The Diplomat (9 page)

“Did Yorin pass on my letter?” Elise wiped her hands on her smock. “I hope you didn’t mind my being cryptic.”

“Diplomats love cryptic letters, but I wouldn’t mind a little more explanation.”

“I just have reason to worry for you, that’s all.” Elise twisted her hair around her finger, evidently forgetting about the dirt on her hands. “I suppose you came to ask about the boy, not to see me.”

“Something of both. I’d heard you do a lot for the sick.”

“Much more than my father. He genuinely believes he can make them better by passing his hands over their fevered heads.” Elise stared at a long tangle of her hair, which was clumped together with soil. “Oh, no. Look what I’ve done.”

Rema laughed. “I should have told you, but…”

“You’re wicked as well. Perfect. I can’t wait for our dinner. I know I made a fool of myself last night, but I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

“I enjoyed our evening. In truth, I should have stayed longer.”

Elise veiled her eyes beneath her lashes. “Yes, you should have.”

“Well.” Rema stood, keeping her distance from the dirty table. “Now that I know the boy is fine, I should learn if Yorin has any news for me.”

“Turn around,” said Elise. Rema hesitated but obeyed. A moment later, a hand brushed across her behind. “You have soil on your trousers.” Another brisk sweep followed, and Rema’s pulse skipped as Elise’s fingers lingered on the curve of her left buttock.

“That doesn’t feel like brushing.” Rema stared at the wall, too startled to move.

“Of course it was.” Elise turned Rema to face her. “All gone now.” Her hand remained on Rema’s shoulder, and Rema became very aware of the closeness of their lips.

“I’ll see you for dinner, then,” she said.

Elise lifted her hand and stepped away, and the anxiety in Rema’s chest eased. “Yes, you will. I’ll have to get the servants to help me clear a space. They grumble about bringing the food upstairs, but surely the exercise is good for them.” Elise tossed her hair. “Go on, then, Rema! Run along and diplomat somewhere else. You’re keeping me from my work.”

As Rema descended the tower, she brushed several times at the seat of her trousers. Perhaps Elise had invented the soil as an excuse for a covert caress. If so, it was a deception worthy of herself.

Only a few unhappy peasants remained in the front court, still waiting with dour patience to see their King. Yorin stood near a wall in agitated conversation with a tall, long-haired man whose tanned arms were encased in tight gold bracelets. His dark eyes betrayed no emotion and were divided by a striking high-ridged nose.

“I’m telling you,” said Yorin. “Nobody mentioned your arrival.”

“The letter was sent,” said the man. Judging from his appearance and his glottal accent, he was from Narandor, a kingdom on the northern edge of the continent—one of the many prudent nations aligned with neither Danosha nor Lyorn, the better to keep their hands clean. “Would you be so foolish as to turn away aid merely because you misplaced a scrap of paper?”

Rema joined the two men and clasped her hands before her coat. “May I be of service here, Yorin?”

“Rema, thank God,” said Yorin. “This man claims to be a diplomat from Narandor. He says he’s come to discuss the war and offer an alliance. But we have no message from the Narandane to prove what he’s saying.”

Most Narandane could speak Huzi, a dialect common in the northern regions of the continent. It wasn’t Rema’s most fluent tongue, but she knew enough to test the man. “My friend tells me you claim to be from Narandor,” she said, switching languages.

“Is that not obvious?” said the man in perfect Huzi. “You are an imperial diplomat. You know very well that letters do not always arrive intact.”

Rema also knew very well that few diplomats would risk a long journey without some written confirmation they wouldn’t be returned home in several boxes. “If you’re truly a diplomat, you understand none of us travel without some seal of authority.”

“I am not here to parley with Emperor Ormun, who has not even seen fit to grace us with the humblest trade agreement. Do not annoy me with talk of documentation you have no authority to demand.”

Rema smiled and returned to speaking Danoshan. “He may or may not be a diplomat, Yorin, but he’s certainly as tough as one.”

“God preserve me.” Yorin threw his hands up in frustration. “I suppose I have no choice but to let you stay, but this is very irregular. A message will go out immediately to confirm your claim. You can see the King this evening, and I’ll find you a room.”

“That is well,” said the Narandane. “My personal servants will see to moving my luggage.”

“If you prefer.” Yorin raised his voice. “Alys!” The girl approached with her hands full of washing. “Take Lord Domyr to those vacant chambers near the bathing room. One for him, one for his servants.”

