The Diplomat (5 page)

“I can assure you that my Elise’s abilities are beyond doubting.”

“I came not to spread doubt, Your Grace, but to bring you to resolution.” Rema clasped her hands together. “Your daughter or your kingdom. Choose.”

“Now I see why Ormun sent a woman.” Cedrin drew himself upright. “Only they can be so cold-hearted.”

It was too tragic a remark even to provoke laughter. “Yes, we are a cruel sex. Always waging wars, pillaging cities and raping defenseless men.”

Cedrin groaned and pushed at the flesh of his forehead. “You sound overmuch like my daughter. The last thing I need is two unruly women at court.”

“Remember what I said about insulting the diplomat.”

They stared at each other. “Very well,” he said, with strained cordiality. “But we need to discuss the specifics of this aid. I need to know how much and how many. Where and when.”

“I have all the information you need.”

“Fine. I’ll need to talk to my boy too. He’ll be back in a few days. He was very excited at the prospect of meeting an imperial ambassador. I suspect he’ll be in for an unhappy surprise.”

“I’ll be sure to apologize for being so inappropriately female.”

“Don’t lay the fault on me, diplomat. You’ll dine tonight with my wife and me. The table is being laid even as we speak. Go now and find Yorin, wherever he’s hiding, and get him to escort you there.” Cedrin exhaled a long, rattling breath. “I politely dismiss you.”

“It has been a pleasure and an honor.” Rema bowed with exaggerated reverence, turned her back on the throne and walked to the door. The guards stared at her as she passed by, and she resisted the impulse to thumb her nose at them. There was nothing like a royal audience to put her in a rebellious mood.

Yorin was waiting in the corridor, his forehead rumpled. “Poor Yorin,” said Rema. “You’re going to fret yourself into the grave.”

“At least that’d give me the opportunity to rest. Did His Majesty agree?”

“He hoped to bluff and found himself up against a woman immune to bluffing. He still wants to talk war first, however. It seems to me he’s stalling.”

“Never mind that.” Yorin worked his eyebrows in what seemed to be encouragement. “You’ve accomplished more than you know. The Queen had ordered him to reject you outright unless you agreed to let Elise stay. By reneging on his promise to her, he’s as good as conceded.”

“Ah. Dinner will be tense, then.”

“With those two, it very often is. Consider it a test of your diplomacy.”

“If they dine alone, where do the others eat?”

“Elise and Loric always dine together, usually in her tower. I eat with the servants.”

Rema considered Yorin’s tattered robe and gaunt features. Did his exhaustive service come with any compensation at all? “I’ve visited palaces where stewards feast beside their monarchs. Perhaps it’s time to consider a change of courts. I can put in a good word for you.”

“It’s by choice. I can’t stand their bickering.” Yorin’s eyebrows performed another inscrutable motion. “Anyway, I’ve no time to keep up with your endless chatter. You know the way to the kitchen already. Take the door on the left just before you reach the archway. That’s where they dine, and the Queen should already be there.”

Rema wished him a good night before wandering back into the increasingly familiar palace. With the arrival of evening, more servants had emerged into the corridors, cleaning the floors, replacing torches and dragging linen about in overstuffed baskets.

As she neared the kitchen, she came across a woman shaking out a tapestry. “Good evening, my lady,” the servant said. “Won’t you pause to kiss my hand as well?”

“Only your hand?” said Rema, and the woman reddened and returned to beating her tapestry, a thoughtful smile curling her lips. Rema continued on her way, her mood lifted by the exchange. No matter where she stood upon the world, one thing had always proven true: women blushed in her presence as their knees failed them. There was some solace in that. Of course, she needed to ensure her talent didn’t get her into any trouble, given the presence of the alluring Elise.

Rema reached the door of the dining chamber and paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. Should she knock? No—Talitha would respect it more if she simply entered. She opened the door and stepped inside.

Chapter Four

The dining room was modest, set for private feasting rather than banqueting. A sturdy, attractive table with a rich cloth took up most of the space. The paintings and tapestries on the walls were forgettable but for a remarkable oil painting of an archer. So realistic was the depiction, it was possible to believe the muscles in his arms were tensing.

