The Diplomat (7 page)

“Let’s go sit on the bench beneath that tree,” said Rema.

Alys nodded and shyly took Rema’s hand. As they walked by a flower bed, she snatched a rose to put in her hair. “You won’t let me get beaten for that either,” she said, grinning up at Rema.

They reached the bench. Rema ran a finger along its split surface. Fortunately, it was dry. In her vanity, she had a fear of ruining her uniform, and she’d only brought one spare. She sat and stretched her legs, feeling her knees loosen, while Alys stood twirling a blade of grass.

“I’m curious about the court, Alys. Tell me about the people who live here.”

“Well. There’s Master Yorin, who does everything and is grouchy because of it. Then there’s Lady Elise, who we all love very much. She brings us potions and poultices when we’re sick. She’s very scary, though.”

“Scary? Why do you say that?”

“She knows magic, and she has such an awful temper. I heard some servants calling her a witch once, but Yorin found out and gave them a hiding. Gossiping about Lady Elise is the surest way to get him angry!”

“What about the others?”

“Um.” Alys folded her hands behind her back. “The King is benevolent. I don’t know what that means, but Yorin told me it once. The Queen is forever reading in her chamber. Prince Loric doesn’t do much of anything, but we don’t mind because he’s so sweet. Prince Calan is always off at war.”

“Is there anyone else who visits here regularly?”

Alys lowered her voice. “I’m not going to get in trouble, am I?”

Rema pulled a leaf from the tree above her and flicked it at Alys. “Don’t be silly.”

“Well, there’s a man who comes in all hooded and meets with Prince Calan. He has awful eyes. Even Yorin isn’t sure who he is.”

Rema tossed another leaf. Sinister hooded men with evil eyes, and just when she’d started to make sense of the situation. “Thank you, Alys.”

“I’m happy to help! Have you had any breakfast?”

“Actually, no.” Rema frowned and pressed her hands to her stomach. “I forget about food when I’m thinking.”

“Would you like to stay here while I fetch you something from the kitchen?”

“That would be very considerate.”

Alys saluted and dashed back toward the palace, nearly falling over in her enthusiasm. Rema brushed a stray blossom from her sleeve before resting her head against the bark of the tree, her face turned toward the warmth of the sun. Every good diplomat knew when to take advantage of a moment of tranquility, and who knew when she might be blessed with another?

“How strange,” said a voice, and she opened her eyes. Loric was ambling across the garden toward her, his hands in the pockets of his plain white tunic. “We keep running into each other. I think fate is sending us a message.”

“The only message I get is that you’re following me.”

“Don’t be suspicious. I visit the garden every morning to think in the fresh air. I’m sure being in that stone box has rotted everyone else’s lungs.”

“It’s not much of a garden.” Rema tapped the bench to indicate he could sit beside her. “Ours has a waterfall. You can hardly hear for the roar of it.”

“We have a hedge in the shape of a horse,” said Loric, easing onto the bench and stretching his arm behind him. “Beat that.”

“I can’t. I concede. The Empire is yours.”

Loric laughed as he picked a leaf from her hair. “You’re gathering leaves. They must like you nearly as much as I do.”

Rema couldn’t resist a smile. Even if he hadn’t grown into his looks, his wit served him well. “And they call
me
charming.”

“With good cause.” Loric inched closer, his eyes intense under his shaggy hair. “I’ve some interesting news for you.”

“Oh?”

“Very early, just as the sun was rising, my parents and Elsie had a little conference. I was invited. Normally I’d not go, but such things are more exciting now that you’re around.”

“Excitement follows me. Tell me more.”

“Well, it started dull. Father grumped at us, telling us we’re going through with the deal, there’s no way out of it, I’m the King, grr! Yorin nodded wisely all the while, and we all knew that the sly badger had put these words in Father’s head. Then Mother drew herself up until she was as tall as those oaks over there. She insisted that you have to go, that they should have you on a ship by tomorrow morning.”

Loric’s smile grew. “Now, the fun part. Elsie had been listening this whole time with her sulkiest face on—and believe me, she does an excellent sulk. The moment Mother was done, Elsie leapt up and insisted that you must not be sent away. Which, of course, threw Mother into a complete fit of confusion. Father naturally asked if Elsie meant to say she’s accepting her marriage, and Elsie said no, she wants both not to be married and also for you to stay. Cue pandemonium.”

