T
he refreshments had been set on a terrace tucked out of the wind. Most of the courtiers filled their plates from long tables laden with food. Two of the empress’s ladies brought selections to her and her companions, who included Sandry and her friends. The black-haired Jak maneuvered himself into a seat on Sandry’s right, while the redheaded Finlach—Fin, he had told Sandry to call him—sat on Sandry’s other side.
While pretending to listen to Jak’s talk of northern hunting, Sandry kept an eye on Tris, who had taken longer to walk to the terrace after juggling storms. She had obviously meant to sit with Daja and her new friends, but then she balked when some young women flinched away from her. Apparently they were unnerved by Tris’s magical working up on the wall—never mind that it saved lives! thought Sandry.
Seeing their reaction, Tris turned to lean on the terrace rail as if that was what she had intended all along. Sandry
was about to go offer Tris a seat when Briar, who had helped Tris to walk, stepped in. He turned her around and lifted her up to sit on the wide, flat rail, then went to get food for the redhead. While he did that, Quenaill sat beside Tris, smiling at the scowling girl. Ishabal stopped to speak with the two of them, touching Tris on the shoulder before she moved on to sit with the empress.
So even here, mages stick together, Sandry thought with satisfaction as Briar brought a full plate to Tris.
That’s
good to know.
She returned her attention to Jak just in time to say, “Oh, but I don’t care for hunting very much.” Jak’s handsome face fell. Sandry smiled at him. “Did you want me to lie about liking it?” she asked meekly.
“I ask only that you make me miserable,” he replied, and let his shoulders sag.
Sandry took a second look at him. Was that a
joke
? “I’m not amused,” she said in warning.
“I didn’t think you would be,” Jak said with a sigh. “The words just slipped from my mouth on the wings of truth.”
Sandry deepened her scowl. That’s the problem with growing up with Briar, she thought irritably. It makes you inclined to like every jokester who comes along. “That was just plain bad,” she said tartly.
“I know,” he replied, still in that mournful tone. “I can’t help but lose ground with you.”
After most of the dishes were cleared, servants brought around one last series of treats: strawberries, cheeses, sweet and salty biscuits, and marzipan candies shaped to form the Landreg family crest, a compliment to Sandry. She shook her head over them, bowed from her seat to the empress, and took a few. Servants carried the tables away as the palace clocks began to chime the hour.
Sandry took a deep breath. The previous night, after Briar had gone to bed, Ambros had persuaded her not to put off visiting the lands of her inheritance any longer. Sandry had agreed: She had come to see her lands, after all, not to socialize. She had not mentioned it to Berenene all day, but time was passing. It’s midafternoon, she thought. If we’re to leave early for Landreg tomorrow, it’s time to go back to the town house and pack. And it’s time to say, oh, Cousin Berenene, so nice to stop by for a day, but after I’ve ignored my obligations for years, I’ve promised Ambros I’d actually attend to them, so we’re going away again for a couple of weeks.
Her rebellious self muttered, And so much for you parading all these would-be husbands for me! Maybe now you’ll realize
I’m not interested!
She nibbled her lip. Sometimes the only approach is the direct one, she told herself. It’s not like Berenene can say she herself hasn’t been telling me to mind my lands. Excusing herself to Jak and Fin, Sandry went over to the cluster of nobles that had formed around the empress. They
noticed her and turned, opening the path between Sandry and Berenene.
“Sandry, we’ve been discussing some entertainments for you,” Berenene said with a smile. “Of course, there are parties, but which do you prefer for daytime: picnics, hunting, rides?”
Sandry dipped a curtsy. “Forgive me, Cousin, but I must beg your indulgence and ask you to reconsider your plans,” she said quietly. “I have promised my cousin Ambros that I would inspect my home estates as soon as I had recovered from our journey here. My friends and I will be leaving for Landreg tomorrow morning.”
Briar, Daja, and Tris, who were nearby, traded looks. This was news to them.
The tiniest of frowns knit the empress’s chestnut eyebrows.
“I do apologize,” Sandry continued, “but I really had no chance to mention it earlier. If I don’t go soon, it will be a slap in the face to my cousin, who has worked so long and hard in my interest, as well as to my tenants and servants. You yourself, Imperial Majesty, have told me that I have neglected my estates. To come to Namorn after so many years away, and not tend to my obligations immediately…I know you would not like me to further shirk my duty.”
