Giebrienmaa-Lar sighed and looked around her childhood home. She said practically, “You’ll have to clear out all of this…stuff before we can sell it, Baranyi. Father did become something of a pack rat in his old age, didn’t he?”
Her sister, Barelvyanyi often shortened to Baranyi, said helplessly, “When his prints suddenly became popular, Father saw no reason not to indulge himself. Other people’s artwork he’d always wanted to own, baubles – he even had a share in racing goat at one stage. Although,” she added fairly, “I think he mainly wanted to draw it.”
“At least there’s not that to get rid of too,” said her sister. “Tatat and Koppod will want their share of the proceeds from the house as soon as possible; living in Lannamer is so expensive.”
“I’ll have to find somewhere to store it all until I have somewhere else to live,” said Baranyi. “Not that I want to keep it all for ever, but it will take time to find buyers for some of the better items.”
“Why would anyone want to buy any of this?” Giebmaa picked up the top folio binder from a stack beside their late father’s favourite chair and flipped it open. The print showed an image of a young woman with her dark hair in elaborate braids, a delicately embroidered and faithfully rendered set of linens, and a kiprat in the style of the late reign of the Empress Otyeriotanerio. “Scandalous pictures, is that’s what’s in all these folders? Speaking as someone who went to an Academy and studied Art, I think you’d be best off just junking the lot of, is this thing labelled?”
“They all are,” said Baranyi faintly and anxiously. “Father liked to collect full sets, if he could get or accumulate them.”
“Did he? Well thankfully they’re not mine. Mind you, you’ll need to be rid of the lot of them if you’re coming to live with us. This is not the sort of thing I want diverting the boys’ minds at their ages.” Giebmaa closed the folder she was holding and dropped it back down on the pile it had come from, not noticing that her sister was holding her breath. “A Study in Braids? Who names these things?”
“Kozhsyalsyalsyek,” said her husband, Larbednmooklel-Gieb, from the doorway. “Very well-known and very collectable, in his particular niche. Please be gentler with your sister’s inheritance, my dear. Your father may have left her a small fortune for staying home and looking after him all these years. With the proceeds of what she cares to sell from the collection and her share of the house, I doubt she’ll need to move in with us.” He smiled and added, “If you really want a live-in housekeeper, I’ll hire one for you.”
Giebmaa looked at him stunned. “You’re saying that this junk is worth money? If it is, why would it all be Baranyi’s?”
“Because your father specifically left it to her,” Larlel said carefully. “The world isn’t all about you dear. Besides, you just said that you were glad that your father’s collection wasn’t yours.”
“That was before I knew it was worth anything,” Giebmaa replied frankly. “We’ve four children to raise. Tatat’s got six. Baranyi-.”
“Deserves a chance for all that, don’t you think? If she wants it and not something else,” added Larlel, casting a glance at his sister-in-law. “She stayed with your parents, looked after them, and let the rest of you build your careers, and private lives, without those responsibilities. Now it’s her turn.”
“I might try finding a teacher and studying languages,” said Baranyi quietly. “Or singing. And travel to the Bitrani enclaves to study Bitrani aesthetics and their tonal palette.”
“You were never interested in studying before,” accused her sister.
“Oh, I was interested,” corrected Baranyi, “but I was more interested in eating regularly, and people not fighting all the time and being cross because they were hungry. Giebmaa, did you ever learn to cook anything? Anything at all?”
This is now followed by Legacy 2.