“Any sensible woman would,” said Rema. Yorin’s eyebrows jumped, and she laughed. “Don’t look so shocked. So long as I get the results he wants, Ormun doesn’t care what I say about him.”
“Let’s get you out of this filthy court.” Yorin spoke with a new touch of warmth. “This palace must seem a hovel to you.”
“After three weeks at sea, anywhere is home.”
Yorin’s lips moved in the barest beginnings of a smile. He drew his robes around him and beckoned Rema to follow. “Very well. Come, then, and keep your wits about you. Some of these idiot servants will knock you over without a word of warning.” He trudged across the court, and Rema followed, her mood brightened by the prospect of a challenge. Whatever these people thought they knew of diplomats, they were soon to be surprised.
Chapter Two
Rema pursued Yorin down a wide, torch-lit corridor. Immense wooden beams supported the ceiling, all of them dark and swollen with rot. Yorin stopped before an open door and motioned to the bedchamber beyond it. “We’ll settle you in here for now.”
The room was constructed of meager stone and furnished with a simple bed. Its one interior window overlooked an inner courtyard. Certainly less luxurious than her usual lodgings. Most monarchs feared that if an imperial diplomat slept poorly, the Emperor might take grave offense, and consequently Rema had slept on more silken sheets than she could count. Yet given the condition of the palace, this might well be the best Yorin had to offer.
Rema pushed her luggage against the wall and returned her attention to Yorin, who was playing with his sleeve. Its fabric was worn and stretched—the sign of a man with many worries. “Who do I deal with here? Yourself? An ambassador?”
“King Cedrin and Queen Talitha themselves. You’ve come at a dire time for us, and they’ll hang on your every word. The King is in session, but the Queen is in her private chambers. I’m going to take you there now.”
“How gracious.” Rema dusted some dirt from the hem of her coat. “I usually have to deal with functionaries.”
“All we have around here are disfunctionaries,” said Yorin without smiling. “This way.”
He led her back to the court and directed her to a high stairway in the corner. As they climbed, Rema looked down at the heads of the people below her. “Are they all here for an audience with the King and Queen?”
“Indeed, although only the King gives audiences.” Yorin proceeded slowly with one hand on the balustrade. “The peasants need some assurance in times like this.”
“And who is actually governing?”
“Well, my official response is that the King and Queen are.” A conspiratorial note entered Yorin’s voice. “You seem like a canny woman, however, so let’s just say that I have the authority to handle many affairs. Prince Calan interferes where he can, and Elise likewise does her best to make my job difficult.”
“Elise. That must be our ill-fated princess.”
The stairs ended at the junction of three corridors. A faded black-and-purple carpet ran down their lengths, and a painted mural decorated one of the cracked stone walls. Rema peered at its peeling design, a hunt scene, although the hounds were so faded that they might have been sausages for all she knew.
Yorin drew Rema away from the stairs. “Understand that Elise doesn’t like being called a princess. She’s our court enchantress and skilled at her art. She’s also very displeased with Ormun’s terms, as you might imagine.”
“An enchantress?”
“You don’t believe in magic?”
“I once was sent to parley with the so-called Wizard Kings of…no, I can’t even remember the name of their territory; there were simply too many vowels. It turned out their feared sorcerous army was regular armor covered in pitch and set alight. It had something of the effect of flaming warriors, if an enemy didn’t think to look closely.”
“A few charlatans. Sometimes a farmer sells you a bad egg, but you don’t give up on eggs.”
“You might, if the egg were bad enough.” Rema shook her head. “I don’t discount there’s an odd thread of enchantment in our world, especially in the south. Even Ormun has a court magician. But in my experience the majority of magicians are little more than clever frauds.”
“Elise is genuine. I’ve seen her accomplish some remarkable things.”
“Such as avoiding marriage until the age of twenty-six. Not that I can blame her.”
Yorin’s expression became even more grim. “Let’s not keep the Queen waiting.”
He led Rema to an unassuming wooden door and knocked twice. The handle rattled, the door cracked open and a small girl peered through the gap. After a second of blinking incomprehension, she opened the door wide and smiled in earnest terror.
