The Diplomat (38 page)

“Rema is the pacifist here,” said Sothis. “I’m a man of war, which is why I know best when the time for war is over. This is our chance to trade instead of battle. To grow instead of stagnate. To invest in ploughs and scythes instead of armor that gets thrown into a grave a week later. To enjoy the barter of goods rather than raze towns as we advance.”

Sothis was a canny one; his words would appeal to Ferruro’s mercantile heart. But Ferruro would also resent any point being belabored. “Enough about that for now,” said Rema. “I’m thinking on what you just said about Haran. Do you think Betany might have genuine feelings for our lawmaker? She’s never struck me as the romantic type.”

“She certainly isn’t your romantic type,” said Ferruro. “You should hear her complain about that singer of yours. Unfathomable, if you ask me. Such a sweet woman, and that voice! Even Haran has a soft spot for her.”

“Hate is Betany’s trade.” Rema hardened her voice, and Ferruro’s smile faltered. “If you had been here for the coup, you would understand. She forced Ormun to execute official after official, determined to purge disloyalty. Afterward, neither of them could fathom how to replace the talent they’d lost. You were appointed only because without a treasurer, we were steadily collapsing into poverty. Haran’s younger brother took over the role of imperial architect. He can’t even draw a circle with a compass. I’ve had to do all the work of a foreign minister without ever being officially appointed, and I’m overworked enough as it is.”

“Well, I can hardly complain at not having to pay out yet another salary.”

“Can you imagine how things would be if she’d had her way? She even tried to have Calicio executed, despite that nobody else knows the identities of his countless spies. You understand the trade advantage that they give us. And only my intervention prevented us from losing him.”

Ferruro tapped his spoon against his palm. “Dear Remela, as much as I enjoy your dulcet voice, I am eagerly awaiting your point.”

“Here’s what keeps me awake at night. Thanks to Haran’s laws, Betany would inherit the throne after Ormun. Her whims would become reality, and nobody would be safe.”

Ferruro shrugged his immense shoulders. “Oh, I can’t argue that Betany would be a terrible Empress, but Emperor Ormun, may he reign forever, is a hearty young man. One, I might add, who is very amenable to my suggestions.”

“I think Haran finds him rather more difficult than you do. Do you ever wonder whether he and Betany might have further ambitions? As Togun’s highest-ranked general, Ormun was a useful tool for the coup, but he’s unreliable. Perhaps his value to them is over.”

Ferruro narrowed his eyes. “You dance very nicely, but now I’m tired of dancing. What do you want exactly? I’m not about to cuddle up to your ragtag party of the pity-hearted. Oh, Haran is an idiot, but profit and law run hand in hand. Our mutual friend taxes and fines however I tell him to, and then I click my fingers and Ormun fills my purse with gold. This court has been very good to me.”

“Let me put it plainly. Betany wants revenge, and Haran may be lovesick enough to be her instrument. How will you profit from civil unrest? If she really does kill all of us—me, Sothis and Calicio—what will that mean for this sorry Empire?”

Ferruro leaned back, a stocky index finger pushed against his temple. “Honeyed words from our cleverest tongue. Yet witty as you are, you forget that my opinions count for very little on subjects unrelated to finance. I can hardly grovel before Ormun on behalf of your weak-kneed notions. I can coax him to spend or save, nothing more.”

Rema and Ferruro glared at each other, though their animosity was tinged with admiration. A gentle breeze swept through the court and shook the leaves, startling a fat parrot that burst cackling from the foliage. “Let’s consider a hypothetical question,” said Rema. “Imagine if you had a choice: rule by Betany or rule by a council.”

“And who would comprise this council?”

“You. Sothis. Me. Haran. Calicio. And whoever we appoint to fill the vacant roles.”

“You’d include Haran in such an arrangement?” Ferruro rocked the bench as he laughed. “Oh, how fair-minded of you! I can taste the viper venom of treason in this discussion, and I want nothing to do with it.” He raised an eyebrow. “If, on the other hand, there was a choice between Betany and anything else, no, I would not support her. That’s what you wanted me to confirm, isn’t it, you little schemer?”

“Fortunately, Ormun is so very robust that this conversation is only academic.” Rema extended her hand. “May I have another pear?”

