The Will of the Empress

by Tamora Pierce

  “But I can’t control it,” Zhegorz protested. “It comes and it goes!”

  “You can control it more than you did,” Tris reminded him. “You have your ear beads and your spectacles. Any little bit of warning will help them. Please, Zhegorz.”

  He shook his head.

  Tris sighed. “Zhegorz, you’re a mage. What’s the point of being a mage if you don’t do something useful with your magic? Something most people can’t do for themselves?”

  He stared at her, nonplussed. Tris met his eyes firmly.

  Finally he mumbled, “I’m fit to work as a mage?”

  Tris smiled and winced. “More fit than I am,” she reminded him. “Come on, old man. It’s time to go to work. Keep doing your exercises, mind. If you have questions, Daja or Briar or Sandry can send them on to me. May I count on you?”

  He hung his head, trembling. “No one’s ever counted on me before, except to be crazy.”

  Tris’s eyelids were fluttering. “Then this will be a new experience. That’s a good thing.” Her eyes closed. From her slow, deep breathing, she was asleep already.

  Zhegorz gently patted her unsplinted arm. “I hope I don’t let you down,” he whispered.

  Sandry, Briar, and Daja said their good-byes in the predawn light, though not to Tris, who was still sleeping under the healer’s spells. They had seen her during one of her brief waking periods before they had gone to bed, and they could always speak with her from the road. They would be close enough still. Only separations of thousands of miles, as in previous years, could cut their ability to speak together.

  As they rode through the city gates, Sandry straightened in the saddle. Watching her, Briar thought, It’s like having thick walls between her and the empress sets her free. Through their bond he said, She’s got a thousand tricks, and she hasn’t played one of them yet. Don’t get to feeling too comfortable.

  She turned and wrinkled her nose as if she had smelled something bad. “As if I would!”

  The sergeant in command of the Landreg men-at-arms looked at her. “Clehame, at the hostel near the inn where we stop tonight, there will be merchant caravans. Some of them will be going south. If we might join one…?”

  Sandry shook her head. “A caravan is slower. Stop fussing, please. We can move faster and take care of ourselves as a small party. And we number three mages among us. Four, if you count poor old Zhegorz.”

  “‘Poor old Zhegorz’ sure isn’t himself today,” murmured Briar. Zhegorz, to everyone’s surprise, had requested a horse. It wasn’t hard to see exactly how much experience as a rider he possessed. His mount insisted on wandering sidelong over the road each time he tugged the reins. Now he rode up beside Briar, a scarecrow in strange, brass-lensed spectacles, on a blue roan gelding that could tell his rider was uncertain. The madman’s insistence on riding in the front was also unusual, particularly when Briar could see it made Zhegorz nervous.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer keeping to the rear?” asked Briar, jerking his head toward the luggage cart, where Gudruny talked to the driver and her children hung out the sides. “That way you’re not all out in the open.”

  Zhegorz gulped visibly. “I promised Viymese Tris I would look out for you. That’s what I’m going to do. I’m working as a mage.”

  Briar rolled his eyes at Daja, who smothered a giggle. Chime makes as good a mage, and she isn’t half-cracked besides, thought Briar. Oh, well. Zhegorz will get tired of this soon enough. He’s jumpier ’n a flea on a hot griddle.

  What was Tris thinking, anyway? he asked Sandry, who was close enough to hear Zhegorz. What does he mean, “working as a mage”?

  Maybe she just told him that so he’d have something to do, Sandry replied. Remember yesterday he wasn’t going to come at all? I’ll wager he talked to her. She must have known he’d come along if he thought he could help out.

  Remind me to thank her, Briar said wryly.

  Zhegorz turned his face into the wind. “Sheep up ahead,” he said to no one and everyone. “Lots of them. And rain tonight.”

  18

  The 27th day of Rose Moon–the 2nd day of Mead, 1043 K. F.

  The Imperial Palace

  Dancruan, Namorn

  The next morning Ishabal Ladyhammer woke before dawn, as was her long habit. She rose and dressed, then went to see if anything important had come to her desk during the night. Entering the rooms where she did her work as the empire’s chief mage, she was pleased to find that no one was there. Even Quen, who had been keeping long hours since Berenene had set him aside, was absent.

