Battle Magic (6 page)

Ignoring Evvy’s wails, she walked into the airy, luxurious room that was hers for their stay.

Parahan had not been joking. The Hall of Imperial Greetings was a work of art in itself. The chained man led them down a long hallway where the walls and ceiling were lacquered bright yellow. Ornately carved ebony benches were placed along one side of the corridor so nobles could sit, chatter, and be waited on and fanned by serving women and eunuchs. All of them watched their small group go by, their faces emotionless.

They reached the middle third of the hall. On one side large paintings in the Yanjingyi style attracted admirers. They showed lush, beautiful scenes of palace life, gardens, and mountains. These had attracted groups of viewers who discussed them with soft voices. On the other side of the broad corridor, placed under windows cut high in the wall, hung large gold cages. Their purpose was made clear by their size and the ceramic chamber pot on the bottom. There was no screen for privacy, no blanket for warmth. If the absent prisoners were given food and water, the evidence was cleared away. The empty cages swung a little in the thin breezes from the windows and hallway.

“That one is mine,” Parahan said, pointing to the last one in the line. “Usually the guides tell guests I am a chieftain from a savage kingdom among the Realms of the Sun. The emperor keeps me here when he has nothing for me to do, or if he wishes to point me out as an example to one of his nobles or generals.”

Evvy looked at the cage, then at Parahan, with horror. “That’s all the room you have?”

Parahan twined and untwined the chains around his wrists. “It’s better than some of the other places he stows his captives. He put me in a couple of those at first.”

They had reached a huge round opening framed in teak. Beyond it stood a partial wall that was covered in rough gold silk and embroidered with two-horned, winged lions. A eunuch, his face painted white, his long black hair left to stream down his back, waited there for them. His eyes had been lined all around with black paint. He was gloriously robed in bright turquoise blue, red, and palest yellow.

Parahan bowed to the eunuch. “Master of Presentations, I bring you these most honored guests of the imperial lord of us all.” Carefully he introduced each of them in order of their age and expertise in magic, beginning with Rosethorn. He then introduced the eunuch as the Master of Presentations to the emperor, first among the imperial eunuchs. When he was done, Parahan told them, “And that’s my part. You’ll see me again. Don’t worry. The Master of Presentations will look after you well.” He grinned cheerfully at all of them, and then walked off, his chains jingling.

Evvy wanted to whimper. Losing Parahan felt like losing a particularly warm and comforting blanket. She didn’t whimper, though, not here, not in front of this proud-looking old man who wore more eye makeup than she and Rosethorn put together.

The Master of Presentations looked each of them over as if he expected their clothes to have stains or rips in them. Then he sniffed. “I trust the ladies of your pavilion explained what you are to do when you are presented?” He had a high, fluting voice.

“Of course they did,” Rosethorn told him. Her bearing was
suddenly as haughty as that of any noblewoman. “As did the prince. Do you mean to delay us further?”

I will be her when I grow up, Evvy thought joyfully as the eunuch flinched and minced his way past them, through the round opening. I know I will have to work hard at it, but I want to be just like her.

They followed the Master of Presentations around the end of the golden wall. Before them spread a broad, rectangular room, far more splendid than anything they had seen until now. Huge porcelain jars filled with live flowers perfumed the chamber with their scent. The roof was held up by thick pillars in precious woods, all painted with bright red enamel. Their ornate, fish-carved bases and capitals were covered in gold leaf. Overhead, paintings of gods and goddesses at play or doing war-like things among dragons, lions, and other creatures decorated a deep blue ceiling that was otherwise starred in gold leaf. Ornate gold lanterns hung from the tops of the columns to give light. On a dais at one side of the room musicians played the instruments of the empire, including drums, flutes, a lute-like thing called a
pipa
, and the very long-necked lute called the
erhu
. Briar was learning to like Yanjingyi music — the
erhu
’s sweet, mournful sound in particular was growing on him. Evvy loved it, even the singing, as the sound of her childhood, while Rosethorn only sat silent and ground her teeth. Now, seeing the Master of Presentations trot by, the musicians put their instruments aside.

The courtiers who swarmed through the room parted in front of the Master of Presentations, bowing slightly as he went past.
He was bound for a gilded raised platform at the heart of the chamber. Briar fixed his eyes on their host. Like them, he had changed clothes from the yellow robes of the afternoon.

Emperor Weishu Maorin Guangong Zhian of the Long Dynasty was fifty years old. It showed only in the bits of gray at his temples and the startling splash of gray in the beard trimmed close to his chin. His mustache was as black as the rest of his hair. His eyes were the dark brown of Yanjing, his skin the bronze of a Yanjing warrior who spent plenty of time in the sun. He had broad cheekbones and a long nose. Horse nomad blood in the family, thought Briar, but his mother was a concubine and a captive, wasn’t she? So maybe she was a horse nomad.

Weishu’s robe sported gold embroideries thickly clustered over bright yellow silk. It fastened at the neck and shoulder with more gold silk frogs. He rested his feet, modestly covered with plain black slippers, on a stool. He held a folded blue fan in his lap, though two servants stood on either side of him, wielding much larger, feathered fans to keep him cool. His head was covered with an intricately folded stiffened black silk cap.

