“Your hair really is purple, isn’t it?” Bade asked quietly. “The gods really have blessed you. Something powerful really is happening in this country. It isn’t just rumor and legend. There’s something special here.”
“It isn’t something that can be explained,” Orinakin said. “I can tell you about it until I grow hoarse, but you won’t believe it until you see it for yourself and feel it for yourself and truly experience it. T’rin was right, some things simply need to be felt to be believed and accepted.” He stood. “Come back to dinner.”
“And if I say anything terribly embarrassing or offensive, you’ll defend me?” Bade asked, rising. “I can’t go home.”
“You want nothing more than to go home,” Orinakin said.
“I can’t go home,” Bade insisted. “This is the most important opportunity of my lifetime, this is the best chance Nosupolis has had in too many years, I can’t-”
“All right, all right, I-”
“It’s not all right,” Bade protested. “You live here where everything’s bright and everyone’s happy and your gods give you water and over half of the food you produce, you export simply because you don’t need it. Our people are tired, tired of working too hard for not enough, tired of praying to gods who don’t listen, tired of paying priests who don’t care, tired of having a king who can’t help them. I can help them! This is my chance! I can’t go home!”
Orinakin stared at him. “Why didn’t your father tell me any of this?”
“Because he’s tired, too,” Bade snapped. “How long was your aunt the diplomat?”
“Thirty-four years,” Orinakin said, frowning.
“My father met with her three times,” Bade said. “Two of those times were in Granete.”
Orinakin looked surprised. “She was only in Nosupolis once?”
“She was there more often than her uncle was.”
The expression on Orinakin’s face was, briefly, angry, but not at Bade. Shaking his head, though, he said, “It’s a large world. There are countries in worse conditions than yours. There have been droughts, there have been-”
“I know about the droughts, I know about the plagues, I know about the poor nations. Our people have clothes on their backs, and most of them find something to put on their plates. For many years, our kings have turned to their neighbors for help, have tried to get the attention of stronger powers, but to no avail. So they’ve stopped. But Tiko wants to try again. Tiko wants to trade, wants to-”
“Trade what?” Orinakin asked.
“Our blacksmiths can create anything, and their work is much more detailed than what we’ve seen in our neighboring countries,” Bade said. “We have a great deal of natural wool, more than enough to trade, and after so many centuries, our looms can spin a great variety of yarns, clothing, blankets, and I don’t know what else. And we’d trade the sheep and goats themselves, if anyone wanted them.”
Orinakin stared at him. “You have sheep?” he demanded. “You have goats?! Don’t you know how many people need those goats right now? How many people would keep them, breed them, eat them, milk them, wear their wool, and be able to live a much improved life? And you’re keeping them because no one asked you for them?”
“My father offered! But whose ear does he have anymore besides that of the king of Granete, who’s sick of herding our sheep off of his border? You see everything, you go everywhere, you speak to everyone, you know who has a need for what much better than we do.”
“Why didn’t anyone else ever mention this?” Orinakin demanded. “To Riturihi, to Niti, to anyone?”
“It wasn’t always the case,” Bade said. “We didn’t have as many sheep before as we do now, but when he was eleven, Tiko convinced my father to try to increase the number, and my father didn’t want to naysay my brother’s grand plans, so the shepherds have been growing their flocks ever since. Tiko says that as soon as we begin to export and gain a little money, we can do even more.”
“Why didn’t Tiko tell me any of this?”
“He’s not king yet. He won’t ask you for help if my father chooses not to. Now that the diplomat of Orina Anoris is finally paying us some attention, my father is too proud to ask for help on his first visit.” Bade looked closely into Orinakin’s eyes. “You came to us once. Then you returned, to bring me here. Were you ever going to come back?”
Orinakin hesitated. “Nosupolis wasn’t a priority.”
Bade nodded. “Well, it is for me.”
My favorite scene from that chapter.
