Trouble with Kings (18 page)

Judging from the size, it was a little city on its own. Most of the buildings were obscured by tall golden chestnut trees, silver alders and well-trimmed lindens.

When we approached the city gates, Markham rode ahead. He was met by a woman nearly as tall as him. Her blond hair gleamed around the edges of her helm as she bent to hear what Markham said, then she waved a gauntleted hand and we passed inside, up a brick-tiled street toward the royal palace. Very fine shops lined both sides, at intervals broken by little park-circles with fountains in their midst.

When we reached the gates round the palace complex, the female guards waved us on. Markham saluted as we passed, professional to professional.

We were met by liveried servants in gray and pale mauve and silver, who led us down a side path charmingly bordered by exotic shrubs that still showed blossoms, though the bite of autumn was in the air.

The vast gardens were carefully tended to convey an impression of artistic profusion, the tall flowering trees evidence of several generations of attention. Secluded buildings were visible here and there. The garden opened onto a grand parade before the royal residence itself, a great U-shaped building fashioned entirely from white marble.

A herald appeared from a side path. “Welcome to Erevan Palace, your highnesses. If you please to honor us by stepping this way, we can see to your refreshment.”

Jewel cast me a look of half-laughing alarm.

As I dismounted, I found a tall, dark shadow at my side. I looked up into Markham’s face. “Your highness. The king bade me request you to write no messages in this place. Any needs can be safely spoken through Lita to me.” His deep voice was expressionless.

He took the reins of my mount. A little stunned, I gestured my understanding, and he bowed, his long hair swinging forward, and led the horse away.

Jewel and I followed the herald, who could not have been any older than I. Her walk was graceful, her manner pleasant as she pointed out the various buildings. Some of them were the private residences of those of highest rank and influence. Everyone else stayed in the big palace.

Up broad marble stairs, across a terrace dotted with potted trees with beautiful amber leaves, and inside. Up more broad marble stairs and midway down a hall. Later I’d discover that your importance dictated where you stayed: enemies or friends of high rank got the suites closest the stairs. People of royal rank who were regarded as neutral, their influence minimal (like Jewel and me, princesses but not heirs), stayed where we were. Those of less importance, or those who had lost royal favor, were consigned to the corners of the building farthest from where the royal family lived.

Lita had been brought up a back way. She was already busy supervising several efficient servants clad in soft gray-and-white livery, who were putting away the few things we had brought along for the journey. When we entered the murmur of voices abruptly ended, and the palace servants exited through an almost invisible door in one of the walls.

The furnishings, elegantly curved, were covered by satin cushions, the walls freshly papered. Everything was pale blue, or light, light gold, with crystal sconces to hold candles.

As Jewel wandered from room to room, exclaiming over everything, more of those quiet gray-dressed people came in with food and drink. After we’d eaten, Jewel expressed a wish to go out, but Lita said, “Your pardon, highness, but we will need to complete the fittings first.”

Jewel’s eyes widened. “Can you not pass my Carnison gowns through the cleaning frame?”

Lita shook her head and glanced my way.

I said, so she wouldn’t have to, “I’m afraid we’re hopelessly behind the fashions here, Jewel. And our first appearance is an important one.”

Lita cast me a look of muted gratitude. “If it pleases you, your highnesses, Fanler, who came ahead to prepare for your visit, has hired local seamstresses. They’ve already begun the necessary work. We need only today to do the final fittings on walking and formal interview gowns.”

“That’ll get us through tomorrow,” I put in.

Jewel flicked her eyes skyward, but submitted, and a little later the new clothes were brought for us to try on. Neither of us cared for the Dantherei fashions, which were mostly heavy brocade stiff with embroidery and beads.

Jewel whistled. “Are you sure you didn’t pay off that ransom?” she asked when we were alone. “This stuff—plus that company of stitchers—must have cost my villainous brother the equivalent of a year’s meals for the entire army.” Her brows contracted. “Why the largesse? It isn’t
like
him.”

“But isn’t it obvious? It’s all to make us look good for his Eleandra.”

