Tricksters Queen (11 page)

"You mean he doesn't pinch your bottom, Mimisem," joked one of the other maids.

Aly watched Tkaa curiously. To uninformed eyes, the basilisk might look plump, as the pouch on his belly bulged. What was Tkaa carrying? wondered Aly. Not weapons. Nobody who can turn folk to stone with a sound needs weapons. Unless he's ill, perhaps?

Imajane smiled up at the immortal, who had deftly stopped just far enough from her that she would not get a crick in her neck as she met his eyes. She chatted with him briefly. When the basilisk went to pay his respects to Prince Rubinyan across the room, Nuritin rose and beckoned to Winnamine. Immediately the duchess walked over to Imajane and curtsied. With a graceful movement of her hand, Imajane invited Winnamine to take the seat Nuritin had just left.

Aly ’spared a glance for a pudgy man who whispered in Rubinyan's ear until Tkaa reached the prince. Noting how the fellow stood so that no one could see his lips moving, Aly was sure this was Sevmire Ambau, Rubinyan's private spy-master, the one who he'd asked to keep watch on his own brother. After memorizing Sevmire's face, Aly turned her attention back to Winnamine and Imajane.

"And so the Balitangs return to court," the princess said with a smile. A maid glided forward to pour out goblets of wine for the two ladies. Aly looked at Tkaa, then gave a mental shrug. He would know where she was if he needed to find her, and she was certain that he would. She didn't worry about Tkaa giving her identity away. The basilisk was one of her fathers best operatives.

She continued to inspect the room. Here and there groups of people sat or stood. They talked, drank, and ate as slaves circulated with trays full of delights. It was obvious that, although they seemed absorbed in their chatter, they were equally observant of both regents. While Imajane and Winnamine talked, Rubinyan stood in a far rear corner. In addition to Tkaa, a group of noblemen attended the prince regent. Rubinyan was a listener, not a talker. He kept a gold cup in one hand, often masking his expression by looking into it.

Aly read the men's lips. They discussed pirate raids along the islands. One man accused another of taking a profit from pirates. The other told him that he would do better to mind his own pirates. The whole thing might have spun out of control had Rubinyan not put a hand on one debater's shoulder and smiled at the other, saying that he would ask the navy to step up its patrols. He handled them like an accomplished diplomat. Aly was impressed.

Forget your pirates, another noble grumbled as Aly read his lips. What I want to know is, what's being done about our missing tax collectors? The flooding this winter swept away three of the bridges in my province, and I have no way to pay for new ones! I need tax money!

You'll be missing more than bridges before the summer's done, thought Aly. A peal of laughter drew her attention to Sarai. She stood at the heart of a group of young men and women, all of whom were applauding some joke. The men's presence did not surprise Aly, Sarai drew men like honey drew bees. Her surprise lay in the number of women of Sarai’s age or a little older, women who clearly liked Sarai as well.

Many of the group were luarin who obviously didn't feel, as some of their elders seemed to, that they lowered themselves by association with a half-raka. It was too early yet to tell, but if the younger luarin were more open to friendship with someone of raka blood, they might yet avoid the bloody revolution that Aly feared. It was all too easy to imagine these smug, wealthy people as the dead, the smooth columns and gleaming floor marred with the bloody gouges of swords and the black sooty splashes of magical fire. It was Aly's nightmare. She just hoped and prayed Ulasim and the rebel leaders could keep the rebellion from turning into an all-out massacre.

A brown-skinned man in his twenties was bowing over Sarai's hand. He was dressed like a Carthaki, in a short-sleeved yellow tunic that hung below his knees and sandals that laced up. His black hair was oiled and combed back from his forehead, then held in a horsetail with a gold and amber clasp. He wore heavy gold cuffs inlaid with enamel and a broad gold collar set with amber and lapis. Aly read his lips as he told Sarai to have pity for a man smitten hard by her loveliness when he was far from home. His jewellery wasn't as bright as his lively brown eyes.

Vereyu came to stand beside Aly. "Ah, I see the Carthaki has found our lady. Let's hope he doesn't break her heart."

"I think she's guarding her heart more this year than she ever did," murmured Aly. "A Carthaki, you say?"

