The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms (7 page)

This time I paid more attention to what was going on. The meeting proceeded by region, beginning with the Senmite nations. Each region had its representative—nobles appointed by the Consortium to speak for themselves and their neighboring lands. The fairness of this representation varied widely, however, and I could not make heads or tails of how it was organized. The city of Sky had its own representative, for example, yet all the High North continent had only two. The latter did not surprise me—High North had never been highly regarded—but the former did, because no other single city had its own speaker. Sky wasn’t that important.

But then, as the session went on, I saw that I’d misundertood. As I paid close attention to the edicts that Sky’s representative put forth and supported, I realized that he spoke not just on behalf of Sky the city, but Sky the palace as well. Understandable, then, if unfair; Dekarta already commanded the entire world. The Consortium existed only to do the ugly, messy work of world governance, with which the Arameri couldn’t be bothered. Everyone knew that. What was the point in being overrepresented on a governing body that was little more than a puppet show to begin with?

But perhaps that was just the way of power: no such thing as too much.

I found the High North representatives more interesting. I had never met either of them, though I recalled hearing complaints about them from the Darre Warriors’ Council. The first, Wohi Ubm—I think the latter name was a title of some sort—came from the largest nation on the continent, a sleepy agrarian land called Rue, which had been one of Darr’s strongest allies before my parents’ marriage. Since then any correspondence that we sent her got returned unopened; she certainly didn’t speak for my people. I noticed her glancing at me now and again as the session went on, and looking extremely uncomfortable as she did so. Had I been a more petty woman, I would have found her unease amusing.

The other High Norther was Ras Onchi, a venerable elder who spoke for the easterly kingdoms and the nearer islands. She didn’t say much, being well past the usual age of retirement and, as rumor had it, a bit senile—but she was one of the few nobles on the floor who stared directly at me, for nearly the whole session. Her people were relatives of my own, with similar customs, and so I stared back as a show of respect, which seemed to please her. She nodded once, minutely, in a moment when Dekarta’s head was turned away. I didn’t dare nod back with so many eyes watching every move I made, but I was intrigued by the gesture all the same.

And then the session was over, as the Overseer rang the chime that closed the day’s business. I tried not to exhale in relief, because the whole thing had lasted four hours. I was hungry, in dire need of the ladies’ room, and restless to be up and moving about. Still, I followed Dekarta’s and Scimina’s lead and rose only when they rose, walking out with the same unhurried pace, nodding politely when a whole phalanx of aides descended upon us in escort.

“Uncle,” said Scimina, as we walked back to the mosaic chamber, “perhaps Cousin Yeine would like to be shown around the Salon? She can’t have seen much of it before.”

As if anything would induce me to agree, after that patronizing suggestion. “No, thank you,” I said, forcing a smile. “Though I would like to know where the ladies’ room is.”

“Oh—right this way, Lady Yeine,” said one of the aides, stepping aside and gesturing for me to lead the way.

I paused, noting that Dekarta continued onward with no indication that he’d heard either me or Scimina. So that was how things went. I inclined my head to Scimina, who’d also stopped. “No need to wait on my account.”

“As you like,” she said, and turned gracefully to follow Dekarta.

I followed the aide down the longest hallway in the city, or so it felt, because now that I’d stood my bladder had become most insistent about being emptied. When we at last reached the small chamber—the door was marked Private in Senmite, and I took it to mean “for the highest-ranking Salon guests only”—it took all my willpower not to rush undignified into the very large, roomlike stall.

My business completed, I was beginning the complicated process of reassembling my Amn underclothes when I heard the outer chamber door open. Scimina, I thought, and stifled both annoyance and a hint of trepidation.

Yet when I emerged from the stall, I was surprised to see Ras Onchi beside the sinks, obviously waiting for me.

For a moment I considered letting my confusion show, then decided against it. I inclined my head instead and said in Nirva—the common tongue of the north long before the Arameri had imposed Senmite on the world—“Good afternoon to you, Auntie.”

She smiled, flashing a mouth that was nearly toothless. Her voice lacked for nothing, though, when she spoke. “And to you,” she said in the same language, “though I’m no auntie of yours. You’re Arameri, and I am nothing.”

