The Diplomat

by French, Sophia

  “Let’s hear her talk. Elise, how do you like my palace?”

  “I was disappointed,” said Elise, insolence worming through her voice. “Apparently your walls aren’t really solid gold at all.”

  “Interesting.” Ormun stroked his chin. “She’s quite tall for a woman, isn’t she? Just as tall as you, Rema. Good handfuls of flesh on her too. We’ll have to get that mess of hair cut, but those eyes, though. Quite special. Not one of my other wives has silver eyes.”

  “My eyes are grey. It’s hardly unusual.”

  Rema waited for Ormun’s anger. “My dear,” he said. “Please wait your turn.” His gaze had grown colder, but there was no sign yet of the twisting muscle in his cheek that always marked the beginning of his anger. He turned his attention back to Rema. “This court has been a mess since you left, dear. Haran skulks about day and night, trying to turn me against you. Don’t you, Haran?”

  “Not in the least,” said Haran, raising his head haughtily. “I have nothing but respect for our most esteemed diplomat.”

  “Ah, how he loathes you!” Ormun grinned, revealing his chipped front tooth. “And your own friends are very noisy too, Rema. It’s back and forth, back and forth like barking dogs. I’m so glad you’re here. Now you can respond to Haran’s accusation last week that you’re a…what was it? Tenderhearted little idiot?”

  “That’s fine,” said Rema. “I’ve called him much worse.”

  Haran licked his dry lips. “Remela, you can’t deny you were unwise to deprive us of your expertise for so long and on such an insignificant errand. The fate of a mean little kingdom is nothing to us—”

  “Did you just imply that our Emperor’s future bride is insignificant, Haran?”

  “I…of course not.”

  Ormun clapped Rema on the shoulder. “Ah, how I’d missed your gift of making Haran seem like a fool.”

  “He needs no help in that regard,” said Rema, smiling at Haran, who returned the smile with venomous insincerity.

  “How fun things will be here again.” Ormun rubbed his hands together. “Now, the matter of my future bride. Look at you, Elise, you peculiar vision. How old are you?”

  “Ninety,” said Elise. “It’s amazing what cosmetics can do.”

  “You can tell jokes. Well, I suppose I can excuse one or two. How old is she, Rema?”

  “Twenty-six,” said Rema, her heart aching from the shock of hearing Elise speak so irreverently.

  “Very late to be married. Very late indeed. Is there a reason for that? Is she barren? Skin disease?”

  “Both,” said Elise. “And my feet are webbed. At night I turn into a frog and flop about everywhere, shrieking at people and chewing on furniture.”

  “Another joke. Elise, you should understand that I don’t need my wives to be witty.”

  Elise opened her mouth, and Rema interrupted quickly with the first thing that came into her head. “Elise had never seen a scarab before, and she saw one on the way here, in the city gardens.”

  “How grand that must have been for you, Elise!”

  “I was so excited I just screamed and rolled on the ground,” said Elise, her voice radiating scorn. “In my giddiness, I couldn’t stop screaming, and Rema had to stuff leaves in my mouth to keep me quiet.”

  “That…” Ormun raised his finger, his mouth open. “I don’t think that’s true. Rema, am I going to have trouble with this one?”

  Haran gave a broad smile. Nothing would have given Rema greater pleasure at that moment than to cross the room and bang his head into the table. “Surely not,” she said. “In the time I’ve spent with her, she has proven to be a demure and charming companion.”

  “She doesn’t seem very demure to me.” Ormun lifted a strand of Elise’s hair and stared at it. “Elise, you must be thrilled to come here to all this splendor. You’ll live in luxury, eating only the finest food and drinking only the finest wines, as befits my wife.”

  “It must be hard to split the food and drink among twenty,” said Elise. “Do you pass around a glass and we each take a tiny sip?”

  Ormun’s cheek twitched. “You’re quickly becoming tiresome with your chatter. I want you to appreciate that a wife is an ornament to her husband, not a jester. You are very ornamental. Don’t give me reason to change that.”

  “If I’m so ornamental, perhaps you should have me framed and hung on a wall.”

