Treason's Shore (20 page)

Wisthia rubbed her thumb gently over her lower lip, which had chapped in the icy winter winds crossing the mountains. She did not want to watch what would happen to court life now that the fast, hard-living set around Lord Yaskandar Dei of Sartor had invaded.

Maybe she was too old, but while the hostesses of Nente were delighted to compete to attract the Sartorans, Wisthia had known immediately what had attracted that young predator’s wayward attention. Or rather, who. She loved her nephew—and his serious, beautiful new wife, Joret—too much to see it happen.

So here she was, empowered to tackle the matter of ruined sea trade and the problems it was causing all over the continent. When the old ambassador had requested permission to retire, she’d considered his request an opportunity to get away from Nente and to do something useful.

Politically, then, she was off to a very good start. Personally? She thought back to the trip through the mountain pass, and her conversations with her surprising guest, Jeje sa Jeje. In Wisthia’s long experience, people didn’t like being questioned, but were always ready and willing to brag.

So you saw Nente, my brother’s capital city?
she had asked Jeje, who had given her name readily enough.

Yes
. The glint of Jeje‘s ruby earring was a reminder of the fresh blood they’d just left behind beside the road, crimson against patches of snow. Jeje herself was no more than a dark shadow against the pale gray calendered cotton-flax lining of the coach.
Came from there
.

Jeje’s voice was deep, with an attractive husky edge that reminded Wisthia of a great purring feline. It was a difficult voice to sift for emotional clues.

I trust they made you welcome, whoever it was you saw
.

A princess named Joret
. Jeje slumped back, thumping her arms across her front.
She—Joret Dei—treated me just fine. They all did
.

Wisthia remembered some of the gossip from her elderly aunt the month before, about how the courtiers had made a fashion of quoting Jeje’s pungent commentary. They’d even competed to get her as a guest, the better to be entertained, except she’d refused to attend any court parties after one or two.

So you were not impressed with my homeland? But then you have traveled widely. Perhaps you have seen older and greater places than our city
.

Jeje snorted. Then coughed, trying to hide expression of disgust.
I’m a sailor. What I see is ports, mostly. I liked your city, with those terrace things. Waterfalls. Roofs with tile patterns. Joret Dei made me welcome. But my business is done. Time to get back on board before I forget what a gaff is.

Wisthia was experienced with far more subtle evasions than Jeje’s. Though more intrigued as the days of their journey sped by, she could not get Jeje to talk about her purpose in traveling to Anaeran-Adrani. Jeje talked about anything and everyone except that, the more intriguing because Princess Joret had also kept silent about her visitor’s business.

“Your highness. About the wall hangings?”

At the respectful but insistent voice Wisthia returned to the here and now, and turned her attention to the all important task of selecting the right wall hangings and chair coverings for her new home on Bren’s Risto Ridge.

But she’d scarcely looked at half a dozen swatches of imported Colendi raw silk before yet another messenger yanked on the outside bell, sending an echo through the entire house.

She peered down through the shutters tightened against the earlier storm. She’d learned that official business came via Runners in royal livery of burnt orange, gold, and yellow. Then there were the liveries of aristocrats, the plain clothes with personal badges, the plain clothes with no marks, and finally the messengers in bright yellow, part of the city’s scribe guild, who rounded the streets once each day.

This fellow below was more than ordinarily scruffy. He looked like an old sailor right off the dock.

Wisthia turned away, figuring he had to be there to see one of the new staff. The upholsterer and the three silk merchants waited patiently, hopeful smiles on their faces.

Once again she turned her mind to the fabric until interrupted by Jeje. “Queen?” When Wisthia looked up in surprise, suppressing the laugh Jeje’s style of honorific never failed to raise, Jeje said, “I think you better come downstairs. Fellow’s from Fleet Master Chim, and won’t talk to anyone but you.”

Wisthia smiled at the waiting merchants. “Will you pardon me for a brief time?”

Of course they would. She made a mental note to buy extravagantly as she followed Jeje out. “Should I know who this Fleet Master Chim is?” Wisthia inquired.

“The Fleet Guild is made up of five guilds related to the sea,” Jeje explained. “They formed up to fight pirates. Chim’s their leader. He wouldn’t send a message unless it was important.”

“Take the Fleet Master’s messenger to the kitchen and feed him. Let me get rid of these merchants and I will be right there.”

Jeje vanished down the passage, and Wisthia slipped back inside, smiling at the merchants. “Now. Let’s begin with the warm shades. Is straw still the fashion? No, I think I prefer this eggshell, such a soothing, subtle color . . .”

As soon as they left, she slipped downstairs, where she found the Fleet Guild messenger sitting to a princely repast with the pastry-maker’s assistant as company, as the evening pastries were being layered. Jeje was nowhere in sight. “You are from Fleet Master Chim? I am Wisthia Shagal. What is your message?”

By then Jeje was almost all the way down Risto Ridge, running as fast as she could through the mounds of fresh snow that the sweepers were only beginning to shovel from the streets.

She reached the Fleet House just as the street glowglobes were being lit, which was the signal for many businesses to close up.

She tried the door, found it barred, and ran around to the stairway leading up to third floor where the workers lived. It was strange to be there again, smelling onion-crusted flatbreads fresh from the oven. Her stomach yawned as she dashed down the row of closed doors to the far end, where Chim had his two rooms overlooking the harbor rooftops and the masts bobbing beyond the quay.

