A Cold Wind

by CJ Brightley

  “Is he a good swordsman?”

  I hesitated. “Good enough.” That was true, if a bit generous.

  She smiled delightedly. “You mean he’s not especially good.”

  I kept my eyes lowered so that I wouldn’t laugh. A soldier doesn’t laugh in the presence of a princess. It isn’t respectful. “He’s good enough for a king.”

  “But not a soldier?”

  I licked my lips, feeling that she was probably mocking me. I didn’t really mind. It wasn’t unkindly done. “A soldier has different duties. Hakan is very good at his, but a king does not need his sword often.”

  I reached for my glass of wine and took a sip. It was Rikutan wine, of course, dry and strong. I glanced up at her when I put the glass down. Her eyes were full on my face and she leaned forward to put one hand on mine for a moment. I almost lost my breath, not from desire, though she was pretty enough, but simply from shock. I could count the number of times I’d been touched by a woman on my fingers, all serving girls brushing by in a tavern or an inn. Never by a princess, and never deliberately. If Tuyet men shrink from my dark skin, how much more do Tuyet women? A Tuyet princess? Her hand was smooth and milky white, and perhaps she saw my shock, for she suddenly clasped her hands together.

  “Kemen. Maybe I’m being stupid. I do that sometimes. But my uncle Zuzay and my father spoke so highly of you, I would like to count you as a friend.”

  I stared at her in surprise before lowering my eyes. She stumbled on nervously but gaining a bit of confidence.

  “If the king likes me, and I like him, then Erdem might someday be my home. I will have need of friends. I don’t know what the people would think of me being Rikutan.”

  “If you become queen, I’ll be at your command. As I am now, provided it does no harm to Erdem.” I took a sip of wine. Protection. Of course. She would have it without need of this.

  She sighed quickly in frustration, and I glanced up at her. “I didn’t mean your sword. I really did mean friendship. I would be alone. Friends and family make a place home. If Erdem is to be my home, I’ll enjoy it more with friends. If I don’t stay, I’d still be honored by your friendship. My uncle is difficult to impress, but you did it. That’s high commendation.” She smiled shyly.

  I bowed my head again. “I’m honored.” I knew I was repeating myself, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I suppose my world is a very small one in some ways. Honor. Courage. Duty. I don’t know how to move beyond those to other virtues.

  She frowned a little. “You don’t yet know that my friendship is worth anything.”

  I blinked in surprise. I had meant it in reference to her position, not her character, but now she smiled more easily and leaned forward again.

  “Father would think I’m being terribly bold, and maybe I am, but I trust you’ll take this the way I mean it. If I stay, if I like your king and he likes me, then I’ll have to get along with the nobility. But nobles are fickle and slippery and clever as snakes. I’m not like that, and I don’t know how to pretend I fit in. I never learned the trick of it. I can’t imagine Zuzay would have liked your king so much if he were like that either, nor would you serve him so readily. I’d like to know I can call you a friend, not for your sword, but because I’ll want a few friends I can trust to be honest.”

  I sat back, smiling slightly. If she hadn’t been a woman, she might have been a soldier. She had the same clear gaze and apparent disregard of slippery words.

  She must not have been able to read me, for she suddenly looked down. “I’m sorry, I only thought,” she sighed and flushed.

  “You needn’t apologize. It isn’t every day a common soldier is honored by the friendship of a princess.”

  “You’re not a common soldier!”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “You’re the king’s representative.”

  I wanted to laugh but managed to restrain myself to a smile. “As of five weeks ago. I was a common soldier, and I was retired for injury five years ago. I serve at the king’s pleasure, based on our friendship and what service I was able to offer as he sought to regain his crown.”

  “All the better then. You earned your position of trust.”

  “I remain a common soldier all the same. Retired, at that. The king Hakan Ithel is more than fair in his rule, and honors me more than perhaps he should.”

  “Why did you jump when I touched your hand?” She was studying me curiously.

