The Will of the Empress (11 page)

The vine released him and returned to the trellis it had adorned before Briar had come into the greenhouse. Berenene watched it go. “I take it this happens to you fairly often,” she commented wryly.

“Only till they get used to me being around,” replied
Briar. “They’re like kids—children,” he explained. “They get all worked up, and they need time to calm down. You should see them around my teacher, Rosethorn. They can’t not touch her when she’s by. It’s like she’s the sun, except then the moss and funguses would stay clear of her, and they don’t. Are those potted palms?” He wandered over to the stand of large, tree-like plants, hoping to distract her from thinking about plants on the move. In his travels he had discovered that some people reacted oddly to it. Stopping next to the nearest one, he ran an appreciative hand over its trunk.

“It’s vanity, I know,” said the empress. “But it’s so satisfying, knowing I have a bit of southern warmth when winter shrieks down off the Syth.”

Briar smiled. “Winters are always hard if you like seeing green things about you,” he admitted. “I tried to get my teacher to visit Dedicate Crane’s greenhouse—he was my other plant teacher, back at Winding Circle—but she’s old-fashioned. She growls how plants are supposed to have their own season, then surrounds herself with potted plants all winter long. She just can’t get the tropicals to thrive in her workshop.”

“I’ve read Crane’s book, you know,” Berenene said, leading him farther back into the greenhouse. As they walked, the gardeners continued to work. When the empress moved inside the palace she was followed and preceded by bows
and curtsies. Idly, Briar wondered, How long do you s’pose it took her to break her gardeners of the habit?

There was a wave of motion here, but it was directed at Briar, and it came from the plants. He called some of his power up and let it trickle away in the tiniest of threads, running to every plant and tree in the building. He did the same in the next greenhouse, and the next, and the next. The empress had a complex of them, each closed by its own doors and connected to its neighbors by wooden halls.

“The things you learn,” Berenene said as she led the way into yet another greenhouse. “Mites. I had two greenhouses that connected, and the treacherous little
nalizes
got into everything. Once again I had to start from scratch. That’s the problem with gardening. One mistake will do more than just teach you. It can wipe you out.” She stood back and smiled. “I understand you have an interest in
shakkans
, Briar Moss. Would you care to grant your opinion of mine?”

He had seen bigger collections in the imperial palace in Yanjing, but nowhere else. This greenhouse had been divided in half with glass and yet another door. In one half, miniature trees and the gear to care for them were arranged with an eye to the light that filled the greenhouse. A number of the step-like shelves on Briar’s left were empty, but the marks that water, earth, and light left on the unstained wood indicated that upward of twenty plants
were missing. “Your pines?” Briar asked, nodding toward the empty spots.

Berenene favored him with a warm smile. “Exactly so. When I think they have a chance, I bring them onto my windows and terraces. I tend to be more cautious with the ones that are not evergreens. It’s not unknown for the Syth to blow in a night’s frost even this late in the spring.”

Looking around, Briar saw a miniature forest of Quoy maples, each perfectly set in its large, flat tray. He was drawn to it like iron to a lodestone. The emperor of Yanjing would wilt to have something like this, Briar thought as he touched the miniature leaves with gentle fingers. He can’t grow maples at all, let alone a forest arrangement. The trees nearly purred under his touch, welcoming the gentle trickle of his green magic as it flowed along their stems. From there, Briar found several shapes of rhododendrons, all blooming beautifully. A step away he found miniature apple trees in bloom. He moved from dish to dish, tree to tree, noting which had been wired to follow a particular shape, which trees displayed new grafts, which were very old and which were only made to look old. He lost all track of time and his companion as he inspected each and every plant. All were lovingly tended and in the best of health.

When he looked up, Berenene was gone. Briar frowned. How long did I pay her no mind? Did I vex her, ignoring her like that, and she went stomping off? he wondered. She
seemed to understand a fellow might get caught up, but it’s hard to tell what way empresses will jump.

Then he saw spring green motion through the blurred glass of the divider. She had gone into the other half of the greenhouse. He followed her, passing through the glass door and closing it in his wake. This side of the building was hot and damp, as hot as the jungles of southern Yanjing. It was an entirely different world, filled with wildly gorgeous, complex flowers. There were as many different containers for them as there were colors and shapes of flower, ranging from pots to stick holders and slabs of cork. The empress handled the blooms very carefully, inspecting them for problems, shifting them if she felt the light was too strong.