Rema laughed, and Loric smiled so widely that the ends of his mouth threatened to meet at the back of his head. “They thought Elsie had gone crazy,” he said. “But anyone would go crazy for you.”

“An amusing anecdote.” Time to probe a little deeper. “What can you tell me about a man in a hood?”

“Where did that question come from?”

“All topics are connected. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Yes.” Loric’s face became glum. “I don’t know his name. All I know is that my brother uses him for his butcher’s work. He’s a torturer and assassin. My father knows all about him too.”

They were interrupted by the return of Alys, who approached with slow and uncertain steps. She held a tray of food in her arms. “Hello, My Lord Prince Loric sir,” she said, her lower lip hanging in dejection. “I only brought enough breakfast for one, because I thought Rema would still be alone.”

“Oh, Alys,” said Rema. “Thank you. Loric isn’t here to eat but rather to bother me, isn’t that right?”

Loric averted his eyes. “If I’m a bother, I’ll leave.”

“Don’t be so sensitive. Alys, I’d like to see more of the castle later. Will you be around?”

“Yes, always,” Alys said, smiling again. “Just leave the tray on the bench, I’ll come get it later. Remember, tell Yorin that I wasn’t troublemaking!” Her eyes widened to emphasize her final request, and she strolled away across the grass, humming to herself.

“That imp is quite devoted to you.” Loric peered at the tray. “Two slices of bread with jam, an apple and a pastry! What a treat!”

Rema took an experimental bite of the bread. It was thick and floury, and the strawberry jam tingled on the tip of her tongue. “Now here’s something I can’t belittle.”

“Just don’t expect much from the pastry. I mourn for the pastry chef we lost a year ago. Strong men fell to their knees weeping just at the thought of her pies.”

“You lost her?” Rema bit into the pastry. It was some kind of tart, dry and crumbly. The crumbs clung to her tongue and mouth—if only Alys had brought a drink as well. “What happened?”

“My father learned that she was spending a little too much time with my sister, so he sent her away.” Loric blushed. “Poor Elsie. She really liked that one too.”

Of course Elise had sought comfort in the servants. Forceful as she was, it was improbable she would never have tried to satisfy her desires before now. “Does that sort of thing happen often?”

“Not too often. Elsie knows she’s gambling every time. Her dalliances are about the only thing that might convince our mother to pack her away. You’re too tempting for her to resist, though.” Loric plucked a blossom from his shoulder and frowned at it. “If you’re not interested in her like that, I can ask her to stop chasing you.”

The look in his eyes made clear that he wanted badly for Rema to ask exactly that. “Don’t worry,” she said, after an awkward pause. “It takes a great deal to make me uncomfortable.”

“And what does make you uncomfortable?”

“Well, I once saw a man forced to eat himself from the feet up.”

Loric opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. “That isn’t true, is it?”

Rema replied with her most inscrutable smile. “A diplomat never tells.”

Shaking the leaves from his hair, Loric stood. “Thank you for an image that I’ll carry with me all day. By the way, my brother is supposed to be back tomorrow. I desperately want to be there when you meet him. And I’d like to invite you to dinner with me and Elsie tonight, to spare you from my parents.”

“That’s a gracious offer. I accept. As for your brother, we’ll see what happens.”

“You may have seen some amazing things, but I bet you’ve never seen anything like a fight between Elsie and Calan.” Loric glanced at Rema, not quite making eye contact. “Don’t you feel bad about what you’re doing?”

“I like you both. But I also have to save a kingdom.”

“You know, mostly I’ve felt sorry for Elsie.” Loric’s lips tilted in a crooked smile. “But maybe I really ought to feel sorry for you.”

A little too perceptive for comfort, this one. “I’ve an apple to finish, and I don’t want to eat it in front of you. It’s undignified.”

“I’m tempted to stay now just to see what you look like when you’re undignified.” Loric ran his finger around his neck. He was blushing even under his collar, the poor boy. “Well, back to my hard day’s labor.” He disappeared into the hedgerows, casting a furtive glance backward.

Rema returned to her morning relaxation. A beetle crawled up her sleeve, and she peered with interest at its slick red carapace and seeking, spindly legs. With care she redirected it onto a crisp leaf, placed the leaf on the ground and watched the insect stumble into the grass. Loric’s story was troubling. If Talitha was in a bad mood, then it would be wise to avoid her for a time. Better to wait for the return of Calan, who obviously held influence over his father.

