I wandered aimlessly until I found Firebird, who had settled into the stall, head tucked under his wing. At my approach he lifted his head, his singe eye regarding me with dulled pain.
A servant appeared at my shoulder, waiting for orders, I guess. “Is this great gryph ill?” I asked.
“No, Your Imperial Serenity. The Most Noble took him out for training earlier this morning.”
The word why nearly burst out of me, but I knew no servant would answer. And I knew why. Raifas was working on making the great gryph into a warrior bird for his ships. And there was nothing I could do; Firebird seemed to intuit my uselessness, turned his face away and tucked his head under the other wing
I passed by, sick with regret and boiling, furious helplessness. So wrong, and what could I do? I couldn’t even help myself!
I kept moving. That wall contained the biggest stalls, each occupied by a great gryph. Andisla slept in the next stall, head under the opposite wing, and did not stir at the sound of my footsteps. The third lifted his head.
I sucked in an inadvertent breath when I saw a shadow glimmering around the shape of the bird. It’s difficult to explain as great gryphs are so enormous, and humans are human-sized, but I made out enough of a human outline to hazard a guess that this great gryph might be the offspring of a dual-natured person.
His curiosity about me registered in a ruffling of feathers between his eyes, a soft, rumbling noise in his throat, and his nose slits widened as he brought his head down toward me to take in my scent. Mindful of the waiting, watching servant, I reached to lay a hand between the bird’s eyes and stroked the feathers above the nubbly golden area where his beak joined to his head. “Bee-yoo-tiful bird,” I crooned inanely as I made a pin-hole and thought: Can you hear me?
Hear two-leg.
Even though the thought was faint, as if shouted from beyond glass, my heart leaped with joy. For less than a breath. Then came the doubt. So what if I could hear their minds. What good did that do for either of us?
But communication felt so good, and so did the fact that my guess was right, that the ones in fairly recent descent from a dual-natured person could perceive and form words.
Are you happy?
As soon as I thought it I knew it was stupid. But enough emotions of my own must have shaped the thought for the gryph to get the concept. To me flowed images and emotions of superficial mild contentment: nest and food and time for mating, but underneath, way underneath like a grotto under the surface of the world, a sense of melancholy. But then came a more disturbing thought, attended with perplexity and under it sorrow: a mental picture of Firebird and the word: Dies.
With that an echo of sharp longing, and an image of diving into oblivion. I knew this did not come from the gryph under my hand. It must be a thought from Firebird, either communicated mind to mind or perhaps in their own cries, shaped with smell and image.
Then another sharp word: Free, and the wide sky, the sense of wings outstretched, sun on one’s back, so vivid an image and visceral a sensation that my back muscles bunched and I swayed on my feet and had to steady myself.
I understood. Denied freedom, Firebird welcomed death. Or maybe he hoped to be dead soon. Either way wrenched me with anguish and guilt and anger. I lifted my hand, tempted to promise what I could not possibly deliver, yet another human betrayal of their kind.
When I had steadied myself, I discovered not one but three servants lined up waiting for orders, the question implied in their gazes igniting warning through my nerves. Of course whatever I did here would be reported. And I did not want any Djuran knowing that I could communicate with the gryphs even in so limited a form.
“I love their soft feathers,” I said, trying to sound cheerful. “The Emp—His Imperial Serenity said that I might have a gryph of my own. Or a float. I am trying to decide which.”
The servants bowed, their expressions smoothing out. Now my movements made sense. I was given to understand through the usual circumlocution that the great gryphs were not used to pull floats, except for the emperor, and then they flew harnessed three in a row. Only the hens did well in tandem flying, as their wings were shorter, and they fouled much less often.
I followed the servants to where the brown gryphs nested. One of these also had a shadow, much dimmer than that of the great gryph. I went from one stall to the next, asking questions of the servants about floats, gryphs, and how the Chosen learned to guide the birds as I made my way to the brown gryph with the shadow.
