Sword of the Deceiver (28 page)

“None, my prince. But he is making it his business.”
Pay attention, my prince
, she begged silently.
I am risking both of us by saying this much
.

Samudra rubbed the back of his neck. “I can do nothing now. Tonight I must … I must finish what I have begun. Then my brother will understand my loyalty is strong. Then I will be able to speak with him about Divakesh and he will hear me. There are things that are stronger than Divakesh’s ravings.”

“I hope that is so, my prince. But it is not Divakesh who is playing now, it is Yamuna.”

“Say it is the emperor. Yamuna is but a servant.”

“Yes, my prince, but …”

Which was at last too much. “What would you have me do, Hamsa?” he cried, flinging out his hands. “What moves would you advise for this game? Come, you are so well versed in palace politics, you tell me what to do.”

Hamsa was not prepared for the strength of his sudden anger, and it rocked her back. “I beg you understand, my prince,” she said, nearly echoing words he had spoken to Natharie. “It matters because the princess will try to break seclusion again to find this woman, and even if she does not succeed, it matters because Divakesh is determined to make the emperor think some dishonorable thing is happening.”

“The emperor will not believe that.”

“How can you say such a thing, my prince? The emperor believes far greater lies already.”

“Bandhura will not permit it. She has uses for Natharie.”

“You are willing to trust Princess Natharie’s safety to the tender mercies of the first of all queens?”

That stopped him cold. He knew the flint core of Queen Bandhura at least as well as she did. He knew how quickly she came to rule the small domain during his mother’s illness. He knew how quickly she could break what she could not control.

Hamsa realized she’d been holding her breath, and released it slowly, softly. Samudra turned from her. He paced across the room to gaze out his open window at the green mountainside. Birds sang out there, unconcerned with troubles that broke hearts and empires. He touched the ivory window frame, running his fingers down it gently. For a moment her mind’s eye saw him seize the carving to snap it in his fist. But in truth, he only turned toward her again. “You are hinting at something. What are you truly afraid of, Hamsa?”

Hamsa licked her lips. She could still see it, that image of him breaking the ivory, carelessly snapping strong bone in his rage. But she must speak. The bond between them compelled it as much as did her desperate desire to be true to her duty. “I am afraid that Princess Natharie did send for the woman,” she whispered.
Look away, Yamuna, look away
.

“And that there is another game happening here that neither of us has yet seen.”

Slowly, so slowly Hamsa could see each separate motion, Samudra stalked toward her. “How can you even dream such a thing!” The words hissed through his teeth and she tensed, ready for the blow she was sure would land. “It is foul!”

She should have held her peace, but some vile demon in her soul would not let her. “What is foul, my prince? That I say it, or that you have already thought it?”

He raised his fist and Hamsa steeled herself. His fist swung down and she felt the air against her skin as it brushed past her. “You know nothing!” he bellowed. “I ask for your aid, and instead of straining your powers to their utmost, you remain an ignorant slave!”

It was too much. The sense of wrong, the helpless, heartbroken rage that she had kept dammed in her heart, burst out in a mindless flood.

“When have you allowed me to be anything else?” she shouted, but she could barely hear her own words for the drumming of her heart and the roar of her blood in her ears. “You care nothing for what battles I may have to fight! You will allow me no succor or aid. When I falter, you only draw farther away and leave me more alone. You would not treat the lowest peasant in your army as you have treated me!” She clutched her staff until it bit into her palms. “Yes, I am clumsy, and I am ignorant. It is all I have had a chance to become!”

Samudra stared, his eyes wide as her fury and her words sank slowly into his understanding. She was shaking. If it were not for her staff, she would not have been able to remain standing.

“Hamsa, I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She dropped her gaze, breathing hard, trying to gain control of her shuddering frame. “No. I forget myself.”

“No, you remembered yourself. Forgive me.”

He left her there, and Hamsa felt her bond like a fetter on her soul. How much more did the prince feel it? She clenched her teeth against her curses. They would do no good. They never had.

Samudra paid no attention to Yamuna because he did not know the breadth of power of a true sorcerer. He only knew her weakness, her indecision. He saw Divakesh, who betrayed the Mothers, as the greatest danger of all to his brother. He saw nothing of Yamuna’s bitterness at being forced to serve.

She should tell him this. She looked at the empty place where he had stood a moment ago. Why did she not follow and tell him?