  Ormun sighed as his eyes clouded. “How tragic. I’ve had to discipline many of my brides, but rarely within minutes of meeting them.” He reached for his belt and unhooked a mahogany rod. From its end dangled five short, knotted whips. “I’d hate to damage your face so soon. Take off your dress.”

  Rema’s insides spasmed, and a cold sweat broke on her body. Haran smirked, Sothis looked away and Elise took a step backward, her eyes wide. “You can’t be serious. I was only joking.”

  “That’s why I’m punishing you.” Ormun’s tone conveyed more regret than anger. “Don’t run, please. Then I’d have to whip you for that as well.”

  “Brother, stop,” said Rema, her pulse racing. Ormun turned to her, his mouth rounded in surprise. “This is my fault. I didn’t properly inform her how to comport herself in front of an Emperor. As I’m responsible for her actions, it is only proper that you whip me instead.”

  “That sounds improbable, sister. We should confer with our torturous legal mind. Haran, does it seem appropriate that Rema be punished for the indiscretion of my bride?”

  “Her argument is sound,” said Haran. “Due to a lack of proper care in her duty, the punishment should be meted to her. I agree with the verdict.”

  “How it pains me to do this. Rema, I’ll ask you to remove your coat and shirt.”

  “My Emperor,” said Sothis, taking a step forward. “This is truly not necessary.”

  “But she herself argued to me that it’s necessary.” Ormun stroked the hilt of his whip. “I am persuaded. Rema, off with it.”

  Rema nodded and unbuttoned her coat with numb fingers. “No!” said Elise. “Don’t hurt her!” She stepped between them, and Ormun lifted his whip.

  “You’ve misbehaved again. I told you, don’t talk until spoken to. As Rema is responsible for your misdeeds, that means I’ll now have to strike her twice.” Anger finally broke through his composure, and his voice seethed. “I’m very fond of Rema, whereas I don’t give a damn about you. If I have to punish her any further for your stupidity, I’ll be very displeased.”

  “It’s fine, Elise,” said Rema. She faced the wall and pulled her shirt over her head. The worst part of it was imagining Haran watching her, his face twisted in a triumphant leer. She fixed her eyes on the wall, lowered her head and tensed her fists. Ormun stepped close behind her, and the muscles in her body tightened in anticipation.

  Just at the moment she expected the blow to land, she heard his voice again, tender and curious. “Why, your back has a fine red mark on it. Whatever happened to you?”

  “An accident on the ship. I was clumsy around a hook.”

  “Poor dear. I truly hate to see you get hurt.” The cords shrieked, and her back burst into five fingers of pain that quickly became one raging line of agony. Her teeth clenched tight, barely missing her tongue, and she stifled a scream in the back of her throat.

  “One more.” The second blow was far worse, a pain wrapped in further pain, and for a moment Rema’s vision went black and she swooned on her feet. She stumbled forward, hands meeting the wall, and blinked the tears from her eyes.

  “There,” said Ormun. “It’s all over. I’d ask you to put your clothes back on, but I imagine the pain would be a little much right now.” Rema sank to her knees, an arm around her breasts. It felt as if she were wearing a cloak of wildfire. “I suppose you’d better get your back looked at. I’ll send you off to the healers, and Elise and I can talk.”

  “No.” Despite the pain, Rema managed to stand. She turned with her arm still across her torso. Haran watched in amusement, but Sothis kept hi
s face averted. “I’ll stay. If she misbehaves again, you’ll need me here to receive her punishment.”

  Ormun laughed, and his delight echoed through the chamber. “Once you commit to something, you never let go, do you? And that’s why you’re better than any of these spineless lackeys.” He frowned at Elise. “But here, she’s crying. Why are you crying, Princess?”

  “She’s never seen anyone punished,” said Rema. The pain permeated her lungs, lending a quivering ache to her voice. “Naturally, it’s frightened her.”

  “Understandable. It’s grotesque, though.”

  It was clear that Elise was trying to restrain her sobs, but with little success. Tears ran freely down her cheeks, and her shoulders shuddered.

