by Caitlin Seal
Sai shook her head. “I knew a Naya, but I heard she died in that unfortunate incident in Ceramor.”
The older woman pressed a handkerchief to her nose. “Oh, poor Sai, how terrible to be confronted by the corpse of a dead friend.”
“I’m not a corpse,” Naya said, fighting the sudden urge to knock the wineglass out of the silly woman’s hand. She took a step forward, and the woman recoiled as though attacked.
“Lady Elv, perhaps we should go,” Sai said, sounding uneasy.
“Hush, Sai.” Lady Elv leveled a glare at Naya. “Not a corpse? Creature, who are you trying to fool, us or yourself?”
“Excuse me?” A new voice interrupted before Naya could answer. “Lady Elv, Miss Ayun? Trade Master Galve wanted to speak to you.”
Lady Elv turned and arched her eyebrows. Behind her stood a tall young woman with a wide smile. She wore a Banian-style robe patterned yellow and red. Her skin was darker than Naya’s but still lighter than most Islanders, and her black hair was curly rather than straight.
“Ah,” Lady Elv said. “Mel, isn’t it? I see that your mother decided to bring you along after all.”
The newcomer, Mel, grinned. “And the trade master decided to keep you on his staff despite the rumors about that little incident at Mistress Brilla’s salon last month. Surprises all around.”
Lady Elv sputtered. “You—Come, Sai, it seems we’re wanted in better company than this.”
Sai nodded. “Of course,” she said. She didn’t so much as glance at Naya before following Lady Elv into the crowd.
“Sorry about that,” Mel said. “I heard what they were saying and thought you might want a rescue.”
Naya blinked, unsure what to make of the strange girl. “Thank you.”
Mel smiled. “No trouble. Lady Elv has something of a condition where all her common sense drains out as soon as she enters a party. I expect she leaves it behind in hopes that the void will open more room for the queen’s expensive wines.”
Naya snickered, but the little bubble of humor popped when she looked back in the direction Sai and Lady Elv had gone. “It seemed like common sense wasn’t the only thing she lacked.”
“Very true.” Mel looked around, seeming to notice the stares they were getting from other guests. “I’m afraid you’ll find she’s not alone in her opinions, though most people here will have more tact in expressing them.”
“What about you?” Naya asked. Mel’s abrupt arrival had startled her out of her anger, but that didn’t mean she could let her guard down. She glanced again toward the side of the room and noted with frustration that most of the servants had retreated now that the tables were reset.
Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re the first undead I’ve ever met. So far you seem perfectly decent.”
“There you are!” Francisco squeezed through a gap in the crowd. His gaze darted between Naya and Mel as he straightened his cravat. He smiled at Mel and offered a low bow. “Sorry if I’m interrupting. I’m Francisco Delence.”
“Well, hello there.” Mel answered his bow with a Talmiran curtsy that looked only a little strange with her Banian robes. “Mel Jeden.”
Francisco’s smile lost its warmth. “Ah. Would you be the daughter of Ambassador Jeden?”
Mel grinned. “From your tone I can tell you’ve met my dear mother.”
Francisco cleared his throat. “Not in person.” He turned back to Naya. “Miss Garth, would you please come with me? There are some people we should speak to before the festivities wind down.”
“All right,” Naya said, glancing back at Mel.
Mel waved one hand in a shooing gesture. “By all means, don’t let me keep you. I’m sure we’ll see each other around later.”
Francisco surprised Naya by offering her his arm. She took it, and he all but dragged her back into the crowd. “What were you doing?” he asked under his breath, his polite tone replaced by one of exasperation.
“Nothing. I thought I saw someone I knew,” Naya whispered back. She tried to pay attention to the faces around them and not the surprising warmth of Francisco’s arm against hers.
“Who?”
Naya hesitated. “Nobody. I was wrong.” She didn’t want to mention Celia until she was sure of what she’d seen.
Francisco gave her an irritated look. “Fine, but next time don’t run off like that. Maybe this place just looks like a party to you, but trust me when I say the people here are every bit as dangerous as that crowd that attacked us outside.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” Naya said.
Francisco stopped walking and met her eyes. “You obviously know how to fight, but this is different.” He glanced around. “Speaking of, what were you and Mel Jeden talking about?”
“Nothing. She just came over and introduced herself.” Naya really didn’t feel like explaining the entire conversation with Sai and Lady Elv.
“Well, stay away from her if you can. Her mother is the Talmiran ambassador to the Banen Islands. She’s spent the past five years working to keep the Banians against us. If Mel sought you out, it was probably at her mother’s request.”
Naya frowned. She knew who Ambassador Jeden was, of course. But Mel had seemed completely different from the descriptions Naya had heard of her cold, calculating mother. “I’ll be careful,” she said. “But I’m not going to spend the entire Congress hiding in the corner.”
“That would be an impressive feat, seeing as how this ballroom is round.”
“You knew what I meant,” Naya said, rolling her eyes.
“Did I? Maybe finding corners in round rooms is a trick they teach all the Talmiran spies.”
“Careful,” Naya said. “If I didn’t know any better, I might think you were developing a sense of humor.”