For a very long moment no one spoke or moved. They’re afraid, Sandry realized, listening for clues from the people around her. They’re afraid of Berenene when she loses her
temper. I’d better keep that in mind. She’s all sweetness now, but that’s not how she’s remained the sole ruler of Namorn for twenty-odd years.
“What can I say?” asked Berenene with a gentle shrug. “Duty is duty. I can hardly reproach you for making the visit I urged you to make in my own letters. But please, return to us soon, dearest cousin. We have weeks of delights to share. And of course we hope that your friends share in them, too. I certainly would like to avail myself of
Viynain
Briar’s expertise in my gardens.”
She extended a soft, ivory hand. Sandry kissed it and curtsied deep, hearing Tris’s skirts rustle and Daja’s and Briar’s tunics whisper as they bid their own farewells.
“I know!” said Berenene, a broad smile on her lips. “We shall send some of our young people with you, to guard you and entertain you. Jak, Fin, um…” She bit her lower lip in thought, then added, “Rizu and Caidlene. I can surely spare the four of you. Yes, even Rizu,” she told the smiling maid. Berenene waved off any protests Sandry was about to utter. “I insist. They will be agreeable company for you. Caidlene is a cousin by marriage of Ambros fer Landreg—I’m certain he will not object. They will meet you tomorrow morning.”
“Your Imperial Majesty, I mean to leave at dawn,” argued Sandry. Wonderful! she thought. There’s no way I can refuse without being thought rude, and now I have two of her husband-candidates to pester me! Illogically she wondered, Why
didn’t she add that nice Shan? She continued aloud, “We’ll have guards, and Cousin Ambros to guide us—”
“Then you certainly need livelier people for your party,” Berenene interrupted. “
Saghad
Landreg is a wonderful man, but…sober. And my young people will be there at dawn.” She looked at each of the four nobles she had named. “Will you not, my pets?”
What can any of them say? wondered Sandry as the men bowed and the two ladies curtsied. And what can I say? If I kick up any more of a fuss, she
will
get angry. There’s no sense in picking a fight this early in the summer. Aloud, she said, “Cousin, you are too generous. Of course I will welcome your friends.”
A footman guided them to a courtyard where hostlers stood with the horses, talking with Shan. He, too, held a horse’s reins, a glossy black stallion’s. When he saw them, he grinned. “I thought I’d accompany you home, so you wouldn’t get lost.” Since they had only two miles of High Street to ride, this was clearly a joke. “I wish I could go with you, but we have hunts scheduled for a delegation from Olart and one of the empress’s cousins from Lairan. It would be nice to get home for a visit.” When Sandry raised her eyebrows in a question, Shan explained, “My parents’ estate is only ten miles south of Landreg.”
“She can’t spare you even for a visit home?” Sandry asked as a hostler helped her mount. “She’s sparing Rizu, and Rizu is in charge of her clothes.”
Shan chuckled as the others swung into their own saddles. “She could spare us all if she chose—the servants take over if we’re needed for social duty, after all. But she likes us to have the illusion we’re useful.” He mounted his horse and maneuvered the stallion so that when their group rode out of the courtyard, he fell into place on Sandry’s right. Daja rode on her left, leaving Tris and Briar in the rear.
“Besides,” Shan continued as they passed the first set of inner gates, “most of what I have I owe to Her Imperial Majesty. The least I can do is lend a hand. That cousin from Lairan can be an imperial-sized pain.”
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sandry told him shyly. “All ready for whatever my cousin throws at us.” She turned in the saddle to point to Briar and Tris. “Daja you know, but I don’t believe I introduced you to my other friends, Briar Moss and Trisana Chandler.”
“Pershan fer Roth,” Shan called back with a nod. “Shan. I know I saw
Viynain
Briar with Her Imperial Majesty, but I don’t recall seeing
Viymese
Trisana before midday.”
They clattered through the last set of gates in the outermost wall, where the guards came to attention as Sandry rode by. Their party rode down to where the broad palace street met High Street. By now it was bustling with traffic of all kinds, traffic that made it a point not to linger in front of the road to the palace. The guards there kept a sharp eye on it all.
“Are all of my cousin’s troops so very attentive to their duties?” Sandry asked Shan when they were out of earshot.
