Sicarius was also grimy and dusty, with a rare day’s worth of beard stubble adorning his chin. “Come.” Sicarius put a hand on Sespian’s shoulder. “We must take President Starcrest to a suitable facility for his care. I will... explain along the way.”
Sespian rubbed his eyes. They were gritty from lack of sleep, but when he happened to meet the haunted eyes of the girl, he had a feeling he had nothing to complain about.
Epilogue
Tikaya strolled into the banquet hall in sandals and a comfortable dress that wafted around her ankles, relieved that the Turgonian spring had finally grown warm enough that she could forego the itchy wool leggings that she had worn since arriving. She was also relieved that the decor for this dinner party was more sedate than she had expected. Oh, the purple and pink ribbons and bows twirling up the columns were questionable, the sparkly waist-high candles were garish, the drummers setting up in the corner were cause for concern, and the less said about that kissing-elephants ice sculpture on the table the better. But given that Maldynado had planned the gala, Tikaya thought the room could have come out much worse.
That would have been a shame, given the architectural elegance of the hall, its clean and simple lines managing to convey light, airiness, and a sense of freedom. Sespian had done well. The wings of the new presidential residence were still under construction, but the building’s core had been completed a week earlier, at which time Rias and Tikaya had moved in, along with more staff than she could name. They had hosted a couple of dinner events in the hall already, most for diplomats and city leaders who had to be schmoozed—among other things, there had been a petition to have the capital moved in the aftermath of the plant’s devastation. Tonight’s party was “a small gathering for a few friends, no business to be discussed, thank you very much.” While Tikaya might have preferred a family dinner in their rooms, this ought to be pleasant enough, with no need to worry about warrior-caste snobs and self-important such-and-suchs judging the president’s plain foreigner of a wife.
Rias had been waylaid in the hall by a couple of Dak’s officers, so Tikaya decided to wait for him before hunting for her name card on the dinner table. She walked over to Basilard and his translator, who had stopped to puzzle over the elephant ice carving. What exactly those trunks were supposed to be insinuating, Tikaya didn’t want to think about. She caught a blush on the woman’s cheeks. Basilard shook his head, more rueful than embarrassed. He gave Maldynado, who was gesturing expansively as he delivered instructions to the musicians, a long look over his shoulder.
“Good evening, Basilard and Elwa,” Tikaya said. The last time she had seen him, he had been covered with soot and grime after helping out at the fire. Now he wore clean Mangdorian buckskins with colorfully dyed fringes that brought to mind spring colors. His head was freshly shaven, though he had started growing a tidy goatee. His assistant wore a yellow-dyed buckskin dress with floral beadwork that must represent many hours of a craftsman’s time. Her red hair fell about her shoulders, rather than being back in her usual braid.
My lady, Basilard signed. Good evening.
“I understand you’ve finally had a chance to address your country’s concerns with Rias,” Tikaya said. “I’m sorry it was so long in coming.”
My grandfather used to say you cannot rush the buck hunt, when it is into his homeland you have traveled.
“Especially when his homeland has been taken over by a giant plant.”
Indeed so, my lady. Basilard shifted to stand in front of the elephant carving. Blocking it from Tikaya’s view? Or Elwa’s? It wasn’t that bad... Though perhaps Tikaya had not yet deciphered all of the innuendo. Has your husband recovered from his poisoning? And your daughter from her... injury?
From being shot, he meant. At the time, Tikaya had wanted to strangle Mahliki and Rias for risking their lives so out there, but these last weeks had been more peaceful, and she had relaxed a little. “Yes, they’re both doing well, thank you. Amazing since they’re both horrible patients. Stay in bed and rest? Impossible. Mahliki has been down in her new laboratory since dawn, utterly oblivious to the passage of time.”
Basilard smiled. I have already heard a few explosions coming out of that laboratory. It’s two floors below our rooms. Directly below.