There were rolls of muslin at the inside top of the peaked roof, each with a cord that dangled to within arm’s reach at the center of the room. Briar noted small, ship-like cleats on the metal strips between panes of glass.

Curtains, he guessed. In case she thinks the light’s too strong in one part of the room, she can pull down the curtains and secure the cord so the muslin’s close to the glass. And when she says so, they roll them up again.

He knew instinctively that she was the only gardener in charge of this room, though she might have helpers to do the basic work when she could not. But these flowers bloomed with good care, and her face glowed with happiness as she tended them. Even more than the
shakkan
house, this was her place to be happy.

“Did you see all you wished?” she asked without looking at him. “Are they not splendid?”

“The emperor of Yanjing would perish of envy if he knew,” Briar assured her. “Even his collection isn’t as good as yours.’

“I should send him something he does not have, then,” murmured Berenene, moving on to the next plant. “As my thanks for his delightful gift of cloth. What do you think of my orchids?”

Briar jammed his hands in his pockets. He didn’t entirely approve of orchids. “Parasites,” he said, one gardener to another.

The empress chuckled. “They are not. They don’t destroy, and real parasites do. Not that I object to parasites outside my garden,” she said knowingly. “I am surrounded by them, all as gaudy and pretty as my orchids. That’s what courtiers are, you know.”

Briar shrugged. “Turn ’em loose and let them do something worthwhile,” he suggested, going over to eye a pot of striped orchids. They moved uneasily, sensing his disapproval.

“Ah, but what I think is worthwhile for my nobles and what they feel is worthwhile are so often different things,” Berenene explained. In the light her creamy skin was luminous. “The problem with nobles is that they never have enough. They always want more. They would get into mischief without my eye on them, and some of that mischief
would be directed at me. I would rather keep them in my palatial hothouse, where I can prune them quickly if they show signs of plotting.”

“Seems to me they’d plot more if you kept ’em too close,” Briar said, “but I’m not as good with people as I am plants.” He scowled at the striped orchids, which had begun to tremble. “Stop that,” he commanded them. “I won’t hurt you, now I know you aren’t really parasites. Here.” He stretched a hand out to them and gently touched their stems, sending calm into their veins. “I’d never hurt you.” Thinking of pruning, he added, “Not unless it was good for you.”

Berenene shook her head as she carefully watered a series of boat orchids. “Now
I
do not understand why you talk to them, and why you might allow them to speak to you. I love them because they are so beautifully silent.”

“Ouch.” Briar winced. “I suppose then that you’ve got the worst job in the world, with folk yattering at you all day.”

The empress laughed. “I’ve grown accustomed. As long as I have my refuges here, I shall do well.” She looked up at the sun and sighed. “I suppose I’ve left them unwatched long enough. It’s nearly midday, and they get cranky when they are not fed.” She caressed a blazing pink tree of life orchid. “Like my beauties, only my nobles are noisier by far. Well, I have my beauties among them, too, to console me.” She removed her gloves and put them away, then left the orchids and walked over to Briar.

“Like that Jakuben, and Finlach?” he asked, following her out through the
shakkans.

“Ah, them I am willing to share,” replied Berenene. “Here. This will be quicker.” They left through a side door in the wooden corridor, one that opened onto a flagstone path through the open gardens. “It’s my hope that one of my lovely lads will convince my dear cousin Sandry to remain in Namorn.”

You’ll need more to convince her than she’ll get from those cockawhoops. Briar thought it, but he did not say it. And it’s not my place to tell her Sandry has a will of steel and a mind of her own. Berenene will have to learn that by herself. For the sake of her plants, I hope the lesson doesn’t sting too bad.

Out on the grass, Daja and her companions continued to wait as the palace clocks chimed the passage of one hour, then two. Watching those around her, Daja decided it was like being among turtles. Everyone basked in the sun, contentment on their face. Even the men who joined them, like Jak and Quenaill, did it.

“Is this a northern thing?” Sandry asked after the clock marked the second hour, adjusting the seam in one woman’s gown with her magic. “You come out to bake like buns on a tray?”

