Emma pt. 8

Want to start at the beginning? - Emma, Part 1

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Emma wasn’t sure if the chill that ran through her as she entered the hall was due to the cold shadows or her own uncertainties. A steady trickle of people followed behind her, each moving quickly to their seats. She lingered in the open entryway, feeling out of place, and worried that people might be staring at her.


She cast quick glances around her, looking out the door, wishing desperately that Rilen had followed her in, then took a deep breath and walked to the seating. The stone steps were in the rear of the chamber, five rows of seating that formed a sweeping semicircle across the whole length of the hall. The first two rows of seating were given over to merchants and petitioners from all ranks of society, while the top three rows were reserved for noble families.

A stone table sat in the very center of the hall, carved up from the ground rather than resting on it, and three matching chairs were carved next to it, each with embroidered cushions. That was where the Overseers, her brother Eibe included, would sit.

Emma passed the table and wished her brother was already there, it might help her feel less alone. Though she had been to the Assembly half a dozen times to learn about the proceedings, she still felt out of place, slightly lost.

She knew many of the nobles that filtered into the seating around her, but few of them were anything she would call a friend. Those who knew her with any familiarity seemed to be casting surprised looks her way.
For a moment she considered taking a seat in the first rows, on the other wing of seating from where her mother and father would be. They would probably not see her until she stood for her presentation. But she worried if she did it that way her mother would interject or cry out. That might shine a negative light on her petition.

Sitting in the top row, in her family’s reserved seating, would mean confronting her mother sooner, but it would also mean a better chance at winning the contract. She climbed the steps and shuffled toward their seats. The stone was cold through her thin dress and she fussed with her sleeves, unsure how to let them rest. Finally she folded them onto her lap and clutched her hands together overtop them.

Her heart pounded louder and faster than it ever did when she ran. It felt as if her body was thumping with it, she was sure the people around her could see her head pulsing to its beat.

She pursed her lips and breathed very slowly, sucking in a long drag of air, holding it for a moment, then releasing it. After a few controlled breathes she felt more relaxed, her pulse no longer throbbed through her.

Her breath stopped altogether when she saw her father walk into the hall. His round face was turned up in a laugh that didn’t quite make it all the way to his eyes. The stern determination of his yellow eyes rarely vanished, threatening to pull his whole expression into a deep scowl at a moment’s notice, even in the best of humors.

He walked quickly, a group of dwin following him, hurrying to keep his pace. He addressed them over his shoulder, not seeming very interested in what they had to say.

Emma exhaled slowly and glanced around the entrance for her mother. At almost the same moment her father also cast his glance back to the wide doorway, the laughter dropping from his face in an instant as he struggled to look past the small crowd that now surrounded him.

He waved his hands, dismissing the dwin. They nodded to him, some reaching to grasp him quickly on the arm, and left him standing alone in the middle of the hall. When they were gone he put his hands on his hips and scowled at the door.

Two figures walked through the round doorway; woman, short for a dwin, linked at the elbow with a man whose head was completely bald – Emma’s mother and Eibe. Eibe was draped in a long red and yellow wrap that made him look bulkier than he really was. Her mother wore a blue dress, decorated with a yellow sash and scarf.

Emma resumed her slow, steady breathing and mentally rehearsed what to say to her parents when they reached their seating.

Eibe saw Emma before the others did, he pointed up to her and their mother’s gaze followed. Emma felt the heat of flush in her cheeks. She left one hand heavy in her lap and lifted the other, which took more effort than it should have, to wave down to them.

Her father turned to where his wife and son watched and raised his thick eyebrow in confusion. 

Eibe led their mother across the hall to where their father waited. He kissed her on the hand before inclining his head to their father then climbing into one of the carved stone chairs in the middle of the hall. As their parents climbed the stairs Eibe tilted his shaved head, watching Emma curiously. She smiled weakly at him then turned her head to follow her parents up the seating.

“You didn’t tell us you were visiting the Assembly today.” Her mother spoke the moment she was close enough, not bothering with any greetings.

“You didn’t tell us you’d left the house today,” her father said with a smile that didn’t go past his lips, “I thought you were still in your room. What a shock to see you here, and wearing that.” He smiled and gestured to her dress.

Many people took her father’s stern eyes for displeasure or disinterest.  They thought his half smiles and stiff laughter were a sign of insincerity, but Emma knew otherwise. She knew his genuine charm and humor, but also the doubt and worry that plagued him.

Her mother only stared down at her, demanding with her orange eyes, if not with words, an answer for Emma’s presence.

Emma looked ahead, watching the dwin in the hall slowly take their seats. She turned only slightly as she spoke, so her voice would carry to her mother, but she left her eyes out over the hall.

“I have business here today. I’ve decided to sponsor a contract.”

“You plan to be a Patron?” Her father asked, taking his seat and pulling his wife, who bent stiffly, down between him and his daughter.

“Yes. Deem Ze’Manel is petitioning to transport Rorrick Hillsman’s wares. I plan to be his Patron.” Emma turned, keeping her face as calm as she could, but hearing her heartbeat pound in her ears.

Her mother’s eyes narrowed and darted to the side as she thought.

“How much does he need from you?” her father asked.

“He doesn’t need money, he only needs a voice in the Assembly.”

“Ze’Manel,” her mother’s eyes shot wide, “the brother of that friend of yours,” she turned to her husband, “the one that signed over half his business to a human.” She turned sternly back to Emma.

“Oh darling,” her father said, “if you wanted to be a Patron we could have found a merchant looking for your support. You didn’t have to turn to your friends.”

Emma wanted to say that they had approached her, but she knew that would be a mistake. Her mother would turn it around, claim Emma was being used. Instead she decided to ignore what her father had said completely, to act as though her actions needed no explanation.

“The contract goes up today and I will be presenting for them. If they win I will have to travel with them to Blue Coast on their first delivery.”

Her mother’s expression told Emma she’d made the right choice, waiting until now to tell them. Her cheeks were sharp, sucked in, and her lips were a thin tight line. At home she would be yelling, accusing, but here she had to limit herself to a civil conversation.

“You would have to travel with them,” she raised one eyebrow, “do you even know the first thing about this business.”

Emma quickly rattled off the facts about how many workers Deem employed, how much profit they planned to make, and which merchants they would work with in Blue Coast. For good measure she also told her mother about the two other petitioners Deem said would be presenting for the contract and why she thought Deem was the better choice.

Her father nodded, impressed. “But would you really have to travel all the way to the Blue Coast dear?” he asked, “It is such a long way, and there are so few good dwin there.”

Emma’s eyes were locked with her mother’s. Her mother’s look was full of accusation, but she said nothing. Emma looked at her defiantly, challenging her to put words to her objections. When her mother only sighed and looked away Emma knew she’d won.

The pounding in her ears faded, and a feeling of strength moved up through her middle.

“It would be my duty father,” Emma leaned and reached over her mother’s lap to grasp her father’s hand, he squeezed tightly, “and there are many good dwin working for Deem, and he and Rilen will look after me.”

“If you win the contract,” her mother said, casting a stiff look down and the hands clasped in her lap, then up to Emma.

“We will win the contract.” Emma said, looking over the hall and putting her hands back in her lap.

Deem and Parien had walked in, moving to the first row of seating.  Deem gestured at Emma curtly, Parien waved with a flourish.

Heads turned all around the hall to the tall, blonde human. Parien acted oblivious, and bent down to take a seat, whispering in Deem’s ear.

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Continue to Part 9