“Tris joined us,” said Briar, his eyes cold. “We got Sandry out of the crate.”
Berenene shook her head as Quen returned to them. “Cousin, what can I say?” she asked helplessly. “Finlach has committed a serious offense against you, without my knowledge or approval.” Her voice hardened despite her struggle for an appearance of calm. “He forgot his duty to me. I assure you, he will be arrested and punished. You will see how quickly justice is done here.”
“Cousin, justice should be done very quickly,” Sandry replied, her face hard. “We are returning to Emelan as soon as we can pack.”
Isha flinched despite her years at court. Quen halted rather than come closer. Slowly, Berenene replied, trying to think, “But the summer is only half done.”
“I don’t want to see how I will feel after an entire summer,” Sandry retorted. “That a custom that permits such things against the women in this realm continues under a monarch who is female herself—”
“I am not the empress of weaklings,” said Berenene. “A strong woman would find a way to escape, as I did. As you have. They have families to help them, if their families are strong.”
Sandry shook her head. Her hands trembled as they lay folded in her lap. “Not all women or families are strong in the same way. They are entitled to your protection. I will not remain in a country that withholds that protection. And it’s been made clear to me that I cannot even count myself safe in your own palace, Cousin.”
Berenene felt as if the chit had slapped her. “You dare…,” she began to say, furious, then met Sandry’s eyes. Of course she dares, thought Berenene. And she is right. I was so secure in my power that I did not realize spirited young animals, like my courtiers, are forever testing the leash and the rein. I relaxed my vigilance and she was offered an intolerable insult. The custom is supposed to apply only to women taken in the open, not when they are under the protection of their liege lords. In shattering my protection, Fin destroyed my credit with every parent who entrusts an unmarried daughter to my care.
She smoothed her skirts. “You are hurt and recovering from a bad fright,” she said in her most soothing voice. “In the morning, you will feel differently. Would you really turn your back on all Namorn has to offer?” She met Briar’s eyes when she said this.
It was Briar who answered. “If this is what Namorn offers, yes. It is only as a courtesy to you that I don’t address Fin myself. It’s my sister he tried to kidnap, and our magic is plenty thicker than blood. Or maybe I should just give him to Sandry when he doesn’t have drugs and spells to make him the big man.” His voice was heavy with contempt. “You think a strong woman can always beat this? I call it rape, in any country.”
Berenene did not want to meet his eyes any longer. Something in them made her feel an emotion she had not faced in years: guilt. She didn’t like it. Instead, she turned her gaze to Sandry. “And so like your mother, you abandon your lands and your duty to your people.”
Sandry’s chin thrust forward like a mule’s. “My people are very well cared for by someone who knows them,” she snapped. “How dare you speak to me that way, as if I’d gone roistering and left my tenants to beg? Instead, I am to remain here, where I am nothing more than money bags and acreage? Where I am a thing, to occupy a niche in some household shrine, except when my lord husband wants to polish me up a little?”
She doesn’t even realize she’s crying, the empress thought, feeling a quiver of pity which she dismissed right away. I managed well enough, she thought irritably, escaping two oafs who thought they had the better of me. Namorn is a hard country. It requires strong women, strong men, and strong children to survive and make it prosper. I learned that from my father, even as he signed my second kidnapper’s execution papers.
Sandry shook her head and dashed her tears away. “I’m going home. I’ve made arrangements so Cousin Ambros will never be strapped for money again. My friends may stay or go as they will, but I’m going back to Emelan, where I am a person, not an heiress.” She spat the word as if it were a curse, stood, curtsied briefly, and limped from the chamber. When Quen raised a hand to stop her with one spell or another, Berenene shook her head. There are other ways to bring a haughty young clehame to see things reasonably, she told herself.
She looked at the other two and realized they watched her, eyes intent.
What would they have done if I hadn’t stopped Quen? Berenene wondered. For a moment, she was almost afraid. Those bright pairs of eyes, one gray-green, one gray, were fixed on her with the same unblinking attention with which her falcons watched prey.
