Sword of the Deceiver

by Sarah Zettel

  No, not quite yet.

  “You had better let the first of all queens know we’re back.”

  “Of course.” Ekkadi strode away, head bowed, the picture of the humble, obedient maid. Natharie in her turn started back toward the library. She wanted to talk with Master Gauda about Ekkadi, before the maid returned — about how to build a defense against her, just in case he was right, just in case she was the hidden knife.

  This place bristles with knives. I am a knife myself. Whose knife are you, Drama Master?

  But she had not yet reached the filigreed archway when another servant stepped up to her. It was Damman, Queen Prishi’s woman.

  “My mistress the queen mother bids you attend her, Great Princess,” she said.

  Natharie swallowed. She had not expected this, not yet, and the timing strained the rest of the careful deceptions she had piled together today. She would have to make do. She could not refuse Queen Prishi.

  Swiftly, she took her leave of Master Gauda and hurried down the corridor.

  Queen Prishi’s chamber was a place of shadows even at midday. The curtains about her bed were sheer, but layered, creating a close twilight that stank of illness and old roses. In the dim light, the old queen was little more than a wrinkled bundle of silk in the middle of the great bed.

  The waiting woman knelt by Queen Prishi’s head. “The princess Natharie is here.”

  Natharie knelt. Had the queen fallen asleep?

  No. She stirred and opened her pale eyes. “Ah,” she sighed. “Very good. Come here, daughter.” Her scabbed and withered hand lifted from the blanket and waved Natharie forward. “I would have you soothe me with one of your tales.”

  “Certainly, Majesty.” Natharie took her cue from the waiting woman’s nod and settled herself on the other side of the queen’s pillow. “What would you have me tell?”

  Very, very softly, Queen Prishi said, “I would hear how you came to find my poison.”

  Natharie’s heart thumped. She glanced at the waiting woman. The queen saw the reason for her hesitation. “Have no fear of Damman. She has known when to keep her mouth closed since she was four years old.”

  I wonder if Ekkadi would take lessons from her? Natharie nodded in acknowledgment. “It is in the vermilion and saffron box, in a skin cream. I don’t know exactly what it is, but …”

  “The venom of the green snake mixed with antimony,” the queen answered.

  Natharie stared.

  “I made it up myself. You see, my dear, you were wrong about who was poisoning me. I have done this to myself. Damman administers the dose every night.”

  Incomprehension choked her. Natharie stared again at the queen, and then at the placid Damman. “Why?” she finally managed to say.

  The queen smiled weakly. “Ah. Now, there is the great question. Tell me, why did you believe it was my daughter-in-law who made up this special medicine for me?”

  Natharie swallowed hard and groped for words. The smell of sickness pressed closer and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as fear crawled across her skin. She could only find the truth. “I have seen the way she looks at you. She is contemptuous of you. It was upon your illness that she gained her power. I … know how such things may happen.”

  “In your own home?” inquired Queen Prishi.

  “In history, it has happened,” answered Natharie stiffly. There were rumors from the concubines’ quarters when she was still young, about how one lady in particular had met her end, but she was not going to tell the old queen that tale.

  Fortunately Queen Prishi seemed to accept her answer. She let her head drop back onto the pillow. “It is a good guess. It fits the facts as they can be seen by those with a will to do so. I am only sorry you are the one who made it.”

  “What?” Natharie’s fear grew colder.

  “Nothing. Nothing. This … I am tired and not so careful as I should be sometimes.” A glance passed between mistress and maid and Damman lifted the old queen with great care, pushing several pillows underneath her, so that Prishi could look at Natharie more easily. “Why did you decide to tell me? You can hardly love those of us who keep the keys to the small domain.”

  There were a hundred answers Natharie could give, ninety-nine of them lies, which she felt sure the queen would sense. So, she once again gave the truth. “For the prisoner, the character of the jailer makes a difference. I would rather have you hold those keys than Bandhura.”

