“Can you pass me the sunspice, Abrosio?” Elio asked, reaching in his direction across the table.

Abrosio nodded, setting down his knife and handing the sunspice jar across the table.

“Is sunspice a part of meals in the Republic?” Inaco asked, stabbing into his steak.

“No, not really,” Anonia replied. “Unless you head north near the Fash’du Desert. We took some… creative liberties. Besides, who can turn down some extra spice? If your food doesn’t bite you back, what’s the point?”

“Hear, hear!” Elio replied, sprinkling a heavy amount of sunspice onto his food, then sliding it over to Anonia.

The two of them sat at the head of the table, with Rosi on their right and Iria on their left. Just past them sat Abrosio and Inaco, followed by six empty chairs. They didn’t have any guests tonight, but the room felt less empty than it had since their departure.

Iria was a decent cook, but she didn’t take pride in the work like Rosi’s parents did. Whenever they cooked a meal, it tasted like the work of a master, like looking at some great painting in a museum, only in culinary form.

They always tried new recipes borrowed from places they visited, adding their own embellishments. Sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn’t, but that was the whole point of art.

“What about you, Rosi?” Elio asked, cutting away from some other conversation with Inaco. “What have you been up to?”

“Painting,” she replied.

“Have you finished anything new? I would love to see it. You get better every time!”

“It is drying. Maybe tomorrow?” Rosi smiled.

“Of course. I think we might turn in for the night after we eat.”

“What is this meal supposed to do?” Iria asked. “Art-wise, I mean. It’s incredibly rich.”

“It’s actually a bit lacking in that regard,” Elio explained. “Besides just an extra boost of energy, it doesn’t enhance anything. Some say it makes you more daring, as they used to feed it to warriors before a big battle, but now it’s become a common meal for workers.”

“Is that why I feel a sudden urge to go start a tavern fight?” Inaco joked. Elio smiled slightly, but said nothing. Inaco shrugged.

“Is something wrong, sir?” Abrosio asked.

Elio frowned. “I’m just thinking about the way negotiations ended. I may have to return soon to try again.”

“Negotiations for what?” Rosi asked. “Is it the pirates again?”

Elio nodded. “The Republic seems to think it’s our problem, even though they’re reliant on so much of our trade to keep themselves afloat. If the pirates get much worse, their nation will collapse. I’m the only reason they even have musmizh.”

Anonia narrowed her eyes. “Do you think Tharkenwood might be trying to push us out? They’re still bitter about the Rawtek Riots.”

Elio paused for a moment. “Maybe. But they would be hard pressed to output the same volume of product as us. They keep most of it for themselves, from what I hear. Not to mention their…” Elio trailed off after glancing at Rosi, whom he seemed to have forgotten was there.

Rosi hated these pirates. Not just for the fact that they looted, stole, and killed with abandon, but because their presence seemed to be the sole thing keeping Rosi’s parents from bringing her on their trips. They didn’t want something to happen to her if pirates decided to attack.

“Their what?” Rosi asked.

“Nothing, nothing. They just have some additional difficulties when it comes to harvesting Musmizh.”

Rosi nodded.

“How has the city been, Iria?” Elio asked, “There seems to be a lot more ships in port than when we left.”

“Yes, the harbor has been very busy,” Iria replied. “A lot of them are from Kapaya and the Republic. A circus came here from Tharkenwood a few weeks ago!”

“A circus?” Anonia asked. “I’ve always wanted to see one of those! Did you go?”

“I didn’t, no. But some of the performers wandered the streets on occasion. Some of them seemed… strange. They walked on stilts and some had weird faces.”

“But it was fun?” Anonia pressed.

“Oh, of course!” Iria said. She took a sip of wine. “They had all sorts of dances and fireworks! I saw them turn someone into a mouse and then change them back!”

Anonia laughed. Her laugh was always reserved, polite.

Rosi spoke little. She felt so isolated here. Even Iria was allowed to go into town without supervision, exploring where she wanted and seeing sights like this circus. But not Rosi. When she had to leave the Tower of Kíthmu for something, Inaco came with her. She had never liked him.