“Behold the mighty emperor, sixth of his dynasty, beloved of all the gods,” the Master of Presentations began as he came to a halt before the dais. Their small group stopped behind him. This was part of their introduction. The eunuch would list all of the emperor’s titles, which would take a little while.

Briar looked briefly to the right of the throne. There Parahan knelt at the foot of the dais. He had been given an addition to his wardrobe, and not one that Briar liked. One more chain was fastened to the big man’s gold collar. It led to the throne and looped around the emperor’s left wrist. Briar looked down before anyone
saw the fury in his eyes. He was surprised to find that he had developed a liking for Parahan. He thought it was cruel to treat him like an untamed beast. In the two years that he, Rosethorn, and Evvy had traveled east, Briar had met a large number of people. He had learned something of warriors. Parahan had not gained his old scars by wrestling with his favorite hound; he’d gotten them by fighting. Perhaps this emperor was too accustomed to his bowing warriors and slaves. Maybe one day he would learn the hard way that putting a man in shackles didn’t mean he was tame.

The Master of Presentations reached an end to his gabble at last. Rosethorn bowed only as deeply as she had bowed to the God-King. Dedicates of the Living Circle recognized no masters on the earth. Briar bowed deeper. He liked to let powerful folk think he was a nice, respectful boy. Evvy, who was still a proper daughter of the empire, even if she’d left with her family when she was four, went to her knees and touched her forehead to the ground nine times.

“Dedicate Rosethorn.” The emperor’s voice was deep and pleasant, the essence of kindness. His
tiyon
was perfect. Briar wondered cynically if he’d had his voice magicked to sound good, then told himself he was being petty.

“We are greatly pleased to welcome you to our court,” the emperor continued. “Your reputation came here long ago, borne by Traders who brought us medicines and plant clippings obtained from you at very great cost and trouble.”

Rosethorn bowed again. “I trust the medicines and plants gave satisfaction, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said.

“They taught us much of your great power,” Weishu replied with a smile. “We hope to honor you by introducing you to our
gardens, and hearing your opinion. Any advice you might give us will be a gift we could not hope to repay.”

“I am greatly moved,” Rosethorn said evenly. “I did not believe I would receive such an honor once we had left Gyongxe to come here. The whole world has heard of the imperial gardens.”

“We had not realized you intended to visit the lesser gardens of our realms this summer,” the emperor said. “Have you family or business here?” He glanced at Evvy.

“Business only as any gardeners would conduct when they venture far from home to new lands,” Rosethorn explained. “I had long promised myself a journey east, to see what grows in different climates from my own. I had been forced to put off such travels often. Once
Nanshur
Moss received his certification in magic, it seemed like a good time to journey together.”

“Certainly we are glad to take advantage of so great a gardener’s visit,” the emperor reassured her. “Let us start our tour tomorrow, then. We must warn you, we begin our day with the rising of the sun.”

And she stays in bed until noon, Briar thought ironically.

“We are accustomed to early risings, temple dwellers and travelers as we have been,” Rosethorn replied as graciously as any courtier.

For someone who hates this stuff, Briar thought with pride, she does it really well.

“We shall send our servants to guide you to us, then,” the emperor told her. “We look forward to speaking with you in a less formal setting.” The emperor had turned his attention to Briar, who bowed and then gazed at the man with his most
innocent expression fixed on his face. From Parahan he heard something very much like a smothered snort. “What did you think of the review of our troops this afternoon? Are you now eager to set aside your trowel and watering can for a sword and shield?”

Briar smiled. “If it pleases Your Imperial Majesty, I already get into plenty of trouble with plants. I shake to think of the kind of mischief I would find with conventional weapons.”

“Interesting, to find a youth who does not hanker for battle.” The emperor raised a finger. A servant with a tray appeared from the shadows behind the throne. He knelt, offering the tray to Emperor Weishu. Another servant who had been standing just behind the emperor’s elbow stepped forward and offered him one of the small porcelain cups on the tray. The emperor drained it. As he returned it to the standing servant, he asked Briar, “Are the stories true? You are a full
nanshur
at such a youthful age?”

Briar swallowed a sigh. He’d been asked this question from Emelan to Yanjing and he was heartily bored with it. Slowly he reached into the front of his robes.

There was movement behind the emperor. Four mages stepped up to stand beside the throne on Weishu’s left. Two were men in black scholar’s robes and caps, one a woman in scholar’s robes, and the fourth a
mimander
of the deserts west of Gyongxe, clad in the head-to-toe gray veil of those mages who worshipped the god Mohun. A knitted screen covered his — or her — eyes. These were all imperial mage guards and warriors, among Weishu’s closest advisers. To his right were warrior and slave servants, the former being the only ones allowed to carry weapons in the room, the latter to wait upon their master.

“We must be careful,” the emperor explained. “A
nanshur
is the only kind of assassin who could get so close to us.”

“Understandable, Your Imperial Majesty, but we have not journeyed so far from home and lived by being stupid,” Rosethorn said.

For a moment, Briar knew, their standing hung on the emperor’s sense of humor. Then the man laughed, and everyone in the great chamber relaxed. Except Parahan, Briar noticed. He had never tensed up in the first place.

Briar lifted his medallion free of his robes. On the front of the silvery metal, along the rim, his name and Rosethorn’s were inscribed. At the middle, his magic was symbolized by the image of a tree. On the back was the spiral that meant he had studied at Winding Circle temple.