  “This is supposed to be a happy moment.” Ormun frowned at his whip, as if surprised to find himself holding it, before returning it to his belt. “Rema, can I trouble you to take her away until she’s recovered from her fright? I have matters to attend to, and poor Sothis is looking quite distressed. Perhaps we might attempt this again tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Rema shivered despite her best attempts to compose herself. “I’ll return to you tomorrow with a much happier bride.”

  “Good! Don’t forget your clothes.” Ormun raised Elise’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. She stared at him, her eyes blank behind her tears. “You’re a striking woman, Elise, and I look forward to the day we are man and wife. But do take care to listen to Rema as she explains to you how to properly behave. You will give her that explanation, won’t you?”

  Rema nodded. She was capable of nothing more. Her limbs were weak, and it felt as if she might collapse at any moment.

  “You’re smarting, aren’t you? Please get those wounds seen to, I’d hate for them to fester. Well, you may go. It’s such a joy to see you again, you have no idea!” Ormun turned and spread his arms. “Haran, Sothis, you scoundrels, where were we?”

  Elise hurried to gather Rema’s clothes, and she steadied Rema as they moved into the courtyard. As Elise closed the door, Rema lurched toward a stone bench intended for visitors. She lay across it and closed her eyes. Her back sang a chorus of suffering.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Elise, her voice broken and shaking. “I did this to you, I should have listened…”

  “Yes, you should have.” Rema pressed her cheek to the stone, hoping that the chill might distract her from the pain.

  Elise knelt beside Rema and clutched her hand. “Do you want me to take you to the healers?”

  “Forget them.” It was a wonder Rema could still speak, given the sharp-clawed monster hunched on her back. “You’re my healer, Elsie. Did you bring medicine in your trunk?”

  “Yes, a little.”

  “Then numb this pain so that I can put on my shirt.” There was no way to know if Ormun took a carnal thrill from stripping women and subjecting them to pain—that mind was beyond deciphering—but there was no doubting Haran had found titillation in it, and that fact magnified her indignation a hundredfold. And it could so easily have been Elise naked and screaming under that whip…

  Rema’s anger settled into cold determination. She would never let that happen.

  Elise spread an ointment over the wound, and a welcome coolness extinguished the worst of the flame. “I’m so stupid. It was all because I was jealous that woman kissed you. I dream night and day of kissing you, and she did it as if it were the easiest thing in the world.”

  Rema lifted her head as Elise held a vial to her mouth. She sipped the liquid, and a tingling sensation entered her limbs. “Is there much bleeding?”

  “The second strike drew a little. Ormun was very precise.”

  Rema sat upright and struggled into her shirt, grimacing as the fabric flattened against her tender back. “The blood never washes out. That’s two shirts ruined.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.” Elise settled beside Rema on the bench. “You suffered so that I wouldn’t have to. I’m an idiot and a coward.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. Blame him.”

  “I do.” Elise tightened her hands into fists. “He’ll pay for that. He’ll suffer like no man has ever suffered.”

  “You can vent your wrath later.” Rema touched Elise lightly on the cheek. “For now, let’s just catch our breath and be glad that we’re still alive.”

  “I was so cruel to that beautiful little woman. Her exquisiteness made me feel so homely, and you gave me no warning that you had a lover.”

  “You’re every bit as beautiful as she,” said Rema, glancing into the corridor as she spoke. “We can’t talk here, not like this. We should go to my chambers. They’re not far.”

  “There’s just one thing that confuses me. You called him brother, but surely that can’t be…”

  “That’s a long story that requires a clear mind to tell. Will you help me up?”

  Elise nodded, and she aided Rema to her feet before taking the handle of the trunk. They walked together, Rema often stumbling and pausing to regain her balance. “It’s so quiet,” said Elise as they moved down an echoing hall decorated with curling sandstone columns.

  “It becomes quieter by the day. After the coup, many of the officials were never replaced. Their families, assistants, students, all of them gone. Ormun believes he can make do with his own delusions and a handful of advisors who are always at each other’s throats.”

  “What about servants?”

  “There are few, mostly kitchen staff and errand runners. The majority of the work is done now by slaves, who work in the early morning while the court sleeps. Ormun likes the palace to seem as if maintained by an invisible hand. Up this little flight of stairs here, come.”

