The Will of the Empress (35 page)

“Oh, cat dirt,” she muttered. She clambered down from the high bed, stripping off her overgown and undergown.
She traded them for a plain blue gown in the Capchen style, then washed her face and hands. At least her braids did not look tatty. The forces she kept in them made each hair cling to the others. It was a side effect that not only looked tidy, but it spared her the need to rebraid her hair every day. Tris hated repeat work.

After smoothing her stockings and putting her shoes back on, Tris went to see if Zhegorz needed help in his packing. There’s no telling how far he’s gotten, given how easily distracted he is, she thought as she knocked on his door.

There was no answer. Tris knocked again, then consulted with the draft that slid into the hall from his room. “You’d best not be naked,” she called through the keyhole, and opened the door.

Zhegorz was fully clothed. He had jammed himself into the corner between his bed and the wall, where he had curled into a knot, his arms locked around his drawn-up knees. Chime clicked anxiously at him from the bed, her clear wings half-outstretched to keep her balanced. Tris looked around with a scowl. Zhegorz’s scant belongings were still in the cupboard where he kept them.

“Were you planning to leave everything you own behind?” she asked, her voice tart. “Were you going to count on the wind to keep you warm in the mountains? They get
very
cold this time of year. You’re going to need the woollens we got you.”

“I’m not going.” The man’s voice came from inside the
tangle of arms and legs. “
Viymese
Daja told me to go away. If she’s leaving and she wants me to go away then I can’t come. And she’s the one who speaks for me, because the fire is hers. If she goes away and tells me to go away, then I have to stay here.”

Tris propped her hands on her hips. “In case you haven’t noticed, and it seems you haven’t,
I’m
the one who’s been looking after you lately—well, Briar and I.
We’re
the ones who said you were going to Winding Circle.” With dreadful patience she continued: “To go there, you have to leave here. If I have to show you the kind of fire
I
handle, Asaia witness it, you’ll be too scared to think. And since you’re not doing so well at thinking right now, maybe that’s for the best. You forget about Daja’s fire and worry about
mine.
”

Zhegorz looked up at her, his eyes haggard. “You’re confusing me. I only know
Viymese
Daja says I can’t be around her. She’s going, so I can’t.”

Tris turned on her heel, ready to do battle. “Gods save me from madmen and their notions,” she muttered. “As if my temper hasn’t been tried enough lately.” She stalked down the gallery to Daja’s room and knocked, then turned the doorknob. The door was locked. “Daja!” she cried, letting a wind carry the call through the keyhole so she wouldn’t startle the household.

“Go away!” a harsh voice shouted in reply. “I don’t want to talk to
anyone
!”

You don’t get off that easily, thought Tris.

She went to the bay at the end of the gallery and opened the windows. As far as she could tell, no one on this floor had taken advantage of the narrow terrace that wrapped around the building on this level. Tris knew it was there because she had looked down on it during her time in the house. Now it gave her a second way to get to Daja, one that Tris was irritable enough to use. Whatever mood she’s in, she had no right to upset Zhegorz, thought Tris angrily. Daja of all people should know how fragile our crazy man is!

Walking past the long sets of windows that formed doors into the rooms beyond, Tris reached the pair that would open into Daja’s room. They were unlocked. She yanked one open and walked into Daja’s sitting room. “Daja, I want a word with you!”

A silver goblet flew at her head from the shadows. Tris ducked out of the way. She knew a warning shot when she saw one. Preparing for a flying piece of metal that
would
hit her, she twirled on one foot. The still breezes that were as much a part of her clothing as her shift twirled hard around her and continued to twirl. They made an airy shield that would knock the next missile aside.

Daja’s power shone from the bedroom. Determined, Tris went to the door. “If you were just going to be a brute to me, I would have stood for it, because when itch comes right down to scratch, you Traders don’t know how to act,” she said cruelly. Tris knew from early experience that sharpness spurred Daja harder than kindness. “But you had no
right to frighten poor old Zhegorz out of what wits he’s got. You’re some kind of talisman for him, and when you tell him to go away, he thinks it means he can’t travel with us. Now you get off your behind and go tell him you wouldn’t
think
of leaving him!”