“Good evening,” said Talitha. She sat alone at the farthest end of the table, her hands folded before her. Her face bore the same contemplative squint as before. “Please sit beside me.”

Rema bowed and took her place. “How has the day treated you?”

“No worse than usual. Incidentally, it’ll be easier if you go back to bowing and scraping while we’re at dinner. He’s bound to sulk about it afterward if you don’t.”

“I don’t think he expects me to do much of either. I’ve just come from talking with him.”

“Hah!” Talitha gripped Rema’s shoulder. “I’d say ‘you poor girl,’ but I expect you gave him a hiding. I wish I could’ve been there.”

They waited in amiable silence. After several minutes, Cedrin shambled in and squeezed into a seat at the opposite end of the table, leaving a significant distance between himself and the women. “Good evening to you both.”

“Why so far away?” said Talitha. “Does our guest have the plague?”

“I always sit here, and you always sit there. Let’s not upset a court tradition.”

As they waited for their food, Rema admired the tension rising in Cedrin’s face. His fingers tapped without rest against the table, and a cord of muscle at his jaw tightened as he ground his teeth. “Look at him,” said Talitha, leaning over to whisper in Rema’s ear. “He’s utterly infuriated.”

The door opened to admit three servants with platters. “Thank God,” said Cedrin. “What took them so long?”

The servants struggled not to stare at Rema as they spread the dinner across the table. Among them was Alys, the young girl who had earlier attended the Queen. Rema smiled at her, and Alys, instantly befuddled, dropped her cutlery and earned a deadly look from Talitha.

The moment the servants had left, Cedrin speared a rubbery steak with his fork and began to eat. Talitha poured herself a glass of wine and turned to Rema. “The servants have been talking about you all day. Do you always create such a stir?”

“Often,” said Rema. “Once, however, I arrived at court at the same time as a troupe of dancing crocodiles. Very few people noticed me.”

“You have a knack for inoffensively nonsensical responses.” Talitha tilted her wineglass, shifting the sediment. “You claimed to be thirty years old, I recall.”

“I’ve worked four years for Ormun. Nine years for his father.”

“Thirteen years. A diplomat since the age of seventeen. Little wonder you’re good. And how does a woman enter such an unlikely career?”

“I decided upon it when I was fifteen. At that time, I could write and speak in five languages, which helped convince the diplomatic college to take me seriously.”

“What manner of girl has such ambitions and talents?”

It was a pleasant subject, and Rema let herself warm to it. “I was the child of traders. My mother was an eccentric obsessed with finding the perfect trade route. By land, by sea, over mountains, she didn’t care. My father was just as mad. He encouraged her because he believed the travel was good for his poetry.” Rema raised a goblet of wine to her lips. “My father spoke Ajulai, my mother Nastil, and of course we all spoke Annari too. I learned Ulat and Tahdi as we traded across Amantis. A reasonable repertoire at fifteen.”

“I take it then that your father was Ajulese and your mother a Nastine. Parents from different continents. How uncommonly romantic. No wonder you have such curious features.”

Rema smiled. How quaint that these people imagined their pale, broad faces to be the standard of ordinary humanity. “Our life was romantic too. Sometimes we’d lose all our money and have to live in some forgotten kingdom until my parents earned enough to get us moving again. It taught me a little about the world.”

“That’s a very colorful childhood. But it doesn’t explain how or why you became a diplomat, does it?”

“She’s a good-looking woman,” said Cedrin, exposing teeth greasy with food. “I’m sure we can guess how she did it, if not why.”

The comment was too banal to incite any real indignation in Rema, but Talitha narrowed her eyes. “You’re drunk already. Apologize to our guest.”

“I think she can take care of herself.” Cedrin lifted his fork and shook the ragged piece of meat that hung from its end. “I meant it only as a joke.”

“Have no fear,” said Rema. “I’ve heard that insinuation so often that it’s ceased to shock me. And it’s not how I earned my position, no.”

“Well.” Talitha chewed a trembling piece of pudding until its dark juices ran out of the corner of her mouth. “I won’t ask you to tell me everything yet. You can do so later with the breath you haven’t wasted trying to persuade us to accept your ridiculous terms.”

“I already accepted her terms.” Cedrin stared into his mug as he spoke. “All that remains is to ensure the military provisions are sufficient.”