She picked at the scraps of her food, stabbed into a piece of stewed broccoli, and ate it while she listened half-heartedly to the conversation. They had moved on to a discussion about recent trade agreements with the other Princes, and ongoing discussions with the Shiplords, who were increasing their prices for transport because of the pirates.

Pirates, pirates, pirates. It seemed to be her father’s only care in the world at times. Stopping them, arresting them, getting upset about something they did. The Princes claimed this island, the pirates claimed that one. It never ended.

“They just took over another plantation from the Fruit Barons! I swear, the Barons are causing more problems than they’re solving. If they would just agree to the Shiplords’ new defense fees, none of this would be happening. They think they can protect themselves without a navy!”

“If it’s such an issue, why wouldn’t the Shiplords help them?” Rosi interrupted. “If the pirates are such a threat, then shouldn’t you all be working together?”

“It’s not that simple, Rosi,” Elio explained. “The Shiplords need to pay their crews, and if they let people use their navy for free, then they’ll eventually collapse, too.”

“Won’t that happen anyway?” Rosi asked. “If the Fruit Barons are gone, then everyone else will die too, right?”

“We’ll see. There’s plenty of Princes to keep the world turning without them.”

Rosi frowned. She finished her meal, then stood to leave. “I’m going to go check on my painting,” she said, then gave her parents a hug. “Good night! I can’t wait to go to the market tomorrow!”

“Good night, Rosi!” Anonia said.

“We will get your plate,” Elio said before she left.

She made her way down the hall until she reached the entrance to her room, then took the sheet off of her new painting to examine it one last time. The prison took up a lot more space in the painting than she realized, and other buildings seemed to curve around it to make space for it on the canvas.

She looked out on the darkening sky outside of her window again, and it occurred to her that she could simply go outside on her own. If she could sneak out after her parents went to sleep, she could explore freely as much as she wished.

But she needed a plan to get out. She couldn’t jump out of her window, not without dying. Leaving through the front door would certainly be the safest, but Abrosio or Inaco would likely be waiting nearby and would see her as she left through the foyer.

She hoped that it would be Abrosio, as he might be easier to talk into letting her leave. It was hard to say, though.

Maybe if she used her painting to make some kind of illusion, that would help. For it to be fully believable, she would need to make an incredibly detailed painting, and by the time she finished it, it would be morning. But, if it just needed to last a short time, then she could keep it simple.

Rosi stepped over to the window, peeking out of it and looking down. No, that’s too steep. Just as I thought.

She took out a blank canvas, took out a pencil, and began to sketch Iria’s features onto it. It had been quite some time since she did a portrait, but she felt inspired after Iria’s story today.

Once she was satisfied with the sketch, she took out some orange paint, making sure to get a few different shades.

Before starting, she moved the easel next to a mirror, making sure she could see herself in it. Then she began to paint, relying on her own memories of Iria’s face to make it as accurate as possible. She took advantage of negative space, partly to challenge herself and partly because many of her paints had run low, and left the painting very simple. At the end of the hour, when her parents had certainly fallen asleep, she looked at her own face in the mirror while signing the portrait.

And Iria’s face went onto her own. It had an unnatural orange tint, so Rosi took a blanket and wrapped it around herself like a hood to make it seem like shadows.

She tried her best to copy Iria’s posture and gait— she hadn’t really paid much attention to it before, but had some idea of it regardless.

She opened the door of the tower-home, and saw Inaco on the other side. “Going somewhere, Iria?”

“Yes,” Rosi replied, doing her best to imitate Iria’s accent. “I need to make a quick late-night run for some groceries. Elio said he needs them for breakfast.”

“Perhaps I should come with you. It is night, after all.”

“No, no. I will be fine. It’s just a quick trip!”

“I’m sure you’re just covered in knives,” he remarked. He would expect some kind of rebuttal from Iria, as was their custom.

“Oh, just everywhere! Don’t touch me, you might get stabbed!”

Inaco smiled. “At least let me follow you to the bottom of the tower.”

Rosi nodded, waving for him to follow, and made her way down to the bottom of the tower.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3: Vasura