“Later!” Daja cried. She lay in bed on her belly, raising her face from her pillows to talk. “I’ll talk to him later, Tris, and I won’t talk to you at all right now, so go away! And insulting my Trader blood won’t work, either, you rat-nosed, pinch-coin, gold-grubbing
merchant.
”

Tris was about to blister the other girl when she caught the ragged tones in Daja’s voice. With a frown she walked over and plumped herself on the bed, reining in her whirling breezes until they were still again. Daja turned her face away from Tris too slowly.

“Oh, dear,” Tris said, understanding. Daja’s eyes were puffy and wet. Her nose ran. Tris dug out a handkerchief and stuffed it into Daja’s hand. When Daja tried to pull the hand away, Tris grabbed her wrist.

Did you
really
think she would come?
Tris asked through their magic.
Give up her own place at court, at the empress’s side, to live on your generosity? Rizu’s proud, Daja. She has every right to be. As Mistress of the Wardrobe she decides what every guardsman and servant in the palace wears. She chooses the imperial wardrobe. What would she have in Summersea compared to all that?

But I
love
her!
cried Daja, accepting the renewed connection between them without a struggle.
I thought she loved me!

Tris sighed and patted Daja’s heaving back.
At least she didn’t laugh at you when she found out how you felt,
she remarked.
At least she didn’t turn you into a joke for her friends. And she told you something about yourself you really ought to know: that you’re beautiful, and worth loving. Even for just a summer.

All the boys I went with in Summersea after we came back from Kugisko said I was cold,
Daja replied wearily.
I didn’t like kissing them. It was nothing special, like all the books say love is. Then, when I liked kissing Rizu…it was such a blessing. I’m not cold. I was just kissing the wrong people. Even living with Lark and Rosethorn,
I
never thought that maybe I should try kissing girls. None of them drew me. Have you ever…?

Tris shook her head.
No interest
, she explained.
And the boys don’t want to kiss a fat girl like me. They’re also scared of me. That doesn’t help.

They sat in silence for a long time, Tris simply rubbing Daja’s shoulders. Finally Daja pushed herself up and turned over to sit on the bed. “They made a
joke
of you?” she asked roughly, and blew her nose.

“Twice,” Tris answered softly. “After that, I tried not to let boys know when I liked them. One time the boy set up a meeting in a garden. Then he and his friends dumped honey on me. They told me even a gallon of honey wasn’t enough sweets to satisfy a tub like me.”

“Miserable dung-grubbing
pavao
,” whispered Daja. “Did you…lose control?”

“I called the rain,” replied Tris. “To get the honey off me. All right. To run them off, too. But I’ve been trying to be good about it. About the weather.”

“And the other boy?” asked Daja, getting up to splash water on her face.

“They made fun of him until he came to hate me,” Tris said with a shrug. “At least both times we left the towns, eventually.” She could feel the heat in her face. If there had been light in here, Daja would have seen her humiliated blush. “I dove into my studies after that and tried not to notice any boys. Most of them just aren’t like Briar, you know. He’ll drive you to commit murder, but the only part of him that’s hidden is the good part. And he isn’t nasty to any female, have you noticed? Not to the little farm children or the old grannies who want to tell him how beautiful
they
were in their prime.”

“That’s because he knows Rosethorn would pull him out by the roots and throw him on the compost heap if he was,” Daja said. Both girls looked at each other and giggled softly at the image of Briar thrown out with the rotten leaves of cabbage and the heaps of dead weeds.

When they had quieted, Daja suddenly kissed Tris on the cheek. “I had forgotten that Sandry wasn’t my only
saati
,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Don’t go telling people,” Tris fussed. “I have a reputation to protect.” She slid off the bed. “I am sorry about Rizu, Daja.”

Daja sniffled, and blew her nose again. “I think it will probably hurt for a while,” she said. “I felt so free when I was with her.” She shook the wrinkles from her clothes. Obedient as always to Sandry’s wishes, the garments went as smooth as if Daja had never lain on them. “I’ll talk to Zhegorz. I wish he wouldn’t take things so literally, but then, he
is
mad. Isn’t he?”

“I think he’ll always be somewhat mad, yes,” Tris replied, following her down the gallery. “But he’s somewhat on the mend.”