Why not give the warning and then kill myself?
She dug her fingers into her hair, trying to hold her mind and soul together when all the anger, all the doubt she felt threatened to tear her apart.
Free us both from this chain. Samudra needs someone who can be strong beside him. Not me. If I died there would be another
.

Yes, another chosen by Yamuna. Would Samudra be paired with a child? A half-dead old man?
She bowed her head, clenching her eyes around tears as she had clenched her teeth around curses.
All is not written. The dance changes. It does. It must. I will not be only what Yamuna says I am. If the Mothers stand only because he has not toppled them yet, then I will see he pays the price for his delay, or I will die in the attempt and I will work my will from Hell if I must
.

But how?
came the traitorous thought.
How?

Hamsa set her jaw and turned on her heel. She would begin by discovering why Yamuna was interested in the arrival of one more woman of Sindhu. Samudra would listen to anything regarding Princess Natharie, that much was certain.

She needed to find Master Gauda. She would need an extra pair of hands to keep both Natharie and Samudra safe in Yamuna’s game. He would have clothing that would disguise her, and he could be trusted to help Natharie when she needed it. It was impossible that Natharie should stay in the small domain knowing one of her own was outside, no matter what the danger.

You at least will not get us easily
, Hamsa thought toward Yamuna, and toward Hell itself.
Not easily
.

“Mistress? Shall I go down for you? Mistress?” Ekkadi was whispering in Natharie’s ear, and her words buzzed and bothered like a mosquito’s whine.

“And what will you do if she does not speak Hastinapuran?” said Natharie more bitterly than she meant. “You know less of my language than I know of the Huni’s.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Ekkadi with such proper humility that Natharie knew the maid was angered by that unfair snap. She made no apology, however. She had no room for it in her mind or heart. Someone from home was downstairs. Who was it? Was she from the palace, or was it someone here to undermine her parents? Was she trying to reach Natharie, or reach past her? The questions swarmed around her head, leaving her breath short and her heart hammering.

She could not wait for her answers. She would not.

She was on her feet and crossing the terrace before she was aware she had moved. She did not slow her step or change her path, even as she realized every eye made note of her, and how white she must surely be. No doubt there was already a buzz of gossip behind her speculating what sort of quarrel she and the prince had just had. Let them gossip. They were nothing, they meant nothing. Home waited down below in the courtyard. She was not forgotten. It could be one of her sisters.

Master Gauda was in the performance alcove, watching slender Valandi kneel before an audience of her fellow students and lift her hands up to Heaven in ferverent prayer. “Very good,” he was saying. “Hold, hold, and remember you are suffering, so take that smile off your face if you please …” But although his concentration seemed total, he did not miss Natharie as she came to stand beneath the archway, her hands knotted in her skirt to keep them from trembling.

His eyes narrowed. “Ah, Princess Natharie, you have decided to join us. Have you found the poem I sent you after?”

She opened her mouth, but could not force out a single word to fall in with the charade.

The drama master sighed heavily. “I thought not. I swear upon my eyes, they do not teach you to read in the south.” He marched forward and took her firmly by the elbow. “Continue, Valandi,” he said over his shoulder as he steered Natharie toward the library. “And the rest of you, I expect a detailed critique of the performance when I return.”

With that, he led her out into the corridor. “What has happened?” he asked softly.

Finally Natharie’s wits returned. “Be on guard, Ekkadi,” she said, although Master Gauda frowned. Her maid nodded and fell back a pace, watching the corridor before and behind for listening ears. They would be far less conspicuous walking and talking, master and student, than they would be huddled together once more in the library.

“There is a woman of Sindhu in the Audience Court,” she told him. “I cannot gain her admittance here. I must go out to her. Will you help us with the ruse again?”

Master Gauda was silent for five steps. “No.”

Forgetting the need to be circumspect, Natharie stopped in her tracks. “Why not?”

Master Gauda rested his fingertips against his brow. Down the corridor drifted the babble of voices from the viewing chambers. The constant noise wrapped around Natharie, reminding her she was watched, reminding her how close the walls were and that all the windows were barred. Suddenly, she found it hard to breathe.

“Natharie, you are not thinking,” Gauda murmured gently. “Divakesh is waiting for you to make a mistake he can bind you with, and this would be it. Whoever this woman is, whatever she wants, you will not be excused for breaking seclusion. You do not have the queen’s protection this time.” He lowered his hand and let her look directly into his eyes. Then, softly, so softly she might have imagined he spoke at all, he said, “It is a comfort to my soul to know the Awakened lands exist beyond these walls. Please, do not give Divakesh an excuse to make yet more war against them. You know Sindhu cannot stand against the Pearl Throne.”

