whisper, the pendant confided, ‘No.’ 

‘Why?’ Pain hushed my voice. I recalled my grandmother’s 
resigned eyes and feared I already knew the answer. 

‘I do not know. I will never understand it. Her friends urged her 
to confront him, to bring a complaint against them. When she spoke 
with them, she was strong. But whenever she was alone and set pen to 
paper, she lost her resolve. Weeping, she would confess to me that she 
loved him still. She would spin tales that he had been drugged or was 
bewitched by the woman. Her hands would shake and she would 
wonder aloud what she herself lacked, what was wrong with her that 
the Jamaillian woman could steal Howarth from her. Never, ever did she 
see him for the scoundrel and the cheat that he was. I could not make 
her see that the man she loved had never existed; that she persisted in 
loving an idealized image of Howarth, that the real man was worthy only 
of her contempt. She would sit down, pen in hand, to denounce him. 
But always, her accusing letters somehow changed into pleas to him to 
come back to her. The worst was the night that she went by darkness to 
his door. She sought entry there, like a beggar, pleading with a servant 
to let her in so she might speak privately with the master of the house. 
The servant turned her aside with disdain, and she, Aubretia Lantis of 
the Bingtown Traders, crept away weeping and shamed. I think that 
night broke her. The next evening she packed the few possessions that 
remained her own, and we left Bingtown, walking away in the dimness 
while her friends were at dinner. She did not even bid them goodbye. 
She felt she had lost all standing with them and could never be seen as 
anything but a fool.’ 

I felt ill, dizzied with the dirty little story. It twisted my memories 
of the gentle old woman I had tended for the last two years. I had 
believed her contained and stoic. I had deemed it strength, that she had 
endured my grandfather’s harsh ways, and tolerated the disrespect of 

13 


her step-son. Now it seemed something else. The implacable little voice 
went on. 
-son. Now it seemed something else. The implacable little voice 
went on. 

‘She left Bingtown. Just walked away. She said she did not care 
what became of her, just so long as she could escape everyone telling 
her she should confront Howarth. She came to the countryside, and 
floundered through work as an inn-maid until she married a man she 
did not love, to tend his son and bear him a daughter. Shortly after 
your mother was born, she set me aside, for I was the final reminder of 
the life she had abandoned.’ The tiny face pressed its lips together in a 
flat line. ‘I begged her to listen to me, even as she wrapped me in linen. 
I could not stand to see her raise her daughter in submission to her 
brutish father and that loutish boy of his. She should have her 
birthright, I said. I told her it was not too late to go back and reclaim 
her inheritance. But she muffled my voice and shut me away.’ 

I thought of all the years the pendant had waited in the box. 
‘Why did you tell me this?’ I asked it in a low voice. 

For the first time, a question seemed to give the pendant pause. 
It lifted its brows as if amazed I did not know. ‘Because she lives on in 
me, as do all the women of your line who have worn me. And I would 
see things set right. I would see you regain what is rightfully yours.’ 

Rightfully mine. The concept seemed almost foreign. It frightened 
me. ‘But how? I have no proof, I do not know him, if Howarth still lives 
and -’ 

‘Hush. I will guide you. You have the empty ring on your hand 
and me at your throat. You need no more than this.’ 

My head so whirled with stories, I do not know how I slept that 
night. But I woke, still clutching the wizardwood pendant in my hand. 
Stiff in every joint, I rose, and donned the silver necklace and made my 
way to Bingtown. 

In the next few weeks, the pendant became my guide. My ears 
swiftly became attuned to its soft whisper. The advice it gave me was 
difficult to follow, and yet when I listened to it, I found that my life 
progressed. In Bingtown, I sought and found a position caring for an 

14 


elderly Trader woman. The food at Trader Redof’s table was better than 
any I had ever eaten before, and the cast-off garments of her grandly Trader woman. The food at Trader Redof’s table was better than 
any I had ever eaten before, and the cast-off garments of her granddaughter 
were the finest clothing I had ever worn. My years of caring for 
my grandmother served me in good stead. I became a willing ear for any 
gossip Trader Redof wished to share, and despite all the difficulties of 
escorting such an old woman in Bingtown, I saw to it that she visited 
her friends often. 