  I licked my lips, but my mouth was suddenly dry. It seemed like an unfair question to spring on me.

  “It didn’t bother you, did it?”

  I shook my head, still trying vainly to think of something to say.

  “I’ve heard that things are different in Erdem. Did I do something wrong? I hope it didn’t mean something scandalous.”

  I shook my head again. “No. No, it means nothing.” That at least was true.

  “Then why did you jump so?” She was still staring at me. I thought that she and Hakan would get on exceedingly well. They both had an interrogator’s endless supply of questions.

  I don’t know what possessed me. Thirty-four years of frustration. Her curiosity. Her kindness. The strong Rikutan wine. To this day I cannot say. “Put out your hand.”

  She stretched out her hand beside her plate, flat on the rich red silk covering the table. I put mine beside it.

  “Do you see the color?”

  She nodded, but she still did not seem to understand.

  “White is the color of beauty, of purity, of light, of good clean things. Dark skin, like mine, is the color of ugliness, of dirt, of danger. A Tuyet does not touch a Dari, unless the Tuyet is a soldier and I’ve proven my worth to him already. Even then, most prefer not to, though they don’t say it to my face. Do you see the scars on my hand? This one is from a knife in training. This from a battle, I don’t remember it. This small one from someone’s tooth. This from a sword fight. This from a rock in a wrestling match. Look at your hand. There are no scars, are there?”

  She shook her head, eyes wide.

  “My hand is common, a soldier’s hand. Yours is royal and beautiful. You shouldn’t dirty it by touching mine. Do you see my eyes?”

  She was very quiet, but met my eyes unflinchingly.

  “They’re green, green as grass. Blue is normal. Grey is beautiful. For Dari, ugly as we are, brown is normal. The color of dirt. Only an unfortunate few have demon eyes, like mine.” My tongue seemed to have a will of its own. “You took me by surprise. Excuse me.” I stood abruptly and walked out before she uttered a word, her mouth hanging open.

  I still cannot believe I said it all. I hadn’t raised my voice, but the words themselves appalled me. I couldn’t believe I’d said them, and to her of all people. I thought even at the time it must have been the wine, though I didn’t feel drunk. I hadn’t had much, but I would like to blame the wine. In fact I hadn’t eaten much at all, I’d been so ill at ease. I paced through the camp quickly, and I suppose I looked none too friendly, for none of the men said a word to me.

  It was only a few minutes before I heard steps behind me. I stopped and waited. She deserved an apology. My words had been unfair. It was not her fault that I was stupidly irritated with Tuyet attitudes. With my own inability to blend in. With loneliness.

  I suppose in some ways I even agree with the Tuyets. My skin is ugly; I only wished I wasn’t judged for it.

  If I’d grown up among Dari, would I think the same way? Would I think dark skin beautiful, and Tuyet skin the color of fish bellies? Perhaps. Who can tell? I live in a Tuyet world, and I cannot tell how it has shaped me.

  “Ambassador, Her Royal Highness Kveta Tafari wishes to speak with you.” His voice was quiet, respectful. Subdued.

  I followed him back to her tent and entered. I dropped to one knee immediately and bowed my head. “I most humbly beg...”

  She interrupted me impatiently. “Stop it! Stand up.”

  I looked up at her. She had tears in her eyes and s
he had to crane her neck to look up at me when I stood. “Sit.” She sat across from me at the table again, her face flushed and unhappy.

  I closed my eyes as I bowed my head. “I’m sorry to...”

  Again she interrupted. “Stop! I don’t want your apology.”

  Then there was nothing I could do. Her father would be furious. Hakan would be baffled and justifiably angry. My jaw clenched in frustration and anger at myself. I would give her a moment, then try once more, and then, if that failed, I imagined she would demand that we turn the convoy around.

  I kept my head bowed in case she could see the apology in the set of my shoulders. How should I begin? I hate words. They are always the cause of my biggest failures. Think. Think hard, before you ruin it again.

