Land of Night (4 page)

A courtier may not have been so diligent of pointing out the many landmarks inside the palace. Jochi reminded Scarlet of a teacher, and he said so.

Jochi was pleased. “That is precisely what I am, ser. A teacher."

"Will you tell me something else, teacher?"

"If I can."

"I saw something odd, today.” Scarlet began to relate the story of the man he had mistaken for a tree.

"Ah, yes. That is Melev, one of our most honored residents at the Nauhinir."

"Melev. Is he a Shining One?” Scarlet asked with some dread.

Jochi laughed. “Indeed not. Melev is an Ancient, but that will take more explanation than we have time for at the moment. See? The great hall is just there."

The hall, when they arrived, was enormous and noisy. “This is the dining hall, ser, what we call the great hall. It is the largest one, and we use it for both dining and meeting and many other purposes."

It was plainer than any room Scarlet had seen so far, with bricked fireplaces roaring at either end of the place. There was a huge window on the other side of the room, the heavy draperies thrown open to reveal the ceaseless blue twilight, and he could make out the shape of a frozen river in the landscape beyond, quite near the palace.

"That is called the Neb,” Jochi explained as he led Scarlet into the room. “The sacred river."

Scarlet had thought this room plain, but when he chanced to look up at the vaulted ceiling, he saw that it was made up entirely of small mosaic tiles in many colors. The design sprawled across the entire expanse of the ceiling, a rendering of many birds of all kinds in flight across a sunlit sky.

A row of wide tables extended down, four abreast, and Scarlet could see Liall at the high table, beside the queen. Just seeing her put a knot in his belly again, but Jochi put his fingertip on Scarlet's arm to guide him to an empty seat just below Liall and the queen at the end of the third table, next to a woman as lovely and distant as the moon who stared pointedly at Scarlet.

"Lady Shikhoza speaks your language,” Jochi informed him. “I will rejoin you later, ser Scarlet.” He touched Scarlet's shoulder briefly. “Enjoy your meal."

I'd rather be eating stones, he thought. He glanced up and saw Liall's mouth curve slightly, saw him lift his cup in his direction. Resigned, Scarlet sat carefully next to the woman.
Lady Shikhoza,
he reminded himself.

"Good evening, Lady,” he said, remembering his manners.

She gave him a wintry smile. “Ser Keriss,” she said and lifted her cup to drink.

Whatever that means, he thought. Maybe it was a pleasantry. A servant leaned over his shoulder and poured him a drink. Wine as red as rubies spilled into his cup. He tasted it. It was probably a good vintage, but he would have rather had bitterbeer. Still, he sipped to avoid giving offense.

The meal was endless. The man across from him was—to say it plainly—fat. Folds of flesh spilled out from the top of his hapcoat, and his heavy jowls reminded Scarlet of a sow that Rufa the alewife had owned once. The fat man ignored Scarlet, and Lady Shikhoza glanced at him often, but said little. Scarlet stole many looks at Liall and his mother, who conferred almost constantly during the meal.

Hats, it seemed, were not worn in the palace, and while the men were all clothed in either vircas and breeches or hapcoats and breeches and were bare-headed, most women wore arrangements on their piled hair that seemed to be wide, starched lengths of colored linen in the shape of large crescent moons, set with wire and beads and jewels into a fringed crown. He would be sure to ask Liall what they were called later. The most starting thing were the women's eyes. They ladies of the court painted their eyelids above and below with a deep blue cosmetic that made them appear quite large and startled, like wild deer, or else like satisfied cats.

Despite what he had told Liall, Scarlet was suddenly taken by a wave of longing to see his own people again. All this wealth of strangeness made his head hurt. Even though Liall had taken pains to warn him, Scarlet realized that he had not fully grasped how difficult it would be to be surrounded by dislike for a long stretch of time. He already knew the Rshani did not tolerate foreigners well or graciously, but he realized now that he had been hoping that the court men and women would be better behaved than the mariners. Scarlet glanced around the hall, getting only cold stares in return, until he gave up and stared into his cup. This foreigner was beginning to think he didn't care much for them either, except for one of them in particular. He had never really felt homesickness, but now, for the first time in his career of wandering, Scarlet was lonely.

A loud voice interrupted Scarlet's reverie and he jerked his head up to stare in dismay at the man across from him. The fat man was obviously speaking to him, but he had no idea what the fellow was saying. He glanced at the Lady in appeal, and she smiled, still like ice.