You may have power, she silently told them, but I am older and far more experienced. I have true great mages at my side, not accomplished children. She held their eyes for a moment, before she looked at Briar alone. “You may stay,” she told him, thickening the honey in her voice. “I still offer you the empire for your garden. Imagine it, Briar, spice trees from Qidao and Aliput, medicine ferns from Mbau, incense bushes from Gyonxe…”
His head snapped back as if she had slapped him. “And turn a blind eye to this? Wonder what woman scuttling by is with her husband of her free will? Here I was thinking only street rats got treated like roach dung. I’m honored you think so well of me, Imperial Majesty, but I’m leaving with Sandry.” He bowed to the empress briefly and looked at Tris.
“Coming,” she said, getting to her feet. “The rat hole’s plugged,” she informed Berenene. She fought a yawn. When it passed, she added, “Thank you for the offer of a position, but I’m with Briar and Sandry.” She bobbed a curtsy, took the arm Briar offered, and walked out with him.
The door closed silently.
Berenene sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. She could feel her two great mages waiting for her to speak. In my own palace, she thought, furious. My own palace! When dozens of nobles trust their daughters to me, to serve as ornaments to my household!
“Quen,” she said, forcing her voice to be calm. “Send orders down. I want Finlach fer Hurich arrested immediately. Put him in the dampest pit we have. In chains. Throw his servants in with him, also in chains. Check the end of the tunnel Tris blocked, in case any of them are hiding there. I will deal with them tomorrow. Then take a contingent of mages as well as a company of guards and arrest Viynain Notalos fer Hurich on the charge of high treason.”
“The head of the Mages’ Society?” murmured Quen nervously.
Berenene opened her eyes to glare at him. “Do you mean to tell me you can’t take a sniveling political games-player like Notalos?” she snapped. “Have you let your skills and those of your people go slack?”
“He means no such thing, Imperial Majesty,” Isha announced smoothly. “It is easily done, my boy. And he has betrayed a trust. Use the jar of ghosts spell.” Isha rested a hand on Berenene’s shoulder. “It will be done as you require.”
The empress closed her eyes. “Then go do it, Quen. I want him in the mage’s cells here by sunset. If the Society whines, send them to Isha.” She listened as Quen’s footsteps receded, and waited for the sound of the door as it opened and shut behind him. Only when he was gone did she say, “Do something about Trisana Chandler, Isha. They will be so much less cocky—Sandrilene will be far less cocky—without their little weather mage to safeguard them.”
Ishabal nodded. “I will see to it,” she replied softly. “It is easy enough.”
“Subtly.” Berenene knew it was insulting to imply that Isha did not know how to wield a proper curse, but she no longer cared. “I want her for our service even more now. When she swears to us, you will bind her so she knows who is her mistress, Isha.”
It took a while to treat Sandry’s hands and feet—she was in such a fury that it was hard to make her sit quietly. Briar had sent Gudruny for mint tea to calm Sandry down, but Sandry threw the cup into the hearth.
Gudruny looked at the mess, her mouth twisted to one side. “You don’t need me if you mean to have a child’s tantrum, my lady,” she said, sounding like the
experienced mother that she was. “Wake me when you come to bed and I’ll help you with your nightgown. I’ll clean up whatever else you throw in the morning.”
Briar hid a smile and went back to wrapping clean linen around one of Sandry’s feet.
“I am not a child,” Sandry muttered.
From long experience with his sisters, Rosethorn, and Evvy, Briar knew when to keep silent. Instead, he tried to remember if he had ever known Sandry to be in such a towering rage. Even her anger when pirates had attacked Winding Circle was not the same as this. A lot of it’s fear, he thought, drinking the other cup of tea that Gudruny had poured for him. But she’s just not used to being treated like she’s of no account. I only wish she could see that she’s treating her Landreg people the same way, but I can tell it’s not worth talking to her about it right now.
Tris had left when Gudruny fixed the tea, but Chime stayed behind, chinking at Sandry with worry. It was Chime who finally calmed Sandry down. The dragon simply curled up in Sandry’s lap, chiming in a low, clear tone that penetrated the young noble’s rage. The more Chime sang, the slower Sandry’s hands petted the dragon, until Sandry finally smiled ruefully.
