The abrupt switch took Blaise a moment. “Yes,” she said, wary. Reyna had shown her how to build one years ago. “Why?”
Beyond the harbor, the river curved along a bend and disappeared. “That way is east,” Reyna said. “Commander Aimon will be coming from there. Eventually. If something happens—”
Blaise snatched her hand away. “Like what?”
“Something. Anything. If you need to leave here, follow the river. If you come to a fork, keep to the east and watch for our ships.”
Blaise was quiet. “I’m not leaving here without you, Reyna.”
“I’d rather you didn’t either,” she confessed. “But you’ve seen what Jian-so can do. You need to know all the ways out. Will you remember?” She reached into her pouch and held out her hand. In her palm was a small black pebble. A leading stone, a magnet. Blaise would need it to make her compass.
The ship rocked slightly as the anchor dropped. On the docks, the Miranese gathered to watch their arrival.
“East,” Blaise repeated, though she did not look happy about it. She took the stone. “I’ll remember.”
* * *
They were met at the waterfront by the steward of the imperial household, an efficient little man who saw to their chests, which were strapped onto the backs of stoop-shouldered porters and sent ahead. He spoke slow, careful Caffeesh. Even so, Reyna had to listen carefully. This version of the language was both familiar and unfamiliar and would take some getting used to. Royal guards kept the onlookers at bay. Men, women, and children. Some wearing simple smocks and trousers. Most shielded from the sun by straw hats so their faces were not clearly visible. Levi nodded and waved. In response, some bowed at the waist. Others merely stared.
As they made their way to the horses, Levi asked Reyna, “Do you notice anything strange?”
“Yes,” she said immediately. “This is the cleanest harbor I’ve ever seen.”
Where were the stray dogs? The wandering chickens? The fishmongers and fruit sellers hawking their wares? This harbor had no market, which could account for some of its tidiness. But not all. There was not a single mound of horse dung to be found in the dirt, steaming or otherwise. To Reyna, who had visited more waterfronts than she could remember, the harbor was an anomaly. Sparkling and pristine. Perfectly improbable.
“You’re right.” Levi looked around in bemusement. “It’s the exact opposite of Coronado.”
Unflattering but true. Coronado’s waterfront was heaped with filth and waste, from dogs, humans, horses, and bears. Bear-baiting was a favored pastime there. But Levi had not been speaking of the harbor’s unusual cleanliness.
She asked, “What do you find strange?”
“Where is everyone?” Levi gave another regal wave, a smiling nod. “This isn’t a small harbor. There should be more people here.”
Reyna did not have a chance to answer. The steward came forward to fuss over Levi and lead him to where the grand horses awaited. Majestic creatures, their saddles adorned with amber tassels, ribbons of a similar shade entwined in their manes.
They rode from the harbor surrounded by guards. The journey took them through the city, where a smattering of Miranese stepped from their homes and storefronts to watch them pass. Cold trailed up Reyna’s spine. Unlike those gathered at the harbor, these onlookers were close enough that Reyna could see the scars riddling so many faces, young and old. Just like Jian-so.
Blaise noticed too. She brought her horse close to Reyna. “Something bad happened here.”
“The pox?” Reyna remembered Levi’s puzzlement. Where is everyone?
“I think so. It couldn’t have been too long ago either.” Blaise smiled at a pair of young girls peeking from behind their mother’s skirts. They were only a few years past infancy. Both were scarred. “I wonder how the pox is treated here.”
They rode deeper into the jungle. Chrysanthemums lined the roadside in such quantities that it looked as if their path were lit by fire. Only Hamish appeared unimpressed. He had taken one look at the flowers and erupted in a fit of sneezing.
After a time, they entered the gates of the palace, which was unlike any Reyna had seen before. White stone walls and elaborate, black-tiled roofs. Terraces too numerous to count. The greenery rioted here, growing along borders and in heavy pots, twining up the walls. Giant tortoises roamed the grounds, much to Reyna’s and Blaise’s delight. Reyna counted fifteen of them. If she were to stretch out beside one, there would be no great difference in length. She had never seen tortoises so large.
