A Secret Atlas (22 page)

the Desei, they could compete with Nalenyr. The Naleni economy would collapse, but

before that, Prince Cyron would have to go to war to destroy his enemies.

Jorim took a big swallow of his wine. Perhaps Keles had not been so wrong. While it might

take a great deal of effort for Jorim to hack his way through a swamp, capture some lizard,

and bring it back to the Prince, the more heroic effort might be required to make sure there

was a Nalenyr for him to return to.
When I come back on the
Stormwolf
how much of

Moriande, how many of these people, will still be here?

He looked around, uncertain how to answer that. He pushed the dark thought away. He

could think on that tomorrow, on the day of Mourning. Tonight was a time to celebrate and

enjoy.
As this might be the last night of heroes any of us ever sees, I shall make the most
of it.

6th day, Harvest Festival, Year of the Dog

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

162nd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

736th year since the Cataclysm

Kojaikun, Moriande

Nalenyr

Nirati let her brother go reluctantly. She felt confident he would not seek trouble, but also

she knew there were times when it sought him. Still, at this gathering, he was more likely

to be lionized as a hero and questioned about his exploits than to be challenged by

someone in his cups. She wished him a night of peace because the coming voyage would

likely afford him few.

She moved into the room and around to the left, taking a course that would not bring her

around to Jorim until the far side. The robe she had chosen had all the artistry of the one

she’d worn at her grandfather’s party, but not the formal cut. The silken trousers beneath

allowed her freedom of movement that would make dancing a pleasure instead of a battle

against gravity and the entanglements of a longer robe. She’d even done some of the

embroidery herself and took pride in it.

She took a good look at the embroidery and tried to evaluate how good she was at it.

Since the healing, she’d been reexamining her life, looking at the world with new eyes.
My

talent is there, I’m sure. Now I just have to find it. But where?

She caught sight of the Lady of Jet and Jade and wondered at her skills. So many

possibilities opened up. Nirati might be able to do
anything
.
Could I be a concubine?
She wondered what it would be like to be one of the Lady of Jet and Jade’s students. Would it

be possible to be so learned in the art of love that it would become a magical experience?

For Nirati, whose carnal experience was limited to the inept fumblings of servants and

drunken noblemen, that idea seemed as wondrous as it was distant.

She knew the stories about those who were
jaecai
—the legendary masters of any

discipline. It was said their lives were extended and their vitality increased as they

perfected their skills. Looking at the Lady’s flawless beauty, the delicate serenity with

which she stood against a wall sipping wine, Nirati wondered how old she truly was. Had

she really been the concubine of the prince whose dynasty fell to the Komyr cohort? The

woman barely looked older than she—save for her silvery eyes, which had an ancient,

alluring quality.

“I would guess eleven enneads, would you not?”

Nirati’s head came around, a rebuke on her lips that remained unspoken as she

recognized the voice. “Count Aerynnor, would you think me so common as to be

speculating about a woman’s age?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady Anturasi.” The black-haired Desei bowed his head. “I betray

my rustic nature with such thoughts, and my lack of manners by attributing the same to

you.”

“If offering me one of those cups of wine would be an apology, sir, I should be happy to

forgive you.” Nirati smiled and accepted the cup he passed to her. “Have you come alone?

Is poor, dear, frail Majiata up from her sickbed yet?”

The man smiled easily. “Shall we drink to her health?”

“The Lady of Jet and Jade? Please.”

Junel Aerynnor’s smile broadened. “I can see that keeping up with you will not be a simple

matter.”

“Oh, you meant Majiata?” Nirati raised the cup. “May she soon be feeling herself again.”

“Indeed.” He drank. “She was supposed to accompany me tonight, but she heard a rumor

that the
jaecaitsae
who disciplined her would be here, demonstrating his skill. She thought that would be too much for her.”

Nirati smiled. “I doubt he would be asking for volunteers. Did you see her punishment?”

The Desei noble’s face closed. “I did; I felt it was my duty. Your brother took the stripes

that should have been mine. I confess to quailing as the Viruk moved. So quick, so large.”

“You may have quailed, my lord, but I was there. I saw you act, and saw no hesitation.

You spun Majiata around and shielded her with your body. Had my brother not acted, his

stripes would indeed have been yours.”

“I shall be certain to thank him. He is recovering, I hear?”

“Yes, he is, thank you. He would enjoy it if you came to visit. I sit with him often to let my

mother rest.”

“I shall pay my respects then.” Junel sipped at his wine. “The Prince would not allow

another to accept Majiata’s punishment, but the
jaecaitsae
cut her only once, and her

family has sought every manner of salve to see that it will not scar. She even went to be

healed by the
vanyesh
.”

“It didn’t work?”

“I have not looked that closely, but I have seen no disfigurement. But Majiata and her

family see through the lens of disgrace.” Junel grimaced. “I took no pleasure in watching

her punishment, but there is yet a part of me which believes she had long been due such

treatment.”

Nirati smiled. “Are you abnormally perceptive, or is this a trait shared by your

countrymen?”

“I simply learn, my lady.” He smiled uneasily. “I would have been hard-pressed not to hear

the tales told of Majiata since the party. What the rumors suggest, I have seen. On my last

visit, she asked only if her scar had made her hideous. When I mentioned that I had heard

your brother fared well, but would bear four scars, she said she was glad of it.”

“She wanted my brother in order to advance her family. It took him a long time to see it.

You are lucky to have discovered it so quickly.”

“Her family has graciously provided me lodging, so I would have to be blind not to have

discovered it.” Junel glanced around the room. “I am seeing many things that are new.

