The Pyramid Waltz

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Maia gave a half-hidden salute to Ellias and Elody, twins of love and beauty, as she passed. Katya hid a grin. The twin patrons of lovers couldn’t help Maia unless she learned how to speak to Brutal without blushing. If he’d been there, Pennynail would have made a great flourish to Jack and Jan, twins of skill and deftness. Katya made the gesture for him. All of them saluted Fah and Fay, spirits of luck, the twin statues perched precariously atop a stone egg.

  They rode to the rear of the palace, to the royal stable, and Katya left Brutal, Averie, and Maia with the gear and the grooms. The princess couldn’t be seen tending her horse or her weapons or her kill. Getting out of brushing horses and handling dead animals were two perks she could deal with.

  Still in her leather hunting gear, she passed through the halls of the palace to its interior and the winter apartments of the royal family. Pyramids set in the walls glittered as she passed, and she wondered for the hundredth time what they would do to an unauthorized visitor. She resisted the urge to touch her pyramid necklace as she always did when she thought of magic.

  The guards at the entryway to her parents’ rooms saluted with a snap as Katya passed. She heard her father’s deep voice echoing down the hall and headed for the sitting room. Even after hearing him, she paused to knock at the door, recalling a time she’d slipped her nursemaid and seen her parents in a situation that was then confusing, but now unthinkably embarrassing.

  “Come,” her father boomed.

  King Einrich Nar Umbriel stood upon a wooden block while a tailor fussed with the robes that draped him. Katya’s father paid him no mind, leaving the fussing to Queen Catirin Van Umbriel, who supervised all aspects of the draping. Even while going about such mundane tasks, the two exuded an air of royalty that Katya strived to live up to. In her heart, though, they’d always be Ma and Da.

  “Ah, Katya,” Da said. After a nod in her direction, he continued dictating to a clerk at his side who wrote hurriedly upon an untidy sheaf of papers.

  “Too much velvet,” Ma said to the tailor. Though her mother only stood as high as the tailor’s shoulder, her bearing gave her a commanding presence.

  The tailor cocked his head to and fro. “Purple is very regal.”

  “There’s regal and then there’s looking like a window dressing.”

  The tailor re-draped the velvet into a shorter, knee-length cape and folded it back from Da’s shoulders so that it wouldn’t meet in front, showing off the tacked-together fabric that would be a new suit for the Courtiers Ball.

  Ma tapped her chin. “A credit to your art.” She smiled, and the tailor bowed nearly to the floor.

  Katya ducked her head to cover a grin. One minute Ma was calling the tailor’s creation a window dressing, and the next she was calling it art, but the smile made the tailor forget about the former. She couldn’t stop politicking, even with tradesmen.

  She turned to Katya with arched brows, a signal Katya knew of old. Anytime in front of witnesses was a perfect time for a “fight.” “Why do you even bother coming in here dressed like that, Katyarianna?”

  Katya sagged against the woodwork and shrugged. She could do disapproving mother and disinterested daughter in her sleep. “I’ll dress up when there’s something worth dressing up for.”

  “The Courtiers Ball is worth dressing up for. Your brother’s impending visit is worth dressing up for.”

  “The ball’s not for another few nights. The visit not for half a month or so.”

  “Still—” Ma started. Da cleared his throat and inclined his head to the clerk and tailor. The first was still writing, his tongue protruding from the side of his mouth. The latter was doing a poor job feigning ignorance. His eyes darted at them while he gathered up loose fabric. Da’s cough and look guaranteed the story would get out. “And then the king had to silence them!” the tailor would say. It was like living inside a complex ballet.

  “That’ll do for now, Maxwell,” Ma said. The tailor picked up his kit and stowed everything in a rolling basket before he exited in a rush. Da finished what he was saying to the clerk and then excused the man, waiting until the clerk picked up all the papers and vanished out the doors.

  As he stepped down from the block, Da kissed Ma on the cheek. “Thank you, my love, for saving me from looking like a window dressing.”

  “The duties of a queen are many and varied.”