Domyr’s personal servants, a group of two women and a man all grim as their master, stepped forward bearing wooden trunks. Alys gave the company a terrified smile—perhaps she fancied the trunks were stuffed with naughty children—and directed them through one of the archways.

Yorin watched them leave before turning to Rema, his brow a scaffold of worry. “That’s four rooms gone today. Can you believe that Loric demanded we let the dye merchant stay with us? He can juggle, it seems, and do conjuring tricks. So now he’s in my palace taking up precious space.”

“Your palace?” Rema raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Muhan, Domyr and his servants. That’s three rooms. Who took the fourth?”

“A fourth? I must have misspoken.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Let me guess. It’s a hooded man with nasty eyes and an unsavory reputation, and Calan and the King have insisted you tell no one about him.”

Yorin looked away, but not before the twitch of his lips exposed his guilt. “Why am I not supposed to know about this man?” said Rema.

“Presumably for the reason I know nothing about him myself. Rema, listen to me. If you see him around, I beg you to leave him alone.”

“Rest easy. I won’t get you into any trouble.”

“I’m not worried for myself.” Yorin lowered his voice. “I’m worried for you! Don’t cross that man. Don’t even look at him. If it ever comes that you need to know something, I’ll be sure that you do.”

“As you say.” Though her interest hadn’t been satisfied, the candor of Yorin’s reply suggested Rema might win his total confidence yet. It was a prospect worth pursuing. “To be honest, I’ve run out of errands for the day. Is there any paperwork you need help with?”

“Are you serious?” Yorin grasped her arm, and his eyes widened with frantic hope. “Tell me you’re serious.”

“I’m serious.” Rema laughed as she freed her captive limb. “Take me to the paperwork.”

She’d never yet seen that glum face produce a smile so heartfelt. “I’ll have to arrange you a softer mattress,” Yorin said as he led her out of the court. “And I take back all the uncharitable things I’ve said about imperial diplomats. You’re the finest people in the world.”

“Don’t get carried away. The next diplomat who comes from the Empire may well be the unpleasant sort Elise is eager to roast over an open fire.”

Yorin chuckled, while Rema allowed herself a contented smile. If it meant securing the man’s loyalty, a little paperwork was no ordeal. After all, how much work could it be?

Chapter Seven

The bureaucrats of Arann had a saying: first the Gods sent locusts, then boils, and finally the paperwork. Yorin had given Rema three kitchen inventories, one for each of the three months past, and asked her to calculate how rapidly supplies were being consumed. He’d explained a grand scheme to predict exactly how much food he would need to sustain the palace for the next two years, and he had become so excited describing the idea that he had knocked over an inkwell.

The resulting work was enough to occupy an entire squadron of scribes, but Rema enjoyed the quiet scratch of the quill and the diversion from her guilty feelings. It was worth each tiresome stroke if it meant further developing the camaraderie between Yorin and herself. He controlled the servants and guards and knew the intimacies of the court, and that made him both an essential ally and a dangerous enemy.

The man himself entered the room, rousing her from a whirl of numbers. “You’ve been at that for hours,” Yorin said. “You’re not here to slave for me. Put an end to it for the day.”

Rema flexed her cramped hand. “Once I get a quill in my hand, I have trouble stopping.”

“I spoke to Alys on the way here.” Yorin took some of her paperwork and peered at the long list of numbers. “She was frightened she might be in trouble, and was relieved to learn that you’d informed me of your morning’s escapade to the gardens. That relief made her bold enough to request a pair of trousers, if you can believe it.”

“A hundred years from now, every woman in Danosha will be wearing them.” Rema stood and winced at the agonizing stiffness in her knees.

“You’re grimacing.”

“It’s nothing. I’d better get to dinner. Loric and Elise are expecting me.”

Yorin scratched his balding pate. “I can’t begin to imagine what you three have to talk about. Don’t lose sight of your mission.”

Normally Rema might bridle at the suggestion she was losing her focus, but for once, she wasn’t so certain herself. “They’re not my enemies. If anything, they’re my victims.”

“You scourge yourself too much over this.” Yorin slid another sheet of paperwork across the table and squinted, clearly disapproving of some figure. “In jobs like ours, we have to accept that our own principles can be overruled.”