“She likes to keep them sharp, so she rotates in some of the frontier units every three months or so,” he explained. “They still have their edge from fending off border raids and the odd rebellion, and they get easier duty, so they’re grateful. Kidnap attempts aren’t unheard of, so it’s nice to know the gatekeepers are on their toes.”
“Kidnapping?” asked Daja, obviously skeptical. “In the
palace
?”
“Near the palace. It’s a west Namorn tradition, in a way,” explained Shan. “See, the custom is—”
A lean, wild-eyed white man dressed in a ragged green robe over even more ragged clothes lunged in front of them, almost under the feet of Sandry’s horse. She drew up hard to save him a kicking, while Shan dragged his infuriated stallion’s head away from the man’s outstretched arms.
“Game pieces, game pieces,” the stranger cried, grabbing the bridle of Sandry’s mount. “See the pretty game pieces, the ladies and the mages, two in one, a nice long game of capture the pieces.” He had bright, dark eyes, and dark, wiry hair that looked as if it had been cut with a cleaver. “Who will play the game, and who will keep the lady trophy? You, huntmaster, a pretty heiress for your mantelpiece? Best two out of three? Best man wins? So many games to play!”
Daja couldn’t believe her eyes. “Wait!” she called as Shan dismounted. From the look on the nobleman’s face, she didn’t
think he meant to send the scarecrow along with a coin and a kind word. “It’s all right!”
“It is not!” barked Shan. “He mocks a member of the imperial family—”
“No,” Daja said impatiently. “I’m pretty sure I know him, and he’s just addled.” She guided her horse around Sandry until she had a clear look at the man. “Do I look like a game piece to you?” she demanded. “Take a good look. I was dressed a little differently, the last time we met.”
The man stared up at her, wide-eyed, then covered his gaping mouth with bony hands.
Daja sighed. Trader guide me, it’s him. The last time I saw him, I was about to walk back into a burning building, and he’d just helped me get a clutch of crazy people out of it. “Is that the robe I gave you?” she asked him.
He nodded, hands still covering his mouth.
Daja looked at the rest of their group. “Go on. I’ll look after my friend, here.”
“You
know
this man?” demanded Shan, startled.
Daja smiled, though she hadn’t taken her eyes from her crazy helper. “We met when I lived in Kugisko,” she replied. “We did rescue work together in a big fire.” She looked at the others. They still remained motionless, staring at her. “We’ll be along. Shoo. You’re frightening him.”
“Not as bad as he frightened us,” grumbled Briar. Sandry looked at Shan and nodded. With a grimace the
nobleman swung back into his saddle and rode with her, Briar, and Tris on down High Street. All around them the foot traffic that had come to a halt resumed, though they kept well away from Daja and her new companion.
Daja swung out of the saddle and waited until her friends were out of earshot, holding her mount’s reins in her metal-plated hand. “Sandry is the empress’s cousin,” she told her companion softly when the others could no longer hear. “You’re lucky that Shan didn’t cut you in two with his sword.”
“I know she’s the cousin, but she’s a game piece, you’re all game pieces, and the great lady thinks she knows the rules to play with you. She doesn’t, she doesn’t at all, and I went to see you in Kugisko but the servants made me leave because you were ill.” He spoke quickly, but his voice was crisp and his eyes were clear and direct.
I don’t understand what
exactly
he’s trying to say, but I know a genuine warning when I hear it, she thought. She looked him over. He’s ragged and dirty, but his nails aren’t bitten down, and he’s only trembling a little. “They never did tell me your name,” she remarked.
“Zhegorz. I had a last name once but my family doesn’t like me to use it, because they say I don’t belong to it like they do so I never even remember it now it’s been so long—”
Daja cut him off by resting her hand on his arm. “When did you eat last?” she asked. Cupping his elbow in her free
hand, she steered him down a narrow side street, away from the gawkers and any spies who might report his ravings to the crown. Her horse followed calmly when she tugged on his reins. “And where in Hakkoi’s name have you been sleeping?”
“Beach caves,” he replied, watching everything but the street in front of them. Daja braced him when he nearly tripped over a mound of horse droppings, and maneuvered him past hazards after that. “Sand’s good for scrubbing clothes, and there’s a stream, but I had to come because of the game pieces—”
“You can tell me about the pieces later, Zhegorz. When did you eat?”