  “Very good, very good.” The queen smiled a little, and the smile was not pleasant. “You could have said for love of my son, and then we would have both known what you want here.”

  “And what would that have been?”

  “Power, of course. For yourself or for your family, it would not have mattered.”

  “And since I did not say that?”

  Queen Prishi sighed. “Since you did not, I will perhaps prove that I have finally become an old fool, and I will trust you with a few important things.” She waved at Damman again, and this time the woman handed her mistress a cup and helped her to drink. The queen swallowed, coughed, and swallowed again. “Your first question will be why am I poisoning myself?”

  Natharie nodded. She could not help but cast an eye toward the doorway. She need not have worried, she saw. Two straight-backed figures knelt there. More trusted women, but not as trusted as Damman, for they were kept out of earshot.

  “I take poison to keep myself alive,” said Queen Prishi. “Can you understand that?”

  Natharie thought, and, slowly, understanding came. Bandhura wanted power, that was quite clear. To rule the small domain, she would have to be rid of Queen Prishi. Those hungry for power seldom waited for Death to come of his own accord. If Bandhura believed Prishi was wasting away on her own, she might find a patience she did not otherwise possess.

  “She would know if the illness were feigned,” Natharie murmured. “And she would act.”

  “Very good.” The queen took another swallow from her cup and then waved Damman back to her place. “It has the additional advantage of making senility quite believable, which makes people careless of what they say in front of me.” She touched Damman’s hand. “Even the best of women cannot lurk in every doorway without rousing suspicion.”

  Damman put the cup down and folded her hands. Her face was hard as she watched Natharie, looking for signs of betrayal perhaps. Here is one who will kill if it becomes necessary, Natharie thought. Years of fear and treachery had made Damman knife-sharp.

  Sharp enough to cut you. Master Gauda’s words came swiftly back and Natharie shifted her weight uneasily.

  “So,” said Queen Prishi. “Now you know what you know. What will you do?”

  Natharie shrugged. “What can I do? I had thought to help you, but you clearly want no help.”

  “Did I say so?”

  Natharie lifted her gaze. The old woman was smiling again. Her teeth were stained and brown and in the flickering light they looked like fangs.

  “I have watched you and Bandhura. That’s why I brought you here. She’s using you for something. What is it?”

  “She wants me to spy on Prince Samudra,” answered Natharie flatly. “I believe she hopes I will one day be able to kill him, should she find that necessary.”

  “Why does she think you, a follower of the Awakened One, would commit murder at her word?”

  “Because she offers me … certain freedoms, and she knows certain facts.”

  “Ah. Yes.” The queen sucked the hollow of her scabbed cheek. “That would be a good bargain. She would have been an excellent merchant, my daughter-in-law.” She seemed to realize what she was doing and stopped. “I’m sorry. For me the little habits of beauty have given way to little grotesqueries. It makes the illusion more complete.”

  Master Gauda would be fulsome in his praise.

  Queen Prishi grimaced a little, perhaps at Natharie’s silence, perhaps at her own pain. “Has it commenced, this spying?”

  “Yes. Your son met
with a man in the gardens today. I was sent to hear what they said.”

  “And what did they say?”

  Natharie did not miss a beat this time, but told Queen Prishi all she had overheard. The queen blinked twice. “And what will you tell Bandhura?”

  Natharie was ready for this question, and recited for Queen Prishi the lie she had readied as she ran up the servants’ stairs. Repetition would help her keep the details straight and she must keep her details straight. An actor’s memory is a liar’s memory, Master Gauda had said at one point. Natharie found herself wondering how much he had known then.

  Queen Prishi closed her eyes, her face creased with private pain. “Well done,” she murmured hoarsely. Beside her, Damman only knotted her fingers together. The endless fussing and fluttering, it seemed, was part of the deception.

  “So, Natharie, we know our parts? You will continue in your game with Bandhura, and from time to time, you will be sent for to help soothe me to sleep. I fear you will have to put up with me petting you and making much over my son’s favorite.”