Tending to her, I soon came to know well the bustling trade city. 
Supporting her elbow and carrying her foot-cushion, I moved invisibly 
amongst Bingtown society. I saw the power of the Bingtown Traders, 
power based not solely on wealth, but on heritage. I marvelled at all my 
grandmother had abandoned, all that might have been my mother’s life. 
From marvelling at it, I grew to hunger for it. I changed my country 
manners to mimic hers, and flattened the twang of my speech. Schooled 
by my pendant in the evening, I changed how I carried myself in public 
and how I dressed my hair. I took on the mannerisms of a Bingtown 
woman, where women who were Traders for their families held as much 
power as their male counterparts. Seeing all that my grandmother had 
surrendered made my hatred of Howarth grow. I longed to seek him out 
and confront him. Yet month after month passed, and still the pendant 
bid me bide my time in patience. 

My yearnings for vengeance surprised me. My grandmother and 
mother had both schooled me in selfeffacing resignation. I had thought 
it the lot of all women. Only in Bingtown did I come to see that a woman 
might live alone and manage her own life. I looked back on how Tetlia 
had robbed me of my grandmother’s necklaces, and could not recall 
why I had not challenged her. I recalled the liberties Hetta’s husband 
had attempted on me, and wondered why I had not vigorously resisted 
him. My old self in the countryside faded to a young woman whose 
docility was as incomprehensible to me as my grandmother’s fatalistic 
surrender of her life. 

I listened to my pendant. I never spoke Howarth’s name aloud 
nor asked after him and his family. I was a devoted servant, well nigh 

15 


invisible. Twice, other families tried to hire me away but I kept my 
place. And finally, one day as I hovered near my mistress’s chair at a 
tea, I heard his name mentioned, in connection with some other tattle 
about a Jamaillian family that had moved to Bingtown and was putting 
on airs. ‘A page from Howarth’s book,’ someone said with a sniff, and I 
knew then that he still lived and that my grandmother’s scandal was 
still recalled by these old women. I listened as they chewed through that 
old tale, and gained tidings not only that Howarth still lived, but that 
knowing Traders in Bingtown still regarded him with disdain. 
place. And finally, one day as I hovered near my mistress’s chair at a 
tea, I heard his name mentioned, in connection with some other tattle 
about a Jamaillian family that had moved to Bingtown and was putting 
on airs. ‘A page from Howarth’s book,’ someone said with a sniff, and I 
knew then that he still lived and that my grandmother’s scandal was 
still recalled by these old women. I listened as they chewed through that 
old tale, and gained tidings not only that Howarth still lived, but that 
knowing Traders in Bingtown still regarded him with disdain. 

That night, in my small chamber off my mistress’s room, I 
consulted with my pendant. ‘Are we ready now to take revenge? To 
confront Howarth and demand that he return all he stole from my 
grandmother?’ 

The small lips pursed as if tasting wine that had gone to vinegar. 
It gave a tiny sigh. ‘I suppose it is time you saw the man. In some ways, 
that could be the culmination of your education.’ The little eyes 
narrowed and glittered speculatively. ‘When we go, you will take the 
empty ring. Let me pick the day, however. And on that day, you must do 
and say exactly what I tell you to. In this, you must trust me, or all will 
be for naught.’ 

Twice every forty days, my mistress granted me a half-day to 
myself. My pendant chose a day for me. It was one my mistress was 
loath to grant me, for it was a day of celebration in Bingtown, but I 
persuaded her to allow it, promising her that I would return early to 
help her with her evening preparations. It was the anniversary of the 
Traders arriving at Bingtown Bay. In the evening, there would be parties 
and dinners hosted by the wealthier Traders. But earlier in the day, the 
whole city would celebrate. There would be speeches and dancing in the 
centre of the Great Market, food and drink would flow free to all, and 
the streets would be thronged with folk of all persuasions. Although the 
evening festivities were reserved for Traders and their families only, all 
the folk of Bingtown would join in the municipal celebration. From all 
the gossip I had heard, I knew it was a day when more recent arrivals to 

16 


Bingtown courted the Old Trader families. Those who did not share 
Trader blood would seek to make more secure their social alliances with 
the powerful Traders. Howarth and his family would certainly be there. 
ader families. Those who did not share 
Trader blood would seek to make more secure their social alliances with 
the powerful Traders. Howarth and his family would certainly be there. 

