The Redwood Palace

by M K Hutchins

  All the hope in my gut turned to ash.

  “You weren’t a liar.”

  It whined, like lying might have been part of its faults, but far from the whole picture.

  I sighed. “You really are in the palace records, aren’t you?”

  It nodded eagerly.

  “But you’re not Green-ranked Malin of Askan-Wod or Yellow-ranked Tol of Sandhead.” It shook its head. I bit my lip, trying to think of other possibilities. “The treasury.”

  Its head perked up.

  “Were you killed in an attempt to rob the treasury? I mean, were you a thief?” Such a figure would show up in the records—just not the ones I’d looked at.

  All its excitement sagged away, its head lowering to the ground.

  “Someone trying to aide a thief? Help a thief escape?”

  It tilted its head to the side.

  “Was a theft in the treasury involved?”

  It didn’t move. I shook my head. “Have you learned anything, spying for me? I can ask you about people, one by one. If I live past my trial, I’ll have more time to help you.”

  It shrugged, sending its rolls of fat rippling. Did it not care to give me an answer, or was it holding out for an exorcism?

  “I promise I’m trying to help you. I want to help you.”

  The ghost whimpered and pantomimed eating buckwheat branches plucked from a basket.

  I could try cooking every dish I could think of and hope something helped the ghost. Probably a futile gesture, but what else did I have? I only knew one thing for sure: Fir was connected to the poisoning.

  Maybe I needed to focus on him.

  The next morning, Lady Sulat’s lattice-shutters opened to the fine spring air. I tasted her food. Perfect as always, thanks to Sorrel.

  Then the door guard admitted Bane. He flushed when he saw me, then glanced between me and Lady Sulat. I peered at him. Was he embarrassed I’d failed at Lord Torut’s?

  Lady Sulat observed his fidgeting with her usual, placid face. “You wish to speak with me, Bane?”

  “Yes, Lady.” He bowed deeply. But no envelope occupied his hand.

  Lady Sulat managed to sip her infusion and wave me out of the room at the same time. I frowned but did as she asked. I plunked down on the porch steps and gently stretched my ankle in preparation for shadowing Fir. However eager I was to get started, I could delay myself a moment or two for Bane. I should have found him yesterday and told him about Lord Torut’s.

  “Hoping to see Bane?” Moss asked.

  Poppy joined us then, a basket of cloth on her hip. “Are you sure it’s safe to talk about him right now? I saw him come into the apartments.”

  “Do you need help with anything, Poppy?” I asked, doing my best to ignore Moss.

  She clutched the basket jealously to her hip. “Not with this fine cloth. It’s my favorite to work with.”

  I sighed.

  Bane strolled out, an excited smile on his face. “Good morning!” He said that like nothing could make it otherwise.

  I stood, keeping my weight on my good foot. “Do you have a moment?”

  Poppy giggled, but Bane didn’t notice.

  “If we can talk while walking to the main gate.” He cheerfully waved the black envelope in his hand. Did he like his work that much? “I have a message for Lieutenant-General Behon at the city wall.”

  I hobbled alongside him. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “He’s over Askan-Wod’s defenses. You know, important and all that.” Bane tucked the envelope under his amputated arm, then offered his elbow as a crutch for me. “Given the circumstance, and our chaperone, I think this is appropriate?”

  He was always so careful to be respectful. Nana would have liked him. I put my arm through his muscular one, his juniper-and-smoke smell washing over me. Earthy, like the forest after rain. My cheeks warmed, though really, I had no reason to be embarrassed. I leaned into him, letting him take the weight. “Thank you.”

  “Let me know if we need to go slower,” Bane said with one of his meltingly warm smiles.

  Moss trailed behind us, snickering. Reacting would encourage him. Instead, I whispered to Bane about my failures at Blue Lord Torut’s. Whispering was easy, walking so close together.

  “Ah. That explains it,” Bane said.

  “Explains what?”

  “Two mornings ago, Palace Guards found broken tree branches. One of them insisted that Bloodmarrow ghosts had vandalized the gardens, but then they heard about the fresh boughs in Lord Torut’s apartments. The Justice Ministry fined him and Lady Egal demoted his door servant for allowing her master to act so unseemly. She’s in the worst corner of the laundry, now—scrubbing diapers and mud stains.”

