Emperor Mage (25 page)

The
female red-crested cardinal had the same kind of droppings.

Daine
spread her power through the aviary, calling the other three whose new illness
she had detected: a green-and-gold tanager, an orange-bellied leafbird, and one
of the royal bluebirds, with its impossibly blue wings and tail feathers. All
three nested close to the glass wall. All three of them

emptied
themselves of heavy white droppings as she healed them. She held them away to
spare her clothes more-damage.

With
them taken care of, she summoned the red-crested cardinals back to her. All
five of her patients clustered on branches around her at the top-most level of
the stair, looking at her curiously. Where do you nest? she asked the
cardinals.

The
male flew to the tree where he lived, and back. Like the others, he nested by
the glass.

Some
kind of magic gone awry in the windows? she wondered. Getting her handkerchief,
she scrubbed her hands with it as she thought. Glass splinters falling into the
nest or the food? she wondered, but that wasn't right. If splinters had caused
the damage, the birds' dung would be bloody and black, not white. White
paste—why did she think there was something important about white paste?

A
picture came to life in her memory, of Numair making paints, using—

Lead
compounds, she thought, eyes lighting up. They're getting kadi That's what's
coming out of their bodies when I heal them.' Tell me what you eat here, she
ordered.

Red-faced
parrot finches had come to watch everything she'd done, fascinated. Now they
chorused, Seeds.

What
kind of seeds? she asked. What do they look like? Show me.

All the
birds came, to shower her with images of seeds.

Enoughl
she ordered when they began to repeat themselves. Only seeds, or is there other
food?

Fruit,
said the tanagers. Figs, grapes, fluffy leaves with plenty of wet in them.

Daine
smiled, recognizing the image of lettuce in their minds. What else?

Sometimes
green food, said a parrot finch, perching on Daine s shoulder. It's good. It's
different. His red face twisted up to hers. They had green food, he said,
meaning Daine s patients.

So what
is it? she asked. What kind of plant? Not a plant, exactly, the helpful parrot
finch said. He gave up trying to see her face from her shoulder and perched on
her hand. Not a plant. Green seetb she asked. No, said the parrot finch. It is
green food. Over here.

He
fluttered up into the air, and darted at the glass. She was about to warn him
not to hit it when he stopped, clinging to a vinelike tendril. It was a
decoration on one of the metal strips that held the glass panes there. He
pecked at the green enamel surface.

"Goddess
bless," she whispered. She reshaped her eyes and face to give herself a
hawk's vision, and focused on the metal strips near the parrot finch. With so
much extra visual power, she noticed a glossy surface on the enamel that was
clear, a layer that had to be lacquer of some kind. Cracks ran through it like
fractures in ice, and tiny bits had flaked off, revealing the less-shiny green
enamel underneath. Everywhere she looked, the clear surface was pitted. In a
number of locations, the damage to the clear lacquer was even greater, and there
were pocks in the green material itself. She would know the distinctive marks
of beaks and daws anywhere.

Is that
what you've been eating? she asked her patients, remembering to do it silently.

It's
good, replied the green-and-gold tanager, cocking his head at her. It tastes
different. I'm always thirsty after the green food, but I still like it The
others chorused agreement.

Daine
put her hands on her hips. Salt in the enamel, she thought with disgust, Only
they're eating lead along with it.

She
called the birds to her, even those begging tidbits from Ozorne. Now listen to
me, she told them when they were quiet. The green food is kitting you. It's
poison. You have to promise me you'll never, ever touch it again. As she spoke,
she pressed down, reinforcing her words with magic so that they would avoid the
stuff forever.

I still
have to tell the emperor to have the coatings changed, she thought as she
trotted gleefully down the stairs. Or new strips put in, or something.

"I
found out what made them sick!" she said when she found him. He was seated
in the area with the marble bench, a seed-filled bowl at his side. A table and
two chairs had been placed there, and breakfast was already laid out. "The
enamel on the metal things that hold up that glass? They're eating it for the
salt and taking in lead. If you change the paint, or cover it with something
that won't crack or break, they won't get sick again. I've talked to your
birds"—they were coming back to him now, perching on his shoulders and on
nearby branches as he offered them food from the bowl—"and thy won't go
near it anymore, I made fair sure of that! But you'll have to fix it before any
chicks hatch, because doubtless I won't be here to make them leave it be,"

He
smiled up at her, holding seed-filled palms steady as birds perched and ate.
"You have done me a tremendous service, Veralidaine. Will you do me
another and take breakfast with me?"

She
looked at the table, set with filled crystal goblets, delicate porcelain and
silver, then looked down at herself and blushed. "Your Imperial Majesty,
I'm a mess. It would hardly be fitting—"

With a
gentle movement he dislodged the birds and moved the bowl away so that they
could sit on the rim and stuff themselves. He closed a hand and opened it, to
reveal a ball of green fire. "We require a washbasin and those things
necessary for the cleansing of hands. Also a robe—blue, or lilac,

blue-gray—suitable
for a young lady who stands as high as our chin." He closed his hand, and
the fire was gone. Looking up at Daine, he smiled wistfully. "Please
accept. I dislike meals taken alone, and it seems—of late—I am not the most
sought-out of companions."

