Authors: Tamora Pierce
Sure enough, a young man whose hands sparkled with his magical Gift crouched on the lowest step to the water. Tiny puffs of power pushed at the sail of each little boat to the boys' gleeful yells. Aly wondered if the mage heard Imajane, and if he had studied magic so his Gift could be spent on the amusement of children. Admittedly, her experience of mages was extraordinary, but even such confident mages as her mother, Aunt Daine, and Uncle Numair did not appreciate being slighted.
Imajane flicked her fingers at the woman who sat on her left. She obediently got to her feet and curtsied to the princess. As she left the company, Aly looked for Nuritin and Winnamine. They were still talking easily with Rubinyan and his friends.
Dove curtsied to the princess again, then moved to the vacant seat. She sat gracefully, apparently unaware of the glare that Countess Tomang leveled at her. Aly wondered if the princess knew that the last meeting between the countess and the Balitangs had not gone well. From the creamy, self-satisfied smile on Imajane's mouth, Aly would happily bet that she did.
Dove snapped her fingers. "You may fan me," she ordered Aly, nearly as haughty as the princess. Aly installed herself behind Dove. She took the woven palm-leaf fan a maid passed to her and began to wave it gently.
Imajane placed a graceful, well-cared-for hand on Dove's arm. "We had no chance to talk about your sister's elopement earlier," she said archly. "Your mother says you did not know, but I fancy I may know a little more about young girls. Tell me honestly, Dovasary, did you not have some
tiny
hint of what Lady Saraiyu intended?"
Dove lowered her head, shamefaced. "Your Highness, I would never be so foolish as to tell you a falsehood," she said quietly. "Besides, Sarai is five years older than I. Girls with suitors have little interest in talking to sisters who are bored by them." She picked at her skirt. "And she knew I'd tell Winna—Her Grace," she amended herself artfully, "she knew I'd tell, to keep her from disgracing our name."
Aly wanted to hug her. Thirteen, and already aware enough to maneuver around a question about the duchess's watch over her stepdaughters. In the games played at palaces, the whisper that Winnamine could not keep her family under control might cause Elsren to be dismissed from court. By that game's rules, Elsren's position in the king's group of playmates was the kind of thing families used to gain advantages. Even Aly wanted Elsren to be one of the king's companions. It meant the Balitangs were invited to more palace events than most nobles, so there could be more trades of information with palace rebels. The darkings couldn't be everywhere.
"These young girls," one of the ladies across from Dove remarked with a sigh. "No patience. I'm certain Lord Zaimid's family would have accepted Lady Saraiyu if they had gotten married in the proper way. Carthakis are so ... cosmopolitan about their marriages."
Aly felt the breath desert her lungs at the implication that brown-skinned Carthakis didn't care if they married half-raka girls. Her gentle waving of the fan did not falter. And why do you care what's said of Sarai? Aly asked herself. You're the one who thinks her running off with Zaimid was for the best, even if it
was
a black eye for your ability to watch members of the household.
She was relieved to see that Winnamine and Nuritin were wrapped up in their conversation with the prince. How many such darts had the two women taken since Sarai eloped?
"Oh?" Dove asked politely, as if she discussed a change in fish prices. "Cosmopolitan. How wonderful that sounds! Have you been to Carthak, Lady Uniunu?"
The lady smiled at her. "Actually, I have not."
Dove raised her dark brows. "Have you visited Tyra, then?" she inquired.
The lady shook her head.
Dove pressed. "Tortall? Scanra?"
With each shake of her head, the lady looked less and less pleased.
"Oh," Dove murmured, tracing a design in the embroidery on her sleeve. "But travel is what
makes
us cosmopolitan, or so I was taught." She looked up and smiled girlishly at Lady Uniunu. "But perhaps our own cities count? Have you been to Fajurat on Malubesang? I hear the water is so clean there you can view coral reefs from a ship's deck. Or Ambririp? Or Yimosuat on Gempang?"
The lady had stopped bothering even to shake her head. Her hands, tucked into her lap, were white-knuckled as she clenched them into fists. "Our lands are here, on Kypriang," she said, her voice trembling. "I have learned all I know of what is cosmopolitan right here, Lady Dovasary."
Back off, Aly thought to Dove. She's gotten your point. Drop it, before she becomes your enemy.