“Thank you, Alys,” said Yorin. “You can go make yourself useful in the kitchen.”
Alys nodded. She looked at Rema, and her eyes grew huge with wonder. “M’lady, you’re wearing trousers!”
“Alys!” Yorin scowled at her. “Off to the scullery.”
“Yes, Master.” Alys gave Rema a final amazed look before darting back down the hallway. Rema smiled to herself. Given the task ahead, a touch of levity was welcome.
Yorin gestured to the open door. “Talitha wants you alone. I’ll close the door after you.”
Despite numerous flickering candles, a drab gloominess pervaded the Queen’s chamber. No surprise there—palaces of this kind were commonly grim, as if shadows seeped from their walls. Rema crossed the threadbare carpet and stood in the center of the room. Talitha sat in a tall wooden chair, her wrinkled hands upon a closed book on her lap. Bookshelves were stacked high on the walls about her, and a writing desk took up an entire corner. A literate woman. In usual circumstances Rema would be pleased, but it was much harder to outwit the well-read.
Talitha turned her deep-set eyes toward Rema and squinted. She seemed to be in her late fifties, but worn by the demands of rule and motherhood. Her handsome face was sunken amid flabby folds, and an enormous purple gown concealed her body.
“Your Grace, my name is Remela.” Rema made a low bow. “I have been sent to you by Emperor Ormun of the Pale Plains, Heir to the Wide Realms, Lord Master of the City States of Urandal, King of the Lastar and shall we skip the rest and get to the point?”
Talitha gave a brittle laugh. “Indeed.” She bent forward, her chair creaking as her weight shifted. “You sound very young for a diplomat.”
Rema stepped further into the light. “I’m thirty years old, Your Grace.”
“I’ll be damned!” Talitha leaned nearer still, and her chair groaned again—might the Gods keep it intact. “You’re a woman.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Talitha scratched her thinning scalp. “It’s inconceivable. The great barbarian Ormun, capturer and plunderer of women, employs a female diplomat in his service. What’s next, a butcher marrying a pig?”
“I was appointed by his father. Ormun spared me after the coup.”
“Not many survived that incident.” Talitha puckered her lips as her gaze followed the lines of Rema’s uniform. “You must be very good at your job.”
“I’m sure you’ll test me to my limits, Your Grace.”
“Sit opposite me, girl. Don’t call me ‘Your Grace.’ My name is Talitha, and I’ve no patience for groveling.”
Rema settled into a neighboring chair so well-padded it seemed possible it might swallow her. “If we’re to be informal, please call me Rema. I don’t much like my full name.”
“Strange. I thought it pretty.” Talitha ran a crooked finger across her chin. “So, a female diplomat. You wear your uniform well.”
“I know.”
“And you’ve a bit of sass in you too. You’re a striking creature, Rema. Articulate, handsome and with a touch of your own fire.” Talitha’s eyes glittered in the candlelight. “A diplomat who speaks without servility is a very rare thing. I’d venture that you’re one of the Empire’s best.”
“Possibly. I’m certainly
the most attractive.”
“Three weeks to get here. Three weeks to get back. Are we really so important as to deserve a diplomat of your caliber?” Talitha reclined, and her body moved mysteriously beneath her gown. “It’s as if the Emperor thinks we might refuse.”
“The Emperor rarely thinks. For my part, I’m very sure that you’re planning to refuse. That’s why I’m here.”
“Oh? We are a beleaguered little kingdom, and the most powerful man in the world is offering to save us. So tell me, why are you so very sure that I’m not receptive to your generous offer of help?”
“Ormun demands your unwed daughter.” Rema looked into Talitha’s faded blue eyes and found the admiration she’d hoped for. “Had you betrothed her to a Lyornan merchant-king, you could have ended this war already. Clearly she doesn’t want to marry, and you’re perfectly content to keep her.”
“Well, well. I was certain some belligerent emissary would swagger through the door and, with idiot confidence, demand to put my Elise on a cargo ship.”
“I know she isn’t chattel. Ormun has made you a cruel demand, crueler than most men could realize. To have clawed off marriage for so long, she must be a fiercely independent woman.”