“I’ve been letting Ormun overrule my principles for four years. It never gets any easier.” Rema shook her head. “I’ll be on my way. Have a good night.”

“Sleep well.” Yorin settled himself before the desk and began to continue the work Rema had started. Did he ever rest from his duties?

Rema navigated the palace until she reached the foot of Elise’s tower. The sun had melted deep and red, and beyond the stairwell’s windows the first stars had revealed themselves. As she climbed, dread worried at her stomach, and each successive step felt higher than the last. Yorin was right—nothing good could come of this.

The door was already open and held that way by a stack of books. Inside the tower, Loric helped a servant clear space while Elise worked on stuffing books back into their shelves. The siblings turned and smiled together.

“Rema!” said Loric, interrupting Elise as she opened her mouth. “We’re making room for you. Elsie lives in squalor, so it’s quite a task.”

“Squalor?” said Elise. “You should see his room.”

“If she’d like me to show her, I wouldn’t refuse.” Loric grinned, and Elise pinched him. He leapt away laughing. It seemed that in his sister’s presence, Loric became a different man; the gloom was gone from his eyes, replaced with a clear, animated look of happiness.

“Mind yourself, little boy.” Elise frowned at the table, which was smothered by papers. “Rema, we’re having trouble finding space for a third chair. You may have to sit on my lap.”

“It would be difficult for you to dine that way,” said Rema. “Perhaps I should come back later.”

“No, I think we almost have enough space here,” said Loric. “We’ll just need to move this thing.” He stared at something Rema was unable to see from her position in the doorway. “What is it, anyway?”

“A mysterious and powerful device that I’m forbidden to tell you about,” said Elise. “Throw it in the corner there.”

Loric hurled the unseen object across the room and dropped a chair into place. “Success! We’ve conquered Elsie’s sprawling mess.”

“I’ll fetch the meal now, my lord and lady,” said the servant, keeping his blond head low.

“Thank you,” said Elise. “Careful on those stairs.” Rema stepped aside to allow the servant through. He hurried down the stairs, his head still bowed, and his stumbling steps echoed up the stairwell.

“Now, get in here before I drag you in,” said Elise, beckoning. “Oh, careful! Don’t step on that!”

Rema pulled her foot back from the vial she had nearly trodden on. “Well, don’t leave it on the floor if it’s so fragile.”

“That’s what I always tell her.” Loric folded himself into his narrow seat. Elise settled gracefully into the seat beside him and deliberately pulled the remaining chair closer to her.

“Come on, Rema.” Elise patted the chair. “Cuddle up to me and we can talk while we wait for our meals to arrive.”

Keeping a careful eye on the floor as she walked, Rema took her place. “So what have you been doing today?” said Loric. “More beguiling, I presume?”

“I’ve been stooped over a desk for hours.” Rema marveled at the variety of Elise’s belongings. “Why do you have an octopus in a jar?” It was a hideous thing, a whorl of suckers and glistening tubes curled inward on itself.

“Because if it wasn’t in the jar, I would lose it.” Shifting closer, Elise fussed with a wayward strand of Rema’s hair. It was an unexpectedly intimate gesture; fortunately, it took more than a little flirtatious play to set loose Rema’s well-controlled desires. “Your hair is such a lovely shade of red. Loric, what do you think?”

“I wouldn’t say just lovely,” Loric said. “Her hair is beautiful. Like the tapering flame of a sunset.”

“Well, aren’t you poetic. What about her eyes? They have such marvelous lids, not like our eyes at all.”

Loric inspected Rema more closely. It was the first time he had looked directly at her without blushing. “They’re lustrous, captivating amber. Like…uh. Like the radiant gold of the sun.”

“You already used a sun-related metaphor for her hair. How fantastically lazy of you.”

“At least I didn’t just say her hair was lovely! Given your poor performance at poetic courtship, I think it only fair that Rema’s chair be moved next to me and you sit alone all night.”

Before Elise could respond, a servant waddled in beneath several trays of food. “Oh, excellent,” said Loric. “That was very quick.”

“Yorin demanded we work extra fast to bring this to you,” said the servant. “He even told us to give you extra wine.”

The trays contained too much food for the table. The servants unpacked it as best they could, but almost half of it ended up on a nearby stack of books. “Look at this feast,” said Elise. “Have you enraptured Yorin’s grouchy heart as well as ours? You continue to amaze me, Remela.”