The Will of the Empress

by Tamora Pierce

  The mage Quenaill leaned against the stone rail beside the empress. He’d twitched when the vine crept past her, the silver fire of his protective magic collecting around his hands and eyes. When he realized it was Briar’s work and not a threat to Berenene, Quenaill held the fire close but did not allow it to sink back under his skin until the vine had returned to its proper location.

  “It’s forbidden to practice magic in the imperial presence without permission,” Quenaill said drily, as if it were no great matter. “Though I don’t suppose she’ll scold you as she ought.” When Berenene looked up at him, Quenaill bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty,” he said, to take the sting off his hinted-at rebuke.

  She smiled impishly up at her guardian mage. “Viynain Briar has my permission to work any plant magic he feels is necessary in my presence, and has had it since I showed him my greenhouses,” she informed Quenaill. “Now stop sulking, Quen, there’s a dear.”

  When she looked at Briar again, he presented her with the crimson rose. “It pales beside your lips, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said boldly. “But it was the best I could do on such short notice.”

  “Hmm.” Berenene drew the rose down from her chin over her bosom. “Short notice to whom? I’ve been waiting here forever. I supposed you’d gone off to look at the Landreg fields rather than make your bow to an old woman like me.”

  Briar grinned. “The Landreg fields need no attention from me. Saghad Ambros’s people are good farmers. No, I was in one of the cold rooms down below, working on medicines. I came as soon as I knew I could admire Your Imperial Majesty.”

  “You, my dear young man, are a flatterer,” Berenene told him flirtatiously, tapping his cheek with the rose. “You mean to tell me that Rizu and my dear little Caidy held no charms for you? One of them hasn’t stolen your heart?”

  “Caidy has stolen my arm, perhaps, or maybe my breath, but my heart could only belong to you, great lady,” Briar said, enjoying the flirtation. He knew better than to take it seriously.

  “Then she has made more progress with you than my young men have made with Sandrilene,” Berenene observed, gazing darkly at Jak and Fin. If they noticed, they showed no sign of it. Instead, Jak fanned Sandry gently while Fin offered her a plate of delicacies.

  “She’s not much of a player when it comes to games of the heart,” Briar said. “If you sent them to engage her in such a game, Imperial Majesty, they were doomed to failure.”

  “Does she favor girls, then?” Berenene asked. She smiled up at Briar. “You see I will introduce her to anyone who might persuade her to make her home with us.”

  Briar scratched his head, then remembered it was vulgar to do so in normal company. “I don’t know,” he replied frankly. “But Sandry won’t stay for a pretty face, whoever it belongs to. Some plants grow where they will, Your Majesty. You know that. Coax them, water them, light them, repot them, do as you like, they will only grow where they have decided to. The only way you can make them do as you bid is to kill them, which seems like a waste, if you ask me.” He smiled cheerfully at her. “But there, I’m just a scruffy gardener, dirt under my nails and in my ears. I do better with what plants grow best next to which vegetables than I do with matches between people.”

  Berenene took a breath. Is she going to scorch me for my uppitiness? wondered Briar. Turn her mage boy on me? Or take it from one gardener to another?

  The empress released her breath and reached out to slap Briar’s arm with her free hand. “You are a vexatious youth, and an honest one. You have my leave to bring me some fresh berries from the food table.”

  It took a polite, blushing excuse that hinted of a need to use the privy to free Sandry of the courtiers who had swirled around her since Berenene’s arrival. The moment she was out of everyone’s view, she ran down two connecting hallways and out into the garden for some quiet.

  What is wrong with them? she wondered, thinking mostly of Jak and Fin. They’re sweet and funny and perfectly decent companions, except for wanting to flirt. Then my cousin arrives. Suddenly they act like every word from my lips is struck in solid gold! Green Man snarl them in vines if they cluster around me like that again! It’s that or I’ll set their breeches to dropping. See if they fawn over me while they hold their pants up.

  Scowling, she found a bench in the herb garden and sat, letting the smells of rosemary and basil soothe her rattled nerves. With her eyes closed, she could pretend she was back on the step of Discipline cottage, bathing in the scents that came from Rosethorn’s herbs.

