The Grass King’s Concubine (64 page)

The Courtyard of the King

P
AIN CUT THROUGH AUDE LIKE A SWORD. She curled up into herself, heart laboring.
Did it hurt to drown? Did it hurt this much?
It wasn’t possible; she did not think there was enough of her left to feel such agony. It stabbed her again, and she cried out, driving the very last of the air from her lungs.
No, oh, no, no…
She could see nothing, vision lost in a sickly red-gray wash. She could feel nothing but the anguish that chewed its way through her. Her heart thundered in her ears, counting out the brief moments of relief between the intervals of pain. She could taste blood and yeast. Was this death? If so, no one had told her, no one had ever warned her it would hurt so much. The thunder grew louder, thumping and buzzing, surrounding her…

She gasped, and air filled her lungs, sour and yeasty and delicious. Something lay over her, soft and silken, shifting and shimmering with the humming in her ears. The pain shrank back, curled itself into a steady knot of misery. She moaned, and the silken embrace comforted her.

Someone, somewhere, was yelling, shrill, harsh, unfamiliar words with the rhythms of fear and anger. She could make no sense of it. She inhaled again, let the acrid air wash through her, over her. Inch by inch, her flesh returned to her, heavy and bruised and sore. She lay on the stone floor of the great chamber, still wrapped in the robe Sujien
had chosen, listening to her heart slowly settle into a quieter pattern. The thunder subsided into a steady warm bass note counterpointing the alto of the buzz.

Not her heart at all, that latter sound. Not her, but the song of hundreds upon hundreds of bees. They cloaked her, swathed her in the velvet and lace of their bodies. The rapid beating of their wings wafted the room’s miasma away from her, filtering her air so that she could once more breathe. She had no way to thank them. But when she moved her hand carefully, they lifted off and hovered a few millimeters from her skin to allow her to shift farther. Slowly, she pushed herself up to sit, and the bees flocked around her, singing their approval, their protection. Their motion blurred her vision, left her only glimpses of what lay around her. Tiles and pillars and, at one end of the chamber, a great foul doughy mass oozing its way from a great dark wooden throne, slithering and tugging itself toward her, reaching out to her in long, soft, stinking ropes. She gulped, hugged her knees tight to her chest. The bees clove to her, keeping between her and the yeasty lump.

More bees roiled about something to her left. They swarmed, a dense black cloud of them, buzzing and swooping, holding something back.

Holding someone back. Aude swallowed. Behind that wall of bees, Sujien cursed and fumed, his hands striking out at a foe that darted and dodged and evaded him. Cold blasts of wind gusted past her, blowing brief holes in the barrier. But there were always more bees to replace those that were knocked away. And behind Sujien…Footsteps, more blurred forms and a voice calling out, over and over. “Aude! Aude!”

Jehan’s voice. Her breath caught. The bees came closer, solicitous. Her voice would not answer her, stumbling in her surprise and fear and joy. Through stiff lips, she whispered, “It’s all right.” She could not stand. Her limbs were bound by the weight of her robe and her astonishment. Her hands fumbled on the tiles, knotting in her sleeves. Tears
threatened. He had come for her; he had found her as he had found her in the Brass City. He would save her now, as he had then. He had come. She swallowed. He cared enough, despite everything she had demanded of him. She was no longer alone, no longer lost; she was whole again.

Sujien cried out and his cry was the roar of tempests. Wind hammered past her, knocking her once more to the floor. The bees scattered. Two strides brought Sujien once more to her side, and his hands bit into her shoulders, dragging her down the room toward the dais and its burden. It stirred, reached out for her with heavy foul arms. She struggled, clawed at his hands, curled up to impede him. If he did that thing again, that motion that controlled her…

“No!” Something struck Sujien from behind, knocking him sideways and forcing him to drop Aude. She fell back against the floor, her head ringing. Jehan. He was here; he was really here. She could see him behind Sujien. Light flashed above her, leaping from Sujien’s hands. She rolled aside as a sword blade whistled through it, trailing sparks. Jehan put himself between her and Sujien, sword drawn. She stared at him, square and steady and plain in this filigree palace. She had never seen anyone more beautiful, more precious.

