The Will of the Empress

by Tamora Pierce

  A hand rested on her shoulder, making Sandry jump. She turned as Shan bent down and whispered in her ear, “It’s cooler outside.”

  And it’s dark, so nobody can see my face till I get myself under control, Sandry added silently. She bounced out of her chair and followed Shan onto a terrace, thankfully a different terrace from the one Daja and Rizu had just left. She wasn’t completely sure that the other terrace wasn’t aglow from that sudden flare of passion in Daja.

  “Oh dear,” she whispered, hesitating. “Fin will think I’ve deserted him.”

  “Tell me he doesn’t deserve it for hounding you,” Shan replied quietly, tugging her away from the windows. “I saw the look on your face when you were dancing with him. He’ll recover.”

  Sandry shook her head, but she didn’t resist the tug on her hand any longer. Shan was right. She was uncomfortably warm. I’ll tell Fin I was going to faint unless I got fresh air. I’ll make it up to him somehow. Maybe he’ll take the hint and stop trying to get me alone.

  Out here, the wind cooled Sandry’s hot face. She let Shan guide her to a shadowed bench, where she sat with relief. “Sometimes there are things you just don’t want to know the details of,” she murmured.

  Shan took a seat next to her. “Was that aimed at me?” he asked.

  “Goodness, no,” Sandry replied. “Oh, dear, Tris is up there again.” She pointed up to the curtain wall.

  Shan was a large source of warmth against Sandry’s left side. “The Master of Ceremonies should just build her a room up there,” he remarked, his voice soft music over her shoulder. “Has she always liked high places?”

  Hearing his male rumble, Sandry felt better, less giddy. “Well, she is a weather mage,” she pointed out. “It’s the best place to reach for weather. If we weren’t sure where to find her, back at Discipline, the wall was the first place we started. We—”

  Fingers touched her chin and turned her head. Shan bent down to kiss Sandry gently.

  She jumped away as if stung. The sensation was too close to Daja, what Daja had felt. Sandry couldn’t tell the difference between her reaction to Shan and Daja’s to Rizu. “Please don’t be offended,” she said, even more rattled now. “I…I’m just, all the light and the dancing—I really must get back to it!”

  She fled back into the Moonlight Hall, this time almost flinging herself into Jak’s arms. “I promised you a dance, didn’t I? Isn’t this a lovely time for a dance? I think so!”

  Jak frowned at her, his open face worried. “Are you all right, Sandry?” he asked. “Has someone insulted you?” He looked up and glared at Shan, who had followed Sandry inside. “If fer Roth upset you in any way—”

  Sandry covered Jak’s mouth with her hand. “I’m fine,” she told him, catching her breath. “Let’s dance, please.”

  As Jak guided her out onto the floor, Sandry gave herself a good talking-to. You’ve been kissed before, she scolded silently. Now you act like a girl who put on her first veil just a day ago. Get hold of yourself and stop acting like a ninnyhammer! Try some of the complicated dances you keep refusing to do. Concentrating on your feet could keep your silly imagination from, well, imagining.

  She danced often and, despite her fears about the complex dances, very well. She danced until her garments were soaked with perspiration and she couldn’t catch her breath. Only when her feet began to hurt did she excuse herself and retire to her rooms.

  She took a quick bath first, while Gudruny took care of her damp clothes. Once she had slithered into her nightgown and robe, she let Gudruny brush her hair. As soon as her maid was gone, Sandry threw herself onto her bed with disgust.

  Now Shan will think I don’t like him, and I do! I don’t suppose there’s a way a lady can apologize and say, I wish you’d kiss me again, now that I’m not so distracted. I have to let him know somehow that it wasn’t anything to do with him.

  Well, nothing much, she amended honestly. I just got kissing and love all confused.

  That thought made her sit up. Daja’s in love, she thought, feeling woebegone. After all this time. It’s wonderful, but…she’ll want to stay, won’t she? She’ll want to stay with Rizu. She won’t want to go home.

  A single large teardrop rolled down her cheek. Sandry dashed it away impatiently. Of all times to turn into a big bubble of jumpiness, this is the worst, she told herself, getting out of bed. I need to calm down.

