Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams (10 page)

The ambassador, already up, invited the emperor in to his dining room. Even at breakfast he wore a blue vest with his family’s coat-of-arms. He had light-brown hair like most of his people, and his thick mustache drooped at the ends. Rumor had it that he was the cousin of the Mandibosian king and owned a vast cattle ranch on the plains near Semenos.

Because they weren’t Imperial, the ambassador’s staff burned large quantities of pungent incense to keep stray spirits at bay. Pagaose’s eyes watered, and he was forced to breathe through his mouth.

The guards all waited outside. Only a large, horse-faced girl sat at the table, with three empty plates. “Your highness, you honor us with your presence.”

Pagaose judged the girl to be about fifteen, but the weight of two. She reminded him of a heifer fatted for the fair. He sat at the first opportunity, winded. “Forgive me,” the emperor said to the girl. “I am unspeakably rude to invade your home. I owe you a favor in return, miss.”

The father swooped in. “How about a ticket?”

Here, the emperor’s dulled senses worked in his favor. He didn’t react. “For?”

“My daughter, Bovinia, to the Dance of the Virgins.”

“She’s a little young.”

“Sixteen in spring.”

Politics
. Pagaose took a tip from his chamberlain and smiled. “I would be delighted. Paper?”

When the ambassador brought him a piece of stationery, he affixed the number three and his chop. Beaming, the ambassador pocketed the ticket and confided, “Have them play a slow dance for her.”

The girl poured gravy on another helping of biscuits.

“Now, what favor can I bestow on you?” asked the emperor.

“That’s not how it’s done, sire,” the man whispered. “We dine, play parlor games, hint for days, and then show our plaques.”

“You’ve supported our people for over thirty years. I’m prepared to lower your kingdom’s taxes below every other kingdom outside the Inner Islands for fifty years, or the end of my reign, whichever comes first.”

The ambassador gasped. “That would be a wonderful . . . start. We were hoping that the loyal subjects could benefit at the expense of the rebellious.”

“You want territory in Semenos?” asked the emperor. “Queen Lavender would object to such a deal, if she prevails.”

“Not land,
per
se
. We wish grazing rights and the removal of a few disputed fences.”

“That would be between your people and those of Semenos as war reparations. I don’t interfere in such matters. However, I could suggest as part of any treaty that young King Renald marry one of your noblewomen.”

“If he doesn’t prevail? We know that Lavender seized the capital, but the High Gardener is at their gates with the might of Sandarac. The war will be decided by the winner of that siege.”

The ambassador didn’t know about Muro yet. Pagaose shrugged. “If he lives, offer to jail him and give him a wife. If Lavender dies before she bears a child, you have his gratitude and the ear of the next king.”

“Indeed. Where could we house him?”

Remembering how the boy king had sentenced him to death, the emperor said, “The fortress of Tor Mardun.”

The ambassador paled. “A foul place, sire. We closed that prison years ago.”

“Renald has slain his own people and many soldiers of the south. It will be viewed as justice by the masses and his sister. The fortress has lovely gardens and can be self-sustaining if he learns to weed.”

The ambassador nodded, mentally running through the girls of the proper age and standing. At one point, he glanced at his daughter. “Gardens, you say?”

They bargained on lower tariffs for Mandibosian goods, because they had to be hauled from greater distances, and more honored swords from the Intagliosian share. The last concession was a shrine to Mandibos in the capital. “If I supply the land, you build it,” the emperor insisted.

“Not on the Scar.”

The emperor winced. The ambassador was a step ahead of him. “I’ll let you choose from parcels left from my zoo and second palace grounds.”

“I was rather hoping people would actually
see
it.”

“I might be able to arrange a small shrine outside the amphitheater. That’s prominent. The people attending and the vendors will see it every day. We’d put your name on the dedication plaque, of course.”

The ambassador’s face lit up. “Facing the Lusty Mermaid Inn?”

“However, in return, I would need your endorsement on an early personal shipment of grain before the festival. I like to keep a year’s supply on hand for the military, civil servants, and orphans, but my silos are empty.”