Francisco’s shoulders tensed. “I have a perfectly good sense of humor, it’s just this place that isn’t funny.”
“If you say so,” Naya said. She watched Francisco out of the corner of her eye as he led her through the crowd. She thought she was beginning to see the boy hiding behind the mask of the politician’s son. He was clever and passionate, and she found herself wanting to like him despite everything else. It made her wish they could have met under better circumstances. Perhaps in another life, they might have been friends.
Naya worked to keep her expression pleasant as she and Francisco spent the next hour mingling among the lower ranked members of the Silmaran and Banian delegations. Francisco moved easily among the delegates, brushing off sideways insults and always working to turn the conversation back toward the advantages of stronger alliances with Ceramor and the harmlessness of the undead. He was clearly in his element.
Meanwhile, Naya’s head throbbed from the effort of trying to sort individual emotions while answering the often-probing questions of the other delegates. She’d promised herself she would work to end the fear and hate her people had promoted for so long. Yet so far this night had been a harsh reminder of how difficult that task would be. Only Mel had treated Naya as a person rather than a curiosity, or something to be feared. And according to Francisco, even that might have been a ruse.
When the Silmaran delegates they’d been speaking with stepped away to get more drinks, Naya touched Francisco’s arm. “I’m going back to the rooms,” she said.
Francisco glanced around. His eyes were a little glassy and his cheeks flushed from the wine the Silmarans kept insisting he share with them. “I should stay here a while longer,” he said.
“So stay,” Naya said. “We don’t both have to leave.”
Francisco frowned. “I don’t like the idea of you going back alone.”
Heat rose in Naya’s cheeks and she wasn’t sure if she should feel amused or annoyed. Francisco was the one who looked like he might need an escort after all the wine he’d drunk. “I can take care of myself.”
Francisco hesitated. “All right,” he said finally. “But you should go straight back to the rooms.”
Naya breathed a sigh of relief as she started toward the grand doors. She was nearly out into the hall when a heavily accented voice called to her in Talmiran. “Excuse me, are you Naya Garth?”
Naya turned and was surprised to see one of the Endran ambassadors hurrying toward her. The man’s copper hair was unusually long, held back in a tail at the base of his neck, and the gemstones in his wide belt glimmered as he paused before her and bowed.
“I am,” Naya said.
The ambassador smiled. “Then I am glad I have caught you. Forgive me. We were not introduced. I am Zultaren Bargal, emissary to Her Great Majesty Queen Alethen the first of the Sun Blessed Lands.” His accent had a strange, almost singsong quality.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Naya said, covering her confusion with a curtsy.
“The honor is mine. It is not every day that I find myself in the company of one who has returned from the far side of death.”
Naya ducked her head. What in creation was she supposed to say to something like that? And how had the Endran ambassador known who she was? Despite his smile, there was something disquieting about the intensity of his gaze. “Do you not have necromancy in Endra then?”
“No,” Bargal said, adjusting one of his thin gloves. “Our magic is different from yours. I had heard rumors that the people of Ceramor rediscovered the ancient secrets of necromancy. But when my queen asked me to investigate, I honestly expected to find nothing more than stories.”
Naya blinked at that. Surely news of the Mad King’s War had made it across the mountains. “It’s more than stories. The people of Ceramor have been practicing necromancy for decades.”
“That is what everyone here tells me,” Bargal said. His smile sharpened. “Though from the rumors I hear, the Ceramorans are not the only ones.”
Naya’s arms prickled as though the temperature in the room had just dropped several degrees. “What rumors would those be?” she asked carefully.
Bargal tilted his head to one side, looking bemused. “Why, the ones about this trial, of course. I heard it was a Talmiran traitor who resurrected you.”
“Oh.” Naya fought off a wave of disappointment. For a second she’d thought Bargal might somehow know about Lucia’s journals. Rumors of Valn’s role in the coup were a far more rational explanation for his comment, though the way Bargal spoke made Naya wonder what exactly people had been saying. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but the necromancer who resurrected me is Ceramoran. Valn only gave the orders.”
Bargal’s forehead furrowed. “I see. I apologize then. I must have confused what was said. Your language is rather tricky.” Before Naya could respond, he bowed again. “I find the subject of necromancy fascinating, but few people here seem willing to discuss it. If you have time during the Congress, I would very much like to speak with you more about your experiences.”
“My experiences?” Naya asked.
Bargal smiled. “Of course. You’ve been beyond death. Who wouldn’t want to know about that?”
Naya stared at the strange man, trying to guess his purpose. She’d seen him sitting at the queen’s table. Obviously, he’d come to make a deal with Talmir. Why then would he care about necromancy? “I’ll have to talk to the head of my delegation,” Naya said carefully. “But if I have time, I’d be happy to meet with you.”
“Excellent.” Bargal smiled, flashing a set of very white teeth. “Then I will look forward to seeing you again.”
Naya stepped into the relative quiet of the hallway outside the ballroom. Several soldiers guarded the doors, but otherwise the hall was empty. Naya paused, considering the hush. With most of the delegates still at the party, the bulk of the palace servants and soldiers would probably be focused here. The rest of the palace was likely to be near-abandoned. She had meant to go straight back to her rooms as Francisco had suggested, but this seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.