“Mmmmm.” Jewel grinned. “When I see Jaim again, I will tell him our mistake was in not getting Jason paired off years ago.”

I laughed, deciding not to point out that this romance had taken place before she’d had the least interest in such things. The ten years of experience separating Garian, Jason, Eleandra, and to a certain extent my brother from Jewel and me seemed like a generation.

The next morning Lita brought us word of the day’s court activities. A herald apprised the guests’ personal staff of general gatherings, which we were apparently expected to attend. More personal invitations would be spoken either in person or by messenger.

So we were to be presented to Queen Tamara out in the garden at midmorning. When the distant bells rang the carillon, Jewel and I were ready. She said, “Strange! I feel like a sixteen-year-old at her first appearance.”

I smiled. “I feel like a stuffed cushion. If we do manage to meet any villains, we’re not going to be able to run very far.”

“Well, they won’t either, if they’re dressed like this.” Jewel held her arms away from her body as she took a deep breath. “Whoop! This bodice is tight. In any case, villains can beware, because I did not come unprepared.”

“What?”

In answer she vanished back into her room and reappeared with a long, wicked-looking dagger. “Found it in Jason’s practice salle and decided I needed it more than he did.”

I laughed. “Well, I can’t imagine anyone needing a knife
here
.”

“So I would have thought at Carnison, and then my cursed brother came along. So I hid it under my chemises when I packed. No one will ever know.” She chortled. “Unless I need it.”

“Come, hurry. The bells did ring and we don’t want to be late.”

And so we trod sedately in our stiff brocade skirts down the stairway.

Lita had said that stewards along the pathways would make certain we did not get lost. “Spies,” Jewel whispered, giving a surreptitious tug at her gown.

The bodices were unyielding fabric, embroidered with garlands of tiny beaded flowers and leaves, and they forced us to stand straight. Jewel insisted she couldn’t breathe and cast me a look of envy, but in truth, the style flattered her curves. What little figure I had was flattened beneath that formidable bodice, making me feel fifteen again.

I found out quickly that I had to walk in a quick glide or those stiffly beaded and embroidered skirts swung like bells. Poor Jewel, whose walk was characterized by an enticing swing of hip, kept batting down the skirts and then skipping or hopping to counterbalance the weight of the swaying fabric. Her fan knocked against her knees on its fine chain, and she swatted at that too, alternately cursing under her breath and spluttering with laughter.

A herald in fine livery appeared seemingly from the shrubbery, bowed, and ushered us through the crowd to a broad semicircle of people gathered along the manicured banks of a quiet stream. It was a relief to see that our gowns were indeed the latest style, and furthermore the courtiers, though daunting in their glitter and poise when seen as a mass, were all sizes, including those who had felt it necessary to cinch in their waists to accommodate the fashion. Not just women, for the men wore long, stiff tunics that were much the same style and fabric, sashed at the waist and then sashed again, baldric-style, over one shoulder. They did not look any more comfortable than the women. No one wore weapons; they were forbidden within the walls of the palace Erevan.

My mother had brought a die-away drawl from Narieth, a style my brother grew up loathing. Here in Char Tann voices were low, quick, almost a monotone—emotionless. Easy enough to emulate if one so wished.

Queen Tamara was tall and broad, about forty. She dressed plainly, leaving us convinced that the mysterious Eleandra led the fashions. The queen strolled along the riverbank with a couple of female companions, nodding pleasantly here and there as she contemplated the stream. The sweet sounds of stringed and woodwind instruments drifted from behind the flowered shrubs, where musicians had been concealed.

The beaded and gemmed brocade reflected sunlight into the eyes. I was not the only one overheated. People around us plied their fans.

A general, well-bred sigh of pleasure went up as a line of swans sailed with breathtaking grace down the water to vanish among delicate willow fronds. Those whom the queen had already greeted began drifting away.

So that had been the purpose of the morning?

Queen Tamara started our way. One of her companions was an older woman dressed in that splendid herald livery. She whispered and the queen nodded; when they neared, the herald spoke our names.

The royal eyes met mine. I looked into a wide, intelligent face, framed by thin brown hair expertly dressed under a pearl-edged, gold-threaded cap.

