Shadow Magic (31 page)

Alcibiades was silent for a long moment, staring at me. I looked him over again in the meantime, wishing he’d thought to shave. He needed a bit of a haircut, too; his curls were growing unruly.

“You look all right,” he said finally. “I mean, for a madman.”

“Pardon?” I asked, surprised out of my examination for a brief moment. In my distraction, there was always the possibility that I’d heard him wrong; when it was something so close to a compliment, the possibility became a likelihood.

Alcibiades shrugged, looking at the epaulettes on his coat as though he liked the effect they created as he did it. “It suits you. Better than some of the others, anyway.
They
look like imposters. Uncomfortable imposters, besides.”

“That, my dear, is the difference between a good tailor and a bad one,” I said, feeling all over again that this idea had been one of my better ones. Why, I might even have ventured to say that it had put Alcibiades into a relatively good mood, which was more than I’d ever seen him exhibit.

He wasn’t exactly smiling, but this was certainly a step in the right direction.

“I daresay I’ll never outshine the Emperor,” I continued, venturing to stand beside Alcibiades in front of the mirror. “Oh! We make quite a striking pair, don’t you think?”

Alcibiades looked down at me as if I were a bit of grit he’d suddenly noticed on his shoulder. Or perhaps he was thinking of the Emperor, and how he’d nearly been killed, in which case I’d been terribly gauche in bringing it up. I’d only wanted to test the buoyancy of his good mood and what would cause it to sink down beneath the waves of reticence he seemed so fond of. His stubbornness made him very difficult and very easy all at once.

“We’re going to stand out,” he said at last. “That’s for sure.”

I took his arm, smiling at my reflection in the mirror. “My dear, that’s entirely the idea.”

To tell the truth, I’d been looking forward to dinner a great deal ever since Lord Temur had taken me aside after our afternoon break in the talks to inform me that a theatre company had been invited to perform that night. It was the first bit of good news I’d had all day since I’d long since begun to realize that the Emperor was using his brother’s absence as an excuse to run us all around in circles every day. He didn’t require our permission to
do
anything, though some saw it as a fine gesture of diplomacy. I thought it seemed more like a diversion myself, keeping us away from the meat of the treaty discussions over an issue so sensitive that even those of us who’d picked up on it felt loath to mention it.

I felt it accounted quite well for all the sour faces around the delegation room though. A play was just the thing I needed to feel refreshed and renewed.

The Emperor’s chamberlain had arranged for a new form of entertainment to be put on every night for us, and while I’d enjoyed the singing better than Alcibiades—and while the dancing had been divine—it was the coming entertainment that I’d truly been anticipating. A real Ke-Han play, one of the classics, performed exclusively by the most esteemed theatre company the Emperor could find.

“What’re you skipping for?” Alcibiades asked belligerently. “Walk like a normal person.”

I sighed, slowing my steps so that I might be more of a pace with him. “Aren’t you at all looking forward to tonight?”

Alcibiades snorted. “Looking forward to leaving the palace in order to get some real food, maybe. And I guess I’m looking forward to seeing some of those stuffed shirts at the high table fanning themselves into a fever pitch over our new gear. That’ll be real entertaining.”

It was the most I’d got out of him since the incident with the Emperor. If the coat took credit for his unusual loquaciousness, there was room for me to feel immensely pleased with myself over having found the perfect solution to our problem.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone and forgotten the play,” I said, in tones suggesting the utmost consternation.

Alcibiades only looked at me as though I’d told him the Ke-Han were putting a permanent ban on fried-dumpling stands.

“Oh, honestly,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s our entertainment for tonight. You were lurking about when Lord Temur told me, same as Josette. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already!”

“Huh,” Alcibiades said, in a way that I knew meant that he had, in fact, done exactly that. “Well, at least it’s not going to be singing. There isn’t singing involved in these plays, is there?”

