by Kirby Crow
Liall drew slowly away. “And now, it grows late and there is one more matter I must to attend before I sleep. But first, I want a bath.”
Hot water sounded good. “Do Rshani bathe every night?”
“Usually. Why do you ask? On the ship, you washed every day. I remember you were insistent on it.”
“Well, it was a filthy ship, and I was only washing in a bucket, not filling a great tub with hot water and sitting in it twice a day.”
Liall nodded in that preoccupied way he had when thinking of other things. “Well, here we bathe once a day at least. Twice, if you’re picky.”
It sounded like an awful lot of trouble to get the same result as a basin of water and a cake of soap could. But there were some things you could do in baths that were very pleasant. “Want some company?”
The smile Liall gave him was distracted and –Scarlet fancied– a little false. “Not tonight, but I will return later this evening.” Liall hesitated. “Thank you for agreeing.”
“How late will...?” But Liall had already turned and walked out the door, calling for Nenos. Scarlet slumped back against the pillows. Well, fine: no one to talk to, nothing to see, not even a friendly taberna to pass the hours in. He could understand that Liall felt the need to shield him and that he was a liability to the prince, but if Liall thought his fears were going to pen Scarlet up in this big castle the way they had penned him in that tiny ship’s cabin, Liall had another thought coming.
3.
A Bit of Light
Lady Shikhoza was playing cards in one of the many salons adjoining the main hall that led to the queen’s tier when Liall found her.
“I would speak with you,” he said lowly.
The fire popped and crackled and the noblewomen seated with Shikhoza tittered and hid their smiles behind fans of lacquered playing cards, their blue-painted eyes merry. A silent servant drew the heavy velvet draperies away from the casement panes, revealing a landscape of perpetual twilight and snow. Liall was still unused to seeing such a sight again, and glanced twice at the casement, as if he expected to see the brass orb of a Byzan sun hovering over an arid land.
He had left Scarlet abruptly, perhaps too much so, and he was already feeling guilty over it. He knew Scarlet was not satisfied with his answers regarding his purposes here, a point certain not to escape the discerning pedlar, and it would not be long before Scarlet began to insist on knowing what was happening. Liall knew Scarlet well enough by now to realize his silences were either irritation or mere tolerance for Liall’s “foreign strangeness”, and that it would not be long before his beloved red-coat’s fiercely inquisitive nature began to demand answers.
There are so many undercurrents here, Liall worried. How well I remember. I can feel them in every glittering hall I pass through. So many plans and treacheries brewing. I cannot allow Scarlet to be involved in any way. He would be lost in the webs they spin here, food for the fat, ruthless spiders of a bored royal court.
Shikhoza neatly laid a gilt-edged Prince card over her companion’s Page card, drawing a round of sighs.
“I win again,” Shikhoza smiled, laying down her playing hand on the embroidered cloth. She gazed pointedly at Liall’s hand and would not rise until he gave it. Liall led her out of the salon gruffly, not liking the idea that there would be gossip now, and that it might reach Scarlet’s ears.
“There was no cause for that display,” he growled once they were in the wide hall and strolling towards the queen’s tier, Shikhoza’s hand still upon his.
“What, helping me out of my chair?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Ah. Perhaps I do,” she smiled. Shikhoza’s long tarica –deep ruby-red and intricately sewn with blood-red garnets– flashed little sparks of crimson in the lamp light, and her skin was like poured honey. Shikhoza’s pale golden hair, which would come down to her ankles when unpinned, was piled high on her head in an intricate pattern of braids, and her carved features were as perfect and composed as ever.
Only Liall, who had known her as a girl, could see the changes in her: the small lines around her eyes, the firmness to her lips. They were both much older.
“You must allow me my games, Nazheradei,” she was saying. “There is little else to occupy a discarded Lady in this court.”
“You were not discarded,” Liall answered snappishly, being drawn into her moods despite his vows not to be. “I was exiled. You were not. It is as simple as that. You could have married another.”
“Who would have me?” she answered lightly, bestowing a stunning smile on a courtier as they passed by a knot of brightly-garbed young men idling under an arch. The young man turned all the way around to stare at her, even after they passed. “After betrothal to a crown prince, I was either too high or too low for any man at court. As wife, at any rate. I had many offers of becoming a mistress.”
“I was not the crown prince,” Liall muttered. “That was Nadei.”
“That is not the way they remember it.”
They, of course, were Liall’s people, the subjects of Queen Nadiushka, his mother. “So, whose mistress are you now?” he asked sharply, wanting to wound her.
“My own.”
That, at least, was truth, and something he could believe. “I wish to talk to you about Vladei,” he said abruptly, naming his eldest step-brother.
“Talk, then. What is there to say?” She turned her head, her chin lifted proudly, and smiled at him as they passed open door after open door, enjoying the attention they were drawing. “Vladei wants to be king. He has some claim, after all. Your mother wants Cestimir to be king. That is only natural, since Cestimir is her son and Vladei merely a step-son. But Cestimir is only fourteen. Vladei is a man of your years and already rules a large barony. He is tested and tried, and the barons know him, even if they do not like him. Cestimir is only a child.”