  “And you.” Da gave Katya a squeeze. “You have made boredom into an art form.”

  “I was just thinking that,” Katya said. Her mother squeezed her hand. For all their fake arguing, Ma really cared about her clothing, and Katya’s leather outfit was dusty. Katya knew she’d get a hug when she was clean.

  Ma looked her up and down. “You’re all right?”

  “Fit and hale.”

  “Well, then.” Da sat on the tailor’s block. “Pull up a chair and let’s hear it.”

  Katya pulled her stiff tabard out of her belt and over her head and laid it to the side. “We caught the Shadow, although he’s quite ordinary-looking for someone with such a nefarious name.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “The usual, that there are more of his kind and that I have no idea how high his group has penetrated, but this time, I believe it.”

  “The bastard has to have connections to have eluded you this long,” Da said.

  “Language.” Ma stared off into space, and Katya knew what she was thinking. The second child of the monarchy had always headed the Order of Vestra, protecting the king, queen, and firstborn heir. If she fell in combat or had to assume her brother’s duties, the Order would go to Maia. That knowledge, that the Order would live on, never seemed to stop Ma’s worries.

  “I’m fine,” Katya said quietly.

  “Of course you are,” Ma said, but she didn’t seem convinced.

  Da patted Katya’s knee, three quick smacks. “Yes, of course you are, my girl. Crowe is bringing the Shadow in?”

  “With Pennynail.”

  Ma made a face, her mouth turning down.

  “I know you don’t approve of his fashion sense, Ma.”

  “I don’t trust people who hide behind masks.”

  Da lifted a hand. “Let’s not start that again. The girl has a right to choose her comrades.”

  Ma shook her head but didn’t say anything else about it. “You’ll be at the Courtiers Ball.”

  “Of course.”

  “Any idea what you’ll be wearing?”

  “My usual.” As her mother frowned, Katya hurried on with, “Suitably embroidered and outstanding. I’m not a complete novice to this game, you know.”

  Da prodded her arm. “Lady Hilda still chasing you?”

  “Yes, and my excuses for putting her off are getting pretty feeble.”

  “A good-looking woman.”

  Ma gave him a harsh look. “And ten years too old for you, Katya, as well as being what they’d call well used.”

  “Court gossip,” Da said.

  Ma gave him a harder look, and Katya had to wonder how her father had lived this long. “Oh, she’s had lovers,” Katya said, “but that should add to her appeal. Beautiful, experienced, and willing.”

  “And a backstabbing snake who only wants you for the influence it will give her,” Da said.

  They both stared at him.

  “What? I’m not a moron, you know.”

  “I knew there was a reason you survived so long,” Katya said. “Everyone knows Hilda’s intentions. If I gave in, I would be acknowledging that it’s only a string of pretty lovers that I’m after. That would add to the persona I’ve created, but…” She shook her head.

  “You can still have your integrity,” Ma said.

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a normal conversation for a nineteen-year-old girl to have with her parents?”

  Da shrugged. “To a nineteen-year-old princess in charge of a secret order tasked to protect the monarchy with magic and brawn, a secret which she can only share with a trusted few, normal
conversations are coveted and often unfulfilled dreams.”

  “Speaking of,” Katya said, “I’d better go. I’ve got to get cleaned up, laze around the halls for a bit, and then put together a plan of action.”

  “Do you think Crowe will learn more from this Shadow?” Da asked.

  “He’s the best pyradisté we have,” Ma said. “If he can’t learn anything more…”

  “Then we’ll have to do it the really old-fashioned way,” Katya said.

  Da rubbed his hands together. “Ears to the ground, eh? And once you find a source of information, you pound him into jelly until he tells you what you want to know!”

  Ma grimaced. “Really, Einrich.”

  “Sometimes, I envy you, my girl, truly I do.”

  Katya had no intention of pounding anyone into anything, but her father’s exuberance was catching. “I won’t let you down, Da.”

  “’Course you won’t. If you can evade Lady Hilda’s poisonous tentacles, you can do anything. I have all the faith in the world.”