  “I will manage, Majesty.”

  “Yes, I expect you will. I have a warning for you, though, Princess. Keep your own moves simple. You are doing well, but you are a novice only. Bandhura has played for her life since before she came to power.”

  “I will not forget.”

  “Good. Now, a last question.” Queen Prishi opened her eyes and turned her head. Her expression softened as she looked up at Natharie, and Natharie wondered what she was seeing. “What do you truly think of my son, Samudra?”

  Caught off guard, Natharie felt a blush rise in her cheeks and she groped for some polite ambiguity. Truth, she ordered herself firmly. Tell her the truth. You have gained her trust, do not throw it away.

  She had opened her mouth to speak when she heard the unmistakable thump of someone dropping to the floor, and her head jerked up in time to see the first of all queens stealing softly into the bedchamber. Bandhura’s eyes glittered as she saw Natharie sitting there beside her mother-in-law, and for the heartbeat before Natharie made the proper obeisance, she saw the hunger showing openly on Queen Bandhura’s beautiful face.

  At that same moment, all sign of strength fell away from Queen Prishi, and she was no more than a sick and frail old woman impatient with her pain and bed.

  “Daughter of my heart,” she said with weary brightness. “So kind, so thoughtful. I need your hands on my brow, daughter. Natharie is a wonderful teller of tales, but her touch is too rough for my poor head.”

  “Of course, mother of my heart.” Bandhura came forward, graceful as always, and settled herself beside Prishi’s bed. With skilled fingers she began to rub the old queen’s temples and forehead. Prishi let out a gusty sigh and closed her eyes.

  Understanding it was time to depart, Natharie made obeisance and slipped away. Ekkadi hovered by the threshold, wringing her hands together nervously.

  “What happened?” she whispered. “Did you tell her about the poison? What will she do?”

  What will she do? “I don’t know,” she answered. “Upon my life, I don’t know.”

  Ekkadi opened her mouth, but Natharie waved her to silence. With her maid behind her, she returned to the viewing chambers as calm and collected as she could. All round them buzzed the life of the small domain — the gossip, the study, the children’s games, and the endless, endless lessons. The children, protégés, and wives of the greatest of the great empires, were all so carefully sheltered and guarded from the outside world, and given no protection at all from each other. The cruelty of power and politics was concentrated here in this ivory-framed heart.

  “Mistress,” hissed Ekkadi.

  Natharie realized she was standing and staring, and a number of the old grannies on the benches were beginning to stare in return. There’d be questions later from her fellow students. She blinked and forced her mind back to what she must do now. She smiled shyly as if nothing was wrong, and tossed greetings to those she knew, and promises for another game to the cluster of perfumer’s apprentices from whom she’d won four ear bangles last night. The small domain’s women were for the most part much less serious about their gambling than the women in the barracks she had visited with Captain Anun. Natharie had to play carefully, so as not to win too often.

  Natharie reached Queen Bandhura’s private chamber, and looked about in confusion when she was greeted only by one of the lower serving women.

  “I was summoned by the first of all queens,” she said. “Or so I was told.”

  In perfect timing, Ekkadi bowed her head, prepared to take the blame for doing her duty like a good maid should.

  “Then please sit so you may await the queen’s word, Princess.” The serving woman bowed and stepped aside, as Natharie hoped she would, and she settled herself onto the pillows laid out for whatever guests the queen should wish to receive in her perfect jewel box of a room. The fine curtains screened her from casual view, but the babble of voices was constant. Natharie had not known silence during the daytime since she arrived. The stillness of the garden had been both a tremendous blessing and a little disconcerting.

  Queen Bandhura was not long in coming. She sailed into the room, ignoring all obeisances including Natharie’s. “Will that woman never die?” She bit the words off, and rearranged her face into her usual pleasant smile. It was as smooth and practiced a motion as the one she used to adjust her skirts every time she sat down.