She gave the old secret rap and was gratified when the door opened at once. Chim said over his shoulder, “Adrit! See who’s here!”

Chim’s wife bustled out, her face crinkling in mirth. Vyadrit Chim was no taller than Jeje, but twice her girth and strong as a tree. “Why, Jeje! Yez back!”

“Ye here about yer old mate Barend?” Chim asked.

“Yes.” Jeje dropped to the low couch. “The fellow you sent to Queen Wisthia wouldn’t give me details.”

“I told him to use Barend’s name to gain entry, but only talk to that queen, and he don’t know ye.” Chim gave her a quick report, ending with, “I sent one o’ the youngsters t’sound the guards at King’s Prison. Got the shut door.”

Jeje glared at her pilled mittens, then tucked them into her armpits. “Did y’send a message to Prince Kavna?”

“Next thing. But I don’t know if we can get through.
She
’s got him surrounded.”

She
. Crown Princess Kliessin was no sailor’s friend, that much everyone in the harbor knew. Jeje grimaced.

Chim said, “Now, ye got my news, what’s yez? What ye doin’ back?”

“Did something for Tau. He has to decide what he’s going to do about it. I left so he’d decide without me there. Thought I’d come here. Closest harbor. I was crossing the mountains. What with the pirates and the Venn rotting up trade while the local kings argue about who has to spend the money to protect all the trade going both ways through the mountains, turns out you either go with an army or get jumped. I got jumped. Met up with this queen and came with her the rest of the way. She’s a pretty good sort, for a queen,” Jeje added.

Chim whistled. “Good or bad, yez in just the right place if ye want t’ help Barend. Help your training fleet and Elgar the Fox. The real one.”

Jeje scowled at her hands. She had wanted to get onboard the first ship going east so she could regain Freeport Harbor and maybe even find the Fox Banner Fleet and
Vixen
. She’d had enough of kings, courts, and politics.

But Barend was an old mate from Inda’s days. And Inda’s first rule, right from the beginning, had been
We never abandon crew
. “All right. Tell me the details. Then I’ll go back to the queen to see what I can do.”

Out of habit Jeje took the shortest way back up to Risto Ridge and slipped in through the kitchen entrance.

Queen Wisthia’s house was all lit up, servants coming and going. Jeje was surprised to find Wisthia pacing back and forth. On Jeje’s entry into the main salon the queen whirled around, her eyes wide.

“You returned,” she exclaimed. At first Wisthia seemed a plain woman, certainly no eye-catcher like the Comet, Tau’s old lover, who had been reigning over Risto Ridge during Jeje’s previous stay. But Wisthia’s mouth could change from severe to attractive with just a curl, her eyes were steady and expressive, reminding Jeje unexpectedly of that red-haired king friend of Inda’s back in Iasca Leror.

Jeje exclaimed, “Why wouldn’t I come back?”

“Because not five heartbeats after you left Fleet Master Chim’s messenger in my kitchen eating all our plum tarts for this evening, a liveried messenger arrived from the palace requesting your presence for an interview. Four armed guards accompanied him.”

“Hoo.” Jeje dropped onto a chair.

Wisthia took in Jeje’s surprise and relaxed a little. Her instinct had been that Jeje, whatever her motivations, was no spy or conniver. “So. On our journey together you told me little about your reasons for traveling so far from the sea. I accepted that as your right, but now it seems your presence has disturbed the political waters. I need to know how, and why.”

“Whatever’s going on now has nothing to do with my mission in Anaeran-Adrani.” Jeje clenched her fists. “It’s from before. I’m known at the harbor.”

“You seem to be known in several kingdoms,” Wisthia retorted. The ironic shadow at the sides of her mouth jolted Jeje, again reminding her of Evred. “Here’s my point. You are connected with Elgar the Fox, whose sinister reputation gives even Crown Princess Kliessin pause.”

Jeje hunched, hands in her armpits again. “He was our fleet commander. Had nothing to do with politics.”

“But politics appear to know him.” Wisthia smiled. “Bren’s royal court also knows, unfortunately, the general issues I’m here to discuss, the trade that I am enjoined to protect. I carried all that in my brother’s letter when I gave my official presentation.”

Jeje grimaced, remembering how uneasy she felt around Inda’s king friend. She’d never met anyone who wore power like some kind of invisible cloak, like he did. And not in any obvious way. Wisthia kept bringing him to mind. “Are you turning me over to ’em? Or warning me to run?”

“Neither. You are now on what is officially regarded as Adrani ground. As long as you do not leave this house, you are safe enough. And when you leave it, it shall be as an escorted envoy.”

“Huh?”

Wisthia tapped her finger against her chapped lips, then said slowly, “Over our first dinner during our recent journey, you favored me with your opinion of the rituals of diplomacy. Jeje, stop fussing with those knife handles in your sleeves and listen. I need to convince you that those embroidered robes, the carefully counted steps, the bows here, the succession of foods offered in this room and the ritual of exchanged words in that room, no matter how pompous it looks to you, is in every step, every fold of silk, every golden plate of tiny cakes, a way to deflect violence.”

Jeje tried to hide her scorn. “I just don’t see it.”

“Think of it as a . . . a court dance. No, I see that doesn’t work. Look, did your Elgar the Fox ever hold a parley with another pirate captain?”

“Inda wasn’t a—”

“Pirate. Nonetheless.”