As it happened, we were among the first to arrive to dinner. This was because I’d left enough time for Alcibiades to decide if he wanted last-minute alterations to his coat, and when he didn’t, there hadn’t been much to do but leave for the dining chamber. Normally I would have abhorred arriving early at
any
location—it would have been deliciously dramatic to arrive late, clad all in scarlet—but there was a certain pleasure in watching the various Ke-Han warlords enter with their servants and take their proper seats at the high table. Before the meal was served there was normally some accompanying music to set the mood, which more often than not set Alcibiades to grumbling and shifting and kicking me—he
said
it was by accident—like a sullen child.

It took all my strength not to invoke Yana at those times—since, like all powerful weapons, her name retained its power only if used sparingly.

“I see Lord Jiro is already here,” I noted. So far, the room was gifted with an overabundance of red—we hardly stood out at all yet—though the lord’s coloring was sadly in his face and not his clothing.

“We match him, too,” Alcibiades noted, and took a drink of his water before I could see if he’d actually cracked a smile. I would never know whether or not that had been a joke.

If it was, I was quite prepared to cede my anticipation for the play in favor of further such entertainment, the sort only Alcibiades and his peculiar nature could provide.

Lord Maidar entered next, seating himself with a space between himself and Lord Jiro, though the night before they’d sat next to one another and shared conversation quite comfortably. In Volstov, I’d followed the rise and fall of various courtiers as they all scrambled to reach the very tiptop of the Esar’s esteem. It had been a game, and a tremendously amusing one at that, until the day I’d been condemned to exile myself, after which it became a very difficult thing to keep track
of, so far removed from the playing field had I been. It was somewhat more difficult keeping track of things at the Ke-Han palace, since—like anywhere—the servants held all the best gossip, and I hadn’t yet learned enough of the Ke-Han language to be able to communicate with them. I’d studied abroad—as abroad as exile could be termed in those days—but an education in the formal language was quite a different thing from knowing the ins and outs of all the common slang. I would pick up on it eventually, I was sure. I was determined, though; my time would come. Until then, I would have to settle for gossiping with my fellow countrymen.

I leaned close to Alcibiades, holding my cup out so that he might pour me some of the delightful jasmine tea we’d been enjoying with dinner. “Do you think that Lord Maidar is sitting farther away today because of their disagreement in the talks?”

Alcibiades glanced up at the high table, taking no notice of my teacup at all. “Don’t know,” he said. “Personally, I think Jiro’s right, and there isn’t much point in focusing all our resources on one lost prince who doesn’t even seem all that menacing anyway. Better to see what he’s planning and deal with it then, isn’t it? And in the meantime, we can get our talks out of the way. It’s a—what’s it, a nonissue, some kind of smoke screen. Keeps us from getting to the real issues. The Emperor probably couldn’t’ve planned it better if he’d worked the whole thing himself.”

I shrugged, tapping the delicate base of my cup against the table ever so subtly. “Don’t look now, my dear, but I do believe the good lord has taken notice of our patriotic garments.”

Alcibiades followed the direction of my glance, though whether it had anything to do with the fact that I didn’t want him to was another matter entirely.

“Let him stare,” he said, then glanced at me as though suddenly confused. “Is there a reason you’re banging your teacup against the table? Or did you just get inspired by the music?”

“Just enjoying myself, my dear,” I said, and nodded in the direction of the doorway. “The fun, I believe, is nearly about to start.”

Josette, dressed quite fetchingly in a pale shade of cerulean, was standing there; she’d seemed happy enough until she’d caught sight of the two of us. Then her expression changed completely. I was quite fond of her—and her temper. She reminded me of Alcibiades in that
respect—and I was doubly pleased with her when she barely hesitated at all before charging straight toward us.

“What,” she demanded, “do you think you’re doing?”

“Eating dinner with the Ke-Han,” Alcibiades said, as though a pat of butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. His lips didn’t even twitch; he had quite a knack for deadpan delivery, and I was forced to hide my delighted laughter behind my sleeve. “Why, what’s it look like we’re doing?”

“As if fighting with the Emperor wasn’t bad enough,” Josette hissed, taking the empty seat beside Alcibiades and fixing him with a terrifying glare. “What are you trying to do—cause an international incident?”

“We won the war,” Alcibiades said, better than if I’d coached him through his lines myself. He really was a fantastic creature, my new friend. “Don’t see why we have to pretend all the time like we didn’t.”