"He asks how long you have known Prince Nazheradei."

"A bit more than a year."

One corner of her mouth lifted. “You must address the Baron."

"I don't speak Sinha."

"No, of course you don't.” She patted Scarlet's hand, smiling more fully. “Say this, then.” She leaned close to his ear and said something that, for once, made Sinha sound liquid instead of guttural to Scarlet.

He repeated it nearly soundlessly and she nodded approval.

Feeling a little more confident, Scarlet looked at the Baron and repeated it again.

The fat man proved to be unexpectedly light on his feet as, with a roar, he drew a broad, short sword and shoved his chair backwards. Scarlet scrambled back out of his chair and to his feet as the fat man leapt to the table, kicking wine cups out of the way, and leveled the tip of his blade at Scarlet's throat.

Scarlet glanced at the Lady, whose expression was carefully blank, and he understood. She had tricked him into insulting the fat Baron, and insulting him quite badly. Or well, depending on how one saw the matter.

Liall was suddenly there. He shouted something at the Baron that made the Lady frown slightly. The Baron's expression shifted to one less furious and he said something back to Liall in a tone of grudging respect.

Liall spoke again, at length, and rested his hand on Scarlet's shoulder. The gesture felt odd and fraught with a hidden meaning Scarlet did not understand. Scarlet bowed politely, trying to look apologetic when he couldn't decide whether he was scared or furious.

The Baron softened further and sheathed his blade, then leapt down from the table with that astonishing grace again. Liall spoke again to the room at large and nodded satisfaction when everyone again sat down. His hand on Scarlet's shoulder was heavy as he turned Scarlet toward the doors. “I told you to engage in no quarrels,” Liall hissed.

"I didn't!” Scarlet muttered hotly. “At least, I didn't intend to."

Golden-eyed Jochi met them halfway down the aisle, looking extremely distressed. Liall's fingers gripped tight enough to bruise before he released Scarlet. Scarlet winced.

"Take him back to our apartments, Jochi, and for the sake of us all, keep him out of trouble!"

Scarlet's shoulder ached. He looked at Liall's set face. Liall would not meet Scarlet's eyes, and suddenly Scarlet remembered the ship, and how Liall had hurried him off the deck and into the cabin after the mariner had offered the coin to buy Scarlet's body. Liall had thought him in the wrong, then. Was it the same now?

Without another word, Liall went back to reclaim his seat at the high table, and Scarlet walked stiffly with Jochi to the doors. As they drew near the exit, passing tables with glittering men and women seated at their meals, he heard a man's voice mutter something that included Nazheradei and t'aishka in the same breath. Scarlet looked that way and then at Jochi.

"What did they say?"

"Ser Scarlet, you must not heed it,” Jochi said uncomfortably. “When it comes to gossip, some people are no better than commoners.” Jochi took Scarlet's arm to lead him away.

Scarlet's face stung with embarrassment. He supposed that Jochi had no way of knowing that he was one of those same commoners, but it still pricked him.

Why did he come here with Liall? A matter of necessity, he had supposed. It was either run or be hanged, and after that there was the honor he owed to his ancestors to repay the blood debt to Liall. But Hilurin honor seemed to mean little to Liall, and Scarlet suddenly wondered if Liall thought him ridiculous, especially after tonight's performance.

"Jochi, will you translate something for me?"

Jochi glanced at him worriedly. “I'd be happy to, ser."

He repeated the phrase Shikhoza had taught him.

Jochi blinked, arched an eyebrow. “It, ah, is a very crude invitation. I do not think it is language you would wish to use."

Scarlet had known it, but to confirm the thing made matters worse. He was silent the rest of the long walk back to Liall's apartments.

Nenos seemed angry after Jochi spoke with him, though Scarlet could not tell if the anger was directed at him or the situation in general. More food was brought, more of the dumplings Scarlet liked, some che, hot and steaming and familiar from Morturii. It was the che that comforted, oddly, that and Jochi's presence. Jochi sat with him politely and tried to be his dinner company, reciting stories of Rshan. Scarlet listened with half an ear, still stinging over the unfairness of his abrupt dismissal at dinner.

"Have you always served here?” he asked Jochi offhand, and then, “I'm sorry if that's rude, I just—"

Jochi smiled reassurance. “Not rude at all. Surely two strangers may question one another in order to become less foreign. Have you been asked many questions since you arrived?"