“So you put the queen’s choice down to mere sentimentality?” Liall snorted. “You know her better than that.”
“Everyone knows her better than that,” she quipped. “And yet, Nadiushka felt the need to send for you. She feels her case is weak.”
“Little wonder, with enemies like you working against her.”
“I am not her enemy, Nazheradei. Or yours. I am simply more on my side than anyone else’s.”
Though it was growing late, the Nauhinir was filled with sounds and light and movement. Liall was very aware of the many eyes on them. He pitched his voice low. “Tell me what Vladei plans.”
Her sudden laugh was so bright that it made heads turn. “My dear prince,” she answered in that same low tone “even if I knew, why in the world would I tell you?”
“Profit,” Liall answered easily. “One thing you can always be counted on to do, lady, is act in your own self-interest. Aid Cestimir, and you will prosper.”
“Cestimir called me a poisonous bitch last winter,” she said, nodding and smiling to an admirer.
“As you say, he is a child.”
“If that excuses him for his tongue then it should excuse him from the throne!” she shot back, with her first touch of venom.
“Ah,” Liall smiled. “There is the loving tone I know.” He began to lead her past yet another salon, when Vladei and Eleferi stepped out of the door.
The brothers were a matched pair, both with the pure white hair of the Lukaska line, both tall and lean with long, elegant hands and rugged, aquiline features so like Liall’s own, but there were differences. Vladei, the elder, had a larger nose and his eyes were misty gray, not blue. Eleferi was smaller than either of them, and his face was leaner with a sly cast, almost like a fox. Eleferi’s hair was longer and pulled back from his face with a gold ribbon.
“Lady Shikhoza,” Vladei said loudly, again calling attention to them. His humorless mouth smiled. “What a lovely gown.”
Shikhoza bowed a little, giving Vladei an inviting look.
Yes, Liall thought. She is still beautiful, and yet, I would cut my hand off before touching her agai
n.
“I chose it in honor of our returned prince,” Shikhoza said to Vladei. Her manicured hands with their painted nails smoothed the folds of her red tarica. “It is his favorite color.”
Not on you, Liall yearned to say. Her skin was gold, not purest cream, and her eyes had no love for him, only spite and a desire to harm. He knew she was not above her pettiness, either, and that these jibes would continue.
“You show me too much favor, dear Shikhoza,” Liall said, and saw the barb sink into Vladei. His step-brother had never forgiven him for taking Shikhoza away, though the betrothal had not been Liall’s idea. Nadiushka had thought the match with the female heir to the barony of Jadizek wise, and Liall had been too young to see beyond Shikhoza’s most obvious attributes and his own youthful lust for them. Later, he came to regret his lack of discernment, but by then it was far too late.
“We have arranged a prince’s greeting for you, brother,” Eleferi announced with a smile on his sly, fox-like face. “A snow bear hunt.”
At first, Liall was not sure he had heard aright. It seemed the height of bad taste: a snow bear hunt, at this crucial time, knowing his family’s long and unlucky history with that creature? Then Liall saw that Vladei and Eleferi and probably Shikhoza had meant to throw him with this news. He suddenly felt befouled, as if he fallen into a pit of filth. Nothing had changed here. They were still the same poisonous, vapid little meddlers they had always been, like a pack of cruel children let run loose, except children did not kill their playmates when they tired of them or when they were crossed. Truly, Liall was not enjoying his return to Rshan.
Liall made his mouth into something resembling a smile. “A bear hunt. How considerate of you. I will be sure to attend.”
Liall saw their preening and slyness and allowed himself to hate them. Yes, it was a trap. How not? But knowing that it was a snare did not mean he could refuse to go. There were other means of trammeling up an inconvenient prince, but at least this way, Scarlet would not be involved. A bear hunt was for skilled and seasoned trackers, and Liall knew that Scarlet had never killed any beast that large.
Shikhoza sketched Liall a little curtsy, and Liall pretended to admire her dress. “It is a most fetching gown,” Liall said. “And how fearless of you to wear such a bright shade. I’ve heard it washes the color from a mature woman’s face.”
The implication of encroaching age hit her like a slap. Liall gave her a sunny smile and regretted having to excuse himself when he saw the baron of Tebet waiting for him further down the hall. Shikhoza looked like she had been served a plate of rotten meat.
Liall greeted the baron and led him into the queen’s tier for the scheduled meeting, but he could still see Shikhoza’s outraged and affronted expression, and he savored the sense of satisfaction he had derived from sticking her back a good one. After a time, though, his gloating turned to depression, and he was sad he had said it and angry with himself for losing his temper. He needed the woman’s favor, damn it! Why had he risked it just for the pleasure of insulting her? Rshan seemed to bring out the worst in him.