Natharie stood there, her lungs heaving as she tried to take in enough air to live. It could happen, just as Master Gauda said. Divakesh was mad enough to use any transgression of hers as an excuse for war. Against this was only the simple, terrible longing of homesickness. Out there waited someone who spoke her language, who had news of her family and her home, who might even be a beloved and familiar face. Someone who could prove to her that she was still herself at the roots of her soul and not lost to this strange grandeur and its cruel-eyed goddesses.

She took in a deep breath. “Then I will go to the queen.”

“No, Natharie,” said Gauda at once. “The queen is making use of you. She will protect you only as long as you are no trouble to her. This could become trouble. The instant it does, she will cast you aside.”

“You and I are thinking of different queens, Master.”

She pivoted on her heel and strode away. Ekkadi hurried behind her. Natharie still could not breathe. Master Gauda’s words shook her resolve, but she told herself he did not understand, he could not. This place was a blessing and a haven to him. She would not wait in this cage until some bloodletting priest told her she might safely look on her own family.

“Mistress …” Ekkadi was saying, and there was a note of exasperation in the word.

Natharie ignored her. She just barely held herself to a walk as she headed for Queen Prishi’s chamber. Inside, wrinkled, dignified Damman was on duty as usual.

“Damman, I must speak with your mistress. Will she see me?”

The serving woman hesitated, searching for a reason to refuse. In the end, she simply made obeisance and retreated into the curtained interior. After a moment, she reappeared, bowing and beckoning.

Somewhat to Natharie’s surprise, Queen Prishi was not in her bed. Instead she lay on a low divan on her private terrace. The space was largely taken up by a sunken pool lined with lilies and lotus. In the shadow of the mountainside, the effect was of a forest glade. There were even a few bright butterflies that had found their way through the lattice.

The queen beckoned Natharie forward. “At last, my child. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Natharie did come forward, her mouth open in wonder. Queen Prishi just smiled. “You think I do not have Samudra closely watched while he is here?” she asked. “I am still a mother, for all that I have been so many other things.” With these last words, Natharie shivered, knowing the woman was seeing a distant past where she had no part. “You want to go to the Audience Court to find this Sindishi woman.”

“Please help me, Majesty. I have no other friend here.”

Queen Prishi shook her head heavily. “That is not true. However.” She made a minute gesture and Damman was beside her, helping her to sit up straighter and piling more pillows behind her. “I will help you. It cannot be this moment, as you would wish.” The last word came out as a gasp, and again, Damman was there immediately with a cup of nectar to moisten her mouth.

Natharie watched the old woman, knowing this weakness was the queen’s own doing. For a moment, she felt small and selfish. She was risking so much for such a small thing, and here was a woman who fought for her life by bringing herself as close to death as she could come. Natharie bowed her head, and tried not to fidget like a child.

“Tonight I will send for you,” said Queen Prishi. “You and your maid can exchange clothing, as you did before. You will be seen to sit with me, telling one of your stories, while your maid is seen to run an errand in the lower rings for us both.”

Natharie bowed over her folded hands. “Thank you, Great Queen.”

She could not read the emotion she saw in Queen Prishi’s eyes, she only knew that it was deep and that the woman before her bore a pain she could barely begin to understand. “Do not thank me until it is done, Natharie. Go now, and cover up the gossip your tantrum has caused as best you can. Come again when it is fully dark.” She closed her eyes, leaning back on the pillows, her exhaustion plain.

Natharie bowed again and slipped away as quietly and gracefully as she could.

Now there was nothing to do but wait, wait and pretend.

She did not look back to see how Ekkadi’s eyes glittered in the lamplight as they returned to the deep interior of the small domain.

Night came swiftly to Queen Prishi’s chambers. The poison she imbibed made her eyes sensitive to light, so she kept the curtains as close as she could without rendering the heat stifling. She had not seen the brightness of morning in … how long had it been? Years. Since Bandhura had married Chandra and she had seen the truth behind her daughter-in-law’s cultivated manners. Since then there had been only pain, and plotting, and the metallic tang of the ointment she must rub into her burning skin every day to keep herself weak.

Damman helped her to her great bed, efficiently arranging her pillows and coverings while the girls and women Bandhura chose for her fluttered about uselessly, twittering and crooning platitudes. Sometimes she wondered if Damman did not suffer through these days even more than she did.