“Wait till
you
survive a Dancruan winter,” advised the
black-haired and black-eyed Caidlene fa Sarajane, a lady-in-waiting. “Then you’ll love the sun, too.”

“But it’s terrible for your skin,” Sandry pointed out. “You’ll get all leathery in time.”

“We have lotions and creams and balms for our skin,” said Rizu, leaning her head back so the sun gilded her face. “And winter is much too long. We’ll risk it.”

Daja looked around. “I thought I saw older people inside, but no one here is older than thirty,” she remarked.

Their companions chuckled.

“We’re supposed to keep up with her,” Rizu explained, smiling. “Mornings, you never know if she’ll take it into her head to go riding—”

“Or hunting,” said Jak, who sat cross-legged on Sandry’s other side. “Or to the beach,” he continued dreamily, “or to market…”

“The older ones rejoin us later in the day if there’s nothing else going on,” Rizu said. “Today Her Imperial Majesty wanted those closer in age to Lady Sandrilene to meet her, and she didn’t want it formal.”

“The Hall of Roses is for fun.” Caidlene plaited grass stems to make a bracelet. She had already outfitted half of their group with them. “The Hall of the Sun is for the full court and more private ceremonies, and the Hall of Swords is for audiences, elegant receptions, and the like.”

“So it’s like a code to life at court,” commented Sandry.
“If you know where people are, you have a good idea of what’s going on.”

Daja smiled. “Writing a guidebook for us, Sandry?” she asked. “Or for you?”

Sandry made a rude noise in reply.

“What’s going on is that our empress took your friend into the greenhouses, where she won’t allow most of us,” grumbled Quenaill, his hazel eyes smoky.

“Speak for yourself,” Rizu said. “She lets some of her ladies come in.”

“Well, their friend Briar is hardly a lady,” Jak pointed out. “And he’d better mind his manners with Her Imperial Majesty.”

Sandry and Daja exchanged a smile. Nobody makes Briar mind his manners but Rosethorn, thought Daja, knowing that Sandry thought the same thing. And Briar’s not such a fool as to offend the empress, no matter what these court fluff-heads think. “He’s a green mage,” she said aloud, choosing the diplomatic comment. “If she’s got a problem with bugs or something, she’ll want his advice. Does she keep
shakkans
?”

“Dozens,” replied Jak. “They’re her second favorites, after her precious orchids.”

“Well, then, there you are,” Daja said. Movement tickled her skin: Rizu was curiously tracing the outline of the metal on the back of her hand. It made Daja shiver. She
smiled shyly at Rizu and continued: “Briar’s made himself rich on fashioning
shakkans.
She probably wanted his advice. They’re tricky creatures.”

“They’ve been in there a long time for him just to inspect some runty trees,” grumbled Quenaill. “I saw how he looked at her.”

Rizu laughed outright. “Quen, you silly creature, only think how insulted she would be if he
hadn’t
!” she teased, nudging Quenaill with her foot. “When she goes to two hours of effort to dress every morning, men had
better
look at her!”

“Women, too, eh, Rizu?” snapped Fin.

Now all of the women laughed. “Next you’ll be jealous of the sun and the moon for looking at her,” said one of Rizu’s friends with a wicked smile. “And her mirror.”

“Her bath,” suggested Caidlene, her eyes sparkling. “He’ll break into the imperial chambers some night—”

“When she’s not there,” Shan interrupted. “Never break into her chambers when she’s there. The last fellow who tried is nothing but a greasy spot.”

“He thought she would like a pretend kidnapping, for the sake of romance,” murmured Rizu in Daja’s ear. “She didn’t. Only a dunderhead would have thought she’d like it.”

“
Anyway
,” Caidlene said, glaring at Rizu and Shan for interrupting, “Fin will burst into her chambers and attack her bathtub. Then our new friend the smith mage here…”
She winked at Daja. “She’ll turn Fin into a bathtub so he can embrace Her Imperial Majesty at long last.”

“And he’ll get soap in his mouth,” joked Shan. “His borscht will never taste the same.”

“Tubs don’t eat soup,” replied another man with a grin. “They’re always being emptied.”

Fin grimaced. “Don’t listen,” he told Sandry. “Do you believe these are my friends?”