Emperor Mage

by Tamora Pierce

Rikash’s frown deepened. Suddenly he leaped from the cart, wings pumping. Guests scattered as he flew through the window into the night. In his wake, nobles and slaves alike struggled to repair their dignities.

  “I wonder where he was going,” murmured Numair. “Is it possible he did not know of Ozorne’s special menagerie? And what was that about the health of Carthak?”

  Daine chewed her lower lip. She had a feeling Rikash meant the same thing the badger had.

  I don’t like all this, Zek told her. Back home, we know the feeling of a coming storm, and we hide. This feels like a really bad storm in the air, but it doesn’t smell like water.

  What does it smell like? Daine asked silently as Numair went to find Lindhall.

  Zek thought for a moment or two, tiny nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths of the air. Fire, he said at last. A storm of fire.

  Soon after that, Daine found the emperor at her elbow. “Veralidaine, good evening. The birds have been left all day, as you ordered,” he said, offering Kitten one of his rings to play with. “Can they be visited tomorrow?”

  Daine nodded. Off and on during the day she had called to the aviary with her magic, touching the minds of the occupants to see how they did. “They’ll be up with the sun if they can see it. I should warn you, they’ll be fair hungry. Figure they’ll need at least double, prob’ly triple rations.”

  The emperor smiled. Daine realized that his watchful air vanished only when he talked about his birds. “They shall have them,” he promised. “You may ask any price of me, any reward.”

  “I got the only reward I want—knowing they’re better. I’m not always lucky enough to save animals when they’re sick. Sometimes they die, no matter what I do for them. It happens often enough that I never get tired of making them well again.”

  Kitten offered the ring back to Ozorne with an inquiring whistle. Smiling, he replaced it on his finger, then vanished. Kitten squawked her irritation.

  Daine sighed, feeling as if she’d been clamped in a vise for hours. She yawned and stretched. “Let’s get some air, Kit.”

  With a cheerful whistle, the dragon led the way onto the terrace. Prince Kaddar found them there, watching the moon rise.

  “This is beautiful,” Daine said, waving at the formal garden lying off the terrace. It was laid out in patterns, with hedges and flowers forming precise, graceful curves and spirals. “We don’t have anything that’s this fine.”

  “Your king spends his money on very different things,” replied the prince, watching the silver-gilded pattern. Before she could ask what he meant, he said, “I have to go, but I wanted to ask, would you like a guided tour in the morning? I could meet you when your friends leave for the talks. Your Duke Gareth said it was all right, when my uncle asked him.”

  Daine inspected his face. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I would be at loose ends, it’s true, but I can always amuse myself.”

  He grinned, teeth flashing wickedly. “I would like something to do, frankly. We’re between quarters at the imperial university, and there’s little going on for me until classes start.”

  “Then I accept with pleasure,” she replied, seeing no resentment in him.

  “I’ll come for you tomorrow, when the talks open,” he promised, bowing over her hand. He left her there, and once more the girl, marmoset, and dragon had the terrace to themselves.

  Taking advantage of her solitude, Daine went down and around the side of the steps, where the raised wall of the terrace met the ground. Out of sight in this niche, she slid off her surcoat, folding it neatly and giving it to Kitten to hold. Zek she placed in an opening of the marble banister, where he would be safe. Unencumbered, she let the garden bats come to say hello, as they had clamored to do since she had walked into the open. They arrived a dozen at a time, to cling to her hair, dress, hands, and shoulders, talking in their high, clear voices. She loved bats, but had learned years ago that few humans agreed. It was always better to sit and gossip with them in private.

  She didn’t keep them long. There were still pounds of insects for them to catch, and she ought to return to the silk-and-perfume air inside. She sighed as, one by one, the bats left her, and wished them good hunting. More than anything, she would have liked to shape-change and go with them, but she had the feeling that Alanna and Numair would frown if she did. That was funny in itself, because Alanna liked elegant parties far less than Daine did.

  “And I’m getting fair tired of them myself,” she murmured to Zek. “Kit, would you do the neaten-up trick?”