Oh, Rajan, I am sorry it should come to this
. She closed her eyes. Damman dabbed her head with plain water and tipped some wine into her mouth. She felt these things distantly. Her mind was all with her husband, so far gone from her.

He had been a small man, fine-boned and delicate. His strength was well hidden behind his eyes so that only those who looked deeply could see it. She remembered that first, blushing, bashful, awkward night after their wedding, but more than that, she remembered the day afterward when he spoke to her so earnestly, already in love, seeking ways to bring love to her heart. And he did, for he had honored her and listened when she spoke. From that love she had worked from within, ordering the small domain and all who entered as best she could to aid the empire he ruled. She flattered, spied, and lied where necessary, and, yes, more than once, ensured that death came sooner than expected to a powerful man with ideas of his own about who the Mothers meant to hold the Pearl Throne.

Is Bandhura truly doing any different?
Prishi’s hands plucked at her covers.
Rajan, can I blame her for doing her best for our son?

In her private darkness, she could see Rajan clearly. He sat cross-legged beside her, his eyes the color of northern amber, his wide mouth smiling fondly. In her mind, he sighed and reached for her hand.
Yes. Because she cares nothing for the empire. If she did, she would make Chandra strong, not indulge his weakness
.

I tried, Rajan. I tried to help them both
.

I know, beloved
.

I must do this one last thing, and then it is on Samudra’s shoulders
.

Yes, Prishi
.

Is he strong enough?
What she wanted to ask was
Will he forgive me?
But even in this waking dream she did not have strength to ask that.

The Rajan of her dream gave no answer, he only watched her with sad, fond eyes. The slip and slap of footsteps sounded on stone. Reluctantly, Prishi opened her eyes. Damman was holding back the curtains so that Natharie might enter. Behind her came little, bright-eyed Ekkadi who had made herself so essential to all plans that not even Gauda’s warnings could separate them.

Natharie made her obeisance as respectfully as ever, but even in the light of the single lamp, Prishi could see how anxious she was.

If I were the friend you believe me to be, I would never let you do this, Natharie. But I fear it is not only Bandhura who must play on weakness to achieve her ends
.

“I am in need of one of your stories, tonight, dear child,” murmured Prishi, falling so easily into the character of the ailing dotard. “I think the one you first told us. The one of the woman king.” She motioned for the girl to sit. Damman was already shooing out the other waiting women. Some of them would be off to report to Bandhura as soon as her back was turned, but that didn’t matter. Not tonight.

“As you wish, Great Queen.” Natharie’s voice was steady despite the tension in her demeanor. In this much she had paid attention to Gauda, clever child.

She began the story gently, speaking in lilting cadences clearly meant to send an old woman toward sleep. Prishi looked over her head to see Damman standing by the curtains. Damman nodded to let her know the women were out of earshot, and would hear only the murmur of voices, not the words.

Prishi touched Natharie’s hand. It was cold as ice.
As it should be, child
. Natharie understood the gesture. Moving with care, so that her words would not become breathy or strained, Natharie removed her veil and passed it to her maid. She had a great deal of grace for one so very tall. Clearly, her mother had taught her well. Prishi found herself wishing she could meet that other queen, and somehow explain that her daughter’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

Slowly, cautiously, with Damman on watch the whole time, the transformation was achieved. Natharie sat dressed in her maid’s plain clothes. Her height made it difficult to be inconspicuous, but if she hunched, and moved quickly and purposefully, she could be mistaken for one of the hundreds of servants who swarmed through the palace. And if Ekkadi kept her seat and bowed her head, any casual eye would see silver and silk in the flickering lamplight and assume that here was the princess, dutifully attending the dying queen.

It had, after all, worked once already. Why should it not work again?

Natharie knew enough by now to look to Damman for the sign that all was clear. Damman gave the barest of nods, and Natharie at last stopped the story.

“Good luck to you, daughter,” said Prishi softly. “You may believe …” But a gentle lie would not come and she made a flicking motion with her scabbed and gnarled fingers to send the girl away. “Go carefully.”

Natharie made a hasty obeisance and was away without delay or further word.

With her mistress gone, Ekkadi had the grace to look awkward. Prishi, however, did not miss how the maid’s hand kept lovingly stroking the new silks that covered her.

Prishi sighed. “Now, little maid. You may go to your master and tell him what has happened.”