Jian-so met them in the courtyard. He had exchanged his armor for a brown leather tunic with a chrysanthemum embossed across the breast. Buttons gleamed orange and gold in the sunlight. He greeted Levi with clasped arms and genuine pleasure. Levi appeared to do the same. They look like real friends, Reyna thought. This was how she would greet Blaise. Or Jaime.
No one mentioned the dead man in the river.
The same woman accompanied Jian-so. Up close, she appeared even younger than Reyna had imagined. Her own age, perhaps. She did not look like a Miranese. Truly, she did not look like anyone Reyna had ever seen before: her face narrow, her chin pointed, a birdlike quality to her appearance.
“You travel with an interesting cortege, my friend.” Jian-so’s attention went from Reyna to Blaise. Blaise’s grip on her physician’s bag tightened ever so slightly. “Or are they gifts?”
Levi threw a disinterested glance in their direction. “This is my scribe and my healer. My queen sends gifts. But they’re still on the ship.”
It was only because Reyna was watching Jian-so’s companion that she saw it. A flinch at the word healer; her expression showed a brief, bitter loathing.
“Too bad.” Jian-so’s eyes slithered back to Reyna. “A scribe, you say? Our scribes are all men, older than the mountains, who smell like cheese. I like yours much better.”
Amused, Levi said, “We have plenty of those in Selene. Old men make poor sailors.”
“And are harder on the eyes.” Jian-so reached out, lifted Reyna’s chin with a finger. Levi’s smile slipped. “What is your name, scribe?”
“Reyna, Prince Jian-so.” His was not the hand of a pampered prince. The callus on his finger scraped against her skin. Uneasiness coiled inside her. She reminded herself that he could not know who she was. He had not seen her that night on the Simona. His interest was of the regular, repulsive sort. Which posed another set of problems. Beside her, Blaise was as still as a rabbit sensing a trap.
“Reyna-si?” Jian-so’s finger lingered against her skin. “As lovely as the goddess whose name you share.”
Abruptly, Levi shifted the attention from Reyna to the woman beside Jian-so. He bowed. “Lady.”
Jian-so dropped his hand and frowned at his companion, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “She’s not a lady. Ana-si is my . . . scribe,” he said, and laughed. Brushing the back of his hand across her neck, he ordered her to “show them to the women’s quarters. Unless you prefer they be nearer?” The last was meant for Levi. Jian-so’s smirk had returned.
Levi smiled. One man to another. “The women’s quarters will do. For now.”
Jian-so laughed.
Ana-si spoke for the first time. “Come with me.”
As they followed, Reyna noticed two things. First, Ana-si’s voice was deeper than Reyna had expected. It did not match her tiny, frail form. And second, she carried herself strangely. Her movements slow, as if trying not to limp. As if some injury, hidden beneath her clothing, was causing her pain.
Twenty
ANA-SI LED THEM into the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, the silence broken by the occasional “Down here” and “We go there.” As soon as they’d left the company of men, she began to scratch her arms. Forearms, elbows, wrists. Absently, as if she did not realize what she did. Reyna watched and wondered. A glance at Blaise showed her following Ana-si’s every move. Noting the way she carried herself. Eyeing the endless scratching.
The q
uiet ended the moment they entered the women’s quarters. Females everywhere. They spilled from chambers that opened directly onto a courtyard. Most wore robes like Ana-si’s. One or two of them had a tiny red circle painted on her lower lip. For Reyna, a novelty. Conversation dropped off the moment the newcomers were spotted.
For herself and Blaise, Reyna felt only curiosity. The looks their guide received were less friendly. Ana-si was not liked by the women of the palace. She did not appear to care.
They stopped before a door. “You sleep here,” Ana-si informed Blaise.
“Thank—”
Ana-si had already walked off, Reyna at her heels. She looked over her shoulder at Blaise, standing alone with her physician’s bag, and mouthed, I’ll come back.
Her chamber was down the passageway from Blaise’s. It was small but lovely: dark and cool, with louvered windows. The bed consisted of a feather mattress placed not on a frame, but directly on the floor. Gauzy white coverings hung from the ceiling. Before she slept, she would pull them around her to keep the insects at bay.
