Rise Of Empire (60 page)

She took her directions from Saldur as Modina remained locked in the dark recesses of her madness. One of her new responsibilities was reading and replying to mail addressed to the empress. Saldur gave her the task as soon as he discovered she could read and write. Amilia also received the responsibility of being the empress’s official gatekeeper. She decided who could, and who could not, have an audience with Modina. Normally a position of extreme power, hers was just a farce, because absolutely no one
ever
saw Modina.

Despite Amilia’s grandiose new title, her office was a small chamber with nothing but an old desk and a pair of bookshelves. The room was cold, damp, and sparse—but it was hers. She was filled with pride each morning when she sat behind the desk, and pride was something Amilia was unaccustomed to.

“Are those more letters?” Amilia asked.

“Yes, I am afraid so,” Nimbus replied. “Where would you like them?”

“Just drop them on the pile with the others. I can see now why Saldur gave me this job.”

“It is a very prestigious task,” Nimbus assured her. “You are the de facto voice of the New Empire as it relates to the people. What you write is taken as the word of the empress, and thus the voice of a god incarnate.”

“So you’re saying I’m the voice of god now?”

Nimbus smiled thoughtfully. “In a manner of speaking—yes.”

“You have a crazy way of seeing things, Nimbus. You really do.”

He was always able to cheer her up. His outlandishly colored clothes and silly powdered wig made her smile on even the bleakest of days. Moreover, the odd little courtier had a bizarre manner of finding joy in everything, blind to the inevitable disaster that Amilia knew lurked at every turn.

Nimbus deposited the letters in the bin beside Amilia’s desk, then fished out a tablet and looked it over briefly before speaking. “You have a meeting this morning with Lady Rashambeau, Baroness Fargal, and Countess Ridell. They have insisted on speaking to you personally about their failed petitions to have a private audience with Her Supreme Eminence. You also have a dedication to make on behalf of the empress at the new memorial in Capital Square. That is at noon. Also, the material has arrived, but you still need to get specifications to the seamstress for the new dress. And, of course, you have a meeting this afternoon with Regent Saldur.”

“Any idea yet what he wants to see me about?”

Nimbus shook his head.

Amilia slumped in her chair. She was certain Saldur’s appointment had to do with Modina’s berating of the clerk the previous day. She had no idea how to explain the empress’s actions. That had been the only time since her speech that Modina had uttered a single word.

“Would you like me to help you answer those?” Nimbus asked with a sympathetic smile.

“No, I’ll do it. Can’t have both of us playing god, now can we? Besides, you have your own work. Tell the seamstress to
meet me in Modina’s chambers in four hours. That should give me time to reduce this pile some. Reschedule the ladies of the court meeting to just before noon.”

“But you have the dedication at noon.”

“Exactly.”

“Excellent planning,” Nimbus said, praising her. “Is there anything else I can do for you before I get to work?”

Amilia shook her head. Nimbus bowed and left.

The pile beside her got higher each day. She plucked a letter from the top and started working. While not a difficult job, the task was repetitious and boring, as she said the same thing in each reply.

The office of the empress regrets to inform you that Her Most Serene and Royal Grand Imperial Eminence, Empress Modina Novronian, will not be able to receive you due to time constraints caused by important and pressing matters of state.

She had replied to only seven of the letters when there was a soft knock at the office door. A maid hesitantly popped her head inside, the new girl. She had started only the day before, and she worked quietly, which Amilia appreciated. Amilia nodded an invitation, and the maid wordlessly slipped inside with her bucket, mop, and cleaning tools, taking great pains not to bang them against the door.

Amilia recalled her own days as a servant in the castle. As a kitchen worker, she had rarely cleaned rooms but occasionally had to fill in for a sick chambermaid. She used to loathe working in a room with a noble present. It always made her self-conscious and frightened. She could never tell what they might do. One minute they might seem friendly. The next they could be calling for you to be whipped. Amilia had never understood how they could be so capricious and cruel.

She watched the girl set about her work. The maid was on
her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with a brush, the skirt of her uniform soaked with soapy water. Amilia had a stack of inquiries to attend to, but the maid distracted her. She felt guilty not acknowledging the girl’s presence. It felt rude.

I should talk to her.
Even as Amilia thought this, she knew it would be a mistake. This new girl saw her as a noble, the chief imperial secretary to the empress, and would be terrified if Amilia so much as offered a
good morning.

Perhaps a few years older than Amilia, the girl was slender and pretty, although little could be determined, given her attire. She wore a loose-fitting dress with a canvas apron, her figure hidden, a mystery lost beneath the folds. All serving girls adopted the style except the foolish or ambitious. When you worked in the halls of those who took whatever they wanted, it was best to avoid notice.

Amilia tried to decide if the girl was married. After Modina’s speech, the ban on servants leaving the castle had been lifted, and it was possible that the maid had a family in the city. She wondered if she went home to them each night, or, like Amilia, she had left everything, and everyone, to live in the castle. She likely had several children; pretty peasant girls married young.