As if she heard Aly, Dove gasped and put her hand to her lips. "I hope you didn't mean I thought . . . ," she said, her face dismayed. "Please believe me, I meant only that I am eager to learn of other places." She hung her head. "I have spent my entire life here in Rajmuat, or at Tanair, on Lombyn." Glancing up, she made a face. "Tanair was not in the least cosmopolitan, I'm afraid. We were all living in the keep last winter, because a keep was all the holdings Tanair has. Well, that and outbuildings."
The woman, who had started to fluff like an irate pigeon, slowly resettled. "You are young, and no doubt unschooled as to the proper form of conversation among grown women," she said graciously. Dove hung her head even lower.
"Tell me," began another lady, "do you know why those people were always staring at your sister?"
Dove s lower lip protruded slightly. She looked the spirit of the pouting thirteen-year-old. "I suppose because she's so beautiful, your ladyship," she said, clearly unhappy. "Aunt Nuritin said my looks will improve, but it seems to be taking a long time."
This produced polite laughter from the ladies. The talk moved on to other things, such as the boy king's approaching fifth birthday. "I have an invitation on its way to your home," Imajane told Dove. "There is a separate invitation for Lord Elsren," she explained, leaning closer to the girl. "You see, my dear, His Majesty has been asking for a true ship of his own. On His Majesty's birthday, he and his little friends will board his very own ship, the
Rittevon?
Dove bowed her head. "We're all honored by His Majesty's invitation to Elsren," she said with just the right amount of awe in her voice. Inclusion in such a party would tell everyone that Imajane and Rubinyan meant to keep Elsren in Dunevon's household, making him a veritable brother to the king.
Aly continued to fan, listening and reading lips. A group of ladies and nobles talked about the hottest part of the summer, when everyone would move to their country estates for a month. Some of the young men in Rubinyan's group urged him to let them go fight the rebels. Winnamine pretended to be interested in the conversation. Nuritin did not.
Aly sensed him behind her before Taybur Sibigat leaned down to speak into her ear. "Do you rest easier since Topabaw has been replaced by a complete nincompoop?"
Aly turned slightly, never allowing her fan to stop its movement, to whisper, "Which nincompoop would that be, my lord captain?"
"Tease," he said, amusement in his eyes. "Sevmire. His Highness took him from a fish pond and tossed him into the ocean. I'll wager you he doesn't last till September."
"I never wager, my lord," Aly murmured flirtatiously. "Particularly not with the nobility. It's so hard to collect."
"What a charming little creature you are," he said with frank admiration. "Really, you're wasted among the Balitangs. You'd have more scope here in the palace."
Aly coughed to hide the giggle that almost escaped her. "I have scope enough, sir," she replied demurely. Behind her laughing face lay a bleak thought: This man might die in the storm to come, and I like him.
And that's your first mistake, lass, said the part of her that sounded like her da. You can't afford to like one of the enemy in this game, and he
is
the enemy.
Raucous shrieks cut through the humid air like knives. Along with the rest of the people on the Lapis Pavilion, Aly turned to find the source. Over the Lily Water, Stormwings and crows battled for possession of the sky. At last one female Stormwing escaped the battle to land on the waist-high balustrade around the pavilion. She was a handsome female, despite the claw marks on her flesh. If her broad, steel-toothed grin was any indication, they didn't bother her.
"More fun for you mortals," she announced in a musical voice. "Remember the Imahyn revolt? Five estates along the Susashain River are burning. Over two hundred dead, or so my nest-kin tell me. Each human smells different to us, you know. All that lovely fear." She ran her tongue over her teeth. "Keep serving them up, Your Highnesses! We accept all contributions of terror and rage, we're not picky!"
"Konutai, you're being a bore," Taybur drawled, wandering over to her. "And you'll make His Majesty throw up in the Lily Water."
Dunevon did look rather pale. He was certainly downwind of the Stormwing.
"Be a good girl and gloat elsewhere," Taybur continued. "I'm sure we'll get proper reports in due time."
The Stormwing cackled wildly and took to the air, heading for the battle between Stormwings and crows over the water. This time it ended with the crows in retreat. Aly crossed her fingers in the hope the crows would go unhurt.
