The Grass King’s Concubine (54 page)

Yelena had sagged again. She said, “Grass King knows about the clock. He asked. He asked Liyan.”

Liyan and his questions and his papers and obsessions. Black wet ink marks and anxiety. Memory tugged in place of worry, ruffled its way along Julana’s nerves. She said, “The Grass King…” That was it, the danger that had sent Yelena away from her. She leaned in toward her twin. Yelena settled against her, sides damp. Her breathing was sharp and fast, troubling. She smelled wrong, different, not quite like Julana herself.

Julana smelled of Marcellan, now. She shook herself. A drop of his blood ran in her veins. For a moment, she hesitated. That made her special, made him more hers than Yelena’s.

They had always been two, always twins. She nudged her sister. “Safe now. I’m here. Marcellan is here.” Yelena was silent. Julana went on. “We have his blood.”

Yelena looked up. “What?”

“I bit him.” Under her sister’s gaze, some of Julana’s confidence faded. “I was startled.”

“You bit our man.”

“Didn’t mean to,”

Yelena’s fur fluffed out in anger. “Bit him. Bit Marcellan.” Lips drawn back, she launched herself at her sister and bit her, hard, on an ear. “Bad. Wrong.”

“Made him ours. Really ours.” That had not been Julana’s intention. But perhaps some good would come of it. “And you bit me. You share his blood too, now.”

“Ours,” Yelena repeated, looking at Marcellan.

“Keep him safer.”

“Marcellan.”

“Our man.” Yelena dropped her head.

Julana stopped grooming to think. Slowly, she said, “Did the Grass King say about Marcellan? About the…” the word was strange, “about the writing?”

“No,” Yelena said. “He didn’t say, and Liyan didn’t say. But…Shirai was there. Tsai. Cadre may know. We need to be ready. To protect Marcellan.”

“Protect.” Julana puffed out again. “Like I did last night.”

“Yes.” But Yelena sounded unsure. “Shirai worries. About the clock. About…about Liyan and Marcellan.” She bumped her head against her sister’s. “I don’t want…I don’t like alone.”

“Bad,” Julana confirmed, and recommenced grooming.

“But,” Yelena said, and stopped. Julana licked her ear. Yelena continued, “Cadre…we need to watch the Cadre.”

Spying on the Cadre was harder than spying on the Grass King. They were shaped to notice, to sense everything about them, to register the slightest change or movement or danger. And they were not prone to indulge the twins. The twins seldom ventured into their quarters unless
they were sure all the Cadre were absent and fully occupied elsewhere. One could never be quite sure what the Cadre would notice. Julana stiffened. She said, “They might be listening.”

“Now?” Yelena shivered. Then she raised her head and sniffed carefully, “No wind. No flames. The bannermen are by the gate.”

“Earth below us. Water in the basin.”

“Tsai doesn’t pay attention.” That was not strictly true, and yet it might almost have been. Tsai was careless with what she learned, what she found. Her attention could never be guaranteed.

“Shirai…” Julana said.

“Shirai would not choose to.”

Julana looked around her. Shadows pooled everywhere, under the chests and cabinet, in the angles of the lattice, in the depths behind closed doors and under curtains. The Shadow Banner might look through those, if they wished or needed. She said, “Then Qiaqia…”

“Qiaqia.” Yelena swallowed. “Cadre can watch us. We must beware them.” She closed her eyes. “We must watch them.”

The morning passed. At noon, Shirai came and explained to Marcellan that, for now, he was to remain within the Courtyard of Fallows. “The Grass King thinks it advisable.”

“Ah. The clock. Is he angry?”

“No. But he wishes to consider the effects.”

Marcellan nodded. “That’s understandable. Am I still permitted visitors?”

“Assuredly.”

“And books and pens and paper?”

“Of course.” Shirai hesitated. “I don’t think…It may not last, this confinement. The Grass King is more concerned over what Liyan does than with you.”

“I see.” Something changed in Marcellan’s face, a flicker passed over it. He shifted in his seat, a little shiver of disquiet
communicating itself. The twins exchanged glances. What did that mean? With Shirai still there, they could not ask.

Shirai rose. “Good night, then.” He bowed and let himself out.

Marcellan rose and went to the lattice, looking out into the garden. Behind him, the twins shivered into human shape.

Yelena said, “Something not good?”

“Perhaps.”

“Liyan is dangerous. We said. The clock is a wrongness.”

“The clock?” He turned and smiled at them. “That’s just a toy. Don’t fret.”

Julana wound her hand into his. His skin was warm under hers, smooth and odd compared to fur. She could feel his blood throbbing through the veins just below it. His blood that ran now with hers. She said, “Then what? You fret.”

“No.” But his voice betrayed him. “I don’t know. The printing press—Liyan promised me his banner would take some of my writing to WorldAbove without asking the Grass King. And that might be a problem.”

“Do the other Cadre know?” Yelena asked.

“I don’t know.”

Yelena looked at her twin. “Your turn.”

Once more ferret-shaped, Julana took as long as possible getting to the Courtyard of the Cadre. There were many possible routes, some longer, some shorter. She pretended to herself nearly all the way that her choice of the longest of all was governed by simple caution. No one, seeing her scurrying against walls or clambering through windows would suspect that her goal was to observe the Cadre in their private space. She stopped in one or two larders and sampled a chicken wing here, a salted ham there; she filched a chunk of buttery piecrust, a grape, three mouthfuls of aged cheese. Risk required preparation. She might have to run or— worse—defend herself. She needed the strength,
and the underkitchen was only a courtyard or four off her chosen route.

Yelena would have done the same. And—and Julana stopped on a windowsill to glance once up and down her own length—there remained her notion to test, about shared blood. She was closer to Marcellan, she was wrapped in with him, and that might—
might
—confuse the Cadre.