  Chapter Two: Starbride

  Starbride wished for the hundredth time that she was anything but a courtier. The other young women clustered together with the young men, comparing fashion, talking of how exciting events at the palace would be, of the connections they could make, of the attachments court could bring. The palace at Marienne provided a host of future spouses, to say nothing of future lovers.

  The thought of using another person for her own gain turned Starbride’s stomach as much as the current fashion—layers of petal-like, pastel, gossamer fabric, a trend credited to the current Farradain queen. Petite, thin women carried it off. Tall, slender women could wear it well. Even tall and curvy could manage, but the layers turned short curvy women like Starbride into special-occasion cakes. She fought not to cross her arms over one of her mother’s custom-designed dresses. At least there wasn’t a mirror handy; she didn’t have to see how much like a cupcake she looked. She blamed her mother’s sweet tooth as much as her mother’s fashion sense.

  Starbride rolled her head from side to side, stretching muscles cramped from her long carriage ride as she waited for the tour of the palace to start. At least her dress was a soft cream color that complemented her reddish brown skin and black hair. If it had been one of the oranges or pinks that went with pale Farradain skin and hair, Starbride wouldn’t have gotten out of her carriage.

  A middle-aged man and woman eventually emerged from the palace doors. “This way, young charges.” The woman gave them a smile that seemed a little wicked to Starbride’s eyes. “I am Adele Van Nereem, and this is my husband Claude.”

  Together, the couple bowed and curtsied, and the answering greeting from the new courtiers was a gentle swish of skirts and fabric. “My wife and I are lifetime courtiers.” The wink of mischief in Claude’s eye matched his wife’s smile. “Like some of the nobles here in Marienne, we stayed in court instead of departing after our connections were made. We’ve dedicated our lives to instructing new courtiers in how the palace operates.”

  Starbride heard a few sniggers around her. “If they’re not nobility and they haven’t left,” a nearby woman said, “they obviously haven’t gotten anywhere in the world.”

  “Perhaps they’re provincial,” a man in the same group suggested. Those surrounding him tittered, and Starbride got a few snide glances herself.

  Whether they heard or not, the Nereems didn’t lose their smiles, and it soon became clear that they knew what they were doing. The palace was a maze, and the Nereems seemed to take pleasure in confusing their young charges with a lightning tour. Perhaps their real job was to teach humility. Starbride wished she could tell them she understood, but she was having a hard enough time keeping track of their directions.

  Here was the main hall with its many staircases and hallways; this way to the courtiers’ new rooms; this way to the dining halls or music halls or dancing halls; somewhere in that direction was the royal apartments; there the stables; there the kitchens; servants’ quarters scattered here and there.

  Starbride didn’t catch most of what they said, and by the confused faces surrounding her, she wasn’t alone. The Nereems encouraged the new arrivals to mingle with established courtiers whenever they could, but Starbride dismissed that idea immediately. There was one other woman from Allusia in this batch of courtiers, and if the frosty reception they both received was any indication, their chances of political alliances were slim to none. Ah well, it meant more time to devote to the law books. Starbride hadn’t traveled so many miles into a foreign country just to meet people.

  She ignored the Nereems’ words on courtly life and studied the architecture and tapestries, the small statues, and the representations of the ten spirits that were everywhere. She knew them already, though she hadn’t grown up with them. Like all aspects of Farradain culture, they had seeped into her homeland like a creeping tide of marmalade.

  Allusia allowed Farraday into their land over one hundred years ago, to the mountains where the pale-skinned outlanders harvested the crystal to make pyramids. Some of the Allusian warlords had traded with them; others who attempted to drive them out were crushed by their army. The remaining Allusians organized to meet the Farradains on equal footing, learning more about these people, about their laws, but there was always more to learn. One hundred years hadn’t solved all their problems.

  Starbride raised her chin and set her shoulders back. As the descendent of the founder of Newhope, Allusia’s trading capital, Starbride had every right to be at court. She lagged behind the tour, hoping to spot the famous Farradain library, but if it lurked behind any of the numerous doors, it didn’t make itself known.