Naya started down the hall at a leisurely pace. Delence had implied that Queen Lial was behind Valn’s attempt to overthrow the Ceramoran throne, and Celia’s presence here would support that theory. There was a chance, if a slim one, that Lucia’s journals were hidden in this very palace. Naya couldn’t hope to find them by wandering the halls, but it would help to get a better sense of the building’s layout. If she was lucky, she might even figure out where they were keeping Valn.
Naya heard footsteps and glanced back to see one of the soldiers by the door moving to follow her. She fought down a grimace, then paused and smiled at the soldier. “Thank you, but I don’t need an escort.”
The soldier stopped, standing just out of reach. He was perhaps in his forties, with a thick, well-trimmed beard under a wide nose and very dark eyes. Now that she was away from the crowd, it was easy to sense the tension leaking through his aether. “Apologies,” he said. “After last night’s incident, the queen has ordered us to keep you guarded at all times.”
It had probably been too much to hope that they’d let her go unwatched. The soldier was bound to get suspicious if he thought she was wandering the halls aimlessly. An idea came to her. “What’s your name?” she asked the soldier.
The soldier blinked. “My name?”
Naya smiled, ignoring the way the soldier’s hand rested on his sword. She tried to summon some of the warm patience Corten had shown back when he’d taught her to draw aether. “You already know who I am. It seems rude of me to not ask for your name as well.”
The soldier was silent for a moment, wary. “Sergeant Norel Leln,” he finally said.
Naya curtsied. “Nice to meet you, Sergeant Leln. I was hoping to look at some of the artwork in the palace before I go up to my rooms. Is that all right?”
Leln hesitated, then nodded his head. “So long as you stay on this floor, all unlocked areas of the palace are open to members of the delegations.”
“Good,” Naya said. A night spent surrounded by the aether of people who feared and hated her had left her nerves frayed. But while Leln was obviously cautious of her, his aether lacked the pungent hatred she’d sensed in some of the other soldiers. That gave her hope.
Naya continued down the hall, glancing over her shoulder to see Leln following. She searched her mind for some topic of conversation to break the uneasy silence. “The palace is very beautiful,” she said. “It must be an honor to work here.”
Leln made a grunting sound that might have been a yes.
“Have you worked in the palace long?” Naya asked.
“A few years,” Leln said stiffly. “Have you ever met the queen?”
“Yes.”
“What’s she like?”
“Regal.”
Naya gave up, instead focusing on memorizing all she could of her surroundings. She wandered the palace, trying doors and occasionally stopping to stand in front of paintings or statues while she reached out through the aether. Most doors were locked, and those that did open revealed lavishly decorated sitting rooms or meeting halls. A few had bookshelves. Naya itched to browse through them, even though she knew illegal necromantic texts wouldn’t be left out in so obvious a place. Instead, she noted the location of the locked doors and stairways she found. She would have liked to try some of the stairways, but each one was guarded by a pair of soldiers in formal uniforms. What would she have to do to get past them?
“You like Eloy Vasken’s work?” Sergeant Leln asked.
Naya nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. She blinked. “Sorry?”
Sergeant Leln gestured at the painting in front of her. It showed a narrow street lined with wooden houses, some painted in mismatched shades of white, others bare. Laundry lines crossed above the heads of what looked like a market-day crowd dressed simply in muted colors. All of it was painted in a rough style very different from
the detailed realism she was used to seeing in Talmir.
“Is Vasken the artist?” Naya asked. The painting was nice, but she’d only stopped here because she’d noticed a stairway leading down from the wing they’d just passed. There was something odd about the aether here, a faint mix of tension and despair that reminded her of the dungeons beneath the Ceramoran palace. But the source was too far away for her to sense more without getting closer. She didn’t know if Queen Lial’s palace had a dungeon, or if the queen would have ordered Valn locked away in the Barrow in nearby Justice Square.
“He is,” Leln said. “The queen has a few more of his pieces on the second floor in the northwest wing.”
Naya raised her eyebrows. “You seem to know a lot about artwork.”
Leln cleared his throat. His discomfort seemed to have eased as they walked. “I have daughters. One of them is attending classes at the Academy of Arts. She’s always talking about this painter or that when she’s home. It rubs off on a fellow.”
Naya smiled. “She must be very good if she’s at the academy.” There were five academies in Lith Lor, each training its students in a different specialization. The Academy of Arts was the smallest, and quite exclusive from what she’d heard. Naya had attended the Merchants Academy, which taught finances, geography, and various other skills to prepare the children of wealthy merchants and lesser nobility for the day when they would join their parents’ enterprises. Beyond that were the Academy of Sciences, the Military Academy, and of course the Academy of Magics.
Leln stood a little straighter and gave Naya a hesitant smile of his own. “She is. Creator willing, her work will someday hang in these halls.” He was quiet a moment. “I’d offer to show you Vasken’s other works, but that wing is currently housing the Banian delegation.”