  A rare gift, this silence, she thought, passing through the waiting room to her personal office. A chance to create a plan for the control of Trisana Chandler, before I see Berenene.

  A folded and sealed letter was on her desk. She picked it up: the seal was Quen’s. She cracked it open and read.

  Dearest Isha, when I got to my room last night, I found a letter from my mother. My father is ill and is asking for me. Please forgive me. Make my apologies to her imperial majesty. I hope to return within a couple of weeks.—Q

  Ishabal folded the letter with a frown. It is unlike Quen to abandon Berenene without saying his own good-byes, she thought. And it is doubly so now. He has to have heard the rumors that Berenene is vexed with Shan. Even if his father’s illness is real, Quen would want to take leave of Berenene himself, to impress her with his devotion to her and to his family.

  She stared at a branch of candles without seeing it. Quen, dear boy, please do nothing you will regret.

  Berenene was irritable as she ate breakfast that same morning. She had been irritable ever since Fin’s attempted kidnapping revealed a severe flaw in her control over her courtiers. In the stack of notes beside her plate were a number of politely worded expressions of concern from the parents of many young women who feared for their daughters. The brave ones actually spoke to me, annoying leeches, she thought irritably. Vexing me. Doubting me.

  She glanced at another stack of notes. These were more serious. They had come from Dancruan’s mages, who wished to know why their leader had been arrested. It won’t be long before the Mages’ Societies throughout Namorn start writing to ask the same questions, she thought. They’ll be harder to placate than parents who wish their daughters to make good marriages. No matter. These mages will learn better than to question my will. Ishabal has put quite a few tricks away against a time they might think they can defy me. If necessary, they’ll all find themselves sharing cage space with Viynain Natalos, and they can rot with him as far as I’m concerned. They’ll learn to respect the crown if I have to repopulate every Mage Society in the empire!

  And I blame Sandrilene, unfair though that is. If the girl had simply done her duty, none of these annoyances would be on my plate now. She must be brought to an understanding of her place in my scheme of things. Thus far I’ve shown her the orchids, thought Berenene, throwing down her napkin. It’s time she found the thorns.

  She stood abruptly, startling her attendants. “Hunting will settle me,” she announced. “Send for Shan. Tell the huntsmen I’ll look for hares for supper.”

  She was half-dressed in riding gear when one of her ladies came in from the outer rooms. The girl had that timid look that Berenene loathed. I’ll be so glad when Rizu feels she is her old cheerful self and can take up her tasks again, Berenene told herself mournfully. Rizu knows how to keep these silly girls from annoying me. If I could get her Daja back, I would have her company in the mornings again sooner, rather than later.

  “Imperial Majesty,” the young lady began, half-shrinking.

  Berenene glared at her. “Stand up straight. I want ladies-in-waiting, not mice!” she snapped. “What is it?”

  The lady shrank even more. “The, the huntsmen say Pershan fer Roth got word of a white stag seen in the Hobin Forest. He left this morning at dawn to confirm its existence before your Imperial Majesty went to the expense of a hunt for it. Huntsmaster Pershan left word that his assistant woul
d take your orders.”

  Berenene gripped a handkerchief and twisted it. Shan didn’t ask my permission, she thought angrily. If he thinks he may punish me for not welcoming him to my chamber lately, he will soon learn otherwise. But what if this report of a white stag is true? Perhaps Shan believes finding it is the way to return to my good graces.

  A week ago, would he still have dared leave without permission?

  Berenene flapped a hand at the shrinking lady. “Fetch the assistant to me, then, and stand up straight!”

  The gates of Roth House, near the Landreg estates, were closing behind Shan and his companions when he saw Quen Shieldsman. Shan reined up next to his rival, certain this meeting was no accident. “What do you want?” he demanded, his fair skin flushed with rage. “If you’re here to bring me back to heel, I have mages of my own.” He signalled a man and a woman who rode with his men-at-arms. They came forward, watching Quen anxiously.

  “And very effective, too, I’m sure,” Quen said easily, leaning on his saddlehorn. “Vrohain’s witness, Shan, you may as well put candles against those three young people. Did you think they wear medallions because they like the effect? No offense,” he said to Shan’s mages. “They got their medallions at thirteen.”