“You may have them all.” Ferruro stood and settled the tray on the bench behind him. “I am quite satiated. Oh, but don’t think I didn’t appreciate our little conversation. As you know, I rarely see eye to eye with anyone, giant that I am. This time, however, you’ve given me much to cogitate.” He bowed to Rema and Sothis in turn. “I’ll leave you mice to squeak to each other. Good day.”

“Good day,” said Rema, and Sothis mumbled in assent. Ferruro strode out of the court, playing with his tassel as he moved.

“I think that went well,” said Sothis. “At least, he saw our point of view.”

“He’s always seen our point of view. The challenge was to make him realize his own point of view is no longer worth clinging to.”

“It was beautiful to see you and Ferruro dueling. You’re both masters of the art. Nobody in this court can touch either of you.” Sothis sipped his lime juice, and his eyes watered. “You know, before I met you, I was of the opinion that women were inferior intellectually. How foolish I was.”

Rema sat beside him and rested a hand on his thin shoulder. “If it were easier for women to be educated, you’d have realized your mistake much earlier.”

“We clashed often during Togun’s reign. The very moment a war started, you began devising ways to stop it. I resented your naivety, but I always admired your heart. You probably don’t know which end of a sword is meant for sticking, but I’ll be damned if you don’t have more mettle than my best soldiers.” Sothis laughed before pressing his hand to his side, as if the sound had pained him.

Rema gazed at his sunken face. “How bad is it?”

“The healers give me a few more years. I’d prefer to spend them with my family rather than waste them ordering more men to their deaths.”

“Perhaps you should visit Elise when all this is done. She has an uncanny gift. I suspect she could add more than a few years to those estimates.”

“I’ll never forget how you took that punishment for her. Nor the grief on her face when you were struck.” Sothis gave a wan smile. “My middle daughter recently confessed to having fallen in love with one of our maids. I told her it was inappropriate to be involved with a servant and had the maid in question dismissed. Too harsh, you may think. But I also told her that if she came to me someday as an adult, hand in hand with a different young woman who’s not paid to be in our service, I’d understand. And I’d understand because I’ve watched you, Rema, and I’ve seen the dignity and courage with which you live.”

As Rema sat dumbfounded, an unanticipated tear slipped down her cheek. Would that her father were here to see this: the master of war praising the mistress of peace. “You were just commending me for my speechcraft, yet here I am, lost for words.”

“A good morning will suffice.” Sothis stood, holding the bench until he was steady on his feet. “I hope the rest of your preparations go so well.”

He shuffled from the court, and Rema lifted her hand in farewell. She shut her eyes against the sun, letting it soak her body as she inhaled the scent of ripening oranges. As she rested, a bird chuckled insistently above her head. Her next step was the one she most feared: persuading Ormun to hold the celebration, an agreement vital for their plan to continue. Though he was often pliable, he was also inexplicably unyielding on some matters, and there was no telling how he would react to her suggestion.

Reluctantly abandoning the gentle morning warmth, Rema hurried to Ormun’s meeting chamber. She tried the handle—locked. It was one of those madcap days, then, when Ormun sacrificed his duties to wander the palace, visit his wives or engage in whatever else might entertain him. Rema toyed with her bangs as she pondered. There was never any predicting his movements. He could be anywhere, even in the streets for all she knew.

At a loss, she followed the corridors until she entered the grand inner court, the counterpart of the outer court in size and opulence but reserved for those who worked within the palace. Numerous skylights punctured its vaulted ceiling, and its walls were trellised with artificial vines carved from stone and embedded with fruit-shaped jewels. Around the court’s pillars and benches, small pockets of human activity ensured this was the liveliest section of the place—entertainers joking over their breakfast, Ferruro’s accountants gathering in gossip around ornamental trees, mournful generals sharing their meals with off-duty guards.

A pack of uniformed junior diplomats spied Rema as she entered, and their eyes expanded in awe. As she approached them, they tugged nervously at their collars and assembled themselves in postures of deferent welcome. One or two were immediately familiar, among them a dark-haired young woman. “You passed the test, I see,” Rema said, smiling at the girl. “Congratulations.”

The young woman babbled something unintelligibly grateful, and Rema laughed. “That’s how you communicate? Perhaps they should have failed you after all.”