  There was only one thing she could do. She took out her night light, placed it on a small table, then got her workbasket. Embroidery, she said firmly. Just what the healer advised.

  Finlach fer Hurich slammed into the miserable two rooms that were his lot in the imperial palace and kicked a footstool into the wall. A laughingstock, he thought, grinding his teeth until they ached. She made me a laughingstock before the entire court, getting rid of me on a pretext—oh, Fin, I’m so hot, I simply must sit down and have some ice! And the minute my back is turned, she’s dancing with that brainless chunk of muscle Jak!

  He paced in the little space he had, considering his options. They’re saying Shan courts her behind the empress’s back, he thought, running a restless palm over the dagger on his belt. I know the man’s ambitious, but surely he’s no fool. Even the Landreg moneybags can’t protect him from imperial disfavor—can they?

  He waved the idea away. Only a fool would try to deceive Berenene, Fin decided. But Jak. Sandry’s favored Jak since we got to Landreg. Tonight she openly snubbed me for him. So I’ve lost that race. Well, I’m not going to wait for her and Jak to start billing and cooing, for me to become the laughingstock of the empire. Her Imperial Majesty admires bold men who take what they want—well, at least, bold men who don’t try to take her. Maybe, if I’m bold enough to snag her precious cousin, I could be her next favorite, and Sythuthan take Shan and Quen and her other pets!

  My uncle said I was to call on him if I need help.

  I don’t dare wait. Summer goes quick as the wind in Dancruan, and Jak’s a fast worker.

  His mind made up, Fin sat down at his desk, found his ink bottle, paper, and pen, and began to write.

  14

  The 8th – 22nd days of Rose Moon, 1043 K. F.

  The Imperial Palace

  Dancruan, Namorn

  The party was not going the way Briar had expected it to. He’d certainly come with the intention of luring Caidy into a shadowed corner of the garden for a bit of fun, but Caidy had chosen to torment him first. She snubbed him three times as he approached to ask her to dance, walking off with someone else as he approached. The first two times he simply grinned and asked another girl to dance. The third time, when Caidy smirked at him over Fin’s shoulder as he whirled her away, Briar stopped to reconsider.

  This is stupid, he thought. All these people with their jewels on, watching to see who envies them and who doesn’t, who favors who, it’s all a waste of time. What do they accomplish by it? Why do I waste my time on this silly game?

  An image of the dead of Gyonxe blotted out the gaudy dancers. Briar could smell rotting flesh. For a moment he heard not music and laughter, but the whistle of the wind blowing over rock. He shook his head to banish the image and pinched his nose to drive out the stench. I left all that back there, he thought fiercely. All I wanted to do was go home and remember what fun is like!

  Weary, sweating, Briar looked at the thronged room. All these nice clothes, all these jokes and drinks and food, what good does it do? he wondered tiredly. Tomorrow, folk will be poor and starving and dying with a soldier’s pike in them, and these people will have another celebration, more nice clothes, more jokes, more gems. The suffering is forgotten, or ignored—why sorrow? The war victims aren’t our people. And the wheel turns and suddenly they are our people.

  I have better things to do with my time, he realized. Important things.

  He eased himself out onto the terrace, ignored by the couples who had picked a strip of shadow in which to kiss, and trotted down the stairs to the gardens. He instantly felt better o
n the Rhododendron Walk, surrounded by the dark-leaved plants. Even the blossoms looked shadowy in the scant moonlight that reached them. He walked past them, mending a damaged leaf here, making another unpleasant for the insects who tried to gnaw on it.

  Somewhere nearby he sensed Tris. He didn’t even bother to check their reformed bond. He didn’t have to. If Tris was close, she was at the highest point close by. There she stood, atop the outer palace wall. The wind off the Syth made her skirts flap. What does she hear up there? wondered Briar. If what I suspect is so, what does she see? How did she learn to see it? And that’s got to be how she knows Zhegorz is seeing things, right? She knew to get Daj’ to make him spectacles. So why won’t she just tell us she can do it?

  He grinned. Shoulda known she wouldn’t stay in the ballroom any longer than it would be polite. He hesitated, then silently called up to her, Want to come see the empress’s shakkans? She won’t mind I took you there. She gave me a note saying I had an open pass to the greenhouses.