I flinched before I could stop myself. What does one say to something like that? What did Arameri say? I didn’t want to know. To break the awkwardness, I moved past her and began to wash my hands.

She watched me in the mirror. “You don’t look much like your mother.”

I frowned up at her. What was she about? “So I’ve been told.”

“We were ordered not to speak to her, or your people,” she said quietly. “Wohi and I, and Wohi’s predecessor. The words came from the Consortium Overseer, but the sentiment?” She smiled. “Who knows? I just thought you might want to know.”

This was rapidly beginning to feel like an entirely different conversation. I rinsed my hands, picked up a towel, and turned to her. “Have you got something to say to me, Old Aunt?”

Ras shrugged and turned to head for the door. As she turned, a necklace that she wore caught the light. It had an odd sort of pendant: like a tiny gold treenut or cherrystone. I hadn’t noticed it before because it was half-hidden on a chain that dipped below her neckline. A link of chain had caught on her clothing, though, pulling the pendant up into view. I found myself staring at it rather than her.

“I have nothing to tell you that you don’t already know,” she said, as she walked away. “If you’re Arameri, that is.”

I scowled after her. “And if I’m not?”

She paused at the door and turned back to me, giving me a very shrewd look. Unthinkingly I straightened, so that she would think better of me. Such was her presence.

“If you’re not Arameri,” she said after a moment, “then we’ll speak again.” With that, she left.

I went back to Sky alone, feeling more out of place than ever.

I had been given three nations to oversee, as T’vril reminded me that afternoon, when he came to continue my hurried education in Arameri life.

Each of the three lands was bigger than my Darr. Each also had its own perfectly competent rulers, which meant that I had very little to do with regard to their management. They paid me a regular stipend for the privilege of my oversight, which they probably resented deeply, and which instantly made me wealthier than I’d ever been.

I was given another magic thing, a silvery orb that would, on command, show me the face of any person I requested. If I tapped the orb a certain way, they would see my face, hovering in the air like some sort of decapitated spirit. I had been the recipient of such messages before—it was how I’d gotten the invitation from Grandfather Dekarta—and I found them unnerving. Still, this would allow me to communicate with my lands’ rulers whenever I wished.

“I’d like to arrange a meeting with my lord cousin Relad as soon as possible,” I said after T’vril finished showing me how to use the orb. “I don’t know if he’ll be any friendlier than Scimina, but I take heart in the fact that he hasn’t tried to kill me yet.”

“Wait,” T’vril muttered.

Not promising. Still, I had a half-formed strategy in my head, and I wanted to pursue it. The problem was that I did not know the rules of this Arameri game of inheritance. How did one “win” when Dekarta himself would not choose? Relad knew the answer to that question, but would he share it with me? Especially when I had nothing to offer in return?

“Tender the invitation anyhow, please,” I said. “In the meantime, it might be wise for me to meet with others in the palace who are influential. Who would you suggest?”

T’vril considered for a moment, then spread his hands. “You’ve already met everyone here who matters, except Relad.”

I stared at him. “That can’t be true.”

He smiled without humor. “Sky is both very large and very small, Lady Yeine. There are other fullbloods, yes, but most of them waste their hours indulging all sorts of whims.” He kept his face neutral, and I remembered the silver chain and collar Scimina had put on Nahadoth. Her perversity did not surprise me, for I had heard rumors of far worse within Sky’s walls. What astounded me was that she dared play such games with that monster.

“The few fullbloods, halfbloods, and quarters who bother to do any legitimate work are often away from the palace,” T’vril continued, “overseeing the family’s business interests. Most of them have no hope of winning Dekarta’s favor; he made that clear when he named his brother’s children potential heirs rather than any of them. The ones who stay are the courtiers—pedants and sycophants for the most part, with impressive-sounding titles and no real power. Dekarta despises them, so you’d do better to avoid them altogether. Beyond that there are only servants.”

I glanced at him. “Some servants can be useful to know.”

He smiled unselfconsciously. “As I said, Lady Yeine—you’ve already met everyone who matters. Though I’m happy to arrange meetings for you with anyone you like.”

