Trickster's Queen

by Tamora Pierce

  Bodies shifted in the outer room. Thinking like her warrior mother, Aly realized that the ranks of nobles were changing their positions. Sarai was the first of the young people to drift over, understandably, since she was under discussion. Aly noted that Prince Rubinyan came up in support of his wife, placing gentle hands on Imajane's shoulders. Dove almost unnoticeably flanked the men who supported the prince regent until she stood at her mother's back. There was plenty of space there. The ladies who formed the princess's court had moved back as if Winnamine had the plague.

  Nuritin came up, an army in her own person, to stand next to Dove. Aly was starting to fear that Winnamine had no other support when Dove's friend Duke Nomru walked briskly to stand between Nuritin and Sarai. There was a shift of color: suddenly Countess Tomang and her son glided over as if they meant to join an interesting conversation. They took positions near Winnamine.

  Vereyu told Aly and Boulaj the names of other nobles who went to stand with the duchess: Lord and Lady Wesedi, Lady Adona, and Lord and Lady Obemaek. In the end, Winnamine had representatives of fifteen noble houses to support her, even if it was in silence. Baron Engan kept away, Aly noticed, as did Tkaa and about thirty other men and women. Still, those who stood with the duchess were among the most powerful families in the realm; Aly recognized their names from her winter's study. They were telling the regents that they would back Winnamine.

  Imajane looked from Winnamine to each of her silent supporters. Times were uncertain enough that Imajane must be thinking hard about whether she could afford to offend these wealthy people. The princess's mouth was a thin, tight line. Aly saw the knuckles of Rubinyan's hands whiten as he pressed his wife's shoulders. She looked back and up at him, then turned and forced a smile onto her lips.

  “I fear you subject your son to inconvenience, allowing him to travel to the palace and back each day, instead of dwelling here as the Lelin, Uniunu, and Obeliten lads will, but there.” Imajane shook her head. “In my eagerness to have such adornments as your children at court, I forgot your recent bereavement. I hope that the wounds of your heart soon heal.” She gave a razor of a smile to Sarai. “Perhaps you will grace us with your presence in the fall, Lady Sarai.”

  Sarai bobbed a small curtsy, veiling her eyes with her lashes. “Your Highness honors me,” she replied softly. “And I thank you for your kindness to our family.”

  Imajane graciously inclined her head. “I trust that you, and your stepmother, and your sister Dovasary will join us at the palace the night of the lunar eclipse. Baron Engan, our astronomer, tells us that your sister is quite enamored of such things. It will be an agreeable night's entertainment and a marvel for those of us who worship the Goddess to see her veil her face with a maiden's modesty.”

  Oh, so that's the tale they're telling, Aly thought. Traditionally lunar eclipses were viewed as unlucky, a blurring of the Goddess's view of her daughters. Imajane was trying to rewrite centuries of belief.

  You have to admire her vision, Aly told herself. She thinks big. Or maybe she's just crazy enough to believe it's the Goddess whispering in her mind.

  The duchess rose. “We accept your kind invitation, Your Highness. You are too good to exiles. I do fear I am overtired. Our journey was long, and we only arrived yesterday.” Her tone was as even and gracious as if she had just complimented the princess's hair, not defied her moments before. “If I may have your leave to withdraw?”

  Imajane's eyes glittered like sapphires as they rested on Winnamine. “But only for the moment, Your Grace,” she said with another tight smile. “We expect to have your company in the future, too, Winnamine Balitang, at our party and on other occasions. Your presence at court has been missed.” She deliberately did not look at the duchess's supporters. “We need to draw you gently from your mourning, and give you other thoughts to occupy your mind.”

  Prince Rubinyan smiled. “In the meantime, Captain Sibigat will send troops to escort young Elsren to the palace and home each day,” he said, his voice smooth as honey. “We shall care for him as if he were our own.”

  Winnamine curtsied deeply to them both. Nuritin, Sarai, and Dove did the same. Only when the princess nodded did they move to leave.