  The dragon drew herself up. Suddenly her eyes glowed silver; she made a soft, cooing sound. Curl by curl, Daine’s hair, mussed by the small mammals that had clung to it, straightened to lie neatly under its lilac velvet ribbon. Small threads in her gown, pulled free by claws, plunged back into their proper weave once more. Little spots, the kinds left by creatures who never had to worry about clothes, vanished. Creases flattened; pockets of musty odor evaporated. It never would have worked on a dress saturated with bird droppings, but it was perfect for little messes. Daine had discovered this bit of dragon magic months ago, when Kitten fixed her appearance after she’d been called from riding to hear a noble’s complaint about winged horses.

  “Thanks!” The girl accepted the surcoat from the dragon and donned it. “Why did you do it so quiet? You—”

  The dragon held a claw to her muzzle, signaling Daine to hush, and pointed to the terrace behind them. Confused, Daine peered through the openings in the rail. In the shadows where terrace met building, hidden from the view of those inside, was the old slave woman. Perched on the rail in front of her, talking softly and fiercely, was Rikash.

  Daine frowned. She wasn’t sure which was odder: the conversation itself, or the parties to it. Why would Rikash talk to a slave, any slave? He was hopping in fury, waving his wings as he tried to make a point; the slave shook her head. A slave, refusing an order from anyone?

  Something else troubled Daine. She was sure this was the slave she had seen that morning, but now the woman’s shaved head was covered by stubbly hair. Her rough gown hung from both shoulders, not just one, and her sandals were leather, not straw. They laced all the way up to those bony knees.

  Suddenly the old woman produced a gleaming silver cup. Showing it to Rikash, she rattled it, producing the unmistakable sound of dice.

  Daine collected Zek and marched up the short flight of steps, Kitten beside her. Rikash would get the poor old thing into trouble, and the gods alone knew what might happen to her if one of her masters saw this.

  “Seven,” the slave remarked. She and Rikash stared at the flat surface of the rail beside the upended dice cup. “You win. For now.” She turned, and winked at the approaching Daine. “Push this bad boy off the rail, there’s a dear,” she said. “He’s going to beat a poor old lady out of her life’s savings.”

  Grabbing the dice cup, she placed a hand on the rail and nimbly vaulted over. When Daine ran to stare down at her probable landing site, sure the woman had broken an ankle at least, she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Who was that?” demanded the girl of Rikash. “What were you doing with her?”

  The immortal’s eyes danced. “You saw her? Who was she?”

  “The poor old slave they made clean my rooms this morning!”

  The Stormwing guffawed. “Oh, indeed?” he said when he had calmed down. “Well, if you want to believe that, go right ahead. You’ll learn.”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “No, it’s her: Ask her what she’s not telling you. And be careful. She’s tricky.”

  Something glittered on the rail where the dice cup had been. It was a metal feather. “Are you molting?” asked Daine. “Do you molt? You don’t look like you lost a feather.”

  “Never mind that,” he snapped. The girl shrugged and turned to go. “No—wait. Please.”

  She moved to stand upwind of him. “Well?” she asked, when he didn’t seem inclined to speak again
. “Anything?” He remained silent, frowning in thought. “You left in a hurry before.”

  “I would apologize for my rudeness, if I had manners. Happily, I don’t. You ought to try our shape sometime. People expect you to be crude. I’m told it’s liberating for most humans.”

  She snorted. “You won’t catch me that way. Numair warned me what happens when humans take on the shapes of immortals—we can’t change back.”

  “Wanted to try dragon’s shape, did you?”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, and he smiled.

  “I wasn’t lying—about the Stormwings in the menagerie.” She fiddled with the feather on the rail, careful not to touch the edges. If it was one of his, it would cut better than a knife.

  “I know. I saw them—Barzha and Hebakh. They told me how they came to be there.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am angry, not sorry. Jokhun lied when he took over our flock. He said he killed Barzha and Hebakh in combat, and their bodies dropped into one of your oceans.” Rikash had begun to rock from foot to foot; his green eyes sparkled angrily as his feathers bristled. “We believed him because we were tired of battles . . . Stormwings—tired of battles! We betrayed her, just as he did. And to find this smiling, lying mortal in league with him—”

  Humans came onto the terrace. Globes sailed overhead to light the darkness. Ozorne was in the forefront, with Alanna on his arm and Duke Gareth on his other side. Seeing them, he came over.