Coming from Deseirion, there are things here I have not seen before—and am not certain

I understand.”

“Such as?”

He inclined his head toward the Lady of Jet and Jade. “While we have such individuals in

Deseirion, I do not think one would be welcomed at such a celebration. Not that she isn’t

beautiful—and not that many present would not visit her domain and avail themselves of

her skills—but they would not want it known.”

Nirati sipped her wine, savoring the sweet bite. “In Nalenyr we have a bit more freedom. It

fuels us.”

The count frowned. “That could be taken many ways. Please, explain.”

“Carnal desire, my lord, can be approached in two ways. One is to deny its existence, to

claim that fidelity is the highest standard possible and turn a blind eye to the covert

assignations many enjoy. By making it forbidden, one increases its allure, and that is what

makes it such a destabilizing influence. Most would not care if one enjoyed liaisons

outside of marriage provided that the marriage was not put in jeopardy by it.”

“Since so many marriages are really dynastic alliances, they have little to do with those

who are involved in them. This is certainly the attitude and reality in my nation.”

“Here it is viewed for what it is: a sensual experience. We all acknowledge that variety is

to be desired. If one only eats one food, or drinks one wine, hears only one song, or

smells only one flower, those things quickly become lifeless. No one limits themselves in

that manner for anything save physical attraction and desire, clearly running counter to

how we function as people. By having the Lady of Jet and Jade as an outlet for such

desires, with all parties knowing what is expected, boredom is avoided, as is destabilizing

influence.”

Nirati looked at him past the rim of her cup. “If you forge an alliance with Majiata’s family,

I’m sure you’ll need the release.”

Junel raised an eyebrow. “You are even more perceptive than I thought, Mistress

Anturasi. But, tell me, you are not suggesting that there is never a marriage destroyed

because a client and a courtesan fall in love?”

“No, but that shift in affections could occur no matter who is involved, for whatever

affection was present in the marriage would have long since died, else the desire and

need for emotional fulfillment would not have been present.”

“I am very impressed with your argument.” He nodded respectfully. “You think deeply and

express yourself very well.”

“It’s years of having debates with my brothers. We have discussed every issue from as

many points of view as possible. It is great fun.” Nirati swirled the wine in her cup and

looked down. “You’ve not been here long, but you already know of the Lady of Jet and

Jade. Have you considered engaging her services?”

“I? Well, no, but . . .”

Nirati covered a smile as she saw the man blushing. “What is it?”

He snapped his mouth shut, then looked down. “I would lie if I did not say that I have not

entertained the idea. You will think me provincial, I suspect, but it goes back to where our

conversation started. I would be uneasy being with someone who could have known my

great-grandfather.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I understand that, though some maintain the

best wines are those that have aged to perfection.”

“Very true, but there are also those who enjoy younger vintages.”

Nirati sipped again and felt herself relaxing in the Desei count’s presence. He knew few

people and seemed content to talk to her, yet his presence kept others away, and that

was good, too. She didn’t mind that the people who saw them together would probably

accuse her of stealing Majiata’s suitor. Half of them would think it served Majiata right, and

the other half would speculate as to what this would mean concerning the Anturasi maps,

the Desei, and the fortunes of House Phoesel.

But she found the count easy company. She slowly guided him around the room, filling

him in on who was whom. She refrained from outright gossip, but indicated which people

were feuding with others. The only time she relayed salacious information was when his

eyes grew distant and she imagined all the facts becoming a jumble in his head.

Before she saw her brother again, a gong sounded and the room fell to silence. A half

dozen Keru guards with long spears bearing purple dragon pennants cut a path through

the crowd. Prince Cyron walked in their midst and mounted a small dais at the far end of

the room. The guards took up positions around it and the Prince bowed to those

assembled.

The bow was returned by all present. Nirati held the bow for the polite count of fifteen,

extended to twenty since this was the dynasty’s anniversary, and was willing go to thirty

because of the Prince’s punishment of Majiata. But when she reached twenty-five, one of

the Prince’s cousins rose and, with audible relief, the others in the room followed.

The Prince opened his hands in greeting. “Welcome to you all. This is the night of heroes,

which is especially hallowed in a nation of heroes. All of you present are worthy of that

title, or will earn your place in their ranks. Our nation and our course is one that will both

demand and reward heroes. I know none of you will shrink from that calling.”

Two protocol functionaries produced a chair for the Prince and set it up in the center of the

dais. A minister of protocol—a senior underminister by the cut of his robe—came forward

and addressed the crowd. “Entertainments have been provided for this evening,

spectacular entertainments.”

As he spoke, he moved into the crowd and shifted his ceremonial staff from vertical to

horizontal. The crowd withdrew slowly as he grasped the staff in his right hand and began

to turn, describing a circle. “If you please, respect the circle drawn, and you will see things of which most only dream.”

The count, through stern glances and an open-faced refusal to understand those with a

Naleni accent, did not withdraw as others pulled back. Instead, he placed his hands on

Nirati’s shoulders and brought her in front of him, placing her at the front rank of

observers. She smiled, realized that the last time she’d had so clear a view was with her

father’s hands on her shoulders.

The entertainments were more than fantastic. They started with four Keru who performed

a ritual dance with spears. Pennants snapped, the spear butts cracked crisply on the

stone, and the shafts whistled as they were spun about. The women moved so precisely,

with strength and fluidity, they seemed more animal than human. When confederates

lofted apples and other fruits into the air, the spear blades skewered or split them, filling