  “We may not be great mages, but that does not mean we will fail,” the woman retorted. “We lesser mages often work under the sight of you powerful ones. The powerful mages do not know of their danger until mages like us trap them.”

  “That would sound better if you weren’t sweating, Viymese,” retorted Quen. “Shan, you mule, I’ve come to help. She doesn’t know I’m here.” There could be only one “she” when these two men spoke: the empress. “I found you in my scrying-glass.”

  “You’re here to help me wed the richest marriage-prize in memory?” Shan asked, frowning. Then his face brightened. “I see it now. If I snag Sandry, I’ll be in disgrace with her imperial majesty. Since she’s still fond of you…”

  “Exactly,” replied Quen. “I hope you know side roads, if we are to get ahead of the clehame.”

  “I’ve left nothing to chance,” Shan said grimly. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. If Berenene hadn’t put Sandry’s back up—”

  Quen interrupted with a raised hand. “Spare me the tale of woe,” he said, reining his horse in next to Shan’s. “I’m not interested.”

  “So sure in your magic,” Shan said with a glare. “Whatever else, you’ll never be poor like me. You’ll never sleep with holes in your sheets…”

  Quen sent out a spark that stung Shan’s mount on the rump. She broke into a gallop. By the time Shan got the mare under control, he’d lost all interest in talk. He led them on, up through the hills and fields that paralleled the Southern Imperial Highway, where Sandry and her companions would ride. With less traffic on the side roads than on the main route, they made good time. Experienced at long rides, Shan was careful to see that they paced their horses and switched to their remounts, resting often. Rather than deal with inns, they bought space in farmers’ barns on the way.

  “The trick,” Shan explained to Quen over their fourth night’s supper, “is to catch her when she believes no one is going to give chase. She’s looking for an ambush near Dancruan, or the border. She’ll be ready. But in the middle of the journey, between the two? They’ll figure they’re safe enough. They’ll be relaxed. That’s when I’ll take her. I have spelled charms to distract her, if you can hold Briar and Daja. My people can handle the servants and the men-at-arms.”

  “Of course,” Quen replied, his face unreadable. The firelight made his face look like a mask. “I did come prepared.”

  “They may not even be that much of a problem.” Shan cut pieces from a sausage and ate them from his knife. “Plant magic and metal magic—they’re not much good in a fight, are they? And we are talking about child mages, pretty much. They’re young to be wearing medallions.” There was a wicked glint in his eyes. “That must scrape your paint, to know they got them before you did. Perhaps Sandry bought the medallions for them, so they’d feel accomplished.”

  Quen raised his eyebrows. “If you’re looking for a fight with me, stop it. Worry about your own problems,” he drawled. “Even once she’s signed the contract and marked it with her blood, she may be hard to handle. You can’t keep her bespelled all the time. What do you think will happen when you let the spells lapse? There’s plenty a wife can do to a husband short of killing him, and mage wives are known to be inventive.”

  Shan leaned back on his elbows. “I’m not worried. You didn’t see her with me, Quen. I had the girl. She would have said yes to my proposal, if some damned busybody hadn’t told her I was Berenene’s lover. I can win Sandry back. Once she’s realized this really is what she wanted all along, I think she’ll be very happy to make ours the second house in the empire. I’ll ensure that she’s happy. It’s to my advantage, too, after all.”

  Quen raised his brows. “I had no idea you were so ambitious. Or so foolish. Her Imperial Majesty is not going to let you off easily, you know. You’ll be in disgrace. Her memory is long—”

  Shan smiled. “But her pockets are not. She can’t afford to keep Sandry and me in disgrace for long—not if she means to keep squabbling with the emperor in Yanjing. I plan to spend my time in exile making alliances in the Noble Assembly and in the Mages’ Society. Berenene helped me there, arresting Fin’s uncle. Once we have enough of the people Her Imperial Majesty has vexed on our side, she will have to accept us. Me.”

  Quen rubbed his nose. “She is practical, it’s true. Who knows? You may have the right of it. Now, where is this perfect plucking spot you told me you mean to use? You said it’s just two more days’ ride.”