"Some. Why?"

Jochi's smile was knowing. “As you've already guessed, some subjects are more perilous than others. May I offer you some advice?"

"Please."

Jochi leaned forward a little. “Feel free to answer any inquiries the courtiers and ladies may pose to you, but beware of offering too much. In Rshan, sometimes a wrong word or a phrase spoken in a certain tone will give rise to rumors.” He shrugged. “Most of the time, rumors are harmless. They entertain us and they give the court something to do, but matters are ... difficult at present.” His eyes pinned Scarlet. “Questions about Prince Nazheradei are to be avoided, if possible. Among us, there are polite ways to avoid answering a direct question. I will teach you, if you wish."

"You're very helpful,” Scarlet answered, carefully neutral.

Jochi laughed. “Perhaps you have no need of my instruction, ser. I may have misjudged you. And now, it is only fair I tell you about myself; I am from a land east of Nauhinir. Tebet is its name.” He sketched a shape in the air with his fingers at eye level. “Here we are now, in the capitol,” he said, pointing to an imaginary spot that was somewhere level with his chin, and then his hand rose higher, near his eyes. “And here is where I was born. I lived there with my parents and brothers until I came to serve the queen. And you?"

"I was born in Byzantur, in Lysia: a village on the other side of the border from the Bled, south of Morturii."

Jochi nodded and poured more che. “Tell me of Lysia, if you don't mind."

Scarlet laughed bitterly. “No, I don't mind. It was ... it
is
near the Iron River that stems off the Channel, and to get to the rest of Byzantur you must either take the ferry downriver or cross over the Nerit, or take the Salt Road further south. Lysia is isolated because we have the river on one side and the mountains on the other. The storytellers say that's why Lysia is the oldest village in Byzantur, because our ancestors retreated beyond the mountains to escape from the Shining Ones, and the mountains held a magic iron ore that repelled them.” He belatedly remembered the story Liall had told, and he hesitated, hoping he hadn't insulted Jochi.

Jochi smiled, untroubled. “We have stories like that, too,” he said. “But you said
was
. Is your village—"

A loud knock at the door interrupted Jochi's words. Nenos, silent and attentive, entered the common room immediately from a side door and stood waiting with that patient air he had. Jochi motioned to Nenos to open the door.

A tall man who looked to be a little older than Jochi stood there. The man had a lean, almost sly face with grooves of self-indulgence deeply etched around his mouth, slightly narrow eyes, and long, braided hair of that snowy white color that Liall had said was associated with royalty. This man was more richly dressed than Jochi and pushed past Nenos like he was invisible. Scarlet went stiff with unease at this insult to an elder, and Jochi stood up immediately, which confirmed to Scarlet that he should be wary. Jochi and the man spoke to each other. Their tones were courteous, but also oddly strained, and Scarlet sensed tension.

Jochi turned to Scarlet and bowed. “Prince Eleferi has dismissed me,” he said, his tone peculiarly tight. “So I shall attend you in the morning, if that is agreeable, ser."

Scarlet rose. Another damned prince! “I don't want you to be dismissed. How am I supposed to talk to him?"

"It's quite all right,” said Eleferi, stepping forward. His manner was oily and Scarlet instinctively disliked him. “I speak your language as fluently as Jochi."

Scarlet was not reassured. So had the Lady.

"Welcome to our land, ser Keriss,” Eleferi smiled brilliantly.

Scarlet eyed the newcomer with distrust. “Thank you."

Eleferi looked at Jochi and spoke again. Scarlet could not understand a word of it, but Eleferi's tone was edged.

Jochi bowed to Eleferi and answered, then smiled stiffly at Scarlet. “The Prince Eleferi is Prince Nazheradei's step-brother, and half-brother also to the Crown Prince Cestimir.” He bowed again politely, though his eyes bored into Scarlet's. “I bid you good evening, ser."

Scarlet watched Jochi leave. Nenos moved into the room, scowling, and took the che pot. He offered Eleferi a dark look and a bow.

Eleferi ignored him and seated himself in the chair that had been Jochi's. The prince fussily rearranged his silks—gold with a border of red—before speaking. “I apologize on behalf of all Rshan for what happened in the great hall,” he said airily. “These misunderstandings ... and the eastern nobles are always short of temper."