Jehan said, “You will not harm my wife.”

“You have no rights here, human man.” Sujien sounded almost amused. She could see him clearly now, a few feet away, standing with his arms hanging loosely by his sides. He was smiling.

Jehan could have no idea of what he was, of what he could do. Aude was in no position to help or shield him. She could not bear to see him hurt. She said, “Jehan, don’t…”

Her husband did not turn to look at her. He watched Sujien, ready to move, to strike. She shuffled backward, climbed carefully to her knees. Her stomach clenched, throbbing with a steady dull ache. The two men ignored her, intent on one another. There was no sign of the bees. The air was still heady with the stench of whatever it was
that lay across the throne, but it no longer choked her. She took long breaths, trying to calm the thunder in her veins.

Sujien lifted a hand. Jehan stepped forward, striking down toward it. At the last moment, he twisted aside and thrust toward Sujien’s flank. Sujien jumped backward, reaching for his own blade. It glittered wickedly with its own blue-white light. Jehan brought the tip of his sword up, striking at Sujien’s neck. Sujien hissed and sidestepped. Jehan pressed his advantage, trying to force the other backward before he’d finished drawing. Sujien leaped to his right and completed the draw. For a moment both stood still, studying each other. Sujien smiled. “Not bad at all, for a mortal man.” He brought his sword up in a flourishing salute. “What is it you say? Ah, yes:
en garde
.”

Jehan did not waste his breath replying. Before Sujien could assume the guard position, he thrust for the body. Sujien parried. Jehan disengaged and thrust again for his chest. Sujien once again fell back toward the dais. He was still smiling.

That could not be a good sign. Aude had learned never to trust Sujien’s smile. Jehan could have no idea what he was up against. Her knife was lost to her. She looked around for some other weapon. Piles of garments lay in heaps all around the room; one of them would surely contain something she could use. She had seen no firearms anywhere in the Rice Palace, only swords and knives and axes.

In the Silver City, no one save the royal guard might bear weapons in the presence of the regent. The guards of the Grass King still stood at their posts, their stone blades at their sides. There was no succor there. She was too dizzy to stand, so she crawled toward the nearest heap. Behind her, swords clashed. She hunted through the tangle of fabric, sending bones bouncing in every direction. Nothing. On to the next heap and still nothing. She peered back over her shoulder. Sujien was three-quarters of the way to the dais. Blood dripped from a long gash on his right forearm and seeped from his shoulder. She could not see Jehan’s face. His
back was to her, straight and determined. Where were the other Cadre? She pawed through yet another heap of clothing. More bones, a scroll, a handful of jewelry, and a stylus.

A stylus. She caught it up and tested it on the point of her finger. Sharp. She would have to get very close to Sujien to use it. She would have to be able to stand. The pain in her gut throbbed. She looked back again in time to see Jehan pull back. Blood ran from a new cut across the back of his sword hand. She had to help him. Perhaps if she threw the stylus…

She was a poor enough shot with a gun, or so Jehan said. This thing wasn’t weighted for throwing. She was as likely to hit Jehan as Sujien, if she hit either of them at all. She groped through the clothes again, and her fingers closed on a femur. She forced herself upright. A chill gust of wind whistled down the hall from the dais, wafting with it new gobbets of yeasty stench. She coughed, doubling over with renewed pain. Her eyes stung. She could hear Jehan coughing also. She blinked her eyes clear, clutching the bone. Jehan stood with his back to a pillar, sword held in
sixte
across his body. His shoulders heaved, and she could see sweat beading his brow. Sujien thrust at his flank, forcing Jehan to parry low. Sujien brought his blade up, striking Jehan once again on his wounded hand. Jehan cried out, and his sword wavered in his grasp.