As with the two others, she let me stroke her head, and I put my question again, since the great gryph had provided an answer. From her a wave of emotions with the images of small gryph beaks poking through brown shells, and a thought in clear, distinct words: I want them free. Under that, memory of former clutches taken away from her and reappearing as half-grown birds with green-glowing harnesses around their necks, their minds unreachable.
I had learned something about gryphs, at the cost of feeling even more helpless and useless. To hide my distress I forced out a couple more questions to the servants about how floats were decorated, and how long one could fly. I didn’t listen to a word of the answers, just waited as I steadied myself, then thanked them and departed.
Step, step, step. I had to make myself avoid the music room and return to my pretty cell, where the promised books waited.
Kal had already written out the alphabet for me, more evidence of the constant unseen and unheard communication, as if I needed it. I settled into my hammock and did my best.
Jardis was right. The alphabet was easy enough to learn, though reading was slow going at first, as I worked to get it into memory.
Time passed, and the courtly enumeration of emperors, empresses, and their accomplishments piled up in my head like beads, without ever forming a pattern that made sense to me, much less a whole. Still, I made myself go back and back until I had committed to memory a sizable list of names.
By that time the sun had set and it was time to dine and then get ready for whatever dull and covertly insulting courtly delight awaited me. I longed to refuse, but I knew that I’d be asked why. It was safer to go and sit with my own thoughts while I was ignored.
Without much enthusiasm I went to the dining alcove, where as always I found a fine meal waiting. As I sat down, a thought occurred, and I said to Kal, who hovered outside the door as always, “Do Djurans ever eat at state dinners?”
“State dinners?” he repeated (I’m not adding on all the rigmarole).
“Yes. Like they have in other places. Big long table. A lot of courses brought in one by one. . . .”
His widening eyes caused me to falter to a stop.
“I guess they don’t have state dinners here,” I said.
“The Chosen always eat alone,” he said. “Or at most with someone with whom they are intimate.” He looked away the way people do when embarrassed.
I wanted to ask if he ate alone, but the thought that he would have to answer a personal question that embarrassed him shut me up. I really didn’t know anything about the servants’ lives. I’d seen their chambers, but not what went on there. And who knew, maybe they had places the Chosen never saw.
I hoped so.
I picked up my goblet and sipped the water that I preferred to their wines. Then I blinked. “Did you add herbs to this water?”
“I added nothing to the Imperial Princess’s water that she did not request,” he said formally.
I understood that I had insulted him—or complained, which was worse.
“It doesn’t taste bad,” I hastened to say. “Just a bit odd, a kind of oily almost-sweetness. Perhaps some kind of seed fell in the jug.” I set the goblet down and reached for some hothouse grapes. Kal took the water away at once.
My appetite, never very good since my arrival in Sveran Djur, had entirely vanished. I was so tired. More than tired. Dispirited, glum. I castigated myself mentally. One more Princess Elenderi appearance and I would be done for the night. And in the mornin
g, my harp. I got up and crossed to the wardrobe, falling into reverie, but then I pulled my thoughts up short.
Must not even think about the harp, I scolded myself as I permitted Chith to twitch my stole and folds into place.
She gave me a startled look, and I blinked at her. “Did I say that out loud?”
“Yes, Your Imperial Serenity,” she whispered.
“I must be more fatigued than I thought,” I said. “Tired and bored. Ulp! Time to be quiet now. Thanks, Chith. You’re free now, or as free as you get. Which is more than I get . . . ugh! Now I’m whining.”
I shut my mouth, pressing my lips together. Oh, was I weary! Talking mind to mind with those gryphs had worn me out. No, no, don’t think about that, think about sleep soon, after this tedious poetry session with a select audience, was that how Kal had worded it when he spoke the invitation.
I reached the chamber, a small, very formal six-sided room decorated in white raw silk hangings embroidered with scenes of spring. The Most Noble Nial met me with a low bow, and led me to one of those cushions with a low table, pen, ink, and very expensive rice paper. The tables—only four—had been set in a square.
“. . . Pardon, Your Imperial Serenity?”