  A word and a gesture sent all the waiting women scattering to the far reaches of the chamber, including Ekkadi who could not hide the disappointment in her eyes. She must be bursting for the news.

  “Now, Natharie.” The queen folded her hands gracefully in her lap. “What did you learn today?”

  So much beauty, so well protected, and Natharie had no defense against her. None at all. “Much, Great Queen, but …” She demurred. “What?”

  Say it. This is the truth that will hide the lie. She swallowed hard and let her face show her fear. It was not difficult. “I was seen.”

  “You let yourself be seen?”

  “I … it was the sorceress. I underestimated her watchfulness.”

  “Underestimated Hamsa?” Bandhura’s laugh was short, and it was cruel. “Your expectations must be low indeed. What happened then?” The words were gentle, and Natharie felt her skin twitch along the thin line where Divakesh had laid his sword against her throat.

  “I told him … I told him it was because of a bet.” Gambling was a much-loved occupation in the small domain. Riddles, dice, dominoes, chess were all played for undignified wagers. Samudra, who grew up in these halls, would know that.

  “A bet?” Bandhura watched her through narrowed eyes, her face a mask of calculation that nonetheless showed all the woman’s burning intelligence. “Yes, yes,” she nodded finally. “It’s believable at least. Do you think he accepted this?”

  Natharie bowed her head, her fingers fiddling with a wrinkle in her skirt. “He seemed … flattered, I think.”

  “Did he?” Natharie glanced up to see the queen lean back on her pillows, as relaxed as a hunting cat in the sun, and as watchful. “This may yet work to our advantage. I am pleased to see you have a sharp mind, Natharie.” For once, it sounded as if she truly meant her words. “It will serve you well and you will find reward from it. Now, what was so urgent that Samudra had to meet a priest at the height of midday?”

  “He was talking about Lord Divakesh.”

  “Ah. And what was the nature of this conversation?”

  “He wished to know how Divakesh was regarded among the priests of the Mothers. Whether he was held in esteem by those under him, or whether it was only his association with the emperor that held him up.”

  The queen’s brows arched. “And this priest was not scandalized by such blasphemy?”

  A court is a court, whether it is of men or the gods. “He did not seem to be. He seemed to think that Divakesh was feared more than loved, but that there were some among th
e higher orders of priests who might be induced to weaken his authority.”

  Bandhura considered this for a moment. “Were names given?”

  “No.” Natharie bowed her head once more. “I am sorry, Great Queen.” See, I am taking my part most seriously.

  “It cannot be helped, not at this time,” she added, the hint of warning very clear in her words. “So, Samudra seeks to dethrone Divakesh. Well, he might. It could be the prelude to many other things.” She paused, and directed her piercing gaze fully toward Natharie. “You must have been pleased to hear this.”

  Natharie shrugged. It was time to return to the truth, to fully frame the lie. “Should I deny it, Great Queen? I have no affection for Lord Divakesh.”

  “It is best to be open about such things, with me, at least.” Bandhura reached over and patted Natharie’s hand. “We must be great friends from now on, you and I. We must be seen together often, so that these little conversations will arouse no suspicion.”

  Here came the greatest risk of all. Natharie took a deep breath. “Perhaps not, Great Queen. Prince Samudra does not trust you.”

  Bandhura cocked her head toward Natharie, amused once more. “He does not? Clever of him. But it is all the more reason for me to take you under my wing, child. You see, it will make him feel all the more protective of you, as he must save you from his sly sister of the heart.” She laughed, a bright, merry sound that made the skin at Natharie’s throat itch. “Go now, child. Back to your games. I’ll send for you again soon.”

  Natharie made obeisance and left the private room, pushing aside the curtain and inhaling the air of the outer chamber with the feeling of someone who had narrowly escaped drowning. Her knees were shaking and her hands were weak and she felt she must soon sit down or she would collapse.