  Tris didn’t even seem surprised to hear from him. Too much up here, she replied. Shaggy white bears, lights in the sky…Not tonight, Briar.

  He was about to walk on when she added, It is a waste of time and money. The dancing and the expensive foods.

  Briar flinched. How’d you know? he demanded sharply. How can you eavesdrop and me not know it?

  I didn’t eavesdrop, she replied. You’ve just gotten a little more like me since you went away.

  I’m not sure that’s a compliment, he grumbled.

  Neither am I, replied Tris. Oh, look! An old ship trapped in ice!

  Shaking his head, Briar ambled on down the path.

  At first he returned to his chambers, where he put his feet up and read for a while. When the palace sounds had died down to the rhythms of sleep, and the plants said that most of the walking flowers—their idea of gaudily dressed humans—had gone into their sheds, he realized he wasn’t a bit sleepy.

  He changed to plain clothes, slung his mage’s kit over his shoulders, and left for the greenhouses. He was surprised to find no guard posted. As protective as Berenene was, he’d have thought guards would be everywhere around the costly glass buildings. Then he put his hand on the latch of the door into the greenhouse where the shakkans and orchids were kept. Fire blazed, giving him just enough of a burn to make him pay attention.

  Briar scratched his head. Her Imperial Majesty never mentioned warding spells, he thought. Maybe she wanted it to be a surprise.

  He let his power flow up to that magical barrier. It was thorough. The workmanship screamed of Ishabal to his senses. About to give up, Briar remembered the pass Berenene had given him. He took the paper out and unfolded it, then laid it against the barrier.

  He stumbled as it gave way, leaving enough room for him to open the door and walk through. Behind him he felt the magic close. I hope it lets me out, he thought as he surveyed the miniature trees.

  The shakkans clamored for his attention. Pine and miniature forest, fruit-bearing and flowering, they all wanted him to handle each of them, feeling their leaves and trunks and telling them what fine trees they were. Briar did his best to oblige. He never felt he wasted his time with shakkans, whether they stored magic or not. They were their own reason for being, lovely without causing harm to anyone else. Their scent of moss and dirt blotted the ghosts of Gyongxe in his mind. The whisper of their leaves covered the sounds of screams that he kept thinking he’d just heard. When his eyelids finally grew heavy, he lay on the ground under a table with his mage kit for a pillow. He slept deep, and he did not dream.

  A much amused Berenene woke him around dawn. Briar grinned as he apologized, and excused himself to go clean up. Before he left, he asked her, “Would you object if I did more than just trimming and freshening these shakkans? Some of them need a shape that’s better matched with their natures.”

  “As long as I may keep them later,” the empress replied, her eyes on the door to her orchid room.

  Briar had his hand on the door latch when Berenene called, “Do you understand that we could arrange things so that you would have authority here second only to mine? You would be the imperial gardener. I meant what I said to you at Dragonstone. You would be a treasure of the empire, famed for your skill. I would pay you richly for it. I would make you a noble, with estates of your own, and a Giathat—what you would call a dukedom. Neither you nor your heirs would ever want for anything.” She waved, and vanished among her orchids.

  Bemused by her offer, wondering if her nobles would appreciate having a street rat duke, Briar returned to his room. His manservant was up and nervous that Briar wasn’t in his bed: His face brightened when Briar came in. “Viynain, what is your pleasure?” he asked, bowing.

  “Food, lots of it. A hot bath,” replied Briar absently. “And the least smelly soap you can find. My shakkan hated that sandalwood-scented glop I used yesterday. No point in making it jealous.”

  The servant blinked. “Viynain?” he asked at last, confused.

  Briar sighed. His sisters would have understood. “Just…soap with as little scent as possible, if you please.”

  The servant snapped to his tasks. As if he’s afraid if he stays near me anymore, I’ll turn him into something, Briar thought disdainfully.

  After breakfast he read for a while. Normally he’d expect his sisters to be awake not long after dawn—their lives had made all of them into early risers—but after a gathering like last night, he couldn’t blame them for sleeping in. When the ornamented clock in his sitting room chimed the hour before midday, he put his book aside and went in search of Daja.

  At first, when he knocked on her door and there was no response right away, he thought she might have gone out. Then he heard female voices, muffled ones.