  Aly's mind worked busily as she helped Dove to change for the ride home. That silent assembly of nobles had been most instructive. She had seen it: what might she do with it? Aly knew that everyone in that room had brought away the same lesson she had. The regents needed the luarin nobility to stand with them, united. They could not afford to offend them over something as apparently small as the appointment of a young woman to the princess regent's ladies-in-waiting.

  Aly had noticed something else. Very few of the nobles who had moved to shield the duchess's back had hesitated. They had acted as if they'd been prepared to do just that, which meant they had expected something of the kind. In that group that had stood behind Winnamine, Aly had not seen a majority of the court. Those people might be a quarter of the luarin nobility in the Isles, perhaps less. The regents were in so much trouble elsewhere in the Isles that they had to tread lightly rather than punish even this small group of defiant luarin.

  As the family met their horses and guards by the Gate of Victory, Aly went through the lists of nobles whose names she had learned from the raka, along with information about their interests, alliances, and political positions. One of them had to have a weakness she could use to turn the regents against him or her, though it might take some doing, particularly if Rubinyan could control his wife's temper.

  “It's like rocks,” her grandfather Myles had taught her. “Many of them have what the sculptors and quarrymen call cleavage points, spots you may strike with hammer and chisel to break off slabs of stone. Communities and organizations are the same. Find the right cleavage point and you might break them in half, or even into splinters.”

  If I can divide the luarin nobility by working on the princess regent, I might divide her from her cool-headed prince, Aly thought as their party clattered over the second bridge that crossed the streams outside the Luarin Wall. Slipping between two men-at-arms, she let Topabaw's pouch of coins and the listening spells attached to them drop noiselessly into the water below, which thrashed as the hungry flesh-eating fish fought over the prize.

  5

  THE DEMANDS

  OF REBELLION

  All during the ride back to the city the Balitangs could hear the sounds of crows in raucous battle with Stormwings. The birds nagged the Stormwings, pecking them on their sensitive human parts, doing their best to cause the immortals to fly into one another. The crows delighted in the Stormwings' fury and in the fact that being smaller, they could escape harm by flying close to their victims. The moment one Stormwing cut another, even by accident, they turned on each other. People had to dodge falling steel feathers, all of them deadly. Aly spotted three of her pack among the passersby and signaled them to gather as many Stormwing feathers as they could find. Put to an arrow as fletching, they turned ordinary arrows into mage killers.

  The only peaceful note showed high over the fray. A pair of kudarung, one chestnut, one bay, soared on columns of hot air rising over the city.

  The Balitangs took another route home to avoid late-afternoon market traffic. Aly stumbled and nearly tripped when they passed through Nimegan Square. Someone had made changes to its fountain, one of the city's attractions for its carvings of climbing monkeys on stone trees. Cut into the white marble a foot apart, the open shackle symbol lined the rim all the way around.

  By the time the family reached Balitang House, the sun had begun to dip beyond the palace heights. The ladies and children bathed and changed into more comfortable clothing, then took a quiet supper in the smaller family dining room. Once they had finished eating, Winnamine told the maids they were free for the evening. The Balitang ladies adjourned to their sitting room to talk.

  Aly retreated to her workroom to read the reports her people had left for her. She noted each new checkpoint they listed on her map of
the city; changed the pins that marked allies, enemies, and those still undecided to match her latest information; and placed a green spy marker on Grosbeak's street. Now that she had one of Topabaw's information collectors identified, she would put her people to watch the man, to mark who else reported to him for Topabaw. She meant to turn the spy-master's network of agents inside out, leaving the regents virtually blind to what actually went on in the city.

  “Are you coming?” Nawat leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everyone's there but you.”

  Aly put her papers aside. “I wasn't sure if we'd meet early or not.” She walked past him, expecting him to kiss her, but he seemed determined to keep to his new hands-off rule. She almost reached out to touch him, only to remember that the raka were waiting. She had some fast talking to do if she meant to finish the night alive.

  She poked her head into the meeting room. “Let's go to the Pavilion of Secrets,” she suggested pleasantly. “I could do with some evening air.”