  “Follow my lead,” Rikash muttered softly. “Please.”

  She looked at him, puzzled, but nodded. She didn’t think he would get her into trouble, enemy or no. She did have to admit their talks here weren’t hostile—more like the exchanges between friends who enjoyed a good argument. That was enough to make her head spin.

  “Veralidaine and Lord Rikash,” said the emperor, smiling mischievously. “Now here is an odd pairing. We had heard this young lady hates Stormwings.”

  The immortal shrugged. “We value a good enemy, Imperial Majesty. If I may be permitted to say so, opponents come in many guises. It is well to get to know them all.”

  The emperor nodded. Alanna frowned, looking from him to Rikash to Daine. The girl shrugged to let her friend know that she hadn’t the least idea of what the Stormwing meant.

  “Forgive me for my departure earlier, but I had thought of a gift to make to you, as a personal token of my appreciation for our association. It would be my very great pleasure if you would accept it.” Rikash nodded toward the feather. “Give it to him, if you please.”

  Daine carefully picked up the feather and offered it to Ozorne, who smiled and took it, holding it with care. “Is some particular virtue attached to this gift?” he asked.

  “Indeed,” replied the Stormwing. “Any such token from an immortal has—qualities.” Daine touched her throat, brushing the chain for the badger’s claw.

  “Heed me,” Rikash went on. “If ever you are in peril of life and throne—and it must be peril that drives you, not curiosity—take this feather and thrust it into your flesh. When it mixes with your blood, you will fly from your enemies as if winged with steel, and escape beyond the Black God’s reach for all time.”

  Ozorne replied evenly. “Neither our life nor our throne is in peril, Lord Rikash, nor do we believe they will ever be. Our hold on our empire is firm indeed.”

  “But the wheel turns,” Rikash answered. “What is up may come down; what is brought low may rise. The gods are not fickle—but they have been known to change their minds. One day you will know the value of Stormwing esteem.” He bowed to the emperor, then looked at Daine. “I never know what to make of you,” he said dryly. “I suppose I never will.”

  He took off, and vanished into the dark. Daine watched for the last sweep of his wings. You aren’t alone, she thought.

  The sun was not even above the horizon when she woke the next morning. It would be an hour or more before Numair and the others began to stir, and Kitten and Zek were still deep in slumber. With no mind to go back to sleep and no books to read, she decided to visit the emperor’s birds. Leaving the dragon and marmoset, she asked the mousers and rat catchers for a path to the aviary. The one they gave her took her through gardens to a door in a glass wall. It was open, with no magical lock to undo. She slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her.

  The first to come meet her were small, green birds with red faces and tails, called parrot finches. They eyed her from a branch several yards away before dropping to her shoulders. The next arrivals were unlike any bird she’d ever seen, finches who looked as if they had rolled on an artist’s paint board, sporting red, yellow-orange, or black faces, aqua collars and tails, emerald wings, yellow bellies, and purple breasts. Twittering, they hopped on nearby twigs and on her fingers, eyes bright in their vivid faces. What had she done to herself, to be dressed as a dirtwalker? they asked.

  I was born this way, she told them silently, hearing quiet male voices from the direction of the door into the palace. I’m a two-legger and People.

  The finches were not sure they approved.

  Red-crested cardinals arrived. With them came tanagers whose plumage shimmered green and gold or green and blue. None of the birds could remember much of their first encounter with Daine; they had been too sick. Now they inspected her eagerly.

  Greetings over, a tanager pair invited Daine to come see their nest. Finding the stair nearby, she accepted the invitation, ascending as quietly as she could.

  Most of the birds stayed with her, though some left to get food. Chattering, being rude to their companions, they explained that the Man fed and talked to them. He came at all hours, but he didn’t wake them if it was dark, and he always brought their favorite treats in his pockets.