  She opened her eyes at last. My problems aren’t at Discipline. They’re here, and they have to be faced. I can handle Jak and Fin—I’ve been doing it since we got here. If they were the only ones bothering me, I’d send them about their business! The problem is, they aren’t the only ones. At least three other of Berenene’s…lapdogs have been sticking to me like burrs! How do I get her to call them off?

  “I’m sorry—I didn’t know anyone was out here,” a man’s voice said. “Forgive me.”

  Sandry turned and ignored the treacherous bump of her heart at the sight of Pershan fer Roth. Green is a very good color for him, she thought, and smiled. “No, it’s all right,” she replied. “Unless you wanted privacy?”

  He returned the smile, his brown eyes dancing. “I was just going for a walk. You’re the one who looks as if she would enjoy some privacy. Or perhaps enjoy murdering someone.”

  Sandry put her hands to her forehead. “I don’t like to be crowded,” she explained. “I was being dreadfully crowded back there.”

  Someone had built a bench around a very old apple tree. Shan sat there, his long legs crossed before him, and leaned back. “How’s this? I’m not crowding you in the least.”

  Sandry giggled. “Thank you,” she told him. “But wouldn’t you have more fun with the rest of the court?”

  “Maybe sometimes I feel crowded, too,” he replied. “You should see my family’s lands. They’re a bit like Landreg, only at the feet of the mountains. On a good day you can gallop for miles without seeing another living soul.” He smiled, his eyes closed. “I used to shove bread and cheese into my saddlebags, maybe some apples, and just…ride.” He opened his eyes to grin at her. “Fin and Jak finally remembered to be attentive to you.”

  “I almost had them broken of the habit before today,” Sandry replied tartly.

  “Poor little caged bird,” drawled Shan. “Look at it this way: If you marry one of them, they’ll leave you alone afterward.”

  Sandry glowered at him. “There’s more to marriage than being left alone when you like it. And all this scrambling for my attention—having all these boys thrown at my head, it’s just so…undignified. Frankly, my cousin doesn’t strike me as the crude type.”

  Shan grinned. “Ah, but you see, she’s the victim of her own success. Since she took power, she’s been slowly reducing the great estates of the realm, through taxes, and marriages, other stratagems. She offered one not-very-bright fellow a dukedom over thousands of acres near the Sea of Grass if he signed over his extremely wealthy Saghadat on the western shore of the Syth. Now he finds himself building castles and trying to create wealth from grass and nomads…” He realized he’d come to a full stop and chuckled. “Sorry, I still find it funny. Anyway, the last untouched great holding, apart from the Ocmore lands, is—”

  “Landreg,” said Sandry.

  “Landreg,” replied Shan with a nod. “The man who weds you not only has a delightful lady for his wife—” Sandry glared at him, making Shan laugh. He continued: “He also has a very, very deep purse, as well as any alliances you may form with the Mages’ Council. Since Ambros has saved you from losing lands to pay taxes, Her Imperial Majesty now has to scramble to keep you from the courtship of a man who is more seasoned and experienced. Someone who isn’t under her thumb. She is putting you in the way of the young men she is sure of, men she can control even after they’re married to you.”

  Sandry picked up a pebble and threw it into the g
arden. “Well, she’s wasting her time. They’re wasting their time. I don’t want to be married at all.” She stood, shaking out her skirts. “Shan, why don’t we go for a ride?” she asked impulsively. “Down to the village and back? Just a quick gallop—” She stopped herself. He was shaking his head.

  “The empress will have my guts for garters,” he said plainly. “To her it would look as if I were trying to cut out the others. That would make her unhappy. It is such a bad idea to make Berenene unhappy.”

  “Don’t you want to go for a ride with me?” asked Sandry, puzzled.