Her thoughts crept, once again, to Elise. The barely-veiled desire in Elise’s eyes had made clear Rema’s mission was to be an especially painful one. At the court of Arann, she was known as a relentless advocate for the vulnerable: slaves, prostitutes, beggars, the crippled and uniquely-minded, those who refused the sex given at their birth, and, of course, people like herself and Elise—women constituted to love women, men constituted to love men. As a Danoshan, Elise would have been told throughout her life that her way of loving was some monstrous sin. If only Rema were free to demonstrate the beautiful truth that women could love one another—with as much passion and lust as they dared—and day would continue to burn into night, as it had always done.

She caught herself. Such thoughts could easily crush her. Far more productive to find Yorin and learn more about the imminent arrival of the eldest prince. Her knees ached as she stood from the bench, and she took a moment to shake the pain from her legs.

As she crossed the garden, she passed a group of servants beating compost out of tin drums. She caught, for a lingering moment, the eye of a young woman among the group, and received her reward: a nervous smile, a coy movement of long lashes. It was a fine thing to be Rema.

She found the front court once more crowded with peasants, their harried faces expressing countless miseries. As Rema stood near a wall, trying to see through the packed mass of heads, a tall man with a coiled purple mustache walked toward her. His tunic was dyed orange and red, and it had been wrapped several times around his body, causing him to puff at the waist. Judging by his absurd mustache, he was either a dye merchant or a dangerous lunatic.

The man’s chapped lips lifted in a smile. “Fancy meeting a mouth of the Emperor in a dungheap like this,” he said in Annari, the language of the Empire.

“Perhaps you’ll bring a little color to it,” Rema said in the same tongue. The man spoke with an accent, and it took her only a second to place it—he was an Ulati, from the far northern steppes of Amantis. She switched to Ulat, which she enjoyed speaking for its melodic, rolling vowels. “You’re a long way from home.”

“A merchant is always far from home,” he said, switching likewise to Ulat. “And your master has ensured my home is not what it used to be. I feel bound to note that when he conquered our province, he killed two of my brothers.”

“If he’d had his way, he’d have killed everyone. I’m sorry I didn’t end the war in time to save your brothers.”

The Ulati tugged on his mustache, which sprang pertly back into position. “Anyone who speaks my language so sweetly can’t be entirely rotten.” He extended his hand, and she shook it. “My name is Muhan.”

“Rema. I’m amazed. You still haven’t made an astonished comment about my being a woman.”

Muhan grinned, revealing teeth stained in countless colors. “I didn’t want to be rude, and besides, it made a great deal of sense. My wife always settles disputes at home, so why shouldn’t women be out settling them abroad?”

“I don’t know if I like your analogy, but at least you’re trying. Have you really come here to sell dye?”

Muhan gestured to his prismatic body. “Do I look as though I’m here to sell cabbage?”

“With leaves of particularly vivid green.” Rema smiled. This meeting was precisely the antidote she needed to the dourness of this cold, superstitious kingdom. “It merely seems odd to offer luxury goods to a kingdom that’s impoverished and on the wrong end of a war. You should be selling your goods in Lyorn.”

“Such is my plan, but I thought I’d try my chances here before heading north. At the very least I can earn some coins exhibiting myself in the street.”

Rema glanced at Muhan’s hands. Each finger was stained a different color, and a vivid swirl ran up his dark forearms. “If you want to skip the queue, come with me. We need to find a man in a white robe, his forehead dragged somewhere down to his knees by the weight of the world.”

“I will follow you like a puppy.” Muhan returned to speaking Annari. “Where might this man be?”

“Let’s find out.” Rema stepped onto a bench and gazed over the heads of the crowd. “There he is! Hiding in the corner and shouting at a servant. Follow me.”

Rema led Muhan toward Yorin, who was berating an unfortunate pageboy. As he noticed Rema’s approach, Yorin’s eyebrows made an intrepid attempt to reach the top of his head, and he waved the servant away. “You’re lucky I don’t make you a jester, you damn fool. Now go on, get.”

“Yes, Master.” The pageboy gave Rema a grateful look before scampering off.