  Once the Nereems assigned their rooms, Starbride ducked into hers without a word to anyone. Dawnmother stood at the small wardrobe, unpacking the traveling valise. She’d tied her hair in a simple horse’s tail at her nape, not a black strand out of place. She pointed to a light snack that waited on the room’s one table.

  “How do you do that, Dawn?” Starbride gestured at the snacks. “How do you always know where to find the food?”

  Dawnmother shrugged. “The fruit is excellent. You don’t want to continue the tour?”

  “Ha! They won’t include the library. Why should I bother?” She popped a berry into her mouth, and the sweet juice rushed over her tongue.

  “How will you catch a spouse if you don’t deploy the nets?” Dawnmother asked. Her falsetto matched Starbride’s mother to perfection.

  Starbride plucked at her layered dress. “I hadn’t thought of using this as an actual net. It would be more effective than as a dress.”

  Dawnmother shrugged again.

  “Don’t tell me you’re partial to this style! When the luggage gets here, you can have all of Mother’s cupcakes.”

  “I think they look more like meringues.”

  Starbride had to laugh, but when the luggage did arrive, Dawnmother started to unpack and then stopped. “Oh,” she said, and the one word hung in the air.

  Starbride’s stomach curdled. “She didn’t.”

  “She did. All the clothes you chose are gone, just like in your valise.” She pulled out another frothy dress, this one a light mint. “There’s nothing but these dresses.”

  “No trousers?”

  Dawnmother rummaged through the trunk. “No shirts, no bodices, and definitely no trousers.”

  “That is wonderful! Now I’ll look ridiculous every hour of the day.” She eyed Dawnmother’s comfortable traveling suit, loose-fitting trousers and a high-necked coat. “What about your clothes?”

  “I have a servant’s figure.”

  “But you’re tall and thin; you’d look much better in these layers of spun sugar than I do!”

  “We could have them taken in for me, but we have no material to let out the hips and bust of mine for you. Besides, you can’t be seen in something as poor as this.”

  “I don’t care what—”

  Dawnmother interrupted with an u
praised hand. “My life for you and also the truth. You must appear as a Farradain to gain their respect, and as much as you hate your mother’s clothes, the dresses make you closer to them. You wish to do what’s best for our people?” She held up the mint dress again. “This is one of the ways in which to do it.”

  Starbride bit her lip but nodded. “You speak sense, as always.”

  “Thank Horsestrong you see it that way.”

  “If I were Darkstrong instead, I would have staked you out in the sun for speaking the truth.”

  “But you listened to the old tales and picked the correct brother to emulate. Now.” She cracked her knuckles. “Let’s repair your hair, and then we can split up to look for the library.”

  Starbride shrugged in resignation, and gave herself over to Dawnmother’s fingers.

  Chalk would have come in handy, or charcoal, anything to mark her way through the palace maze. Even if she had marked it, Starbride was certain one of the many people in livery would have scrubbed it off. Where in the world could all the rushing uniforms be going in such a hurry? How many of them simply endeavored to look busy? On her next exploration, she vowed to bring pen and paper and make a map.

  Starbride turned another corridor and recited in her head the way back to her room: two rights, three lefts, second right. When she noticed that the carpeted runner in the passageway had changed, she moved to the edge of the hall, out of the way. It was such a little thing, but after the sameness of the hallways, it had to mean something. Perhaps she’d entered another wing. Servants hurried through the new area with the same single-minded purpose, but now there were leather uniforms mixed with the livery, and down the corridor, she smelled the stink of horses. Ah, she’d found the wing closest to the stables, the last place the library would be.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a leather-clad man.

  “Sorry, miss, can’t stop.” He turned as he spoke, never breaking stride, even while backward.

  Starbride just refrained from one of her uncle’s favorite swears. She’d hoped the leather-wearing servants, guardsmen perhaps, would be in less of a hurry than the liveried servants who had given the same answer. She’d also tried one of the many housekeepers, the men and women in stern black who carried rings of keys at their hips, but all she’d gotten from them was “If it’s not my section, I can’t help.”