“Rice-paper, very fine,” I said, then belatedly recognized I’d spoken in Elras, Hlanan’s home language. That was odd. And would get me into trouble! My wits were really wandering.
Once again I compressed my lips, thankful when she moved away to greet Darus and Amney, who had arrived together.
“And we are all gathered,” Nial said, hands together. “Let us commence, if you will, Your Imperial Serenity. We thought to offer you an evening of our most famous poetry.”
“Most famous or most boring?” I asked, and tried to suppress a hiccough of laughter. Oops! Once again I’d spoken in Elras. I found that hilarious, and clapped my hand over my mouth as I snickered.
“Your pardon, Your Imperial Serenity. I misheard,” Nial said, obviously perplexed.
Amney and Darus had taken their seats, he with a small, smug smile at her before they noticed me staring. They smoothed their expressions into twin court masks.
I enunciated in Djuran, “You only speak one language? Oh, I must not call that ignorant. That is rude. I would not be rude in any of the nine languages I speak.”
I turned to that superior Amney to see how she took that, ha ha, to surprise a wide-eyed glance toward Darus. She murmured, “I thought—”
Darus made a quick movement with two fingers as he turned to me. “Now, Princess Elenderi,” he said in distinct tones. “You will hear and obey.”
“I will what?” I retorted, crossing my arms. Or tried to cross my arms. One wrist bumped into the other, and I rocked on my cushion. “Ulp.”
“You will cease your encroachments upon imperial prerogative.”
“I doan’ wantcher imperial prerogative,” I retorted, and Amney gave Darus a quick glance.
His tone sharpened. “You will refuse the great gryphs that are not yours to take.”
“I will set them—”
On the word free, the doors opened to the hands of imperial guards, and Jardis Dhes-Andis entered, tassels swinging.
Darus and Amney both looked as if someone had shocked them with lightning bolts before they folded deep in bows. Nial stepped back a pace, bowed to the deepest degree, swaying as if she intended to drop to her knees. “Your Imperial Serenity—”
“I see you did not actually expect me,” Jardis said, sounding amused as he gestured toward my cushion alone on the dais. “It is true I seldom attend poetry readings, though you all faithfully invite me. But I aim to reform. A reading for such a select group must surely furnish a superlative list.” He made a slight nod in my direction. “I look forward to your opinion, Elenderi.”
I knew I must bow, but my joints seemed curiously unhinged. I tried to get up and fell forward, knocking the ink bottle over so that it rattled in a circle. “Ugh,” I said in Elras. “I dunno what’s wrong with me. I wouldn’t want to make a foo a’ myself here, whuh, with the ones’t hate me mosh.” My lips felt numb, and I bit them. “Mosssst.”
Nial whispered, “I beg pardon, Your Imperial Serenity. Did you address me?”
“No.” I swallowed, as Jardis took the place where Nial should have sat as hostess, and stared at me with a frown between his brows.
I muttered, “Djuran. Not Elras. No you haven’t insulted me. But I know. Thass all right. Interloper, thass me, if only you knew, but I won’t say anything, annnn-ything, in front of those two, right there, for they are sure to make it even worse, yes, you Amney, with your un-civ-il-ized four shyllabubbles. Lemme tell you. I hadda nuth-ing to do with choosing my name! I uh-SHOOR you I wudda stobbed it if I coulda, and I kinda did. . . .”
Somewhere far, far beneath the splashy, out-of-control surface of my mind I wailed with fear. What was happening to me?
“Elenderi,” Dhes-Andis said sharply.
“Don’t burn me, I dunno why I got so, wuh-wha . . . I better not try annnn. . . .” anymore mind communication, I wanted to say, but now my jaw wouldn’t work.
The last thing I saw was the most surprising sight of all: none other than Kal slipping alone into the room and throwing himself face down flat on the floor at the emperor’s feet. “The Imperial Princess has been poisoned,” Kal said desolately. “And I failed to catch it. I deserve death.”
“Nooooo. . . .” I moaned.
Klonk! My forehead hit the table.
o0o
I woke when my stomach summarily chose to part with its contents.