“These matters are
sensitive
, General,” Josette said, though some of the anger in her eyes was becoming suffused with a sort of admiration and wonder. “As diplomats, we must… we must do what we can to make sure things progress as smoothly as possible.”

“Good thing I’m not a diplomat, then, isn’t it?” Alcibiades said. He took a cool sip of his water and sighed. “Ahh. Hits the spot. Real refreshing.”

Josette turned her accusatory glare to me. “This is your fault, isn’t it, Greylace?” I had to give her credit for seeing right through our little charade. I understood her position, of course—I’d even been in agreement with her at the beginning of our sojourn in the palace—but Alcibiades was, for all his brute strength, something of a delicate creature. All the rules were stifling him, and I was merely trying to give him a little fresh air to breathe before he went mad and did something very foolish, indeed.

“I like to show solidarity,” I said. “My dear, would you pour me a little more tea?”

“Gladly,” Alcibiades said, and obliged. “That enough?”

“Perfection,” I replied. “Perhaps Josette would also like some tea?”

“Josette most certainly would not,” Josette said, scanning the rest of the guests. Perhaps she was waiting for Fiacre to appear, in hopes that he would have the inclination and the clout to put an end to our game. Or perhaps she was on the lookout for the Emperor’s arrival, which, considering Alcibiades’ current standing in his graces, would result in
something of a situation. It appeared, however, that Josette was doing her best to pointedly ignore us, so I turned my attention once more to the entranceway, just as Lord Temur arrived.

His expression revealed nothing when he saw us—the Ke-Han warlords were dreadful spoilsports—but I was delighted when he strode purposely over to us and chose his seat at
my
side.

“Lord Greylace,” he said, nodding in our direction. “General. Lady Josette.”

“Lovely day, isn’t it?” Alcibiades said. “Would you like some tea? Apparently it’s delicious.”

All this time, I thought, and the secret to success with Alcibiades was so simple as giving him something he wanted! People were such complicated animals, far harder to please than dogs and far harder to care for than horses. In many ways they were the most like cats—aloof yet dependent, with moods of so many shades and variations that it was impossible to tell which they’d be sporting next.

Lord Temur glanced at me, then to Alcibiades, then to Josette. Josette merely shrugged, a dainty rise and fall of her shoulders that might have been taken for anything else but was, of course, exactly what it looked like.
Who knows?
her expression seemed to say, and,
It’s awful being even the slightest bit associated with them
.

“I see you have made use of my tailor,” Lord Temur said, after a pause. “General Alcibiades did not wish also to try the Ke-Han style? It is much more comfortable when sitting cross-legged for the talks, I find.”

“I’d look pretty damn silly wearing something like that,” Alcibiades said, nodding toward me. “All due respect, of course.”

“Of course,” Lord Temur said thinly. “It suits Lord Greylace very well. He has caused quite a commotion among some of the younger lords, who think he has a poet’s aesthetic taste.”

“Do they
really?”
I asked. This evening was shaping up to be even better than I’d hoped. “Why, Lord Temur, I had absolutely no idea!”

“They are in quite the state,” Lord Temur said. “In particular, I believe they are enamored of the color of your hair.”

“Now, Lord Temur,” Alcibiades warned, though there was only surprising good humor in his voice, “do you think it’s such a good idea to let Caius know that? He’s so little, and if his head gets any bigger, it’ll snap his neck.”

Lord Temur looked at Alcibiades mildly—an expression I was coming to discover implied some modicum of surprise. “I think I have misunderstood something,” he said. “It is often the case when speaking your language—I understand the basic grammar well enough, but the colloquialisms, the less formal turns of phrase… I admit that I am occasionally lost.”

“That’s better than I am with your language, anyway,” Alcibiades said, on the verge of sounding amiable. “It sounds like so many hens clucking at one another, if you know what I mean.”

“You must forgive him,” I interrupted, as smoothly as I could given the circumstances. “He was raised on a farm, and apparently by wolves. What General Alcibiades meant earlier was something of an insult. He was intimating that, if you continued to compliment me or relay such praise from other sources, I would grow too proud and puff up like a peacock.”