Vereyu smiled. "He's the most amazing flirt. Lord Zaimid Hetnim, the youngest mage to be made head of the Imperial University's Healers' Wing. A close friend of his emperor and some kind of distant cousin to the imperial family. He is taking the chance to learn healing techniques used in other realms before he is made the emperor's chief healer."

"He's a bold one," commented Aly. Zaimid had yet to let go of Sarai's hand.

"That's how you know he isn't from here," Vereyu said, bitterness in her voice. "He'll flirt with raka."

Zaimid released Sarai and let another man move in to greet her. On Sarai's lips Aly read the joke she cast over one shoulder to a female friend, "Have the men here gotten so much more handsome, or am I just unused to it after a year in the hinterlands?"

A young man wearing gold rings on every finger stepped close to Sarai to whisper in her ear.

Vereyu grunted. "Count Ferdolin Tomang. The family holds most of Jerykun Isle, and that means most of the sunset butterfly trade." Aly looked at her and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. Vereyu, understanding, added, "Mages use the butterflies for fair wind and treasure spells. In all the world they are found only on Jerykun."

Against the wall near Sarai's group, a matron with young Ferdolin's eyes and nose snapped her fan open with a crack that drew glances from all over the room. Ferdolin himself never turned away from Sarai to look, even when the fan snap was followed by an intent glare.

"Ah," Vereyu said, amused. "The Dowager Countess Tomang is unhappy. No part-bloods for
her
precious darling!"

Aunt Nuritin hove into Aly's view, like a stately vessel on a cruise, pausing to exchange smiles or a word. Her course brought her to a stop at the empty bench next to Countess Tomang. She eased into the spot and murmured in the countess's ear. Nuritin's hand obscured her mouth, so Aly couldn't tell what her exact words were, but she saw the countess's eyes flick to the dais, where the toy castle still stood, then to Sarai. Her fan quivered. She closed it with a much gentler snap and used it to beckon to a maid with a tray of drinks. The two older women each took one of the delicate crystal glasses and smiled at one another, then drank.

"Well!" said Vereyu, plainly startled. "Apparently Elsren's sister is a better catch than Mequen's half-raka girl child. The year before last she did everything but send him to gather butterflies to separate Ferdy from Sarai."

"May I ask you something?" Aly beckoned Vereyu to follow her to the magically protected corner. Both of them stood with their backs to the room. Boulaj and the other maids and servants were talking casually among themselves. "Have you someone in service here that you
know
is reporting to Topabaw?"

Vereyu's brows knitted together. "How could you—"

Aly smiled. "There is always at least one," she said. "I take it you've isolated him from important information?"

"He knows nothing we do not wish him to know. Now that your ladies have returned to Rajmuat, we were going to eliminate him," Vereyu replied, clearly puzzled. "Most of us voted to dispose of him in one of the streams outside the wall at the dark of the moon."

Aly remembered the flesh-eating fish and shivered. "That would be wasteful," she told Vereyu firmly. "Where does he work?" When the woman hesitated, Aly raised an eyebrow. "The god trusts me," she murmured. "Your general"—the raka code name for Ulasim—"trusts me."

"In the gardens of the Gray Palace," Vereyu said.

Aly smiled, and wondered if Kyprioth was helping to smooth her way. "I need you to do something," she said, her mind flicking through each aspect of her idea. "Two of your people should stop near the place where this spy works. Have you servants who work in the regents' rooms and in the places they take private meals?"

Vereyu nodded, fascinated.

"What your people will whisper, seemingly unaware that he is near, is that they have overheard the regents discuss Topabaw. They couldn't quite tell what was said, but they know Her Highness was unhappy about something, and His Highness mentioned 'new blood.' Don't let him see your people, for the sake of their lives. And then you will let him report to his master. For the present, that will be enough."

She glanced at Vereyu's face and saw astonishment there.

"You may ask your general if it's permissible, but do it quickly, if you please," Aly’said. "Before Topabaw finds a way to break through our security."

"Oh, no," Vereyu replied, shaking her head. "No, there's no need to consult the general. You want Topabaw believing the regents are losing confidence in him. And best of all, it will come from one of his own spies." She smiled slowly, the expression putting light in her eyes. "I should have thought of it. I might try a few such rumors myself."

