I hope it’s not too interesting to whoever this man is. Because if he marries me for ships, and then finds out there are none, I am the one who will suffer. I have no doubt that Joyce will concoct a clever lie if she needs to, saying the ships went down just after the wedding. Calm down, poor fortune happens to everyone, I can imagine her saying.
“Indeed,” Joyce says. “So as you can see, this isn’t what one would think of as a normal marriage. I recognize that it is customary for the bride to bring her dowry. But I’m a shrewd businesswoman, and I know the value of my daughter and what I’m offering. As such, I am asking all potential suitors to let me know what they would give me in return for the benefit of her hand.”
There is a long pause. “My master has no interest in ships,” that weathered, weary voice says. “You can keep them.”
Master?Does that mean the man speaking is not my would-be husband? What type of man would send a servant to negotiate for me? I did not want love, but I had dared to hope for dignity. But if the man can’t even be bothered to come now, then how will he treat me once I am in his care?
“Then what is it that your master would like as a dowry?” Joyce seems absolutely flummoxed that someone would refuse the ships. Though I can hear the delight at this making her voice tremble.
“My master is a collector of a certain variety of rare goods. It is come to his attention that you are in possession of a particular tome he has long sought.”
“A book?” A pause. “Oh, you serve him.” Joyce’s voice sharpens. “I know Covolt always refused to sell it, but you will find me a much more amenable businesswoman.”
The book… They couldn’t possibly be talking about that book, could they?
When Joyce entered into our lives she decreed that all remnants of my birth mother be expunged from the halls. I had tried to object, but my father told me it was a natural thing for a new wife to do. That new love couldn’t blossom in the shade of old. One night I went to him, utterly inconsolable. I begged him to save something, anything, just one thing. I had already lost the memories of my mother’s face by then. I didn’t want to lose more.
It was then that he showed me the book. It was a small, old thing. Whatever lettering had once been stamped onto its leather had been mostly worn away with time. The only marking that was still discernible was an eight-pointed star at the top of a mountain imprinted on the spine. The writing inside had faded, leaving only illegible ghosts to haunt mostly blank pages.
My father swore to me that it was the one thing my mother had treasured most. The one thing she wanted me to have and keep safe—my birthright. And when I was a woman, he would give it to me. But in the meantime, he swore me to secrecy on the importance of the title. I’m sure to keep Joyce from destroying it like she did everything else of my mother’s.
When I was worried most that Joyce would discover the book, I had told Father I did not want to wait. Let me hide it, I’d begged. But he said I wasn’t ready. So he gave me the lute to ensure I had something of Mother’s, claiming it was the one she’d used to sing my lullabies.
“My master had hoped that would be the case,” the old man says. “He has empowered me to make the following offer: he will take the young woman’s hand in marriage and look after her for the rest of her, or his, days on this mortal plane—whichever ends first. She will never be left wanting. He asks only for the book as a dowry. Furthermore, to show good faith toward your family, he will pay four thousand pieces when the marriage papers are signed.”
My fate is sealed. Four thousand pieces is more than this entire manor is worth. That is one year’s operations of my father’s trading company during the best of times. I slowly slide down the wall as I realize this mysterious man who could not even be bothered to come in person will be my husband.
“That is a very generous offer indeed.” Joyce’s voice quivers slightly. I can imagine she’s frothing at the mouth. “I shall draw the papers to immortalize this agreement, and cement the marriage. Shall we sign them tomorrow when your master can come?”
“There is no need to wait.”
“Oh?”
“As I said, my master has empowered me to make such decisions on his behalf. I am able to sign for him and he’s given me his seal. He said, should you agree to our terms, to conclude business immediately.”
“Very well then.”
Somewhere between the mutterings over the best wording for the agreement, and the shuffling of papers, I stop listening. I lean against the wall, hands shaking, fighting for air. The world spins sickly fast. I knew this would happen. I knew it. But now it’s real and happening so quickly… I thought… I thought I’d have more time…
“There, it is done,” Joyce declares as she no doubt finishes signing my name on my behalf.
“Good. Tell your daughter to collect her things as you collect the book.” More scraping of chairs. “We will leave within the hour.”
Just like that, I am married and am leaving the only home I’ve ever had…for a man whose name I don’t even know.