  “Give me your hand.” Her voice was very small and quiet, and I looked up at her in shock. “Give me your hand.”

  I swallowed and put my hand flat on the table. I could feel it trembling slightly, but thankfully it wasn’t visible. She looked at me and very deliberately clasped my hand between her two small ones. They were soft and cool, very smooth and white. “Kemen, I don’t mind the scars on your hands. I don’t mind your green eyes. I don’t think dark skin makes you dirty. If anyone tells you differently, he’s a fool, and a man like you ought to know better than to listen to him!”

  I would have pulled my hand back, but she held it tightly.

  “I have one question.”

  I nodded, but she had already continued. “Does the king Hakan Ithel treat you differently because you are Dari?”

  I shook my head, my throat unaccountably tight. “No, he’s been more than just.”

  “I don’t want to know if he is just. In your opinion. I want to know if he treats you differently.”

  I suppose there is a difference, but I had not meant it. “No.”

  “I have a request. Only one, and then I’ll let you go.” She smiled a little now, though there were still tears in her eyes, her lashes damp.

  I nodded, feeling terribly stupid and awkward.

  “If we’re going to be friends, you can’t think of yourself as less than I am.”

  I don’t know that I have ever thought I am less than other men, and often I know that in some ways I am more. But never has that more been better, has it been anything important. Men are given different roles in life. I fill mine, but I could not fill Hakan’s role. He could not fill mine, but time proved him an excellent king, intelligent, wise, just, and generous. But my role was not the equal of a princess’s role, and it would be foolish of me to pretend it was. And women are on an entirely different plane of beauty and delicacy that I could never really comprehend, much less reach.

  We stared at each other for a long moment before I managed a smile and bowed my head again. My heart was warm toward her, but I had no way of showing it. I’ve never been good at those things.

  I said only, “I am honored by your friendship. If we would be friends, I beg that you accept me as I am, with all my many failings. You may see my courtesy as one of those failings, in which case I humbly beg your forbearance.”

  She smiled. “Only for now.”

  5

  Riona

  Ambassador and General Sendoa was gone for more than a month. A few days before he returned, a courier arrived with a message that flung the whole palace into an uproar. Sendoa was returning with a peace treaty, a trade agreement, and the daughter of the Rikutan king as a guest. She wanted to meet our king. That was bold, I thought, but then I’ve never been a princess, so maybe it wasn’t so bold for someone of her status.

  We were busy until they arrived, preparing a banquet and airing out all the guest rooms that hadn’t been properly cleaned since the king had returned. We cleaned everything. We washed sheets and tablecloths and dishes. We prepared food. We scrubbed the floors and the windows, dusted the paintings and shook out the tapestries and rugs. By the time they arrived, we were exhausted, but we didn’t mind the work too much. We were glad to have the king back.

  When the group entered the palace courtyard, I was lucky enough to be assigned to make sure the travelers were refreshed and made welcome. Well, lucky is perhaps a bit misleading. I did have some choice in my duties, since I’d been there so long and supervised several younger girls. I wanted to see the travelers, especially the Rikutan princess.

  It was a stirring sight, one to make any Erdemen proud. Ambassador and General Sendoa cut a striking figure at the head of the column, with the suvari behind him laughing and triumphant. Even then, when perhaps he most deserved it, he wasn’t one to call attention to himself or to his accomplishments. He bowed low to the king, who greeted them in the courtyard, and helped the princess from her carriage. He introduced her to the king, just a quick meeting before the banquet that night, and escorted her into the palace. The men waited respectfully as her entourage followed her, but I heard them laughing as the door closed behind us.

  Noriso met Sendoa and the princess and I followed them to the room that had been chosen for her. I’d helped prepare it, and I smiled to see her admiring look. I wondered what her room in Rikuto looked like, whether this felt a little like home or entirely strange. She was young, seventeen or so, and pretty, though not a remarkable beauty. I liked her quick smile and the kind look in her eyes. Sendoa bowed to her on his way out, and I wondered what it would be like to have a man bow like that to me. I wasn’t jealous, because I didn’t have any claim to him, but I did wonder.