  Chenaol and Ochobu complained, Chenaol because her feet hurt, Ochobu because she just liked to complain, but everyone followed Aly and Nawat outside. Only when they were safely within the pavilion's magical protections, and the miniature kudarung who nested in the roof beams had settled down, did Ulasim look at Aly and raise his eyebrows. “I assume you did not have us troop out here for so much nice, warm, damp air,” the big raka said drily. “Even if the spells do keep out the mosquitoes. Do you fear the security spells in our regular meeting place have been breached?”

  “No,” Aly admitted, “but they won't prevent our people from hearing you shout when I break my news, and I'd hate for them to witness an argument from our wonderful commanders.” She beamed at all of them and perched on a railing. From here she could see all their faces despite the twilight shadows.

  Dove rolled her eyes. “Aly, just once, forego your love of drama and spill whatever surprise you have. Otherwise I'll go back and listen to Sarai growl about how nobody at court cares about anything that matters anymore.”

  Aly looked at them, noting suspicion even in Nawat's eyes. Kyprioth, you'd better be ready if they jump me, she thought at the god. “Well, I have good news and better news,” she told them. “The good news is that Topabaw has a spy in this household.” As they stiffened she quickly added, “The better news is that it's me.”

  Ulasim had chosen to lean against one of the pillars that supported the roof. “And that's good?”

  “It's not just good, silly,” Aly said affectionately, “it's necessary.” She looked at each of their faces. Ysul struggled with silent laughter. Chenaol began to wave a palm fan as Quedanga examined her nails. Fesgao and Dove waited patiently for her to continue, as Nawat looked at Aly and gave his bird shrug. It stands to reason Nawat doesn't understand, Aly told herself. Crows don't sneak into each other's nests and pretend they belong there. “Think about it,” she continued. “Topabaw must have people in every important household in the city. He's had his job long enough to do it. How do you think he would feel if he kept failing to get someone on the inside here? You've already held him at bay for three weeks. He'd think we were up to something smoky, and he would be right. It's much better to have someone report to him regularly, and the fact that he recruited me just makes it easier. As it is, we still need to look for his spies in other households to do the odd search when they visit us. Topabaw will want to be sure I'm telling him everything.”

  “Doesn't he trust his own spies?” Nawat asked. “Why have them if he can't trust them?”

  “Because it's how the shadow world works,” Aly explained, her eyes on Ochobu. The old mage was glaring at her. “No spy trusts another. The only thing they expect is a mix of truth and lies. They protect themselves first. Topabaw would be a fool to believe every word I send him; he'll check my reports out of reflex.”

  “How can you be so certain?” demanded Ochobu. “How can a country maid from Tortall know so much?”

  Aly grimaced. “Your god picked me,” she reminded the old woman, not for the first time, she thought, and certainly not for the last. “In your shoes, I would expect him to arm me for my post. Do you think the raka could have gotten away with half of what they've done this winter if Topabaw were young and fresh? He believes his own legend. He's been doing this so long that he thinks he can't be tricked. We can use that certainty for many interesting bits of work, and we shall. We will turn his system against him.”

  “Are you all mad?” barked Ochobu. “He could be listening to every word that's said here at this moment—or she'll tell him what we say when she reports to him!”

  “If you weren't so disagreeable, Mother, you'd just put a spell on her and find out right now,” Ulasim told Ochobu.

  His mother glared at him. “I've worked magic all day,” she snapped. “If you're so clever, you do it.”

  “That's very nice, Mother, except I'm no mage,” Ulasim retorted.

  Ysul shrugged and threw something that blazed like a white veil in Aly's Sight. She let it sink into her skin, though it itched. He inspected Aly, then frowned at Ochobu and shook his head.

  “No listening spells?” asked Fesgao.

  Ysul hand signaled, None.

  Aly smiled at Ochobu as if the old mage were a favorite elder who was getting peculiar with age. “Ochobu, if you couldn't crack my liar's house, what makes you think Topa-baw can? And I doubt his successor will be any better.”

  That startled them. “Successor?” whispered Chenaol.