“Ah, we may have to find her something in a more industrial part of town. Visiting diplomats probably shouldn’t be woken in the middle of the night by detonations.” Tikaya shook her head, wondering what Mahliki was working on now. She was certain that the biologists back home didn’t blow things up on a regular basis. The chemists, yes, but that was to be expected.
I’ve been woken up by worse events, Basilard signed.
“Will you be needing my services tonight, Leyelchek?” the translator asked. Leyelchek? Was that Basilard’s Mangdorian name? Tikaya hadn’t heard it before. “It seems all of your friends can understand your hand signs already.”
No, no, Basilard rushed to sign. Maldynado invited you as well, not simply myself. He wanted you to enjoy yourself and have a good time. He smiled, but it soon faltered. Unless... you do not wish to be here. You are certainly not required to stay. But I... Basilard glanced at Maldynado and then at the table. Seeking inspiration? I know he set a name card out for you. He winced. Perhaps he had sought better inspiration.
“I don’t mind staying,” the woman said with a smile.
Good, Basilard signed. Why don’t we get a glass of wine? He pointed to a pair of servers who had strolled in bearing trays of appetizers and alcoholic beverages.
Though he kept his smile slight and his face calm, his blue eyes gleamed with hope. Tikaya wondered if the young woman knew Basilard had romantic interests.
“I’d love to,” Elwa said. “My lady, will you join us?”
“I will later, thank you. I’m expecting Rias shortly.” Tikaya wondered if she would ever stop feeling odd at being called my lady.
The pair headed off toward the servers. Across the hall, Maldynado waved to someone—ah, he was trying to catch Basilard’s eye. He pointed at the translator and made a few gestures that Tikaya, with her superior foundation in deciphering languages, written, oral, and signed, interpreted as... Put your arm around her waist. No? Well, at least touch the small of her back. Women like that!
Basilard turned his back on Maldynado. Good.
“Good evening, Professor Komitopis,” came Amaranthe’s voice from behind. She also wore sandals and a dress—it seemed everyone was appreciating the warmer weather—one with a more contemporary cut than Tikaya’s. It revealed a little more flesh, including well toned arms and calves, but not to a degree that would cause men to stop and ogle. Not that they would dare with Sicarius standing nearby. Although, for the moment, he wasn’t lurking behind Amaranthe’s shoulder.
“Good evening,” Tikaya replied. “Sicarius was unwilling to attend Maldynado’s dinner party?”
“He’s here. Ready for the festivities.” Amaranthe pointed toward the closest thing the well-lit hall had to a dark corner. Sicarius stood against the wall, wearing black clothing and boots and several knives. Admittedly, there were fewer knives than usual.
“Such as the weapons throwing competition?” Tikaya asked.
“Will there be one?”
“No, I was joking. I mean, I think I was. Are such events common at dinner parties in Turgonia?”
“Athletic competitions and exhibitions aren’t unheard of,” Amaranthe said, “and given Maldynado’s motives tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had arranged a few ways for the males present to display their prowess.”
“What are Maldynado’s motives? All I heard was that he wanted to host a celebratory dinner for old and new friends who had battled the plant and the priests and survived.”
“There’s one set of motives.” Amaranthe pointed at Basilard and his translator. “I don’t see Sespian yet, but he and Mahliki are another. He promised he would arrange a dinner companion for Deret Mancrest if he came as well. He’ll probably encou
rage you and President Starcrest to do some pressing of bodies, too, just to let everyone know there aren’t any disturbed feelings about that extra wife. And that way, people can see that he’s recovered from his poisoning. I hope he’s doing well?”
“Yes.” Tikaya digested the rest of the information thoughtfully. “This is about setting up couples?”
“Of course, though it’s a shame I don’t see Evrial—Sergeant Yara—anywhere. I had hoped she might have decided... well, Maldynado is a good man, even if he’s not an entirely serious one. I think she’ll regret letting him go. Opportunities for career advancement should come often to those who deserve them.”
“Hm.”