That morning, I brought my mistress her breakfast tray. I laid 
out her clothing and left her dressing maid to attend her. In my tiny 
chamber, I bathed and dressed as carefully as if it were my wedding 
day. At my pendant`sbidding, the hoarded coins I had earned had gone 
for enamelled pins and a choker of lace. I swept my hair high and 
secured it. When I slipped into my mistress’s room to steal a glance in 
her mirror, I stared at my reflection. My mistress, setting down her 
teacup, opened her eyes wider at sight of me. ‘You remind me of 
someone,’ she said sleepily. She sat up in her bed, regarding me more 
closely. As is I were her daughter, she commanded me to turn before 
her, and then to turn my face to the light. ‘Paint your lips with my 
carmine,’ she instructed me suddenly. ‘And touch your eyes with black.’ 
When I had done so, she inspected me critically. ‘You’ll do,’ she 
observed. ‘There’s Bingtown in your bloodline, my little country wren,’ 
she added with satisfaction. ‘So I’ve been telling those old biddies I call 
my friends. Off you go, to whomever you’ve chosen to captivate. He 
won’t stand a chance before those eyes.’ 

Her words heartened me as much as the approving murmur from 
my pendant. I returned to my room, to don my final layer of courage. 
The saffron wool of my grandmother’s Trader robe was soft against my 
skin. It fitted as if made for me. My determination swelled as I set out 
through the morning streets of the city I had made mine. The bustle of 
commerce no longer daunted me, nor did I look aside from the 
approving glance a Trader’s son sent my way. Like me, he wore his 
Trader’s robe today. The garment proclaimed me his equal, and by his 
glance, I could tell he accepted me as that. I held my head higher. I 
made my way confidently into the heart of the city. Occasionally, an 
older Trader would regard me with a puzzled stare. I knew it had been 
years since anyone had worn the saffron Trader robes of the Lantis 
family. I smiled at their puzzlement and strode on. The festive crowds 

17 


grew denser yet it seemed they parted for me. The music drew me, as 
did the savoury aromas that floated on the morning air. 
y parted for me. The music drew me, as 
did the savoury aromas that floated on the morning air. 

I reached the great circle of the Market. Today, the centre had 
been cleared. Music was playing, and sailors and shopgirls were already 
dancing in the morning sun. On the edges of the circle, pavilions had 
been raised, and people of social note welcomed their friends and 
business associates. The grandest ones belonged to Bingtown Trader 
families and bore their colours, but the tents of the wealthy merchants 
of lesser bloodlines competed to draw the eye. The sides of the pavilions 
had been roped open to reveal carpets and expensive furniture. Trader 
families welcomed one another with tables of dainty foods in these 
temporary dwellings, competing in opulence and comfort. No expense 
had been spared for this single day of celebration. I walked a slow 
circuit of these, listening to the murmur of my pendant as it peeked 
through the lacy choker that concealed it. 

‘Those are the Hardesty colours -well, they seem to have 
prospered in the last generation. And that tasselled one would be the 
Beckerts: they were always given to show. Wait. Stop here.’ 

I halted, and I swear I felt a vibration of tension from the 
pendant. The pavilion before us was pitched almost in line with those of 
the Bingtown Traders’ tents, as if to claim near-equal status. Whereas 
the Trader pavilions bore the simple colours of each of the old Bingtown 
families, the newcomers’ tents were striped or particoloured. The 
pavilion before me was white and green. The family was arrayed within 
as if for a portrait; parents and grown children sat about a table heavy 
with a rich morning repast. Two young men in the robes of Bingtown 
Traders were guests there. From a separate, higher table, on tall chairs 
almost like thrones, an elderly couple looked down benevolently on their 
family. The matriarch was a small plump woman. Her thinning white 
hair was carefully coiffed and rings adorned her pale little hands. The 
emerald at her throat seemed to burn with a green fire. Beside her sat a 
handsome old man, as elegantly dressed and groomed. As I looked at 
him, I felt the pendant share my glance. From it, I felt a sudden wave of 

18 


hatred greater than any I had ever known. Mingled with it was fury, and 
outrage that he and the wife he had bought with Aubretia’s money had 
both outlived her in luxury aid grace. Hardship and privation, I now 
saw, had cut short my grandmother’s life. Not just wealth and respect, 
but life itself he had stolen from her. 
outrage that he and the wife he had bought with Aubretia’s money had 
both outlived her in luxury aid grace. Hardship and privation, I now 
saw, had cut short my grandmother’s life. Not just wealth and respect, 
but life itself he had stolen from her. 

‘But for your betrayal, Howarth, Aubretia Lantis would still be 
alive!’ 