Ana-si stood in the center of the chamber with folded arms, frowning at Reyna. “This will do?” she asked.
“It will. Nicely. Thank you.”
Reyna’s chest had already been delivered, left at the foot of the bed. Ana-si knelt by it. Without asking permission, she opened the lid and rummaged through Reyna’s things. Ignoring the parchment and vials of ink, instead holding up one of Reyna’s dresses for inspection. It was identical to the one she currently wore, in serviceable, sensible blue.
“This is all? No lace, no silk? Nothing more?”
The disdain in Ana-si’s voice was evident, and Reyna smiled. “I’m a scribe, Lady. Lace just gets in the way.”
“I am no lady,” Ana-si reminded her, her tone stiff. “That is not who I am.”
Strange and prickly. Reyna lowered herself onto the bed. A glance into the chest assured her Ana-si hadn’t tipped over the tray full of ink. “What shall I call you then? Ana-si?”
She did not like that, either. “When we are with others, I am Ana-si. When we are here, I am Ana.”
“I understand,” Reyna said, though she did not. “My name is Reyna.”
Ana-si’s lip curled. She crumpled the dress on her lap. “Named for a Miranese goddess.”
More scorn. With an inward sigh, Reyna decided not to take it to heart. Clearly, Ana-si was unhappy. It could not have anything to do with Reyna. She had just arrived. However, she was not named after a Miranese goddess. She said, “Reyna was my grandmother’s name.”
Silence. Reyna thought she saw something different in Ana-si’s eyes, before she tossed the dress aside to look over Reyna’s possessions. Cloak, underthings. Reyna pretended not to mind. Struggling to find some neutral topic, she said, “The red dot on the women’s lips. What does it mean?”
A shrug. “The dot says, ‘Look at my lips. I am prepared to marry. Maybe I will marry you.’ After they marry, there is no more dot.” She eyed Reyna’s bare mouth. “I will find paint for you if you wish it.”
“I don’t.” Reyna was certain she did not want strange men looking at her lips. “It’s a mating ritual, then. Like the men who paint their teeth black?”
“Yes,” Ana-si said, surprised. “How do you know this?”
The lie came easily. “Prince Levi mentioned it, I think. Are you from Miramar, Ana?” The girl only looked at her, and Reyna added hastily, “I don’t mean to pry. Only I’ve traveled to many kingdoms with the prince, and you . . .”
“Yes? I do not look like everyone else. That is what you are trying to say? You think I am a changeling?”
Oh, for heaven’s sake, Reyna almost said. This was exhausting. “I don’t think you’re a changeling. Forgive me. My curiosity runs away from me sometimes.”
Ana-si was done with her. She dumped Reyna’s nightgown on the bed, then walked to the door. Not limping, not quite. “The baths are just past the courtyard. Someone will fetch you for supper.”
“Thank you.”
“You will not see your prince until then. Jian-so will have much to say to him.” Ana-si’s hand rested on the door latch. She looked over her shoulder, and the silence stretched onward until she said quietly, “Ana was my grandmother’s name.”
With that admission, Reyna felt the first thawing of frost. Ana-si did not return her smile, but she did not scowl, either. “You are not like the others,” she told Reyna. “The women. You are not unkind.” A pause, as if she were coming to some decision. “I will keep your secret.”
Reyna’s smile faded. She made herself look puzzled, not a difficult thing to do. “What do you mean?”
“You are no Lunesian,” Ana-si told her. “Neither is your curly-haired friend. I have traveled to many kingdoms too.” The door opened and shut.
Reyna was alone.
* * *
Reyna and Blaise wandered in what they hoped was the direction of the baths. Just past the courtyard, Ana-si had said. But where was it? Reyna had begun to wonder if she’d misheard until, finally, they came across an old woman scrubbing the floors. Reyna asked for directions. Unfortunately, the woman did not speak Caffeesh. After much gesturing—Reyna lifted an arm and mimicked scrubbing beneath it—the old woman pointed them this way.