“I’ll be fine,” she assured Chime. “Truly.” Sandry looked up at Briar. “I don’t need nursemaids.”
“Then it’s me for bed,” said Briar with a shrug. “You know Her Imperial Majesty will put obstacles in the way, right? Neither you nor she knows how to leave well enough alone.”
Sandry blew out a windy sigh. “Did I ask you?”
Briar propped a fist on one hip. “Since when do I ever need you or anybody to ask?”
That actually got a thin smile from her. “You’re Rosethorn’s boy, all right. You sound just like her.” She kissed the top of Chime’s head. “I really will be fine,” she whispered.
Chime voiced one last sweet note, then took flight, shooting through an open window. They didn’t have to worry about where she would go: Tris had developed a disconcerting habit of sleeping with all of her windows open.
“Then I’m off, too,” Briar told Sandry. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Sandry’s voice stopped him with his hand on the latch. “You don’t have to come. I can’t offer you an empire to garden. And you’re still my brother, even if you choose to stay here.”
“For your information, Countess,” he retorted without turning around, “I ain’t going ’cause of you.” As always when he was truly angry, Briar lapsed into the thieves’ cant that was his original language. “I’ve a mind of my own and I can make it up without you sticking your neb in. In case you didn’t notice, if someone of rank like you don’t have safety here, nobody does. Nobody, from the biggest noble to the smallest street rat. If you ain’t safe, where does that leave folk like Gudruny, and Zhegorz? I’ll tell you where—crated up in a secret chamber somewhere. Or just dumped off a cliff.” He slammed the door behind him when he left.
He used the familiar routine of meditation to calm down after he had brushed the dust and dirt from his magic-woven party clothes. Finally he clambered into bed and blew out his candle. Beds on the road won’t be so soft as this, but they’ll be an ocean’s worth of safer, he thought. The night’s weariness swamped him, and he slid into sleep.
Armies moved in his dark dreams, killing and burning. The flames of the towns they had set alight formed bright spots on the mountain horizon. This was the rocky hidden road into the heart of Gyongxe. The villages that burned were as much Yanjingyi as Gyongxian.
They’re burning out their own people! the dreaming Briar thought in panic. He was small and rabbit-like, fleeing the army as if it were a pack of wild dogs, growling and snapping at his heels. With him stumbled Rosethorn and Evvy and Evvy’s friend Luvo, snug in Evvy’s arms.
Trumpets blared. In his dreams the armies were always right over the next ridge, moving rapidly. Briar and his companions always seemed to crawl along the ground. Awake he knew they had made better time, but in sleep they were on the army’s heels, doomed to warn the inland temples too late. The trumpets blared, the hunter dogs of the armies howled, and Briar tried to run.
He stumbled on the bottom of a heap. One hand pressed against a face, another against a naked leg. Now there was light enough to see what he had found: people, grandparents to babies, all stripped naked, all flung together like discarded dolls. There was blood on his hands.
He screamed and woke at the same time, gasping for breath. As always, he had sweated through his sheets. Sweat stung in his eyes. He got up and wiped away the worst of it with a water-soaked sponge, then changed to casual clothes.
No point in going back to sleep, not when I’ll just dream again, he thought as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. Guess I’ll gather up all the stuff and the shakkans I took from her imperial majesty’s greenhouse and carry them back. I don’t want her thinking I’d take so much as a pair of shears.
It was hard to open the imperial greenhouse with a miniature willow in one hand and a basket full of tools and seedlings in the other, but Briar managed it. Once inside, he pocketed the paper that acted as a magical key and returned each item to its proper location. On each of the seedlings he set a good word for growth and immunity to plant problems. He also left the copper wire wrapped around the willow’s new shape.
I don’t have to punish the plants because my mate’s cross with her cousin, he told the willow, which he had spelled for health and proper growth when he’d first taken it into his care. Even if I feel curst irritable with the empress myself, I won’t let you return to the world without all the protection I can give you.