"Don't believe them, Highness," Countess Tomang said to Imajane. "You know how the ugly beasts like to start trouble."
Imajane looked at Taybur, her eyes blue ice. "Which is it, Sibigat? They like to start it? Or they like to live off it?"
The big man bowed to Imajane. "Far be it from me to instruct Your Highness in the behavior of Stormwings," he said quietly. "I am certain that you were as well schooled in that as you are in other things pertaining to the Crown."
Imajane showed a razor's edge of smile. "Your nimble tongue has led you out of a potential situation yet again, Captain Sibigat. I fear you are too clever for me."
As the other ladies protested that no one could be more intelligent than the princess, and Dove chimed in a beat behind them, knowing what was expected of her, Aly met Taybur's gaze. For a moment she thought she saw fear. Then it was gone, replaced by Sibigat's boyish smile.
The talk resumed once more on a false, light note. No one wanted to admit that they had believed the Stormwing. Imajane herself seemed determined to carry on as if everything were normal. Slowly the ladies began to relax, though the young knights were begging Rubinyan once more to let them sail north and fight. Rubinyan calmed them, insisting the army had matters well in hand. Aly's admiration for his ability to lie soared. She knew that this man had only recently told his wife they dare not send more soldiers.
He must tap his reserve forces in Galodon, Aly thought. And then he'll have next to no one to defend Rajmuat. He may even have next to no one to send, if Ulasim and Fesgao mess with their stores soon.
Why does he send his young knights? she wondered. That's what the hotheads are for, Grandfather always said. Then she saw it. He fears they will get beaten, she told herself, and their parents will turn on him. Either that or he fears they might be good enough to come back and get rid of him.
A shift of silver and gold at the corner of her eye made her look at Imajane. The princess regent had turned slightly to look at her husband. Her crimson mouth was tight. She had seen Rubinyan smile at Duchess Winnamine.
If I don't get overconfident again, if I don't make any more mistakes, we might well do this thing, Aly thought. We might bring these people down. There are so many ways they can be led astray that I'll be hard-put to choose.
At last the Balitang ladies begged the princess's indulgence so they could go home. Not only did Imajane grant it, but she gave them leave to take Elsren with them. Taybur was already talking to the boys about going inside to dress for supper. The ladies and Aly collected Elsren and left the Lapis Pavilion.
On the way home they found the streets were clearing.
Above them faces in the windows stared at Dove, looking for a sign that she was kin to Sarai and their hope for freedom was not misplaced.
"My lady," Aly murmured as they put three blocks between their group and the palace checkpoint, "please look at the folk in the windows. Smile, at least, and nod. Don't wave. We don't want these soldiers taking news back to Sevmire that you are encouraging the raka's fascination with you. But a smile never hurts."
A flush rose in Dove's bronze cheeks. "I forgot," she admitted. Hesitantly she smiled up into some second- and third-story windows, then looked at the people nearest her. A woman stood with a cluster of children. Dove slowed her mount and bent down to look at them. Finally she smiled at the woman. "Not all yours, I hope?" she asked.
The woman hesitated, unsure of Dove's intent, then saw the smile. She grinned. "Gods, no, lady," she said with as much of a curtsy as she could manage with the attached children. "I watch them all while their mothers work in the shops."
Winnamine rode over, Elsren seated before her. "Dove, we must go home," she murmured, with a cheerful nod to the woman. After a moment she thrust her hand into her belt-purse and fished out some coins. "I'll wager you wouldn't mind a treat," she told the children with a smile. She offered the coins to the woman. "Because I have little ones of my own," she explained.
The woman turned crimson and curtsied again. "And you love them, I can see that," she replied, beaming at Elsren, who was half asleep. "Goddess bless you, ladies."
As they rode on, Dove said, "Winna, you didn't have to do that."
The duchess kissed the top of Elsren's head. "I wanted to have something good to remember about today," she replied quietly. "Something that wasn't petty and mean. Sometimes you have to provide such moments yourself."
As they passed through Rittevon Square, Aly wished that lightning would strike the first king's immense bronze statue, rising above the flat dish of water that surrounded it. She was about to look somewhere else when a detail caught her attention. An anonymous carver had made an addition to the statue's belt line. A deep-cut open shackle shone brightly around the weathered bronze of the statue's waist, above the dip of the sword belt.