  Each marble step was wrought with patterns reminiscent of clouds, and at the head of the balustrade rested a marble sculpture of a lion’s head, its lips curled in a snarl. “There’s nothing plain in this place, is there?” said Elise, following Rema up the stairs.

  After navigating another ornate corridor, they reached a broad door within a thin marble arch. “My chambers,” said Rema. “It should be unlocked, if Artunos has been here already.” She tested the handle and exhaled in relief as it turned. “Here we are.”

  The window of Rema’s bedchamber overlooked one of the palace’s inner gardens, and dwindling evening light filled the room. Her large bed was heaped with velvet pillows, and a thick, intricately-styled rug covered much of the stone floor. One wall was taken up by a fireplace stocked with fresh logs. “Do you ever have to light that?” said Elise, peering up the chimney. “It’s so warm here.”

  “I find I need it, but you’ll probably be able to walk about naked in our winter.”

  The cicadas began their shrill chirping in the garden below. In less than an hour, the air would be thrumming with the noise of insects. Rema crossed to the window and inhaled the blossom-steeped taste of the evening. Even though the afternoon had long waned, the day’s heat still lingered in the air, bringing with it pleasant memories of hours spent idle under the sun. Her back pulsed again, and she steadied herself against the sill.

  “I have to lie down,” she said, retreating to the bed and reclining on her side.

  Elise sat among the pillows and lifted Rema’s head into her lap. “We need to get the rest of my luggage here, with all my books and supplies. Not just to treat you, but to take care of him.”

  “I’d be careful what you do.” Rema pressed her cheek against the soft, warm curve of Elise’s stomach. Now here was a sufficient compensation for so much pain. “Ormun has a court magician of his own. I still don’t understand how this magic of yours works, but I expect he has ways of protecting Ormun from whatever you have in mind.”

  “There must be something we can do. Rema, this is ridiculous. You want us to see him again tomorrow and curtsy? We’re better than that, my love. We have to fight.”

  “I know. And my back hurts again. Make it stop.”

  “Endure a little.” Elise stroked the back of Rema’s ear.
“Too much medicine at once won’t be good for you.”

  Rema closed her eyes, and drowsiness spiraled toward her. The pain became a memory and faded, replaced by a sense of being held and comforted, and for a moment she glimpsed the faces of her mother and father—they were afraid for her, but proud, too, of the stand she’d taken. The images washed away, and her mind faded with it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rema opened her eyes. The room was suffused by a dim red light. A chorus of insects piped outside the room, whirring their wings and celebrating the coming night. The warmth of Elise’s body was still behind her head. How long had she slept in her lap?

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor, their sound mixed with a familiar jingling. The door swung open to reveal Jalaya’s frightened face. “Rema! Haran has been telling everyone you were whipped…oh, hello…”

  “Come in, Jalaya,” said Rema. “I’m well enough for visitors.”

  Jalaya sidled into the room and closed the door, her bright eyes switching between Elise and Rema, whose head was still in Elise’s lap. A single wrinkle of bemusement appeared between Jalaya’s eyebrows. “Elsie is a healer,” said Rema. “She’s taking care of me.”

  Jalaya smiled as if that were explanation enough. “I hope you’re not badly hurt.” She eyed the bed, clearly trying to determine how to appropriately involve herself, before finally sitting cross-legged beside Elise and placing a hand on Rema’s shoulder. In response, Elise began to defiantly stroke Rema’s hair.

  “Maybe I should lie across both your laps,” Rema said, smiling at the absurdity of the competition. “It would seem fairer.”

  “As your healer, I advise against being across more than one lap,” said Elise, and Jalaya replied with a peal of melodious laughter. Elise’s frown wavered—unsurprisingly. It would take a stern soul indeed to be immune to the sound of Jalaya’s merriment.

  Rema sat upright and winced as her back straightened. “Are you in much pain?” asked Jalaya.

  “I’ll be fine. Elsie has cared for me well.”

  Jalaya took one of Elise’s hands and pressed it to her chest. “Thank you for treating Rema. I hope you don’t blame yourself for what happened.”