Palace of Stone (26 page)

“Even if I thought we had a chance, I can’t,” said Katar. “A member of court must sponsor any new laws.”

A member of court? Miri had not realized. She slumped in her chair.

“Surely Britta would do it for us,” said Esa.

Miri shook her head. “She lost her noble title when her parents did, and the king said he won’t raise her back up. I think he realizes that the people are happy calling her the commoner princess.”

“Would Prince Steffan do it?” asked Esa.

“He can’t,” said Katar. “The king and the prince heir oversee the delegation and cannot sponsor new laws.”

Miri was still wearing her scholar robes. She ran her fingers over the embroidered emblem on her chest: a crown and an open door. The sign of the queen.

Chapter Twenty-two

The army slew a thousand and showed little pity

The king ordered fealty from the conquered city

The prince charmed its people with words wise and witty

And the queen sat on a couch, looking very pretty

The hours Miri spent at the Queen’s Castle the next day seemed agonizingly slow, the sun barely scraping along in the sky, the droning of the master scholar like the heavy buzzing of a summer bee. The moment class ended, she was on her feet and out the door, clutching a first draft of the charter she and the girls had finished that dawn. By the light of day, it seemed impossibly ambitious. For one thing, the delegates would never vote to abolish all noble titles.

But perhaps they will compromise on land ownership ….

Miri was full of thoughts and walking straight into the hot yellow sunset, so she did not notice Timon until he called her name.

He was waiting at their corner near the palace, his hands in his pockets.

“You haven’t been to the Castle in weeks,” she said. “But I guess completing another open-sky year was never your intention.”

He shook his head.

“You knew about Britta,” she said. “You knew she could be the key to incite revolution, and you used me to put her story to the people—well, the part of her story that made her look bad. A shame you didn’t meet Liana instead of me. She would have
loved
writing a leaflet condemning Britta.”

“I never knew I was a coward until these past weeks.” He kept his gaze on the tips of his shoes. “I couldn’t face you.”

“Well, now you have. Congratulations.” She started to walk again. He kept pace with her.

“Years from now,” he said, “Britta will be just a name in a book. And so I thought, when compared to the entire nation, what does she matter? Names mean nothing—lady or lord, or Skarpson for that matter.”

How far apart we are
, Miri thought. Timon was working so hard to turn away from his birth and background. Miri looked north and felt a yearning for home. And yet those twisting feelings inside reminded her again of all she’d have to give up in Asland if she returned to Mount Eskel.

“I know you think me a thug,” he said, “but I did what I thought was best.”

She threw up her hands. “What do you want from me, Timon?”

“You don’t need to be curt, Miri. I’m doing you a favor. I came to give you fair warning.”

“That change is still brewing?”

“If you’re not among the blue-banded, then you are the enemy. And this time there won’t be a lone musket shooting through a carriage window. Groups across the city have come together. There will be thousands united.”

Miri shivered. “Not yet. We have some ideas, and if they work, nobody has to die. Just give us more time.”

“It’s not up to me, Lady Miri.” Her title on his lips sounded like an insult. “The revolution isn’t a bridled horse anyone can stop with a yank of the reins. The robber princess married her prince, but commoners are still paying tributes they can’t afford. There
will
be an uprising.”

“Against Britta?”

“No. She’s a commoner now, and frankly, the people are taken with her and her
adorable
habit of flinging off her shoes.”

“Then who will be attacked?” she asked. “When?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ve said enough.”

She tried to argue it out of him, but he would not budge.

“I
am
sorry, you know.” He smiled a little, and his tired eyes brightened. “I learned of you long before I met you. Traders who worked with my father talked of changes on Mount Eskel, led by the academy girls. Your academy’s tutor spoke with other scholars about one girl in particular. I used to imagine giving you books and a house in Asland, and sailing beside you to see the world. Then we met and everything I had dreamed seemed possible. I believed I would see your face every day for the rest of my life.”

She supposed her face looked a lot like his just then, tired after her night up, a little sad, but resigned too.

“Not everything that we imagine comes to pass,” she said. “But thank you for the warning. And the books.”

She smiled at him and left.

When she was a block away, she thought about looking back but realized that she did not care if she saw Timon—then or ever again.

Miri went straight to Peder’s recovery room at the palace and rewrote the charter at his bedside. Nervous energy made her letters too large, her lines crooked.

“It’s good, Miri,” he said. “If they’re smart, they’ll see that.”

“I’m not sure intelligence is a requirement for being a delegate.”

The girls had to wait until Inga left for the night, and so debated and made changes straight through till morning. Delegates could introduce new laws only on the first of the month, when the king was in attendance. They had two more days to prepare, or they would have to wait another month.

“And that might be too late.” Miri took a big breath. “Are we ready to woo our sponsor?”

Bena had arranged for the girls to have an audience with Queen Sabet in her chambers.

“I don’t know how to play a lute or forge a sword,” Bena had said, “but believe me, I know how to set up lunch with a member of court.”

Miri had practiced her speech several times, but even so, once they were actually facing the queen, her voice quavered.

The queen petted her little white dog as Miri read the charter. It started with simpler ideas, such as commoners having the right to a rest day each week, and allowing news journals freedom to publish without court approval. And then it built up to land ownership being open to everyone, not just nobles, as well as to commoner representation in the delegation.