The willow clung until he coaxed it to release him. You’ve all kinds of mates here, he scolded gently. You don’t need one human who’s just going to vanish, anyway. Aren’t I right? he asked the others, the pines and the maples, the fruit trees and the flowering ones. The greenhouse sounded as if a breeze had blown through as they shook their branches in reply.
His good-byes said, Briar took the paper key from his pocket and crossed into the orchid half of the greenhouse. He meant to place his key by that door to the outside, so Berenene would see it. Instead, he found the empress herself, wearing a simple, loose brown linen gown over her blouse, slumbering with her head pillowed on her arms as she sat at an orchid table. She blinked and stirred as Briar came in. His heart twisted in his chest. She was beautiful even with her unveiled coppery hair falling from its pins and a sleeve wrinkle pressed into her cheek. She smiled at him.
It’s like being smiled at by the sun, Briar thought. Being warmed and a little burned at the same time. No. No, she’s Namorn itself, the land folk inhabit. She values the rest of us because we’ll water her, plow and plant her, keep the bugs and the funguses off her, harvest…but in the end we are as important to her as ants.
She stretched out a hand. “I cannot persuade you?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep. “You know that you would be happy in my service, Briar.”
Briar sighed and rubbed his head. Sandry would argue, trying to convince her to change the way she did things. Daja would put on her Trader face, say polite nothings, and mention schedules where she’s needed someplace else. Tris would refuse in some tactless way and apologize without pretending she meant it. And me? he asked himself. What can I say? I escaped one emperor that wanted to put me in an iron cage, and from where I sit, her gold one looks no better?
He stepped forward and placed the paper key in her beckoning hand, bowed, and walked away.
16
Daja was tying her braids into a tail when Rizu came back from dressing the empress. Usually Rizu had some witty imperial remarks to share, but not today. This morning she was silent.
“Is something wrong?” Daja asked as she straightened her tunic. “You look, I don’t know, concerned.” She ran a finger down Rizu’s forehead, still amazed at the good luck that had brought her to the point at which she could touch this vivid woman. “You’ll get wrinkles,” she teased gently.
“It’s Her
Imperial Majesty,” Rizu explained softly. “Something’s happened, something that’s made her angry. She treated me all right, so it wasn’t anything to do with me, but when I asked her what was going on, she said that I ought to ask your friends.” She looked at Daja in confusion. “What do you suppose she meant?”
Daja shrugged. “Let’s go to breakfast and see—if they are even out of bed.”
As Rizu led the way out of Daja’s rooms, she looked back over her shoulder to say, “I did talk to the servants. Finlach fer Hurich was arrested sometime after we left the ball, and some men he had hired with him.”
Daja, who had been admiring the sway of Rizu’s hips, halted. “Fin, arrested? Whatever for?”
A footman hurrying past overheard. He paused, then came over to them. “There’s more, Lady Rizu,” he said quietly. “Word just came: Bidis Finlach’s uncle, Viynain Natalos, was just arrested by Quenaill Shieldsman and a crew of mage takers. No law-court papers, only by imperial order.”
“Does anyone know why?” asked Rizu.
“Only that the charge was high treason,” whispered the footman. He bowed and scurried on his way.
“It must be serious,” Rizu murmured. “To arrest the head of the Mages’ Society for the entire empire? It has to be high treason, indeed.” She and Daja hurried to Sandry’s rooms.
Gudruny let them in, but there was no meal set out on the table. “What’s going on?” Daja wanted to know. “Where are Briar and Tris?”
For a moment Gudruny looked shocked. “You don’t know? Oh, gods—you must ask my lady. She’s in her bedchamber, if you’ll follow me.”
They obeyed, to find Sandry busily folding clothes. Trunks stood open on the floor.
“Sandry?” Daja asked, confused. “I feel like you started a forging without me.”
Sandry looked up. Her face was dead white under its gold spring tan; her blue eyes were hot. “Ask her,” she replied in a husky voice, jerking her chin at Rizu, who stood behind Daja. “Or were you two so wrapped up in each other that neither of you has heard yet? It should be all over the palace right now.”