  I liked the princess immediately. Her Common was good, and her accent sounded delicate and sweet. She had a lilt to her voice, as if she wasn’t quite sure she’d spoken correctly, and she watched my face each time she spoke to see if she’d mangled the words or grammar.

  I helped her wash for the banquet that night and answered her questions as best I could. Her women hovered about, but she let me brush her hair and fluff the pillows on the bed. She had some time and wanted to rest before the festivities, which was entirely understandable. She looked a little tired, and I couldn’t blame her. In all my life I’d scarcely been out of Stonehaven, and the thought of traveling for nearly three weeks to a foreign land was overwhelming.

  Noriso said I might be the princess’s Erdemen maid, for a while at least. He asked me to wait outside her room while she slept in case she needed anything, so I stood in the hallway. I couldn’t sit, of course, there was no chair, and you can’t just stretch out your legs on the floor of a palace hall. I was shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other after some two hours when Sendoa himself walked by. I dropped into a curtsey.

  To my surprise, he stopped in front of me. “What are you doing?” His voice was softer than I’d expected, low and a little rough around the edges.

  “Waiting, sir.”

  “Do you need the princess Kveta for something?”

  “No, sir. She’s resting, and I’m to help her get ready for the banquet when she calls for me.” I glanced up to see disconcerting green eyes on my face.

  He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Must you stand while you wait?”

  I stumbled over my tongue. “I can’t sit on the floor, and, well,” I didn’t finish.

  He strode off down the hall and returned in a moment carrying a chair. It was one I’d never sit in, red velvet and dark carved wood, a beautiful antique easily a hundred years old. I stared up at him in shock.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, sir. I can’t sit on that chair. But thank you all the same.” I rushed through the words blushing uncomfortably. Why was he even talking to me? Surely he had more important things to do.

  “Why not?”

  My voice felt squeaky. “Servants don’t sit in the good chairs, sir.”

  His mouth twitched into a slight smile. “If anyone questions you, say I told you to sit. Today at least no one will argue with me.” He turned to go and I breathed a sigh of relief. He made me feel odd, edgy. His eyes were too intense. Too green, too bright, and too perceptive. Then he turned and loo
ked back at me. “Have I met you before?”

  The heat rushed to my face again and I stared at my shoes. “I watched you in the courtyard.” That’s what happens to girls who do scandalous things; they are later embarrassed about it and have to regret it. I wished the floor would swallow me.

  He stood a moment more, and finally said, “You were familiar then too. Had we not met before that?”

  I shook my head, keeping my eyes down in respect.

  I think he was as surprised as I was when he persisted. “Would you look up a moment? I’d like to see your face.”

  I raised my eyes, and he swallowed.

  “Forgive me for asking it of you. I know I’m not much to look at.”

  I think my mouth nearly dropped open in surprise, for that was not what I expected at all. I might have been bold enough to question him, but he spoke first.

  “I have seen you before. Have you always worked in the palace?”

  “Since I was fifteen, sir. I helped Saraid, the healer, when you were ill. Perhaps you remember me from then?”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, and I wondered if my answer had upset him in some way. But he said only, “Then I’m grateful for your care. I would have thanked you earlier, had I known.” He bowed solemnly. Men of his status do not bow to commoners, and certainly not to servants. It isn’t done, and it made me terribly uncomfortable. Maybe he saw something of that in my expression, for when he straightened he smiled slightly and strode quickly away.

  I did sit, because I was tired and his name would allow it, but I don’t know how comfortable I was. I thought I’d seen a little sadness in his smile, but then I thought maybe I’d imagined it. I wondered if I’d done something wrong, stepped out of my place.

  “You can’t, Ria!” Lani was outraged. “He makes me ill! Didn’t you see he practically undressed Sinta with his eyes last week? It’s obscene!”