  “It’s perfect,” Shan said, pulling a map from the saddlebag beside him. “Canyon Inn. The main inn on the highway, the Blendroad Inn, will be full to bursting. There’s a horse fair in that village at this time every year. My nurse’s cousin, who runs Blendroad, will be sure to tell Clehame Sandrilene that Canyon Inn is more suited to her gentle nature.” He laid the map flat and indicated each location. “And the Canyon Inn is all set as a trap for my pretty bird and her little flock. With your spells, and those of my mage friends, to help me escape, I’ll be long gone with Sandry by the time Daja and Briar can track us. My mother’s prepared a place where I can keep Sandry till she’s signed the contract and married me.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, it seems,” murmured Quen.

  “I’ve planned since I knew she liked me,” replied Shan. “I’d have preferred her to accept when I proposed, but…women.” He shrugged. “She’ll come around.”

  Shan, Quen, and their companions arrived at the Canyon Inn well in advance of Sandry’s party. A check of his scrying-glass told Quen it would take her another five days to reach them, moving at a slower place on the main highway. Armed with that news, Shan paid a visit to his allies at the Blendroad Inn, where preparations for the horse fair were underway, and finished his arrangements at the Canyon Inn.

  The money for all this, Quen discovered, came from one of Berenene’s gifts to Shan. He really knows no shame, Quen thought, watching Shan spar with his guardsmen once he returned. I wish I could share the joke with Isha. Thinking of Shan’s intentions with regard to the Noble Assembly and the Mages’ Society, he wondered, Should I arrange for Shan to fail in his kidnapping? Sandry is a sweet girl, and I like her. No, I have to follow through. If Shan doesn’t succeed, Berenene might forgive him in time. If he does, she will never forgive him, even though she wanted to keep Sandry in Namorn.

  Briar and Daja should be easy to handle. Plant mages and smith mages are generally limited to their direct workings. Once I have them bound, the hard part will be over. All I have to do is hold them until the kidnapping party is safely gone. Sandry will be Shan’s problem.

  With his own battle plan worked out, Quen relaxed, ambling along the gorge that was meant to be Shan’s escape route, cooling his feet in the small river outside the Ca
nyon Inn, and gathering plants in the surrounding forest. He also made certain to regularly check his scrying-glass for signs of Lady Sandrilene’s progress.

  The spies’ reports reached Berenene two days before Sandry and her companions reached the Blendroad crossing. The empress read the reports twice, the enraged flush on her cheeks deepening. Finally she slammed a hematite ring she never took off against the desk. It would bring Ishabal to her as quickly as the woman could run.

  Berenene wasted no time on pleasantries when her chief mage arrived. Instead, she threw the reports at Isha’s head. “Both of them!” she snapped, shoving her chair back from her desk. “Both of those arrogant young pups! Vrohain witness, they will pay for this! For defiance, and for thinking I would be so foolish—so besotted!—as to let them get away with it!”

  Ishabal pretended to read the reports. Copies had already reached her that morning. “You like proud, hotheaded young men,” she said carefully, watching the empress as she stood to pace. “Such men do as they wish, always thinking there is a way to make it right.” Despite her apparent calm, she, too, was seething. Quen had lied to her. She did not like that. She waited until the empress looked her way, then shrugged. “They may well succeed. They are intelligent and talented. Lady Sandrilene’s gold will stay in Namorn. They may even have been foolish enough to think you would be practical, as you always are. That you will settle for the solution to the more expensive problem—the loss of Sandrilene’s income to Emelan.”

  “I will not be made a laughingstock,” Berenene said. “Not by them, and not by that girl. The entire world will say the chit snagged my lover, and my former lover helped them! Enough. I have been too kind, this summer. You see where my generosity has gotten me. Send orders to my household and to my men-at-arms, to those we trust without reservation. You and I ride south, today. The word for my court is that I am bound for the Carakathy hunting lodge for relaxation. No one must know my true intent. I want all of them to feel my hand on them. If we must raise the magical border to stop them, I will keep all three of those young people in Namorn. Pershan and Quenaill will remember who is the ruler in this empire.”