“I had five daughters.” Talitha’s tone grew distant. “Three sons, two still living, so there’s someone guaranteed to inherit our mess. Four of the girls were packed off. In return, a little land, some respite from war and grandchildren I’ve never seen. Never will.”
“I understand.”
“Now, Elise.” A fond smile brightened Talitha’s face. “My third daughter. When she reached the age of eight, my husband wanted to marry her to some distant prince in order to secure safer sea trade. Sea trade! Can you believe it? Fortunately, little Elise hid for two months in the palace towers and thus escaped her fate. And it was always the same ever after. My husband kept trying to marry her off, and she’d vanish until the suitor would write back, fed up, to call off the wedding.”
Rema laughed. “How did the King handle it?”
“Poorly,” said Talitha, grinning. “When she was seventeen, a magician visited us at court, in search of our patronage. My husband was unimpressed. Elise, however, was fascinated. She convinced the wizard to sell her a few old books and some odds and ends from his pack. For the next year we hardly saw her, locked away as she was reading those books.”
“A magician?”
“Hush! I’m telling the tale. Now listen. The next year, Cedrin suffered terribly from gout. Elise brought him some foul-smelling remedy she’d mixed. In the morning, he’d never felt better, and, after eighteen years of wanting nothing more than to be rid of her, my husband decided she was worth keeping.”
“She taught herself how to heal gout?”
“Oh, and more. She found her escape, bless her heart, and since then she has served as an official at my court.” Talitha’s eyes grew smoky with affection. “As you may have discerned, I love Elise fiercely. The idea of Ormun snatching her away does not sit well with me in the least.”
Rema remained silent. There’d been no doubt the woman would be difficult to extract, but she’d never expected her to be an enchantress, of all things.
“Oh, I see you thinking,” said Talitha. “You’re determined to pry her away from us. It’s your duty, and you’re such a surprise that I can’t bring myself to detest you for it. But mark my words, this war will be over before you convince me to surrender her to that marauding rapist you call an Emperor. How many wives does he have now?”
“Nineteen.”
Sarcasm darkened Talitha’s voice. “I’m sure he treats them all with care and respect.”
“I share your reservations, but don’t forget that your kingdom needs our help. There are many more lives at stake here.” Sensing that the conversation was over, Rema rose to her feet and straightened her coat. “I appreciate having had the privilege of your attention.”
“Yes, yes. Yorin will arrange all the comforts you require, or rather all that we can offer. Don’t expect to drink from cups of pearl. My husband will see you this evening, and you can tell him about how terrible the war is and how badly we need your soldiers, and so on.” Talitha gave an exasperated sigh. “If you truly want to help us, why not take your coaxing little voice to Lyorn and tell them to leave us be?”
Rema bowed her head. “They’re on the cusp of victory. Keeping them from their kill would take a better diplomat than I.”
“Well, if you find one, send him my way.” Talitha opened her book again. “Or her! Of all the unexpected things…”
Rema left the chamber and closed the door quietly behind her. Yorin was fidgeting in the corridor outside. “I’m surprised,” he said. “I’d expected her to evict you much sooner.”
Rema returned his questioning stare. “You must understand this trade is necessary. The war will destroy you without our help.”
“Any fool can see that. And while Elise is well-loved at court, not least by me, she is also a source of conflict.” One of Yorin’s mobile eyebrows crept upward. “A lifetime of unruliness has shaped her character in a wild direction.”
“Ormun has a talent for subduing unruly wives.” A familiar ache crept into Rema’s chest, and she took a moment to steady her breath. “This isn’t my finest moment as a diplomat, Yorin.”
Sympathy softened Yorin’s tired eyes. “Ah, well. That’s monarchs for you. Despite our wiser heads, they all do what they want in the end.” He motioned for them to walk. “Come. Let’s not chat in front of the door. She may be old, but her hearing can be sharp when you’d least like it to be.”
Yorin’s cloth sandals padded softly, a gentle accompaniment to the sharp clicking of Rema’s high leather boots. Just as her uniform was intended to convey the wealth of the Empire, Yorin’s simple garb said as much about the poverty of Danosha. A lesser diplomat would have drawn pleasure from the difference, but Rema knew better. This struggling kingdom needed all the help she could give.