  I hated my layers of lies. I couldn’t even apologize to her without singling myself out for suspicion. Poor girl. She’d liked being Lord Torut’s door servant.

  “She got off easy, without a dismissal. Her father’s important enough not to insult lightly.” Despite everything, he sounded as chipper as if we’d discussed an early harvest of pears. “Don’t look so sad. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  As if he could stop the Purple-Blue Council from proclaiming me guilty or the King from ordering my death. We passed the pond; a breeze rolled off it, carrying a whiff of turtles and reeds.

  “I’m going to start following Fir. Hope something turns up. I know it’s not much of a plan, but...” I sighed. I always seemed to be following not-much-of-a-plan.

  “I saw him, on my way here.”

  I jerked to a stop. “Really?”

  “Entering the men’s bathhouse. He might still be there, if you think eavesdropping would help.”

  I halted and beamed at him. “Bane. You’re amazing. Thank you.”

  Oddly, he glanced down at the gravel, embarrassed. Then he looked up, those brown eyes searching mine. He opened his mouth, closed it, stared back at his feet, then hurried off without making eye contact again.

  Moss strode up from behind. “Poppy’s not entirely off the mark. He’ll be crushed when King Alder leaves you dangling from the city wall.”

  “Of course he’ll be sad.” He was a good man. A kind man.

  “Ah. You missed my tone. I meant the kind of sadness that drives a perfectly sane man to write terrible poetry about unrequited love.”

  I sighed and shook my head. Given that seven days stood between me and a trial, I was the worst prospect for a wife in all of Askan-Wod. Bane knew that. I wouldn’t insult his intelligence by imagining otherwise.

  Even without the trial, we were as poorly matched as Violet and Sorrel. Bane wasn’t a chef. He couldn’t love the best part of me. “You shouldn’t talk like that. You’ll put ideas into his head, and then he will be crushed. Bane’s just a soldier helping a citizen. He said as much.”

  One last quest for the soldier who’d never see the front lines again. I was grateful for his help.

  “Yup. Soldiers are well-known for constantly blushing and then running off without warning. I’m not sure if you’re blind, Dami, or if you’re too polite to admit you find him attractive.”

  “I do not!”

  “Mm-hmm.” Moss breathed on his bolas and polished them on his tunic. “We heading to the bathhouse, then?”

  I pressed my ear against the wooden wall of the men’s bathhouse while Moss pretended to nap behind the bushes. At least, I think he was pretending.

  A muffled, male voice reverberated through the wood. “You could join the army, you know.”

  “With the current casualty rate?” Fir snorted.

  The other man—I didn’t recognize his voice—slapped the top of the water. “That’s unpatriotic. I know you have no birthgift, but plenty of young men serve with gifts that aren’t ideal for combat. Your brothers all went.”

  “I want an end to this war as much as you do,” Fir said. The usual honey-and-oil of his voice shifted into something raw and honest. Odd. I didn’t think Fir cared a whit about the war. I stretched my bad ank
le out on the lawn, trying to get comfortable. My short walk had it throbbing again.

  “What are you doing here, then? If you enlisted, you might earn yourself some respect and, Ancestors willing, Green rank. Do you like loafing and doting on dear Grandmamma Egal?”

  I doubted he’d earn himself a rank for a military feat with no marvelous birthgift to assist him.

  “One day, she’ll be in the Ancestral Realm, looking over me and spinning souls for her descendants. I could do worse things than honor her in life.”

  That shut the other man up. I listened to the gentle sounds of water, the occasional splash. Other people conversed on the other end of the bathhouse, but I only caught murmurs, soft and sleepy. Moss snored.

  “They could use you, you know, on the front,” the man said, tone almost apologetic.

  Fir responded, “I’m needed here.”

  “The Shoreed took Baylet. Word says they’ll spearhead northward and take Napil next.”

  My stomach churned. King Alder mentioned that too—that we could lose our obsidian mines.