  “I also want to keep my intestines right where they are,” Shan informed her. “A man at the imperial court serves the empress first. We don’t form ties of affection to anyone but her, no matter how hard it is. Take my word for it, the only reason those eager suitors are so eager? She’s let them know they have her permission. Once one of them snags you, they’ll be back at court, paying attention to her.” Seeing that Sandry was wide-eyed with fury, Shan added, “She nearly had one of her maids of honor executed for marrying a nobleman behind her back. The priestesses of Qunoc had to intercede. Now the couple is forbidden to ever show their faces at court again.”

  “But that’s silly!” cried Sandry.

  “No,” Shan replied. “It’s the disadvantage of having a great, unmarried ruler who has always been exquisite. She can order us to dance to her tune, and we do it. There is always the chance that one day she’ll fall madly in love with one of us and make that man emperor. Even if she falls in love and doesn’t marry, she showers her lover with titles, lands, and income. Hers is the hand filled with gold. If she were ugly as a boot, we would still worship at her altar, and she’s not ugly.”

  Sandry shuddered. “I would never live that way. People ought to be free to love and marry as they wish.”

  “In an ideal empire, they would,” Shan agreed. “But we don’t live there. Don’t look so upset. She likes you. If she likes you enough, she’ll make you one of her attendants even if you are married. Life at court can be amusing.”

  Leaning over, Sandry plucked a sprig of mint and held it under her nose, enjoying its fresh scent. “And if I lived only to be amused, I might even like it, who knows?” she asked with a shrug. “But I’m a mage. I live to work. I love my work. The court will have to amuse itself without me after Wort Moon.” She named the last month of summer.

  Shan got to his feet. “I’d better put myself back under her nose before she suspects me of courting you. I haven’t been disciplined by Her Imperial Majesty in four months. I’d like to keep the winning streak going. If you’ll excuse me?”

  It was the first time all day that a young man had left her and not the other way around. “Don’t you want to court me?” Sandry heard herself ask, her mouth seeming to have a will of its own. Although her tone was one of mild curiosity, she could feel a beet red blush creep up from her neck to cover her face. Stupid! she scolded herself. Stupid, stupid! Now he’ll think you’re throwing yourself at his head, when you just wanted to know why he wasn’t grazing with the herd!

  Shan laughed, which made her blush burn all the hotter. “I like you, Sandry, but I’m not on the permitted list,” he said, grinning. “Besides, friendship is always better than courtship—that’s what my grandmother used to say. I’d like for us to be friends.”

  “Oh,” she said, struggling to keep her voice disinterested, even if her blush still lingered on her cheeks. “I’d like that, too.”

  “Good,” he said, offering his hand. Sandry took it and discovered that his hand engulfed hers. “Friends it is,” Shan said, giving her hand a single, firm shake before he let it go. He grinned and walked back to the castle.

  Sandry could still feel his warm fingers against hers. She looked at her hand, wonderingly. There was a green streak there, and the scent of mint.

  She smiled. He had stolen her mint sprig.

  When Sandry returned to the empress, she was once more surrounded by nobles. Daja couldn’t help noticing the look Sandry traded with the man who now lounged at the empress’s elbow. That was Shan, who had talked to her that day in the imperial gardens, Daja remembered. I hope Sandry isn’t hoping for something there. He and Berenene seem really, really friendly, and that Quenaill, who I thought was really friendly with the empress, too, he took himself off to a corner when Shan arrived. He’s been there ever since, glaring at Shan.

  Daja nudged Rizu, who sat on the bench next to her with Chime in her lap. When Rizu looked at her, Daja ignored that fizzing sensation inside her skin and whispered, “Her Imperial Majesty seems very friendly with Shan.”

  Rizu chuckled, a sound that raised goose bumps on Daja’s arms. Am I coming down with some sickness? Daja wondered.

  Leaning over to whisper in Daja’s ear, Rizu said, “I should hope they’re friendly, since he shares her bed.”

  Daja flinched, almost bumping Rizu’s nose with her own. Rizu giggled and brushed Daja’s nose with her fingers. Daja gulped and turned to whisper in Rizu’s ear, “He’s her lover?”

  Rizu slid a little closer. “He is, Quen was and may well be again, and there are two other fellows you may have seen glaring at them, who might just bounce to the front of the line if Berenene gets bored.”