Amilia chided herself for watching the maid instead of working, but something about the girl kept her attention. The way she moved and how she held her head seemed out of place. She watched her dab the brush in the water and stroke the floor, moving the brush from side to side like a painter. She spread water around but did little to free the dirt from the surface. Edith Mon would whip her for that. The headmistress was a cruel taskmaster. Amilia had found herself on the wrong end of her belt on a number of occasions for lesser infractions. For that reason alone, Amilia felt sorry for the poor girl. She knew all too well what she faced.

“Are they treating you well here?” Amilia found herself asking, despite her determination to remain silent.

The girl looked up and glanced around the room.

“Yes, you,” Amilia assured her.

“Yes, milady,” the maid replied, looking up.

She’s looking right at me
, Amilia thought, stunned. Even with her title, and a rank equivalent to baroness, Amilia still had a hard time returning the stare of even the lowest-ranking nobles, but this girl was looking right at her.

“You can tell me if they aren’t. I know what it’s like to—” She stopped, realizing the maid would not believe her. “I understand new servants can be picked on and belittled by the others.”

“I’m getting along fine, milady,” she said.

Amilia smiled, trying to set her at ease. “I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t. I’m very pleased with you. I just know it can be hard sometimes when you start out in a new place. I want you to know that I can help if you’re having trouble.”

“Thank you,” she said, but Amilia heard the suspicion in her voice.

Having a noble offer to help with bullying peers was probably a shock to the girl. If it had been her, Amilia would have thought it a trap of some kind, a test perhaps to see if she would speak ill of others. If she admitted to problems, the noble might have her removed from the palace. Under no circumstances would Amilia have admitted anything to a noble, no matter how kindly the woman might have presented herself.

Amilia instantly felt foolish. There was a division between nobles and commoners, and for good or ill, she was now on the other side. The conditioning that separated the two was far too entrenched for her to wipe away. She decided to stop tormenting the poor girl and return to her work. Just then, however, the maid put down the scrub brush and stood.

“You’re Lady Amilia, is that right?”

“Yes,” she replied, surprised at the sudden forwardness.

“You’re the chief secretary to the empress?”

“How well informed you are. It’s good that you’re learning your way around. It took me quite some time to figure out—”

“How is she?”

Amilia hesitated. Interrupting was very inappropriate, and it was incredibly bold to inquire so bluntly about Her Eminence. Amilia was touched, however, by her concern for the welfare of Modina. Perhaps this girl was unaccustomed to interacting with the gentry. She was likely from some isolated village that had never seen a visiting noble. The unnerving way she held Amilia’s stare revealed she had no experience with proper social etiquette. Edith Mon would waste no time beating those lessons into her.

“She’s fine,” Amilia replied. Then, as a matter of habit, she added, “She was ill, and still is, but getting better every day.”

“I never see her,” the maid went on. “I’ve seen you, the chancellor, the regents, and the lord chamberlain, but I never see her in the halls or at the banquet table.”

“She guards her privacy. You have to understand that everyone wants time with the empress.”

“I guess she gets around using secret passages?”

“Secret passages?” Amilia chuckled at the imagination of this girl. “No, she doesn’t use secret passages.”

“But I heard this palace is very old and filled with hidden stairs and corridors that lead to all kinds of secret places. Is that true?”

“I don’t know anything about that,” Amilia replied. “What got this into your head?”

The maid immediately put a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. Her eyes dropped to the floor in submission. “Forgive me, milady. I didn’t mean to be so bold. I’ll get back to my work now.”

“That’s all right,” Amilia replied as the maid dunked her brush again. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Ella, milady,” the maid replied softly without pausing or looking up.

“Well, Ella, if you have problems or other questions, you have permission to speak to me.”

“Thank you, milady. That is very kind of you.”

Amilia returned to her own work and left the maid to hers. In a short time, the servant finished and gathered her things to leave.

“Goodbye, Ella,” Amilia offered.

The maid smiled at the mention of her name and nodded appreciatively. As she walked out, Amilia glanced at her hands, which gripped the bucket handle and the mop, and was surprised to see long fingernails on them. Ella noticed her glance, shifted her grip to cover her nails, and promptly left the chamber.

Amilia stared after her awhile, wondering how a working girl could manage to grow nails as nice as hers. She put the thought out of her mind and returned to her letters.

“You realize they’re going to get wise,” Amilia said after the seamstress had finished taking Modina’s measurements and left the chamber.

The chief secretary moved around the empress’s bedroom, straightening up. Modina sat beneath the narrow window, in the only patch of sunshine entering the room. This was where Amilia found her most often. She would sit there for hours, just staring outside, watching clouds and birds. It broke Amilia’s heart a little each time she saw her longing for a world barred to her.

The empress showed no response to Amilia’s comment. Her lucidity from the day before had vanished. The empress heard her, though. She was quite certain of that now.

“They aren’t stupid,” she went on as she fluffed a pillow. “After your speech and that incident with the clerk yesterday, I think it’s only a matter of time. You would have been wiser to stay in your room and let me handle it.”

“He wasn’t going to listen to you.” The empress spoke.

Amilia dropped the pillow.

Turning as casually as she could, she stole a glance over her shoulder to see Modina still looking out the window with her traditional vague and distant expression. Amilia slowly picked up the pillow and resumed her straightening. Then she ventured, “It might have taken a little time, but I’m certain I could have persuaded him to provide us with the material.”