  “When they march on Askan-Wod, I’ll enlist,” Fir said.

  “You’ll need plenty of time to shape up your scrawny arms. I’d start now.”

  “Thank you for your flattering opinion.”

  More splashing. Somebody leaving. Shoreed had to be fighting like mad. Was Dami on the front lines now? Had she been discovered?

  At least the army traveled with good chefs. That would keep the soldiers strong. Let them heal. Save them from infections.

  “Odd to see you here,” Fir said. I silently cursed and jerked to my feet. Ignoring the protests of my bad ankle, I started to leave.

  Fir placed one hand on the wall behind me, blocking me. His damp shirt clung to the muscles of his chest. Not so scrawny. His voice rumbled dangerously low. “What are you doing here, Dami?”

  “Umm.” What would Osem say? “Waiting for my guard to finish his bath. I can’t stand to be next to him anymore—he stinks.”

  Fir frowned and glanced around the garden. “Where is your guard? Are you trying to slip away from him?”

  I could just see Moss behind the shrubbery, but I knew where to look. “Me? No. Of course not,” I rambled, trying to sound guilty. “Why would I do that?”

  He grinned. “Ah. If you’re unencumbered by him, my friends, the Palace Guards, would love to have a friendly chat with you. They have the most charming accommodations.”

  “Perhaps I’m better off with the smelly old man.”

  Fir’s expression turned wolfish. “You shouldn’t have tried to oppose me. Now the council will take care of you for me. Too bad your trial isn’t sooner.”

  “And you’ll walk free of your crimes, is that it?” I tried to sound big, but my voice squeaked in my throat. I couldn’t run. Right now, how hard would it be to separate me from Moss and give me to the Palace Guards?

  “Crimes? I didn’t commit any crimes.”

  “You poisoned Lady Sulat.”

  “Me?” He placed his remaining hand on the wall near the other side on my head. I choked on the stench of too-strong pine soap. Water from his hair dripped in my face. “I hold no ill will against Lady Sulat. Why would I do such a thing?”

  That was the question. “I’ll find out why.”

  “By sulking around bathhouses. I’m terrified, Dami. Just terrified. You should have gone home when I stole your amber.”

  “You admit to that much, then.” My breath trembled in my lungs. Fir could break my nose with one quick jab.

  “It’s no grand confession—who would believe you? I’d pay you back... but given your trial, it seems like a waste.” His handsome grin mocked me. I hated that grin.

  “But you’re good at wasting things,” I said. “You live by loafing on your grandmother’s good will. Your only talent is picking on servants. You’re yellow-ranked, an honored citizen, yet you sulk and do nothing with that position. You don’t even have the courage to defend your country. By the King’s own forbearers, keep the money. Perhaps polishing it will give you something useful to do.”

  My head spun like I’d been in the heat too long. But, Ancestors forgive me, it felt good to say.

  “I am not useless,” he growled, all traces of handsome washed from his face.

  I’d found a sore spot. I hit it as hard as I could. “Do you think being giftless gives you an excuse? You’re the same rank as Bane. The war half-destroyed his gift, but he found a way to move forward, to serve as a messenger. Bad circumstances couldn’t stop him from making an honorable life for himself. You? Your name fits you perfectly. You’re a fir tree in a grove of redwoods. You might talk about being as strong and grand as the giants around you, but you’ll never reach their heights. All the luckiest circumstances in the world couldn’t change you into a better person. You’re nothing, Fir. And you always will be.”

  On the last word I tried to shove his arms away, but Fir caught my wrists, digging his fingernails into my skin. He stepped closer, pinning me chest-to-chest against the bathhouse wall. My bad leg buckled. Fir refused to let me fall. He leaned in, mouth so close to the side of my face he could bite my jugular out like a wolf.

  He whispered, breath hot on my skin. “I could break your wrists right now.”

  “But you won’t,” I managed. “Hurting me will make you look suspicious.”

  “I won’t hurt you if I don’t have to. Try to wait patiently for your hanging, like a good little girl. I’d hate to have this talk with you again.”