  Daine shook her head. The more she saw or heard of the emperor, the more confused she felt.

  At the topmost level of the aviary, she found a very small colony of leafbirds, some with blue-violet stripes breaking their bodies into halves, the top green and the bottom orange-gold, some with orange heads and red edges to their wings. Here, too, were royal bluebirds, who appeared drab until they turned in the light to reveal wings and tails of a blue so intense it seemed to glow.

  She was beginning to see why humans from the western islands to the eastern kingdoms of the Roof of the World came to see the emperor’s aviary. These birds were like feathered jewels. She also noted the care they received, which impressed her more than all the emperor’s wealth.

  Checking the sun’s position, she saw there was plenty of time before she needed to return for breakfast. I’m going to change, she told her new friends. Don’t worry—I won’t hurt anyone.

  Removing her boots, she crouched on the platform and closed her eyes, remaking herself as a starling. Her body shrank swiftly, clothes falling away. She sprouted bronze-and-black speckled feathers, and grew a yellow beak. Her legs became stilts, her feet three long toes. Done, she ruffled her feathers and cackled, then took to the air.

  The leafbirds joined her. The parrot finches came behind, twittering in their eagerness to show her the nooks and crannies they had discovered. The birds had nests tucked everywhere in this huge room. Not only had they made use of the trees and bushes that were natural choices, but they had built in the joints of the enameled green metal strips that supported the panes of glass forming the ceiling and most of the walls. Only one wall was stone. This the birds followed down, headed for the Man and his treats. While the food and water dishes throughout the aviary were kept full, the Man always had something extra good.

  She was so wrapped in the flock that she nearly followed them to beg a treat from Ozorne. Only when she saw him and a newly arrived companion did she back up hurriedly, almost colliding with the finches. The emperor would know that a starling did not belong with his exotic treasures. She perched, concealing herself in a clump of leaves. Ozorne’s companion was Numair.

  Once out of view, she changed the shape of her head and ears, becoming more like an o
wl than a starling. Now she could hear the men clearly.

  “—checked the baths, and the gardens, and she is nowhere to be found. If she is here and you are concealing her from me—”

  “Be assured, Draper, she is not here. We had hoped she would be, to see how our birds have improved.”

  “If they have, then you have no further need of her. We all prefer that you leave her in peace.”

  “We are inclined to give her grace and favor.” Ozorne’s tone was haughty. “She has served us well, and we wish to reward her.”

  “She requires no rewards for your providing, Your Imperial Majesty.” Never before had the girl heard Numair sound this harsh. “She is well enough as she is.”

  “Such heat over a girl child, and one without family or connection to recommend her. Why concern yourself in her affairs? You will forget she exists the moment some rare tome of magic comes into your hands, or some arcane toy. That has always been your way. You take up with someone, make them feel you are their sworn friend, then turn on them the moment you have what you wanted from them.”

  “How like you to see it in those terms,” retorted Numair. “She is my student. You will never understand that. You never could sustain so profound a tie. Once you gained your throne, you decided you no longer required mere human bonds.”

  Stop it, Numair! Daine thought, watching the emperor’s eyes flicker with some odd emotion. Can’t you see he wants to upset you?

  “Human bonds,” Ozorne said quietly, studying gilded nails. “I am certain you and your lovely student have a most profound bond. Must you share a bed with her animals as well as with her?”

  Numair’s hand lashed, and slammed against the suddenly visible sheet of emerald fire that appeared around the emperor. Lights flared where he struck; he yanked the hand back, rubbing it. “If you interfere with her, if you harm her in any way, it will be a breach of the peace accords.” His breath came hard under the words. “All of the Eastern Lands will unite to destroy you.” He stalked out of the aviary, dark cheeks burning crimson.

  Daine was breathless. What had possessed him to hit Ozorne? The suggestion that Numair was interested in her for sexual reasons had been made before; he’d laughed it off. If anyone took offense over such things, it was Daine herself, and only because the speaker did not understand Numair was too honorable ever to take advantage of her.