  Maybe the maid will know where she got to, Briar thought, and pounded harder. At last he heard fumbling at the latch. The door opened to reveal Daja wearing only last night’s rumpled tunic. “Sorry,” she mumbled, letting him in. “I couldn’t find a robe.”

  Briar smiled at her knowingly and glanced at the open bedroom door. Rizu stood there, wrapping a sheet around herself. Her long curls were free of their pins and dangled to her waist. The sheet only enhanced her buxom figure.

  Briar raised his eyebrows at Rizu, then looked at Daja, who scratched at the floor with a bare toe. “Well, that explains more than it doesn’t,” Briar remarked. He told himself, Now I know why I was sure Rizu was never interested in me, or any man. “Daja, why didn’t you say you’re a nisamohi?” he asked, using the Tradertalk word for a woman who loved other women. “What with Lark and Rosethorn, did you think we cared?”

  “I didn’t know that I was a nisamohi,” Daja whispered, still not looking at him. She shrugged. “I’ve been too busy, and there was never anyone…” She looked back at Rizu, who smiled at her with a beautiful light in her eyes.

  “I’ll go away in a hurry if you’ve got some of that heavy copper wire,” Briar said. “The stuff you can just manage to bend around your wrist.”

  Daja went over to her mage’s kit and hunted until she produced the coil of heavy copper wire. “It’s not spelled, so it should act as you want,” she said, handing the wire to Briar with one hand as she pushed him to the door with the other. “Don’t tell Sandry or Tris yet, please,” she added as she let him out. “It’s just…so new.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Briar said, but she had already shut and locked the door. Grinning and shaking his head, he headed down the hall to the garden door, tossing and catching the copper wire as he went. So that only leaves one of us who isn’t human, the way Sandry keeps tracking Shan when she thinks no one is looking, he thought cheerfully. And I tremble to think what kind of person Tris might like. They’d have to be all dressed in lightning and rain for her even to look at them, that’s for certain!

  Whistling a tune that their adopted mother Lark had forbidden him to whistle under her roof, Briar opened the hall door and passed out into the spring day.
>
  After the upheavals of the party, Sandry was grateful for a quieter day after. The empress took chosen members of her court for a sail on her private ship. It meant that none of Sandry’s suitors could corner her, though it amazed her how, on such a small vessel, she never found herself next to Shan. She gave up trying and stayed close to Daja and Rizu, enjoying the safety of the number of their friends as well as the bright glances and touches they exchanged.

  The ship carried them to a cove on the eastern coast where they dropped anchor and went ashore for an excellent midday. On the way back, everyone cajoled until Tris released a breeze that filled their sails. While it carried them along, Tris turned aside the prevailing winds so they could make headway, earning many strange looks from captain and crew. Chime entertained nobles and crew alike. Tris had brought glass-coloring agents along. Chime ate them with glee, then spat glass flames in different colors so that everyone had a flame-shaped memento for the day. She then flew around the ship in loops and spirals, the sun glancing off her wings in flashes of rainbow light. As most of the court watched her, Sandry noticed that Ishabal had drawn Tris over to sit between her and Quen.

  Those two certainly have a lot to say to Tris, Sandry thought, watching them. And why does Tris have that polite look on her face? It’s the one most good courtiers learn so they never offend anyone in case they’re bored or angry at what’s being said.

  She turned her head and saw Briar leaning against the rail near Berenene. She was laughing. Looking more closely, Sandry saw why: He’d brought a dozen tiny sprigs to life from a plank just under the rail, creating a tiny forest there. Briar looked up and caught Sandry’s eye. He winked, and the sprigs shrank, retreating back into the wood.

  “There. How can you possibly say no to my offer?” Sandry heard Berenene ask.

  Sandry grimaced and turned her head. It’s not just me she wants to stay, Sandry thought. It’s Briar and Tris. She glanced at Daja and Rizu. Rizu was whispering into Daja’s ear, making Daja laugh. And maybe even Daja Berenene wants to keep here. Why not? Even among ambient mages, they’ve done unusual things, brilliant things. Shakkans and living metal creations have made Briar and Daja rich and famous. Tris could be, if she were willing to do battle magic. Even as a weather mage she would make people think.