Amaranthe looked up at her. “What did you think the theme of the party would be?”
“Lobbying for a statue.”
“Ah, I think he’s decided to let that notion rest for a while. At least, he hasn’t mentioned it in my hearing of late.”
“My second guess was that he wished to show off his new hat.” Tikaya nodded toward the musicians, where Maldynado was using said hat as a prop as he gestured and explained. Limp golden vines stuck out of a green felt cap like noodles tangled around a fork.
Amaranthe snorted. “Most of us have already seen it. It’s supposed to represent the plant and the role he played in defeating it. Apparently, he doesn’t care that it doesn’t quite match his silver and blue suit.” She pointed toward the door. “There’s your husband if you wish to discuss how you’ll press bodies with drum beats reverberating from the columns. I better go tell Sicarius that we might be required to dance. Convincing him to come was already a challenge. I’m not sure how to break the rest to him.”
Watching her try might be entertaining. “Perhaps I could... offer something that might soften his mood.”
“Oh?” Amaranthe asked.
“A few weeks ago, while we were rather distracted, you were asking about doctors in Kyatt with certain specialties.”
Amaranthe’s brows rose. “Yes.”
“I believe Haonii Kolitaarui could help you.”
“I see. Thank you. Ah, would you be willing to write that down for me in the event that I can’t remember how to pronounce the name?”
Tikaya smiled. “I would.”
Rias strolled over to join her as Amaranthe walked away, a lively sway to her hips. He wore a black tunic and trousers, the garments trimmed with silver. The look was more reminiscent of a military uniform than cheerful spring attire, but he looked good in it, as always. Professional. Like a leader of men. Tikaya supposed she would have to wait five years—make that four years and eight months—before she could convince him to wear a loose floral shirt and sandals again. Too bad. The few months he had been in office had aged him further than the last ten years, deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth and his eyes. He was still recovering from the poisoning, she reminded herself. With luck, the next months would be less arduous.
“You haven’t found the drinks yet, my lady?” Rias caught her hand and lifted it for a kiss.
She gave him a bemused smile at the “my lady.” Some of the Turgonian mannerisms that had been worn away by the years out of his homeland had returned of late, making him seem once again the warrior-caste aristocrat rather than the simple scientist who had earned a modest living as they explored the seas together. She had decided to find it quaint and charming—until she could get him back home.
“Not yet.” Tikaya kissed him on the cheek. “Are you going to imbibe? I thought you’d decided to swear off alcohol until your retirement.” When Dak had interrogated Serpitivich, it had come out that a shared drink one evening had been the delivery mechanism for the poison. The vice president had consumed wine from the same carafe as Rias, after taking some prophylactic to ensure the substance didn’t affect him.
“Perhaps… I will stick with water, but I thought you might like something stronger.”
“Why? Do you think I’ll require alcoholic fortitude to make it through the night?”
A few drumbeats drifted out of the musicians’ corner. Maldynado danced a jig Tikaya hoped she wouldn’t be expected to duplicate at any point.
“I don’t know about the night, but I have news that may make the next few minutes memorable.” Rias offered a tentative half smile.
“News?” Tikaya thought of the officers who had drawn him aside to talk in the hallway. “Nothing... that will cause us trouble, I hope.”
“That depends on whether you decide to accept or not.”
“Accept... what?”
“As you may have heard, Dak hasn’t been the most willing chief of intelligence,” Rias said. “I brought him down because I knew he was capable and because I could trust him, but he just tried to resign. Again.”
Tikaya winced, thinking of her own suspicions and how little she had trusted Dak when he had turned out to be one of the few people she should have trusted completely. “You’re not letting him quit, are you?”
“He wants to go back to the work he likes, being a field agent rather than sitting behind a desk and squinting at reports all day.”
Tikaya didn’t know exactly what a Turgonian field agent did, but she could guess. “He would rather be out there getting shot at than having a safe office position? Sounds incomprehensible to me.”