“That’s about a sixth of the island—equivalent to a regular, two-month shipment for the whole island.”

“A problem for the largest grain kingdom in the world?”

“That will mean considerable planning.”

“Which is why I’m telling you now.”

“Can some of it be in beef jerky, onions, and potatoes? Those are easier to keep.”

“Whatever is easiest for you. It’s a small matter. I’ll just need to know the earliest day they can ship, to make plans of my own.”
Distracting a certain dragon
, he added to himself.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Could I get my ticket on paper as well?”

The ambassador wrote out the grain promissory note, and they shook hands on the rest.

The emperor went home to his favorite hammock, content that he had done
something
for the war effort, hopefully bridging the gap for another season. However, he’d probably spent the lion’s share of his zoo profits.

****

On Holyday, the emperor attended services at the makeshift temple of Osos. Nightglow met them at the exit as Pagaose and his guards left. “I’m your guide for this expedition, because I’m the only one who’s been to the paddleboard shack before,” she announced.

She walked in front of them, wrapped in a tight, floral print, and placed a matching, red flower behind one ear. Even her veil was floral. Niftkin kept shifting his eyes between the rooftops, closed shops, and their attractive guide.

Removing her sandals when they reached the beach, Nightglow said, “Frond can be . . . quirky, but the kids around here idolize him. He invented board riding.”

“People have been standing on boards and paddling out to the neighboring islands for centuries,” Niftkin said.

“He doesn’t use an oar and rides on top of the wave.”

“What are all these people doing on the beach on Holyday?”

“This is their church.”

Niftkin muttered, “Stay close to me, both of you. Did you see the size of those guys out there?”

“I think the tattoos are exciting.”

“It’s the machetes that worry me. The way they carry them, they’ve used those pig stickers on more than just coconuts.”

The emperor shrugged. “He has protective friends; he’s a very rich man.”

Nightglow said, “They don’t care about his money, just boarding stories and the cookouts. Frond also lets the poorer ones sleep at the shack.”

Niftkin glanced around the shabby, grass hut. “Still, he has a mansion and he meets you here?”

An old man in breeches and a sun hat barked, “I have whole islands, boy, but this is private. Besides, the waves are building up nicely today.”

“It’s going to storm,” agreed Pagaose. “Small Voice made me promise to visit with you.”

“Only took you two scrapes with death. A little slow, are you?”

The emperor blinked before laughing. “I have friends who are smarter, wiser, and stronger on the way, so I don’t need to strive to be any of the three.”

“Good to hear. Meanwhile, want to learn how to use a paddleboard?”

“No. I’m still recovering from the second attempt, and I promised to take Lady Anna to see the Imperial pearl beds today.”

“Never keep a pretty woman from jewelry. Don’t forget the hot springs, gives you a chance to see them in wet clothes. Tell her it’s to keep the pearls shining. They’re usually so grateful . . . that wave looks promising.”

“I came for another problem; I need your permission for a small shrine to the cow god outside the amphitheater. I’m willing to trade for it.”

“Fine, I’ll teach those friends of yours instead. They’ll tell me what sort of man you are.”

“I know you by your friendship with the abbot. How did you meet him?” asked the emperor.

“I was here on the beach when it happened.”

“What?”

“The Scattering. I should have been home planting. I was riding on the waves, paddling to the tiny island to meet my beloved. She was a poor peasant who loved growing flowers, and my parents did
not
approve of her. She was waiting for me at the dock. I bewailed my existence and begged the gods to help me.

“Then a finger of light connected the land and sky with a ring in the center. Light receded from everywhere else. I paddled as never before. The mountain began to melt. Smoke and ash shot into the sky to wrap the bright ring in death. Still it glowed from inside the gray cloud. The mountain was angry. It growled and rumbled and Center quaked. Buildings collapsed. A spray of hot hail rained down, burning my back.”

The old man bent over to show them the scars. Clearly, he’d told this tale frequently.

“The waters pulled back, stranding me on the mud flats. I picked up my board and
ran
; however, the mud was too deep. It slowed me, and I lost my sandals. The water returned as a wall. I’ve never seen a wave so high. I held my breath and tied myself to my board with a sash.