“Commoners from each province will vote one of their own as a delegate. The combined commoner and noble delegates must approve all royal tributes. In addition—”

The queen rose to her feet and started to leave.

“I can’t … I can’t listen to this. Bjorn would be so angry.”

“Please,” Miri said, rushing to her side. “Please, don’t go. We can’t afford to wait until mobs storm the palace or nobles are murdered in their houses. Nobles and royals need to make an offering to the commoners. It’s a step forward for the entire kingdom. And
you
are the only person who can make it possible.”

The queen stared at her, the line of her mouth stiff. “You well know that I have no power. Do not mock me.”

Miri was silenced. The queen was turning again to go when Gerti quarry-spoke.

Queen Gertrud
, she said. The memory was of the girls’ first Salon night, when Miri returned from the Queen’s Castle and recounted the story of its origin.

“Your Majesty, forgive me,” said Miri, “but do you know of Queen Gertrud?”

The queen paused on the threshold. “Gertrud, wife of Jorgan, sixteenth king of Danland,” she recited.

“Yes, but do you know her story?” Miri asked.

The queen blinked, not understanding the question.

“Gertrud was from Hindrick province,” said Miri. “There was no school for girls in Hindrick at the time. She attended the princess academy and became the first girl in her family to learn to read. Jorgan chose her, and when she left for Asland, she dedicated her bridal lands for a school.”

Gerti took up the story. “King Jorgan began construction of a new palace built of linder. During his reign, much of the king’s wing of this palace was completed.”

“The old castle on the river isle was going to be a prison,” said Frid. She smiled as if that detail was her favorite.

Miri continued. “Queen Gertrud approached the king and the delegation on the day the old castle was to be given over to the Justice Official. She said—”

“
My king, you have never given me a wedding present
,” Esa said in a high voice, and then in a low voice for the king, “
I am thirty years late!
”

“It was written that when crowned, the new king should bestow a gift upon his bride,” said Miri.

“She’d never asked him for anything before,” Esa said, “so he dared her to name a gift of her choosing and swore it would be hers.”

“She asked for the castle!” said Frid and Gerti, talking over each other.

“The Justice Official was outraged at losing his prize,” said Miri, “but the king was true to his oath. The old castle became known as the Queen’s Castle.”

“There she started the first academy for teachers,” Katar continued. “Over the years it became the center of Danlander scholarship. Scholars who train at the Queen’s Castle become tutors all over the kingdom, preserve history, promote the arts and science, make discoveries and inventions. Queen Gertrud’s legacy is powerful. So will be yours.”

When Katar stopped, Miri wanted to speak quickly, present logical arguments, beg for the queen’s aid. But she reminded herself of the last rule of Rhetoric:
Offer silence
.

After a time, the queen spoke.

“My husband gave me a wedding gift. A small house on the shore. We used to spend two weeks there every winter. Then one year, we stopped. I left my favorite set of teacups in the kitchen.”

“You should go back,” said Gerti.

“Yes, I should send someone for the teacups,” said the queen.

“But
you
should go,” said Gerti. “With the king. It sounds like you miss it. The way you talk about it, that’s how I feel about Mount Eskel.”

The queen considered Gerti. “I can feel your longing.”

Miri wondered if the queen could sense a longing in her as well, one strong enough to pull her away from Asland. She did not dare ask.

“Your Majesty,” said Miri, “if the nobles and royals don’t take the next step, the commoners will. They believe they can claim power only through violence. Even if they don’t succeed, think how many will die trying.”

The queen studied Miri’s face and then held her hand out for the charter. She sat and read for long, aching minutes before giving it back.

“I will see you at the next session of the delegation,” she said, and then left. Her servants followed.

The girls stood there, looking at one another.

“So … did she just agree to sponsor the charter?” asked Katar.

“I think so,” Miri whispered.

“You
think
so?” Katar grabbed the paper from Miri. “If I present this in session and the queen doesn’t offer her sponsorship, ‘I think so’ isn’t going to save my head.”

“Your head will be fine,” said Miri. “It’s your neck you should worry about.”

“Miri!”

They started back to their chamber. Katar trudged behind as if dragging stones, and Miri slowed to walk beside her.

“I’ll hand copies to the delegates myself,” said Miri. “I’ll stand beside you, Katar.”

Katar grimaced, but she nodded. “Thanks. I thought …” She pressed her lips together. “I thought when I wrote you that letter last spring that you’d know what to do.”

Miri nodded, unsure what to say.

“Though it took you
ages
to figure it out,” said Katar. Miri knocked her with her shoulder, Katar knocked her back, and Miri wondered at what moment she and Katar had become friends.

This very moment
, Miri thought.
Just now.

Spring Week Three

Dear Marda,

If you receive these letters along with a note advising you of my execution, please do not be too sad. Someday you might even laugh about it! “Oh that Miri. She would go off to Asland and drum up trouble. Remember when she forgot to tie up the billy goat, and he ate two shoes and a blanket? Such a prankster!”

If you have a funeral for me, sing loudly and let the goats attend. They love a rousing ditty.

Your troublesome baby sister,

Miri

Chapter Twenty-three