“You did what?” Talitha dropped her fork. A metallic shiver rang out across the table, and Cedrin lowered his napkin, revealing the sour cast to his lips. “You agreed to give up Elise? Are you mad?”

“Are you? We can’t last another month, Talitha!”

“You won’t last another week unless you recant immediately.” Talitha trembled with anger; how ironic that her fury was directed at her husband and not the diplomat who had arranged the misfortune. “You idiot, do you know what will happen to her over there?”

“Perhaps she’ll have some sense knocked into her. Get a few children into the world before she’s barren.”

“Disgusting!” Talitha’s complexion approached a dramatic shade of purple. “You sound like Calan. I doubt you even believe those foul words yourself. You’re just trying to escape into piggish denial.”

This was clearly a long-running quarrel, best left to those most practiced in it. “Perhaps I should excuse myself,” said Rema.

Talitha pressed her leathery fingertips to Rema’s hand. “Yes, that would be best. I have some very strong words for my husband.”

Cedrin poured himself a deep goblet of wine. “It’ll be a long night.”

Rema bowed quickly before closing the door on Talitha’s heated tirade. She walked back to the front court, her coat keeping out little of the nocturnal chill, and stretched flat on one of the benches. The ceiling above her was wreathed in shadow, and as she stared at it, her tension subsided. It was quiet but for a few servants shuffling through the court and the echoing tread of guards in the hallways. One could almost imagine sleeping here.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, and her thoughts drifted to Elise. A provincial pit like Danosha was no place for an assertive, ambitious woman, especially one attracted to her own sex. There were few things more despicable than these cruel eastern kingdoms, some of which even imposed death upon women for loving one another. What relief was in sight for this defiant princess, for whom even loneliness would be better than a life under Ormun’s cruelty?

The sound of footsteps roused her, and she sat up. Loric smiled shyly as he approached. “Yorin did arrange you a proper bedroom, didn’t he?”

“I was just taking a moment to rest. I’ve come from dinner with your parents.”

Loric sat on the bench beside her. “And I’ve come from dinner with my sister. She’s tremendously excited and nervous, almost like a child. It’s very unlike her.”

“Then I hope she composes herself soon. She’s invited me for dessert.”

“I know that! Why do you think she’s so worked up? She wouldn’t stop talking about you. We don’t get female visitors to the court, least of all ones like you.” Loric stretched his long legs and looked at his boots. “You’re very clever. Here we are, both delighted to have you staying, and yet you’re working as hard as you can to make us both unhappy. And I still can’t hate you for it.”

“That’s diplomacy for you.” Rema gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’m something of an enchantress myself.”

“I’ll say.” Loric chewed his lip for a moment, then stood. “Come along. I’ll show you where her tower is.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Rema’s knees ached as she rose from the bench, but she kept the grimace from her face. It was an old affliction, a worrying one, and the chill only made it worse.

Loric led her up the stairs, through an archway and down a short corridor that ended in a narrow, circular stairwell. “Up there,” he said with an unnecessary gesture. “Quite a few steps! Don’t worry, though, she’s in there. You’ll be a little earlier than she’s expecting, but I can’t imagine she’d be unhappy about it.”

“Thank you.”

“You should know that, uh, my sister…” Loric ran his hands through his hair. “She’s not like most women. She’ll find you very attractive. She might, um, she might…express certain desires or intentions. If that makes you uncomfortable, you should probably find an excuse not to attend.”

“I think I can handle her,” said Rema, hiding her amusement. “Have a good night, Loric.”

“You too.” Loric scratched his head, opened his mouth and closed it abruptly. After hesitating for a second in helpless silence, he blushed and walked away.

The circular steps of the staircase were closely packed, forcing Rema to tread slowly. The stairwell featured several narrow windows, but breathing the night air did nothing to cleanse the apprehension in her heart. The stairs ended at a low wooden door. Rema tapped once.

The door opened immediately, spilling warm light into the stairwell. Elise stood in the doorway, one hand against the frame, and lowered her eyes to take in the full length of Rema’s body. A mellow perfume drifted around her, a scent not present on their first meeting, and on closer inspection, it was clear she had gone to some effort to embellish her eyelids with dark shadow. The contrast with her silver eyes was striking.