  Fir released me and stepped back. I crumpled against the wall. He straightened his shirt and donned a smile of perfect civility. “I’m sorry you turned down my offer to go find some palace guards. Good day, Dami. Enjoy days while you still have them.”

  After I caught my breath and shook Moss awake, I headed off to stalk Fir. No sign of him on the nearby paths. I searched everywhere. I even hid behind a bush near Lady Egal’s apartments for two hours, hoping to catch him coming or going.

  Had he left the palace? I hobbled to the gate, but Nisaat hadn’t seen him.

  I returned to Lady Sulat’s and tasted her lunch, mind tumbling over new ideas for finding Fir. Maybe I should have stayed outside Lady Egal’s longer.

  But one glance at my awkward gait, and Lady Sulat ordered me to stay put until tomorrow morning. No more tracking Fir today. No expedition to feed the Hungry Ghost tonight.

  Poppy left for her half-day off, so I scrubbed the muddy porch steps alone. Except for Moss.

  “I can’t believe you fell asleep.” My wrists still ached from where Fir had grabbed them, an unwelcome counterpoint to the ankle. “Aren’t you supposed to guard me?”

  “I’m also spying on you.” Moss sat on the lawn, nonchalantly braiding grass. “Didn’t we cover this already? You don’t get to be indignant about it twice.”

  “How are you supposed to spy if you’re asleep?”

  “I’m talented like that.”

  I wanted to whack him upside the head with the brush. I scrubbed harder instead.

  “Do you think Fir would’ve talked so much if he knew I was there?” Moss asked.

  I blinked. No, he wouldn’t have.

  Moss’ voice turned soft and serious for once. “I’m sorry Fir was rough with you. I didn’t expect that in broad daylight. Are you all right?”

  “A bit of soreness is the least of my worries right now.”

  Moss sighed. “I hope that snake has to answer for all of his crimes one day.”

  “Me too.” I dipped my brush back into the water bucket.

  “Well, now you know there’s a lovely secluded spot behind the bathhouse,” Moss said cheerfully, the seriousness gone as if it had never existed. “Maybe you should show it to Bane sometime.”

  “So he can spy on Fir?”

  “So he can give a detailed report the next time another messenger asks him if young ladies who are perceptive-of-tongue really are amazing kissers.”

  “Moss!”

  My guard
showed no hint of shame. He just jutted his chin at the bottom stair. “Looks like you missed a spot.”

  Bane wasn’t a chef. He couldn’t want me. But as I weeded Lady Sulat’s flowerbeds, it occurred to me Sorrel was perceptive-of-tongue, too. It was all too easy to imagine his exquisitely trained mouth filling me with equally exquisite kisses.

  Cursed wedding. Cursed trial. Cursed war. I yanked the little weeds out with vengeance, leaving the azaleas—white and pink with a delicate yellow center.

  Who did Fir trust? Who might he work for?

  “Having fun murdering those plants?” Moss asked.

  “I’ll bet you, with one-to-ten odds, that you can’t stay quiet until sunset.”

  Moss laughed. “Oh, I’d love to take you up on that one.”

  “Please go away.”

  “I am leaving; that’s what I was about to tell you.”

  Confused, I sat back on my good ankle and wiped the sweat from my face. Moss nodded to the soldier behind him, a stoic young man in black. “This is Resin. Lady Sulat’s given me until tomorrow evening off for my granddaughter’s first birthday.”

  “Oh, congratulations!” A child surviving infanthood was something to celebrate. “You’ll be presenting her to your ancestors, then?”

  Moss nodded. “I’m afraid my family’s from Hawkfern, so we only have plaques in our shrine. But it will still be a fine evening.”

  “I didn’t know you had grandchildren,” I apologized. I’d never asked him about himself.

  “Well, we’ve already covered that there are plenty of things you don’t know, Dami. It seems to be a downfall of yours.”

  “Then make me a little less ignorant and tell me about your descendants.”

  He smiled. “ I’ve got six living children and the one granddaughter—though by winter, I’ll be the grandfather of three.”

  I could picture him rolling on the floor and chasing grandchildren through the forest. Except children in Askan-Wod probably did something other than play in the woods.