Rema’s patronage had protected the diplomatic school from the general malaise that afflicted the rest of the palace, and she had spent the last four years training a new generation of diplomats, lecturing them and mentoring the brightest. For now, they handled minor errands and amused visiting dignitaries, but each aspired to travel the world as she did, brokering treaties and ending wars. They idolized Rema as the epitome of elegance and diplomacy—a perfectly fair and accurate assessment.

“I’m sorry, mistress.” The others relaxed as they realized Rema had singled out her victim. “It’s just always such an honor to speak with you.”

Rema admired the young woman’s trim uniform. She had enlisted the girl herself and tutored her closely; the poor thing was teased for it, of course, but such was the puerile wit of children. “I remember how proud I was the day I first donned my uniform. Back then, the imperial tailor was scandalized at the thought of fitting trousers to a woman. He offered to make me a skirt, so I offered to make him a eunuch. I got my trousers. Tell me, does he still grumble?”

“No, mistress. He muttered a little as he turned the needle, but that was all.”

“It fits you well.” The girl blushed. “Have you by any chance seen Ormun today?”

The girl shook her head, but a lanky diplomat raised his hand. “He’s in the gardens, mistress. I heard the guardsmen complaining about it.”

Rema nodded. The guards disliked it when Ormun strolled the gardens, as amid its forests and groves were any number of hiding places for an ambitious assassin. Bannon was right—it was a wonder Ormun had survived as long as he had. “Thank you. Both of you. All of you. Keep up the good work.”

Rema walked away from their terrified smiles and made her way toward the palace gardens. After one too many exquisitely-cornered marble stairwells, she emerged into the open light and bent to catch her breath. She had entered the garden near its forested west side, devoted to flowering trees. The trees were planted close enough to create a canopy across the garden path, busy with warm colors and shining limbs. As Rema strolled under the trees, birds screeched and chattered, sometimes emerging plump and boastful to puff out their chests. Floral aromas drifted on the warm air, and she took a moment to enjoy a deep, scented breath.

She followed the cobbled path into the depths of the garden. The sound of the waterfall built from a murmur to a clamorous torrent. It had been constructed against a miniature mountainside, and by some miracle the water returned to the top once its journey had ended. When that mechanism broke, Ormun would finally have no choice but to appoint an engineer. Rema pushed through a tightly-packed wall of pink blossoms and spotted the waterfall ahead of her, pounding into a wide and surging lake. Its spray dashed against the rocks on the shore, wetting her face as she approached.

Ormun was sitting on a rock, his head in hands, smiling at the endless tumbling water. Rema stepped off the cobbled path and onto the loamy soil. She called his name, but the waterfall snatched every word from her mouth. She moved to his side and shook his shoulder, and he lifted his head and fixed her with languorous eyes. “Rema, dear,” he said. “Let’s get away from this noisy thing.”

He took her arm, and together they returned to the path. They moved into a stretch of the gardens dominated by exotic flowers, many of them as tall as Rema. She touched their broad petals and inhaled their dark, sweet pungency. Ormun stopped them before a tangle of tropical carnivorous plants, all of which looked unwell, clearly unable to find enough warmth even in the plain’s heat. Dark blotches mottled their strange, pulpy flesh.

“Such a pleasant surprise,” said Ormun. “How did you sleep?”

“Well enough. What are you doing lurking about in the gardens?”

“Escaping from Haran and Sothis. They’re always after me for one thing or another. Not today. I don’t want to hear Calicio’s dry reports, either, or even listen to Ferruro wheedle for money, humorous as he is.” Ormun pressed her hand. “But I’ve always time for you, dear heart. I’m sorry about having to punish you earlier. It was necessary, but still, I never like to see you in pain.”

“I don’t much like it myself.” Rema was unable to take her eyes from the spindly teeth of an enormous flower behind Ormun’s shoulder. The resemblance was uncanny. “Ormun, it wouldn’t hurt to show clemency once in a while.”

“No doubt, but I am what I am. So, cherished, have you sprung upon me for a reason?”

“I’d like to talk about your marriage to Elise tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes. I’m looking forward to it. How is she enjoying the palace? Has she seen all of it yet?”

“We’re getting around to it. There’s a lot to see.”