The words rang out from my throat. I scarce recognized my own 
voice. All about me, the festivities faltered. Conversation in the 
adjoining pavilions ceased. All eyes were turned towards the scene I had 
abruptly created. My heart near stopped in my chest, but I found myself 
going on without it, stepping forward without conscious volition, 
shouting words whose source was not myself. ‘I bring you word of her 
death. Poverty and privation shortened her life, but it was your betrayal 
of her heart that killed her, Howarth. Aubretia Lantis was my 
grandmother. I give to you now the last bit of wealth that you were 
unable to strip from her: this ring, as empty as your promise. Keep it, 
along with all else you swindled from her.’ I pulled the silver circle from 
my hand and threw the empty setting with a skill not my own. It 
sparkled as it flew through the air, and it landed squarely in Howarth’s 
empty glass, setting it ringing in the silence that followed my words. 
The old man’s eyes stood out from his face, and a vein pulsed wildly on 
his brow. I suspected he thought he saw a ghost, come back to waken 
old scandal just when his reputation most needed to be sound. I looked 
aside from him to his wife. She was scarlet with humiliation. ‘Study it 
well, Howarth’s wife,’ I bade her disdainfully. ‘Would not the Lantis 
emerald you wear about your neck fit well in its setting? Believe what 
you have denied to yourself all these years; a dead woman’s wealth 
bought you. Know that you married a liar and an upstart; know that 
your whole family is founded on his betrayal of a Bingtown Trader.’ I 
rounded disdainfully on the two young Trader men who sat at his table. 
The young women beside them, obviously Howarth’s daughters, stared 
at me in white-faced horror. ‘Consider well what you join your names 

19 


to, Traders’ sons,’ I told them. ‘It is the Lantis wealth you are marrying, 
stripped of the Lantis name.’ 
’ sons,’ I told them. ‘It is the Lantis wealth you are marrying, 
stripped of the Lantis name.’ 

Howarth had found his tongue. The dapper old man now looked 
drawn and pale. He pointed a shaking finger at me but spoke to his wife 
in the pitched voice of the near-deaf. ‘She can prove nothing! Nothing! 
The money Aubretia gave me, she gave me for love of me. She cannot 
legally force me to return it.’ 

His wife’s jaw dropped open. I thought she would faint from 
mortification. I let the silence gather, then floated my words upon it. 
‘And with those words, you admit a guilt and a shame greater than 
anything I could wish to prove. Keep the wealth, Howarth. Choke on it. 
You have dirtied it, and I have no need of anything you have touched.’ 

I turned on my heel then and walked away. A stunned silence 
hung behind me like a curtain, one that was suddenly rent by the wind 
of a thousand tongues flapping. Like a stirred beehive, all of the great 
Market circle hummed and buzzed. The scandal that Howarth thought 
he had left behind him would now mark his declining years. 

‘Nor will his daughters wed Traders’ sons. His wife would do best 
to sweep them back to Jamaillia and marry them off where she can, for 
after this, they will never mount into Bingtown society,’ my pendant 
Whispered to me in savage joy. ‘You have done it, my dear. You have 
done us all proud with your success.’ 

I made no reply, but cut my way through the crowds, ignoring 
the comments and stares that followed me. My steady walk slowly 
cooled the angry flush from my cheeks and calmed the thundering of 
my heart. I had found my way down to the Bingtown docks where the 
cool wind off the water swept the heat from my face. I pondered the 
words I had said and what I had done. At the time it had seemed so 
perfectly fulfilling. Now I wondered at it. 

‘But what did I accomplish?’ I lifted the pendant from my neck 
and looked at the tiny face. ‘I thought I was doing all this to regain my 
inheritance. I thought I would force him to give up the wealth he had 

20 


stolen from my grandmother. Instead, I walked away with nothing. Not 
even an empty ring remains to me. Only you.’ 
ead, I walked away with nothing. Not 
even an empty ring remains to me. Only you.’ 

‘Only me,’ the pendant agreed. ‘And your name. Taken back out 
of the dust and raised to pride once more. It is what your grandmother 
abandoned, and what I wished you to reclaim. Not money or jewels, but 
the rightful self-worth of a Lantis. You are a Bingtown Trader now, by 
resolution as well as by right. Perhaps you will work as a servant by 
day, but what you earn will be your own. And when the Bingtown 
Council meets, you will wield your rightful vote.’ The little face smiled 
up at me. The warmth in the small voice was a family’s love. ‘And that, 
girl, is your inheritance.’ 

21