Reyna could not get her mind off Ana-si. Not only her final words to Reyna, or the very real danger they were in. She said, “I think I’ve seen her before.”
Blaise’s head whipped toward her. “Where?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. At a harbor, maybe. Just a glimpse. There’s something about her that’s familiar.”
“Did she tell you where she’s from?” When Reyna shook her head, Blaise mused, “That’s strange, isn’t it? As many places as you’ve been, you should be able to tell.”
It was not the only thing that was troubling. “What is the matter with her? You saw the way she walked. Something isn’t right.”
“It might not be anything sinister,” Blaise said. “Perhaps she’s never sat a horse until today, and is sore. Or perhaps . . .”
“She was beaten,” Reyna said flatly. She knew what it was to be kicked, hit. She had carried herself as Ana-si did, once.
“Possibly,” Blaise acknowledged quietly. “It doesn’t explain the scratching. Did you see her face when the captain said I was a healer?”
“Yes.” They turned left, down a passageway Reyna was certain they had already walked through. Some geographer she was. “She doesn’t like doctors.”
“I wonder . . .” Blaise lowered her voice. “I wonder if she needed help from a doctor once, and whoever it was made it worse.”
On that wretched note, Reyna spotted a separate structure beyond a courtyard. A courtyard, but not their courtyard. Ana-si had left out that detail. Three women disappeared inside, each with a bathing sheet draped over an arm. “I think we’re here.”
“Good.” Blaise marched that way. “I need a bath after meeting that creepy prince. Which reminds me: Do you have your dagger?”
Reyna could still feel Jian-so’s callused finger against her skin. She shuddered. “Yes. Do you?”
Blaise opened the door to the bathhouse, where a wall of steam enveloped them. “Oh yes.”
* * *
The same could be said in any kingdom—nowhere was gossip more freely exchanged than at the public baths. And it occurred to Reyna that if any of the palace women knew about the missing men, this was where she might hear about it. The bathhouse was a pleasant chamber with two separate pools and vaulted ceilings. Water droplets clung to walls tiled a soft green. The floors were cream-colored stone, the surface rough to prevent slips and falls.
Every stitch of clothing had to be left behind in the antechamber. They were new, and they were foreign, and that meant the pool they’d chosen to bathe in quickly became a crowded one. At least two dozen women shared the waters. Others gathered along the edge and pulled combs through damp hair. Pretty combs made of wood and tortoiseshell. The ladies of th
e court were not present. They bathed in the privacy of their chambers. Reyna’s companions were the palace’s middle and upper servants. Most of them spoke Caffeesh. And what they most wanted to discuss was Levi.
“He is very handsome, your prince,” one said.
From another, her tone wistful: “His eyes are like lapis lazuli.”
“Are all the men on Lunes so handsome?”
The water came up to Reyna’s neck. She would have to tell Levi about the lapis lazuli. “Prince Levi is more handsome than most,” she said, ignoring the smile on Blaise’s face before her friend ducked beneath the water to soak her head.
The questions continued, with Reyna’s answers translated for those who did not understand. Did the prince have a princess? No, he did not. Was the prince here in search of a princess? Prince Levi’s private affairs were not for her to share. The thought of Levi with his own princess struck an unpleasant chord inside her. Of course he must marry, someday. It would be foolish to think otherwise. The next question had to be repeated, for she had not heard it. Why did the Lunesian crown go to a woman and not to Prince Levi?
“Every kingdom is different,” Reyna explained. “On Lunes, the king’s eldest child inherits the crown, no matter the sex. Though Queen Vashti’s husband isn’t a king, merely a consort. Other kingdoms require a male heir always. Like your Prince Jian-so, for instance.”
An unexpected silence fell, thick as the steam that filled the chamber. What had she said? She looked to Blaise, who shrugged.
Just then, Ana-si walked into the baths carrying a bucket. She did not speak, or even look in their direction, but knelt to fill it at a nearby pump. She rose with some difficulty, gripping the bucket with both hands. Water sloshed over the brim.
Reyna started to rise, ready to grab her robe and offer help. Blaise beat her to it. “I’ll walk with you, Ana-si,” she called out. “I’m finished here.”
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