“Yes, he mentioned that you have a preferences for offices and desks. Even those that aren’t your own.”
Tikaya tried to decide if she should be embarrassed at this point. Rias had heard about her attempt to take over Dak’s files weeks ago. “Only when those I care about are at risk, and things to mitigate that risk aren’t being done quickly enough.”
“It’s a foregone conclusion that I’ll be at risk again in the coming years.”
“I thought this was going to be a light celebratory dinner party, not an opportunity for you to remind me of your mortality.”
“Actually, I was trying to muster your enthusiasm for a new job,” Rias said.
“A what?”
“How would you like to head the intelligence office?”
She stared at him. Actually, she gaped at him, with her mouth hanging open and her spectacles in danger of sliding off her nose.
“You mentioned a couple of times that you haven’t been sure what to do since you don’t have colleagues over here researching archaeology. You’ve worked in an intelligence office before, and made quite a name for yourself.” He wriggled his eyebrows.
Tikaya would have scoffed, but her mouth had gone dry, and she struggled to utter anything. As if her brief time spent decrypting enemy messages during a war twenty years in the past qualified her to run an intelligence office in a country she had only spent a few months in.
“I thought this might be a new, fun challenge for you.” The other side of his mouth quirked up, and Rias took both of her hands in his.
Tikaya knew that smile, the I’m-sure-you-would-love-to-do-this-for-me-because-I’m-adorable-and-I-genuinely-believe-it-would-be-fulfilling-for-you smile. “Challenging, I’ll believe, but fun? I’m certain Dak never used that adjective in describing the job.”
“Yes, but Dak doesn’t use that adjective to describe anything. Think about it, won’t you? I won’t be able to let him move on to a new position until I find a suitable replacement.” He squeezed her hands, then waved down one of the passing servers for beverages.
“You probably should have plied me with the alcohol before you propositioned me,” Tikaya said, causing the server to quirk an eyebrow.
“My adoring smile has always worked in the past,” Rias said. “Is it losing its appeal?”
“I don’t know. How would all those young military pups feel about working for the president’s civilian wife? More than that... there are some decisions I would hate to be in charge of—such as whether a military officer should be put to death for sabotaging the president’s submarine when he was in fact being blackmailed himself, not knowing that his only child had already been killed by the heartless soul doing the bla
ckmailing.”
“Major Rydoth was discharged without benefits, not put to death. I wouldn’t expect you to make such decisions, regardless—we have courts-martial for that. I’d simply hope you could uncover such schemes and instances of blackmail before they became a problem, such as when the president is enacting the final stage of a plan to rescue the city from certain doom.”
“Ah, is that all you want?”
“A small matter for a capable woman.” He smiled, the adorable please-do-this-for-me one again, and added, “As for the young pups, we could have a colonel or similarly ranked officer on your team who could command the military men, and then report to you. Ideally, we will add competent civilians to the office as well, so you wouldn’t only be dealing with soldiers.”
“So, I might even have some women on the team?” Tikaya searched the hall until her gaze landed on Amaranthe.
“That is certainly a possibility.”
“I’ll have to think about this.”
“I wouldn’t expect a hasty decision.” Rias handed her a glass. “Now, shall we enjoy the festivities?”
As Tikaya took a sip, she noticed Sicarius wasn’t the only man holding up the wall. Two armed and uniformed soldiers stood near the doors, clearly on duty, protecting the president—and mentally composing reports to hand to their superiors who would in turn hand them to the chief of intelligence. Dear Akahe, was she up for that challenge? The problem-solving aspect was appealing enough, but commanding legions of analysts and operatives? On the other hand, did she want to be in a position again where she had to plead and wheedle for information? If she didn’t take the job, the next chief might not be as willing to concede that the president’s wife might have a bright thought or two. Besides, if she did take the job, she could find out whatever secrets lurked in the archives that Dak had alluded to. Tikaya took another sip of the wine. Hm.
“Shall I consider it promising that you’re smiling?” Rias murmured.
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