Aude flung the bone low and as hard as she could. It caught Sujien on the hip, knocking him off balance. Jehan swept his sword up and knocked Sujien’s blade spinning away. Jehan followed through with a cut to the flank. Sujien jumped backward, swearing.

The smile was gone from his lips. He curled his right hand into a fist, brought it up in a curious circular motion. Blue light trickled between his fingers. Aude screamed.

A black cloud dropped from the rafters, engulfing Sujien in a thick, angry seethe. Aude gathered up her robe and ran to Jehan, despite the gnawing ache in her gut. He caught her with his free hand, and she collapsed against him. She
could smell him, warm, so very familiar. She buried her face in his neck and listened to the quick pulse of his breathing.

He pushed her away gently, keeping his eyes fixed on Sujien. He said, “We have to leave.”

“But you’re hurt.” It was not the right thing to say. She could not think of anything better. She was caught in the moment, in the presence of him, his warmth, his scent. She wanted to hide herself in him, to disappear into his solidity.

“Get behind me.” Jehan gave her a push. Reluctantly, she moved aside. The bees buzzed and hummed, casting thick dark shadows over them both. There was a crackle of electricity, and he shoved her, hard. She went sprawling, Jehan on top of her. She lay flat, stunned and breathless. Thunder roiled and rolled, bouncing and echoing from the walls. A chaos of bees scattered outward, boiling past her. Sujien cried out in sudden pain.

She could just about see him, beyond the sweep of Jehan’s protecting arm. He had dropped to his knees, scrabbling at his throat. Something—a sinewy dark creature—hung there, and blood bubbled out. Beside him, a naked scrawny woman wielded a book like a weapon.

The floor heaved. Aude clutched at Jehan. From the door came the voice of the earthquake. “Hold.”

How to find Marcellan when the scent trail was long cold? The twins dived into alcoves and scrambled up kitchen flues, wriggled through windows and squashed themselves under chests. Everywhere was still and silent, deserted and dusty. They found servants frozen in stone at their work, piles of garments and heaps of salts on the clerks’ stools. Their feet left hieroglyphs across the tiles and the tabletops. The air brought them citrus and soil and the knife edge of yeast but no life apart from their own musk.

At last, in a corridor close to the Courtyard of the Concubine, Yelena’s nose caught the thick clotted scent of a human. She stopped, whiskers prickling, ears alert, sniffing and tasting. She said, “Here.”

Julana joined her, sharp nose twitching. “Human. Not Marcellan.”

“No. Not new man either. Another.”

“His mate?”

The lost woman was not their business. But all the same…The scent led them by looping ways back toward the Cistern Court and the Great Chamber of Audience. They ran openly now, confident at the absence of inhabitants. “But what,” said Yelena, as they rounded a corner into the long Court of Ceremonies, “if the Grass King sees us?”

Julana skidded to a halt to consider this. “He sent us away. He was angry. Punished us.” She sniffed the air. “Can’t smell anger now.”

“The Grass King will know where Marcellan is,” Yelena said.

The twins exchanged glances. “Perhaps,” Yelena ventured at last, “he knows we’re here. Perhaps he forgives us.”

“Perhaps he’ll let us have Marcellan.”

They set off again, even faster now, along the Aisle of the Ceremonies and through the Round Gate, across the Small Autumn Garden and over the roof of the Jade Arcade into the Courtyard of the Cistern. Their book lay where they had left it, in the tangle of their garments, under the arcade. A small clump of bees buzzed around it. As the twins approached, the bees flew to meet them, dancing and swirling. One brushed the tip of Yelena’s nose with a wing, making her sneeze. Another brushed along Julana’s cheek, leaving a sweet trace of its dust. Their smell was warmth and summer and sleepy content. When Julana made a playful jump at one, it flew up out of her way, then looped back round to drop a furry caress on her ear. Yelena extended her nose and sniffed carefully at one of them. It hovered before her. She sniffed again and stopped.