I dropped a curtsey, princess to queen. She acknowledged with a gesture. “How is my cousin of Lygiera?”

“My father is well, your majesty,” I said, hoping that was true; I suppressed a pang of guilt. But even if I did write a letter, how would I get it carried through Drath to home?

“And Prince Maxl?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

“You must give him my thanks for sending you at last, Princess Flian, as he once pledged. But I am disappointed that he did not return with you. I found him congenial and full of promise.”

I curtseyed again, suspecting that this comment was, in fact a question: why did I thus come with Jewel and not from home? A question I was not even remotely going to answer! “My brother will be grateful for the kind words, your majesty, as am I.”

“I entreat you to enjoy your sojourn here, child.” She passed on to Jewel. “Yet another I have wished to meet.”

“Thank you, your majesty. And I have always wished to visit.” Jewel curtseyed with a flourish of her stiff skirts.

Queen Tamara tapped her on the wrist with her fan. “A remarkable family, yours.” She drawled her words so subtly one could easily miss the glimmer of humor. “You must next visit insist Prince Jaim accompany you, and in the spring, when we hold our festival. I believe he might find our games and competitions to his interest.”

Jewel curtseyed again.

Smiling, the queen passed on. Her third companion was a woman, slighter of stature, about the same age, her eyes a darker gray than mine. She was soberly gowned, though the fit and fabric were fine, and her gaze had that same quality of fast appraisal that characterized Tamara, Jason and Maxl.

I stared, cold with shock. It was only now, as I gazed after Tamara, that I finally comprehended what our mission meant.

We weren’t reuniting lovers long separated. We were participating, however tangentially, in a plot to overthrow this queen.

Chapter Sixteen

Though we never again had private converse with Tamara ru Fidalia—if that can be considered private—I sometimes encountered her greeny-brown gaze over the next few days, and I was convinced that
she
comprehended a great deal. And I began to have misgivings.

During the two days that we waited for her sister, Princess Eleandra, to return, Jewel garnered a great deal of gossip about the queen—not that her life was very dramatic. She had been betrothed at a young age to a much older man who had fallen heir through the devastations of the last war to a vast amount of wealth and land. When she reached adulthood, the marriage was duly compassed, as were so many royal marriages—according to carefully worked out treaty, not according to inclination.

The king lived a secluded life on a distant estate, seldom coming to court; he was an artist, apparently, having never taken any interest in politics. It was his hand we saw in the new furnishings and the delightful design of the court theatre, whose balance of sound and space was exceedingly well devised.

The woman in the sober-hued gown was Lady Aelaeth—the queen’s beloved. Once a scribe, she had been given title and land. In every way but treaty-ordained fact, she was the consort. The court knew it, ambassadors knew it, the country knew it. But, like most kingdoms in the world, tradition required one ruler of each gender, a man and a woman to symbolically represent the men and women who comprised the country’s subjects.

Unless the queen chose to try the Birth Spell, and one could never predict if it would work or not, no matter what your rank in life, Eleandra was the heir. The queen led a staid, middle-aged existence; Eleandra, more than ten years younger than her sister, apparently led quite a dashing life.

“Of course,” Jewel pointed out the third night of our stay, “gossip about affairs doesn’t mean that they are serious, and sometimes they aren’t even real. I heard what was said about me in my short stay at Carnison. All lies. Not that I care,” she added in a brittle tone.

“At least we’ll meet Eleandra tomorrow. And there will be a ball as well.”

“I look forward to that.” Jewel wandered toward to her room to get ready. “Not that I mislike plays, but I never realized before that court comedies are only funny when you know the local gossip. And we don’t.”

“True,” I said, glad that I had not been invited to see this play a second time.

Jewel had already managed to make friends with some of the more stylish courtiers our own age. They liked her title, she liked their wealth and they all liked one another’s looks. “I only said yes because Lord Darivei whispered to me that there will be impromptu dancing afterward,” she called from her room.

Impromptu here meaning the same thing as at home: open to everyone instead of by invitation, and you don’t have to tread all the way back and change clothing yet again.