I do not like myself here, he admitted. I could do nothing else but obey the summons to come, but I do not like it here. I want to leave. I should tell Scarlet that we are not staying, as soon as I see him again.
Hours later, when he returned to the apartments he had occupied as a young man, Scarlet was fast asleep, and he looked so peaceful that Liall had not the heart to wake him. The next morning, Liall thought better of giving his promise not to stay, for he did not know what the future would bring, and so he said nothing at all.
The next several days passed in a blur of activity. Liall saw little of Scarlet except for late evenings when Liall crawled into bed beside him, and often Scarlet roused enough to bid him a sleepy goodnight or, rarely, to invite him to loveplay. One morning about a week later, Scarlet woke with a headache that persisted for days. So engrossed was Liall in negotiating with the Barons and winning them over to Cestimir that he missed all early signs of what was happening.
***
A hunting virca wrapped in dove-gray silk arrived with breakfast, a gift from Cestimir. No doubt he had gotten word of the hunt and wished to see his half-brother fitted out well. Or perhaps it was a safety measure. The art of poisoning fabrics was well known in Rshan. Liall thanked Nenos for the package and closed the door, asking Scarlet to pour him another cup of che before he had to be off.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a hunting virca. See the emblems here? Snow bears.”
Scarlet straddled the couch backwards, putting his knees on the cushions and crossing his arms over the headrest, and looked at the odd virca with interest. It was longer and heavier than most garments and also carried the badges of the House of Camira-Druz. Outside, the snow was falling in that slow, sullen way that told Liall it would last for days.
Scarlet watched Liall closely. After the ugly scene at dinner with Shikhoza, Liall had not thought it wise for Scarlet to leave the apartments again. So far, Scarlet had not complained much, but only because Liall had not been there to hear it.
“Are we going hunting?”
“We? Not at all.” Liall shook his head. “I am going on a bear hunt,” he explained patiently, moving about the apartment.
Scarlet considered this. “With who?”
“Many enemies who wish me dead.”
That alarmed him. “Can’t you say no?”
“It is not possible for me to refuse,” Liall evaded carefully.
“Why?”
“There are some things only a Rshani would understand.”
Even Scarlet knew this was true by now, but he gave Liall a look that said he was annoyed. “I don't like it. Something bothers me about it, like a voice in my head warning me to—”
“Hush,” Liall begged. “Do not say such things.” He opened the wardrobe –an enormous thing of dark, polished wood with red fittings– to put the virca away. “In any case, I will not have you to worry over. You are staying where it’s safe.”
“No.”
Liall did not take his meaning right away. “No?” he asked idly, inspecting the virca. He was only half-listening: one mistake of many.
“I’m going with you.”
Liall uttered a short bark of laughter and folded the virca into the wardrobe. He closed it and walked past Scarlet. “That you are not. A bear hunt is no place for a Hilurin.”
“Rshan is no place for a Hilurin, but I’m here,” Scarlet said hotly.
Too hotly. Liall thought his irritation out of proportion. He turned to Scarlet with a dark frown beginning. “Calm down. I do not wish to quarrel today. Please cease behaving like a child and accept sense for once.”
Scarlet closed his eyes and took a breath before responding. “I’m not a child, a servant, or your property, Liall. Is it still Liall?” He climbed off the couch and took a step towards the tall man. “Or should I call you Prince Nazheradei now?”
Liall’s voice was subdued. “I will always be Liall to you.”
Scarlet ignored that and crossed his arms over his chest. “I feel like your pet dog locked up in here. I’m sure that’s how your new friends see me.”
Liall regarded him coldly, and inwardly he was angered that Scarlet should start this again, this petty concern for how others might see him. What did it matter here? He was a Blood Prince and Scarlet his t’aishka and the people must be polite whether it pleased them or not! When was he going to realize they were no longer in Byzantur? Scarlet seemed to cringe a little under Liall’s scrutiny, and Liall disliked that. Had he become such a brute to Scarlet?
“They are not new friends, but old ones I am becoming reacquainted with, and I have never locked you in,” Liall said, but his calm was slipping.
“No?” Scarlet stalked to the antechamber door and opened it. Nenos was standing there, hands folded and democratically blind. Scarlet slammed the door. “What do you call that?”
“Nenos is there to care for you, to k
eep you—”
“A prisoner!”
Liall sighed and held his temper in check, but Scarlet was exasperating him. Liall would never curse the fates that put Scarlet on the ship with him in Volkovoi, but sometimes he was tempted to remind the boy that he had never asked him to come to Rshan. “You are not a prisoner.”
“Can I go outside? Can I go to the harbor, on a sleigh ride? Can I even walk beyond these rooms without your permission?”
Liall glanced away uncomfortably, knowing that Scarlet had won a little. Still, as Scarlet claimed, he was not a child, so he must understand that there was only so much freedom one so close to the royal family could have. Liall felt unfairly accused to have to defend this point so often, and he began to tell Scarlet so, but suddenly Scarlet pressed his fingertips to his temples and screwed his eyes shut.