  Daja rocked back, startled. Plenty of people had lovers if they weren’t married, but it seemed greedy to have more than one.

  “How do you think a nobody like Pershan fer Roth got an important position like Master of the Hunt?” Rizu wanted to know. “He couldn’t have afforded the fifty gold argib fee to get the post. Her Imperial Majesty paid it.” Rizu lowered her long lashes. “He’s been the imperial favorite for about five weeks. Do you like him?”

  “No,” Daja said, bewildered that Rizu should even ask. “Oh, he’s pretty enough. With those shoulders he could be a smith, but no. I was just curious.”

  “Sandrilene,” called the empress.

  Sandry looked at Berenene with yearning. She silently asked Daja, Is she going to pull my suitors off me now? Before they smother me?

  Daja snorted.

  “What?” Rizu wanted to know, but Daja just shook her head.

  “We are of a mind to go hunting tomorrow, in the Kristinmur Forest,” Berenene explained. “We invite you and your friends.” Her tone made it not a request, but a statement.

  Sandry frowned, then got to her feet, shooing the young men who sat in front of her out of her way as a farmwife might shoo chickens. “Your Imperial Majesty is gracious,” Sandry replied slowly. Daja could tell she was groping for words that would not offend. Sandry went on: “The truth is that my friends and I do not hunt.”

  Briar sauntered into the clear space before the empress. “Well, I’ve hunted, when I had to,” he said with a polite bow. “But not as Your Imperial Majesty means it, with horses and the birds and the dogs.”

  “And beaters,” added Tris, coming into view from a pocket of shadow where she’d been talking with Ishabal. “Frightening helpless animals.”

  “A boar or an elk is hardly helpless,” the empress said drily. She found Daja immediately. “Do you also object to hunting?” she asked mildly.

  Daja shrugged and got to her feet to bow. “I never learned, Your Imperial Majesty. I ride well enough, but the only weapon I’m good with is a staff, and that’s for bashing human heads, not animal ones.”

  The courtiers laughed as Berenene smiled. “Delightfully frank,” she told Daja with a smile. “You must forgive us northerners. We all learned to hunt as children on our first ponies. Very well, since hunting does not appeal, what do you say to a visit to Dragonstone? Saghad Ambros knows where that is, between here and Sablaliz. It’s a fortress from the old Haidheltac empire, very lovely. I’ve been remaking it as a kind of stone garden, in and around what remains of the buildings, with ponds and places to picnic.”

  Sandry curtsied. Tris followed suit, as Briar and Daja bowed. “It sounds wonderful, Cousin,” replied Sandry. “We would love to join you.”

 
12

  The 4th and 5th days of Rose Moon, 1043 K. F.

  Clehamat Landreg to

  Dragonstone, Namorn

  Supper that night seemed lonely without Rizu, Caidy, Jak, and Fin to tell stories and make jokes over the table. They had returned to Sablaliz with the empress, who had declared herself helpless without their companionship. Jak and Fin had seemed genuinely sad to leave Sandry. And Daja was definitely sad that they had lost Rizu and Caidy.

  Over supper, Ambros announced, “Her Imperial Majesty has invited Ealaga and me to join you tomorrow. In addition, I’m detaching five men-at-arms to guard us. There’s no need to bring more. The presence of the empress in the district should discourage kidnappers. Besides”—he began.

  Sandry and Tris chorused with him, “There’s the plowing to be done.” It was why they had taken so few guards to Pofkim.

  Ambros gave his crackling laugh. His wife and daughters fell victim to the giggles. Daja fixed it in mind to share with Rizu, who probably would have joined their chorus. They’d all had plenty of time to learn that Ambros’s first priority, apart from acquainting Sandry with her estates, was to make sure every acre that could grow a crop was plowed and sown. Despite Sandry’s visit, the yearly round of the castle continued.

  “And I will stay here,” Zhegorz said firmly.

  Sandry gave him her warmest smile. “You’ll stay here,” she reassured him. “No empresses for you.”