I stretched, still stiff after the long hours of sitting at the Salon. As I did so, one of my bruises twinged, reminding me that I had more than earthly problems to worry about.

“Thank you for saving my life,” I said.

T’vril chuckled with a hint of irony, though he looked pleased. “Well, as you suggested… it could be useful to have influence in certain quarters.”

I inclined my head to acknowledge the debt. “If I have the power to help you in any way, please ask.”

“As you like, Lady Yeine.”

“Yeine.”

He hesitated. “Cousin,” he said instead, and smiled at me over his shoulder as he left my apartment. He really was a superb diplomat. I supposed that was a necessity for someone in his position.

I went from the sitting room into my bedroom and stopped.

“I thought he’d never leave,” said Sieh, grinning from the middle of my bed.

I took a deep breath, slowly. “Good afternoon, Lord Sieh.”

He pouted, flopping forward onto his belly and regarding me from his folded arms. “You’re not happy to see me.”

“I’m wondering what I’ve done to deserve such attention from a god of games and tricks.”

“I’m not a god, remember?” He scowled. “Just a weapon. That word was more fitting than you know, Yeine, and how it burns these Arameri to hear it. No wonder they call you a barbarian.”

I sat in the reading chair beside the bed. “My mother often told me I was too blunt,” I said. “Why are you here?”

“Do I need a reason? Maybe I just like being around you.”

“I would be honored if that were true,” I said.

He laughed, high and carefree. “It is true, Yeine, whether you believe me or not.” He got up then and began jumping on the bed. I wondered fleetingly whether anyone had ever tried to spank him.

“But?” I was sure there was a but.

He stopped after his third jump and glanced at me over his shoulder, his grin sly. “But it’s not the only reason I came. The others sent me.”

“For what reason?”

He hopped down from the bed and came over to my chair, putting his hands on my knees and leaning over me. He was still grinning, but again there was that indefinable something in his smile that was not childlike. Not at all.

“Relad isn’t going to ally with you.”

My stomach clenched in unease. Had he been in here all along, listening to my conversation with T’vril? Or was my strategy for survival just so painfully obvious? “You know this?”

He shrugged. “Why would he? You’re useless to him. He has his hands full dealing with Scimina and can’t afford distractions. The time—of the succession, I mean—is too close.”

I had suspected that as well. That was almost surely why they’d brought me here. It was probably why the family kept a scrivener in-house, to ensure that Dekarta didn’t die off schedule. It might even have been the reason for my mother’s murder after twenty years of freedom. Dekarta didn’t have much time left to tie up loose ends.

Abruptly Sieh climbed into the chair with me, straddling my lap, knees on either side of my hips. I flinched in surprise, and again when he flopped against me, resting his head on my shoulder.

“What are you—?”

“Please, Yeine,” he whispered. I felt his hands fist in the cloth of my jacket, at my sides. The gesture was so much that of a child seeking comfort that I could not help it; the stiffness went out of me. He sighed and snuggled closer, reveling in my tacit welcome. “Just let me do this a moment.”

So I sat still, wondering many things.

I thought he had fallen asleep when he finally spoke. “Kurue—my sister, Kurue, our leader inasmuch as we have one—invites you to meet.”

“Why?”

“You seek allies.”

I pushed at him; he sat back on my knees. “What are you saying? Are you offering yourselves?”

“Maybe.” The sly look was back. “You have to meet with us to find out.”

I narrowed my eyes in what I hoped was an intimidating look. “Why? As you said, I’m useless. What would you gain from allying with me?”

“You have something very important,” he said, serious now. “Something we could force you to give us—but we don’t want to do that. We are not Arameri. You have proven yourself worthy of respect, and so we will ask you to give that something to us willingly.”

I did not ask what they wanted. It was their bargaining chip; they would tell me if I met with them. I was rabidly curious, though—and excited, because he was right. The Enefadeh would make powerful, knowledgeable allies, even hobbled as they were. But I dared not reveal my eagerness. Sieh was nowhere near as childish, or as neutral, as he pretended to be.