What
could she say to that? "Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty,"

Three
slaves came through an arch partly shielded by greenery. One carried a gold
basin that steamed faintly; another soap, a washcloth, and a neatly folded
towel on a tray; and a third something lilac and very fine draped over his arm,

"Our
rooms open into this aviary," explained Ozorne. She noticed that he'd
switched instantly to the imperial we on the arrival of the others. "Our
birds will not come there—it is too bright and noisy for them—but we enjoy the
sound of the aviary fountains at night."

The
slave with the basin knelt on one knee before Daine, holding it above his head
like an offering. She stepped back, confused.

"Go
on," the emperor said, "Wash."

She was
supposed to clean her grimy hands this way? With a human washstand?

The
slave with the tray set it on one of the chairs. She and her companion
proceeded to delicately unbutton Daine s cuffs and roll her sleeves above the
elbow. The girl gritted her teeth and did as she was expected to, wetting her
hands and scrubbing them. With the best intentions in the world, she couldn't
avoid splashing the boy underneath the basin. When she was finished, the slaves
dried her hands and helped her into the lilac robe. She winced as it closed
around her dung-streaked clothing. The garment, a finely made thing with silver
braid and tiny pearls worked around hem, collar, and cuffs, would never be the
same.

Once
she was covered, the slaves served the food as Daine and the emperor each took
a chair. When they were done, Ozorne dismissed them. "I find mutes make
the best slaves," he remarked, curling one hand around a crystal goblet.
Daine had one just like it before her, filled with something that was the
bright red of fresh blood. "They do not chatter. Shall we have a toast,
then?"

Daine
stared at him, hands tucked into her lap. "A toast, Your Imperial
Majesty?"

He
raised his goblet. "To birds," he said gravely. Relief filled her:
she had feared he'd want to toast Carthak, or the ruin of Tortall. Don't be
silly, she scolded herself as she raised her goblet. He wouldn't try to make me
do something bad like that, not when I just helped him.

She
sipped the red liquid. It was pomegranate juice, a bit thick and oversweet. She
would have preferred to water it down, but the emperor drank all of his
straight down. Good manners dictated that she do the same. When the goblet was
empty, she drank from another filled with cold water, to rinse the heaviness
out of her mouth.

"What
do you think of the progress being made in the peace talks?" he asked,
delicately cutting a bite of ham. "Have you been kept abreast of what
transpires here?"

She
fiddled with the napkin shed put on her lap. "I know it's not going very
welL"

"No.
It was too much to hope for, really, with so much else taking place—all these
dark omens. Do you know why the gods are angry?"

The
girl shook her head. It was much too hot in here. Sweat was trickling down her
temples, and it was a little hard to follow what he was saying. It also didn't
seem like the time to mention that she had some idea of the source of the gods'
displeasure.

"I
let a threat to Carthak exist. A powerful criminal, sheltered by my enemy,
Jonathan of Tortall. The gods do not love a ruler who permits a threat to
survive. It was made clear to me, the night of the naval review. Zernou himself
pointed out my error, and suddenly I understood."

She
took a deep breath. It was an effort to draw air in. "He pointed to
you," she whispered.

Ozorne
s smile was amused and pitying. "Not to me, Veralidaine. To the criminal.
To Arram Draper—your teacher, Nurnair Salmalin. I knew that I was moved to
allow his return for a good reason. My hand was guided by the gods
themselves." Rising, he came to her side of the table and lifted one of
her arms, placing his fingertips over her pulse. She tried to yank away, but
all she could think of was Numair.

"You
cannot fight dreamrose," Ozorne remarked. "Its a cousin of
wakeflower, and very strong. A spear dipped in it will drop a charging
elephant. Frankly, I am amazed you are still awake."

"You—can't
hurt us," She fought hard to say it. "Ambassadors. Sacred—"

"1
will hurt no one, my dear." He placed her arm in her lap again and brought
his chair close, sitting where he could watch her face. "You will run away
and vanish into the kingdom. I will be furious. For all I know, you are among
criminals in the underground, urging them to rebel against me. Your friends
will be forced to leave immediately, under guard. Even Tortall s allies will be
able to see that these talks failed due to you, not to me. I will have my
Tortallan war, and no one will stop me.

"Better,
I know that he loves you—the traitor Salmalin. That I could see when he came
here seeking you, and the night Zernou pointed him out to me—the night the
traitor warned my heir not to trifle with you. Since we will go to war in any
case, Salmalin will return for you, and I will have him," There was
nothing in his voice, or eyes, but kind interest. "This will turn out for
the best. I like you, Veralidaine. The way you have with my darlings—" He
shook his head admiringly. "You will have a title—countess, perhaps? Even
duchess. You will have your own estates, your own slaves, whatever you wish.
You will even have the dragon, too. It will be necessary to keep her under the
sleep until you are well settled here, but once you are, she will be content as
long as you are content. I will not risk waking her until I am certain she will
not turn on me.

Sleep
was wrapping around her like a cloud-filled blanket, "Numair.,."

Ozorne
stood. "He dies, my dear. The gods demand a blood sacrifice, and so do
L"

CHAPTER NINE

DAINE LOSES HER TEMPER