"One or two won't hurt," Aly admitted. "Don't overdo. Topabaw will be hearing more, I'm certain, and not just from the palace."

Vereyu shook her head in bewilderment. "Yes, you belong to the god, all right," she whispered. Looking sidelong at Aly, she asked, "Are you sure you're not him?"

Aly grinned. "No. My sense of fashion is so much better than his."

About to go in search of the privy, Aly halted when Imajane raised her voice. "Am I to believe my ears?" she asked, her voice brittle ice. "I grant to your stepdaughter and your son an honor that any other parent here would love to receive, and you refuse me?"

Winnamine bowed her head. "Your Highness, please. While in your wisdom you have banished mourning dress, the truth is that I still mourn my duke. His children are my mainstay. I am honored beyond all words that you invite my son to live with the king as part of his court, and that you wish Lady Sarai as a lady-in-waiting. I know how many of our friends would love such positions for their children." She swept her arm open to include the other people in the room. "Can you forgive a mother's weakness? Let me keep my children by me for a while longer?"

Imajane drummed elegant nails on the arm of her chair. "They would receive the best care, the best living that a girl and a boy could wish in our household. Sarai would be an ornament to our court and an asset to her half brother. And after all, Elsren
is
His Majesty's heir. Life is uncertain. Dunevon is healthy and strong, but so apparently was King Hazarin. Elsren will not receive the royal education he requires in your house."

Bodies shifted in the outer room. Thinking like her warrior mother, Aly realized that the ranks of nobles were changing their positions. Sarai was the first of the young people to drift over, understandably, since she was under discussion. Aly noted that Prince Rubinyan came up in support of his wife, placing gentle hands on Imajane's shoulders. Dove almost unnoticeably flanked the men who supported the prince regent until she stood at her mother's back. There was plenty of space there. The ladies who formed the princess's court had moved back as if Winnamine had the plague.

Nuritin came up, an army in her own person, to stand next to Dove. Aly was starting to fear that Winnamine had no other support when Dove's friend Duke Nomru walked briskly to stand between Nuritin and Sarai. There was a shift of colour, suddenly Countess Tomang and her son glided over as if they meant to join an interesting conversation. They took positions near Winnamine.

Vereyu told Aly and Boulaj the names of other nobles who went to stand with the duchess: Lord and Lady Wesedi, Lady Adona, and Lord and Lady Obemaek. In the end, Winnamine had representatives of fifteen noble houses to support her, even if it was in silence. Baron Engan kept away, Aly noticed, as did Tkaa and about thirty other men and women. Still, those who stood with the duchess were among the most powerful families in the realm; Aly recognized their names from her winter's study. They were telling the regents that they would back Winnamine.

Imajane looked from Winnamine to each of her silent supporters. Times were uncertain enough that Imajane must be thinking hard about whether she could afford to offend these wealthy people. The princess's mouth was a thin, tight line. Aly saw the knuckles of Rubinyan's hands whiten as he pressed his wife's shoulders. She looked back and up at him, then turned and forced a smile onto her lips.

"I fear you subject your son to inconvenience, allowing him to travel to the palace and back each day, instead of dwelling here as the Lelin, Uniunu, and Obeliten lads will, but there." Imajane shook her head. "In my eagerness to have such adornments as your children at court, I forgot your recent bereavement. I hope that the wounds of your heart soon heal." She gave a razor of a smile to Sarai. "Perhaps you will grace us with your presence in the fall, Lady Sarai."

Sarai bobbed a small curtsy, veiling her eyes with her lashes. "Your Highness honours me," she replied softly. "And I thank you for your kindness to our family."

Imajane graciously inclined her head. "I trust that you, and your stepmother, and your sister Dovasary will join us at the palace the night of the lunar eclipse. Baron Engan, our astronomer, tells us that your sister is quite enamoured of such things. It will be an agreeable night's entertainment and a marvel for those of us who worship the Goddess to see her veil her face with a maidens modesty."

Oh, so that's the tale they’re telling, Aly thought. Traditionally lunar eclipses were viewed as unlucky, a blurring of the Goddess's view of her daughters. Imajane was trying to rewrite centuries of belief.

You have to admire her vision, Aly told herself. She thinks big. Or maybe she's just crazy enough to believe it's the Goddess whispering in her mind.