“The wall picked me up and slammed me the mile toward shore in heartbeats. Once I stopped tumbling, I was near the curl of the wave and hovered there. I could see
everything
. Larger rocks, hot ones, smashed into huts, turned the aqueduct to steam, flattened groups of people like insects. The man with a cart where I’d eaten lunch flipped. My school was holed and smoking. Something was forcing me to return to watch this horror. The incoming wave wiped out all my family’s crops for the year. My wealth was ruined. I lost everything in the disaster.”

The emperor nodded. “Everyone should start over every decade or so.”

Frond shook his finger. “Exactly! You see. Eat dessert first and follow your joy. The mountain doesn’t wait or explain.”

“What does this have to do with Small Voice?” he asked politely.

“Then the real show began. The lava, glowing blood of the earth, oozed from the wound in Center. The crater filled to overflowing, spilling fury over everything we treasured.”

Niftkin asked, “What did you do?”

“I grabbed another oar and paddled like a fool. My friend Uzu was sitting at the front porch of the temple of Osos fixing his shoe. The explosions picked up the building and tipped it over on him. The doorway shielded him from being crushed. The walls protected him from the sky rocks. I met him as he crawled through the steaming mud. The steam made him blind, but he wasn’t bitter. He told me that Osos had saved him. He vowed to serve our god if he was spared. I admit to being jealous. He didn’t have to watch the world he knew die.”

“He changed his name to Small Voice,” noted Pagaose.

The old man nodded. “My hands were blistered, so he paddled and I acted as his eyes. He was rich and good and rewarded me well for rescuing him. He deeded me a large portion of the molten land. I didn’t disdain his gift but went back to the Scar with my beloved as soon as the sky cleared and the land cooled. My uncle and father left me property as well. As the only survivor of the clan, I was the poorest of the lowest noble family. Everything happens for a reason. Since I was the only one in my family, no one objected to my wedding the flower girl. I have been
very
happy.”

“But it was ashen rock!” complained Niftkin.

The old man leaned close to confide, “The ash was excellent fertilizer for the flowers. My wife translated disaster into beauty. I raised bees; she planted mulberry bushes. Then she brought the silk worms. Soon, we were the only silk producers in the Inner Sea. Thanks to her, I’m the richest man at Center. I spend my free time on this beach trying to duplicate my ride on the waves.”

Pagaose nodded. “It’s good to know what you want in life.”

“Now I need to know what
you
want,” said Frond.

The emperor sent young Nightglow off to chat with the boys before he continued. “Muro has been captured. Our ships are being targeted, and I need to convince a bunch of (ahem) nobles to help me prepare for war.”

“Wouldn’t want to be you.”

Niftkin covered his mouth to hide the smile. The emperor winced.

“You need allies—not like me, social ones.”

“I seem to be good at offending people.”

“Pick someone in each branch of the college who is inclined toward you and give them something they couldn’t have without you. Then start long term. You need friends who are arms dealers, builders, and educators.”

“I’m having difficulty selling my second palace. I suppose I could threaten to offer it at a reduced price to one of those vultures.”

The old man shook his head. “Not enough impact. The public school, however, could use a new building; your old palace has been kept in immaculate condition. The College hasn’t given the school a chipped bit in years, but their existing campus is in a booming business district. Let the administrators and teachers woo you. Then offer to trade them facilities.”

“I could subdivide and sell their old lands, granting the best locations to people of my choosing.”

A lithe girl, dressed in two narrow bands of fabric, ran past them to plunge into the water with her board. Her tattoos were the most elaborate he’d seen so far, incorporating flames, wings, and runes. The emperor smiled. “I wouldn’t mind an alliance with her.”

“Why is that?”

“Her body is a moving work of art, displaying passion and creativity. She also appears physically fit . . . for the Dance.”

“Ember? She is athletic, passionate, and one of a handful of female students at the College. No one will touch her because her father is a powerful fire mage, next in line for the throne of Intaglios. He allows her to attend as long as her virtue remains intact. She’s made her degree last six years so far.”