They were all sitting down to a strained dinner when Zhegorz sat bolt upright. “A man with a blade,” he said, eyes wide. “In the house!”

Briar and the girls scrambled to their feet as a footman darted in from the kitchen, panic in his eyes. “My lady, my lord, he came through the servants’ gate,” he cried. “Forgive me, but the guard just stepped away!” There was a sword at his back, with Jak gripping the hilt. Briar readied his magic, as did his sisters; from the corner of his eye Briar saw Zhegorz grab a silver pitcher for use as a weapon.

“You
dare
,” cried Sandry. “You—”

Jak sheathed the sword and raised his hands. “I’m sorry,
but I had to see you, and it’s not like you’re opening the door to callers,” he said, his eyes on Sandry. “I just wanted you to know I had no part in what Fin did. I’ll have no part in anything else of the kind. I swear it by Vrohain the Judge, may he cut off my hands if I lie.”

They all watched him for a moment. Then the tension in the room eased. Briar sat down and applied himself to his meal once more. If Jak wasn’t a threat, Briar wasn’t about to let his food get cold.

“Why?” Sandry demanded, quivering as if she might yet flee him. “Why do
you
have such a distaste for it, when so many other men do not?”

Ambros cleared his throat. “You judge us all by the actions of a few, Cousin.”

Sandry made a face. “I’m sorry, Ambros,” she apologized, her voice still raspy. “I’m overwrought, I suppose.”

Ealaga sighed. “Really, my dear husband, for a man who is so clever, you can be so shortsighted,” she said with unhappy patience. “What else is she supposed to do, when any unmarried woman of western Namorn must live her life and judge all men by those few who have successfully stolen women away? Each time a man succeeds, we place our daughters and our sisters under new safeguards. We put their lives under new restrictions. We give them new signs that a man in whose company they find themselves
might
plan to kidnap them. Don’t we teach our women to view all men according to the actions of a few?”

Ambros stared at his wife, speechless.

Ouch, thought Briar, finishing his sturgeon. That’s got him where he sits. I wonder if it will make him a little more angry about this precious custom he’s lived with?

Ealaga beckoned to a maid and the footman who had announced Jak, and murmured instructions. The maid hurried from the room; the footman brought a chair from against the wall and set it at the table between Ambros and Daja. “And I’m one of the ones who gets to live with what those few have done.” Jak looked at Ealaga. “You remember, don’t you? My mother’s best friend?”

Briar saw a shadow cross Ealaga’s face. “I certainly do. She killed herself rather than live with the man who stole her.”

Jak looked at Sandry and shrugged. “My mother told me the story all my life. She made me swear never to insult a good woman in such a way, and to protect any women in my care who were trapped in that situation. You’re a lovely girl, Sandry, even if you
aren’t
exactly broken to bridle—”

Briar choked on a mouthful, thinking, Someone else isn’t falling all over her
Clehame
ness! Sandry glared at him.

“But I won’t break my vow to my mother,” Jak continued, “not for all the fortune in the world. You can’t judge all Namorn by the imperial court, Sandry. I feel like you haven’t given us a chance.”

Sandry looked down at her lap. For a very long moment she said nothing. Finally she replied softly, “Probably I
haven’t. But as long as I am who I am, I don’t think your court will give me a chance, either.”

Makes sense, Briar thought. And she’s got a point. They all wanted to be her friend without even knowing who she is.

Daja inched her chair over, leaving room for Jak to take the empty seat as the maid returned with place settings so he could join them for their meal. As the footman filled Jak’s wine glass, the young nobleman looked at Sandry. “This is also me saying good-bye for a while. I’m in disgrace with Her Imperial Majesty, so I’m on my way back to my family’s lands.”

Ealaga gasped. Briar grinned. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. I bet he was supposed to try grabbing Sandry if she wouldn’t say yes to a normal proposal, he thought. “You’ve been a bad lad?” he asked.

Jak grinned. “Until one of her hunting dogs takes sick again, or one of her old great-aunts descends on the palace for a visit.
Then
she’ll remember I have my uses.” He winked at Sandry. “I’m very good with crotchety ladies, old and young.”

Sandry sat bolt upright, glaring at him, then seemed to remember where she had left her sense of humor. She began to giggle.