Before they could reach the stairs, a young woman emerged from the stairwell. Her pale, rounded face was obscured by a tangle of waist-length black hair. Behind the untidy locks, her eyes shone an intense silver-grey, and her full lips were turned in a pout. The cut of her red dress exposed one of her shoulders. As she walked toward Rema and Yorin, the scarlet fabric tightened against the curve of her ample thigh, and Rema’s pulse stirred.
“Elise,” said Yorin, nodding to the arrival. “This is Remela, the Emperor’s emissary.”
“My lady.” Rema gave only a small bow. If this woman objected to being labeled a princess, then it seemed fair to spare her the deep bow Rema reserved for royalty. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Please call me Rema.”
Elise examined Rema with a puzzled tilt of her head. She gave a deep, rich laugh, and the sullen look cleared from her face. “I don’t believe it. You’re a woman!” She took a step closer. “And a pretty one too. I was expecting some imperial toad with mustaches.”
Rema rubbed her upper lip. “I shaved my mustaches this morning. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“You’re amusing too.” Elise’s voice warmed with pleasure. “I’ve never seen a woman in trousers. They’re very becoming on you.”
“They certainly drew attention in the city.” Rema smiled, and Elise’s cheeks pinked. “But I’m used to it.”
“Well, this is a problem.” Elise folded her arms. “I was expecting you to be loathsome. How am I going to hate you now?” With her lips parted in appreciation, she gave Rema a second lingering inspection. “How did you do it? I’ve never seen a woman diplomat.”
“That’s a long story.” As enjoyable as Elise’s interest was, indulging it would only make matters more difficult. “I’m sure we don’t have time.”
“Oh, are you in that much of a hurry to abduct me?” Elise pouted again. “To take me to that famous gentleman Ormun of the Pale Plains, who will hold me tenderly and stroke my hair as I fall asleep?” Temper flashed behind her eyes, and she put a
hand on her hip. “I’ll never allow it.”
“I think you’ll find that I’m very persuasive.”
Elise lowered her lashes. “I imagine a job like yours requires a talented tongue.”
“I’ve been told mine is exceptional.” Damn those silver eyes.
Elise’s breath quickened, and more color rose in her cheeks. “You’re fascinating. I need to know all about you.” She turned to Yorin. “What are the dinner arrangements?”
“I don’t know for certain.” Yorin spoke with obvious irritation. “I expect she’ll dine with your parents.”
“What a shame. Rema, will you join me in my tower tonight for dessert? I’ll be a welcome relief from my dull parents, I promise.”
“It would be my pleasure,” said Rema.
“Oh, the pleasure will be mutual. Yorin, see she’s well taken care of in the meanwhile.”
“Of course she will be,” said Yorin, his brows dragging almost to his nose. “What do you take me for?”
“I shan’t answer that.” Elise winked at Rema. “By the way, don’t get too excited when my father leaps at the chance to sell me into slavery. Until you persuade my mother, you’ll never get anywhere. And even then, I’ll never go. Is your Emperor a patient man?”
“Far from it,” said Rema.
“Then you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” As Elise walked off, her large hips moved suggestively beneath her dress, and it took some effort for Rema to look away.
“She’s off to her tower,” said Yorin. “If you’re unlucky, she’ll put a hex on you and make your job harder than it already is.”
“I think I’m hexed already. That dress…”
Yorin’s eyebrows twitched. “Yes, it was obvious you two enjoyed each other’s company a little more than was natural. If you want to stay in the King’s good graces, don’t remind him why his daughter is so determined to stay unmarried.”
Even Rema, expert diplomat though she was, couldn’t hold back a smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Take my advice. Keep away from her altogether and focus on his grace. I’ll put the right words in his ear, and then all three of us will persuade the Queen. She’ll see the necessity eventually.” Yorin’s voice strengthened with urgency. “This war goes very badly, Rema. Hundreds die every day. If you’re half the diplomat you ought to be, then you’ll focus on what matters.”
The Diplomat Page 2