When that was over, I lay groaning, my head pounding fit to crack my skull. The rest of me shivered like a jelly in a high wind.
“Your Imperial Serenity . . . try to sip this. It will help. . . .” Tay’s hand cradled the back of my skull, but that gentle grip might as well have been an ice pick.
“Ow-ow-ow-ow.”
Something pressed insistently against my lower lip and a fresh scent like spring grass in the rain wafted into my face. I sipped, then gulped, and oh, bliss, the pain began to recede. I began to slide into sleep but then I heard a new voice. “Elenderi, waken. For a moment.”
It was his voice. Alarm caused me to gasp and I sat up, clutching at my throat. My head swam and I fell back again, blinking blurrily up.
Jardis bent over me, Tay’s anxious face floating blurrily behind.
“Elenderi, it is for you to decide Kal’s fate. He neglected to assure the safety of your comestibles.”
“No,” I croaked. “I heard. He came. Warning.”
“Yes, he investigated, and reported to me at once, as you saw, though breaking every rule of decorum. In a situation of extremity—and, as it happens, before the perpetrator of your affliction. But we shall address that anon. What is your judgment on Kal?”
“Don’. Unnersand.”
“You were poisoned. It is part of his duty to taste of everything to determine its safety. Though granted, it has been ten years since anyone has attempted so dire a trespass. Many among the staff have come to assume safety when not given orders to the contrary.”
“Why. Should. He. Get poison. Meant for me?”
“We shall have to discourse upon the fundamentals, but I see your struggle to speak, and I gather you are in favor of clemency. So shall it be. Rest until tomorrow. I will require your presence in the Chamber of Engagement at sunrise seconde.”
He moved away and my eyes closed. On a sigh of relief I fell into sleep.
Twice I dreamed, and both times I sought the Blue Lady—and in the seeking, remembered danger, which jolted me back out of the dream world into a sluggish, headachy wakefulness. Frustrated, I fell back to sleep, and did not waken until the next day, when thirst forced me up through the layers of scattered image, memory, and voice. All that vanished like mist when I opened my eyes.
Fear and anxiety, underscored by the smoldering of anger, got me out of bed, though my arms and legs felt loose and unstrung. But the more
I moved the faster that feeling faded. A hot bath chased the remainder of the lassitude away. My body had recovered. But my mind?
When I sat down to breakfast Kal was there as always, though pale and subdued, his eyes ringed with dark skin.
I said, “I hope you didn’t get tortured. Corrected.” I sighed, prickling with ire. “No, it’s torture, no matter what anyone calls it.” My rising wrath died down when his face shuttered as effectively as any courtier’s.
“There was no chastisement, much as it was deserved, Your Imperial Serenity.”
“I still don’t quite understand what happened, except that I will wager anything Darus and Amney were part of it. But if I was the target, I don’t see why you should be poisoned instead.”
“It is my duty, Your Imperial Serenity.”
“I just don’t see that. Oh, I understand about hierarchies. But it seems to me for it to be truly just, everyone willingly falls into their role by choice. I’m here by someone else’s will.”
“It is your duty,” he said gently. “Your Imperial Serenity.”
I gave up. Of course I was not going to be able to change anyone’s mind. I didn’t have the wit, the skill, or the knowledge, and in spite of all that bowing and imperial this-and-that I certainly did not have the power.
Feeling thoroughly squashed, I said, “What is the Chamber of Engagement?”
Turned out it was that long room with the staves in racks. On my way there I sensed a tension and stillness in the air, though I’d be hard put to define how I knew, since the halls were as empty as ever.
The bells of sunrise seconde tanged sweetly twice in the distance as two imperial guards opened the doors for me. My neck hairs lifted. I was used to flitting about these halls in the morning when no one was about.
Inside, a male figure knelt at the far end of the room, palms turned up on his thighs. When I recognized that handsome profile as Darus’s, I backed hastily toward the door again—and was nearly knocked flat as the doors opened once more.
Lhind the Spy Page 34