  Aly nodded. “Well, he'll have one. Too much is slipping through his fingers for him to keep his post much longer. Unless he moves first, of course. Once he knows the regents are losing their faith in him.”

  Quedanga blinked. “They are?”

  “So he will hear,” Aly informed them. “As the regents will hear that Topabaw is unhappy with their treatment of him. When people who like control feel that they are not in control, they tend to react with a hammer, not a needle. If you keep them feeling things are out of control, believe me, there will be a change in many positions at court. Perhaps even the top positions. Either you trust me, or you do not,” Aly reminded them patiently. Her father had taught her that spies spent much of their time explaining themselves to those they worked for, and that any spy must accept such explanations as part of the work. “If you do not,” she continued, “then you are already destroyed. I've had ways to send word to Topabaw for nearly a month. Since you are here and breathing, and no member of the family decorates the harbor posts, I suggest that you stop fussing and see to your own projects. We are nowhere near a victory.”

  “I bet she gives Topabaw even more headaches than she gives me,” commented Chenaol. “I could almost feel sorry for him.”

  Ysul stared at Chenaol, plainly shocked.

  “You haven't known her as long as we have, lad,” the cook told him kindly. “When you do, you'll understand.”

  Aly looked at Dove, who smiled crookedly. “I tend to be of Chenaol's mind. Now. What else have we to discuss?” Dove asked, looking at Ulasim.

  Later, as their gathering broke up, Aly called, “Nawat? I have something for you to do.”

  His eyes lit up. “You do? Something real?”

  “Something important,” Aly assured him. “Come back to my office.”

  “Did Topabaw hurt you?” Nawat asked as they went inside. “Did he frighten you? I will hurt him if he did.”

  Aly ushered him into her office and closed the door. “I was as scared as I needed to be,” she said, resting a hand on his arm, noting in spite of herself the shift of his wiry muscles under cloth and skin. “You need to be afraid some in a spot like that, or the questioner can tell something isn't right about you.” She sat at her desk and produced a sheet of weathered parchment from a drawer. From another drawer she got out ink and an expensive pen. “This will be tricky. I need a crow to drop this in a very specific location.”

  Nawat sat in one of her chairs, looking at her. Glancing up at him, Aly
couldn't tell what thoughts ran behind his deep-set eyes. “It doesn't seem important to you, perhaps, but trust me, Topabaw won't like it one bit.”

  “You wish me to send a messenger for you,” he repeated, his voice flat. “Or better, maybe, I should be your messenger.”

  Aly beamed at him. “It would be lovely if you did it, if you can. I'm not sure the crows here will understand me like the Tanair ones did.”

  “They will,” Nawat said, still expressionless. “The god wagered with all the crows of the Isles, not just the Tanair flock. We serve you and keep you alive, and we win the wager. They learned to speak with you just as you learned to speak with us.”

  “That must be some wager, that all the crows of the Isles want to win it,” Aly remarked, shaking her head. “What is it—eternal life? Unlimited chances to heckle Stormwings?” She forgot her question almost as soon as she asked it, bending her head over her work. Carefully she wrote in an elegant, properly bred lady's script:

  He says he wishes new blood, and new methods, but he also remembers years of service. Still, I think with a bit more discussion, he will appoint you to a post that will certainly restore all of our family's fortunes.

  Aly waited for the ink to dry, then crushed the weathered parchment several times. Next she ripped pieces off, making sure that none were so large as to destroy the central message. Kneeling on the floor, she briefly rubbed each side of the paper against it, until the parchment looked mauled. She offered it to Nawat.

  “It must be dropped near the door of Topabaw's offices, but not too near.” She opened a palace map and showed Nawat the spot she meant. “He works and does his torturing there. The reports are that he starts his workday not too long after dawn. He'll be watching the ground out of habit, so don't leave it in the open where anyone can see it. Put it under a bush or something, so he'll just glimpse a corner.”

  “And stay to be certain he takes it,” Nawat added. “I am not a man as Ulasim or Fesgao is, Aly, but I have a mind.”