Confuse Sujien, at least. Sujien was unlikely to be gentle with either twin if he caught them. She pushed the thought down, looked back wistfully in the direction of the last larder, and leaped down to the floor. Two courts to cross and a scramble up the trunk and boughs of the great ash tree that grew alongside the outer wall of the military quarter of the palace, and she would be in the Cadre’s territory. From there…She would think of it when she came to it, let need and shelter select her route.

The First Court of the Bannermen was occupied by a drill, the third and fifth by bannermen relaxing. Julana slunk past them in the drains that fed their fountains and emerged anxious and dripping in the empty seventh court. Water was Tsai’s domain; it spoke to her of what it touched. If Tsai was watching her waters…if Tsai cared to notice…Julana could not think about that. It would only slow her down. She climbed up through an old vine that scaled one wall of the court and leaped from there to the eaves of the next roof. Over that and its neighbor, and then…The Courtyard of the Cadre lay beyond, its roof tiles patterned in silky blues and browns and reds, its outer walls cloaked in night-scented purple blossoms. Perhaps their scent would be strong enough to shelter her, their shadows kind. Pollen dusted her fur as she clambered up through them, making her sneeze. She froze, awaiting discovery, but she heard nothing, sensed nothing. The shadows answered to Qiaqia. Perhaps Qiaqia did not care, tonight, what the twins did.

She might, of course, care later. That was another thing Julana would not think about. Not now. At the top of the creeper, she squeezed herself under the lip of the roof and sniffed. Dust and dry plaster and wood. The walls were well
made, here, and inspected regularly. Little chance, then, of making her way into their core. She crept out along a roof joist carefully, ears and nose and whiskers all alert for any threat. The air was cool and still and acrid. That meant Sujien was unhappy. She would have to hope he was also distracted or preoccupied. She inched farther forward, came to one of the narrow gaps that ventilated the roof space, and stopped, flattening her belly to the beam. They were there, down below her, in the court that was the center of their domain. Tsai lay on the sill of the bathing pool, one hand hanging into its scented waters, perhaps dreaming her way along her riverbeds and conduits. The ends of her long hair fanned out around her. Julana shivered again. Had she been sensed? Did Tsai know she was here spying? There was no way to know. She licked a foot, rubbed it across her face for comfort. There was no sign of Qiaqia, and that was something. She would be checking on her banner, perhaps, or waiting on the Grass King. No Liyan, either. In his workshop, doubtless, making endless adjustments to his clock. Shirai sat on a low stool in the doorway of his rooms, polishing the metal trim of his uniform. Sujien paced, one end of the courtyard to the other, his steps sharp and quick and nervy. From across the roofs and gardens, the clock sounded one of its endless divisions of time, and he cursed. Julana drew her ears down.

Without looking up, Shirai said, “Be still, Jien-kai. Fretting solves nothing.”

“There’s neglect. Everywhere, neglect.” Sujien reached the end of the court once again and turned in a snap of robes. “Liyan neglects his banner, fidgeting about in his workshop. This one,” and he gestured toward Tsai, “neglects her banner for pretty clothes and sweet words from the Grass King, and you…”

“Yes?” said Shirai, mildly. Julana shuddered yet again, then stiffened up, lest Sujien sense the tiny motion.

It seemed he did not, this time at least. He glared at Shirai and said, “You do nothing about it.”

“What would you have me do?” Shirai asked. “Liyan
has the Grass King’s permission to do as he does. And Tsai…”

“The Grass King should think more of his court than of himself,” Sujien said. He stopped and turned to face Shirai. “I have told him so. He laughed.”

“Better laughter than anger.”

“Hah.” Sujien pulled a knife from his belt and looked at it. Julana fought off another shiver. “We have our place, our nature. It should be sufficient.” He weighed the knife in his palm a moment, then threw it, neat-handed, across the court. It caught in the wooden frame of a door and stood there, quivering. In her hiding place, Julana shuddered. Sujien stalked over to retrieve his knife, examining the mark it had left. He said, “If the Grass King won’t act…” Julana flattened herself as far as she might. Perhaps the dampness that still clung to her would hide her. Perhaps that tiny taste of Marcellan’s blood would shield her.

Perhaps Sujien would notice that she smelled partly
human
and grow even angrier. Her feet urged flight. Her heart hammered to follow them. She could not, not yet. She had to listen. To protect Marcellan. To learn if the Cadre knew about Liyan and the printing press.

Shirai said, “It’s not for us to decide, Jien-kai.”

“Someone should.”

“Then someone will.” Shirai set his jerkin down and placed his hands on his knees. “Or it will settle by itself. Let it be.”

Sujien returned to the far side of the courtyard and threw the knife again. It lodged in the frame no more than a hair’s breadth from his previous mark. Julana started and found herself half-turned around and about to run before thought caught up with her. She stopped, half certain the motion would have betrayed her, awaiting discovery and punishment.

Shirai said, “Perhaps we should put in a target for you.” Carefully, Julana turned. They had not heard her after all. She slunk back to her listening post, belly to the floor.

“My door suffices.” But this time Sujien did not retrieve his knife. He folded his arms across his chest and stood there, frowning at his companions. “I don’t like these changes. This clock. It makes me uneasy.” Julana’s breath caught.

Everything made Sujien uneasy. There were marks and scars and memories the length and breadth of the Rice Palace in testimony to that. But Shirai chose to hold his tongue on that subject. He said only, “The Grass King has made his decision. We wait and see. It is not for you to question that. Liyan will finish this whatever-it-is and find another obsession. He always does.” Julana let out the breath in a long, soft sigh. Shirai continued, “And as for Tsai…”