by Amy Raby
“What’s this?” Lornis reined his horse over to a glow post. He peered at a handbill posted there and ripped it away. He trotted back to Rayn and handed it to him. “Someone’s causing trouble.”
The handbill read:
RATIFY PRINCE RAYN?
WHEN INYA NEEDED LEADERSHIP, PRINCE RAYN WAS SIRING AN ILLEGITIMATE CHILD.
WHEN INYA NEEDED A TREATY WITH KJALL, PRINCE RAYN CAME HOME EMPTY-HANDED.
INYA DOES NOT NEED PRINCE RAYN.
Rayn frowned. There was just enough truth in there to sting. Had Councilor Worryn posted this, or someone in his employ? It was true he’d sired an illegitimate child, but at the same time he’d been standing up to the Land Council to protect the King’s Lands. As for coming home empty-handed from Kjall, yes, he had. But he’d been recalled early because Councilor Worryn had bullied his father into abdicating the throne.
He returned the handbill to Lornis. “What worries me is that not one statement in here is an outright lie.”
“The last one is,” said Lornis. “Inya does not need Prince Rayn.”
“I meant the ones in the middle.”
“They’re not lies, but they’re intended to deceive,” said Lornis. “He makes you sound ineffective, when you were the only person capable of stopping the council’s abuses.”
“I wish I’d finished negotiating that Kjallan treaty.” He wished even more that he’d made things right with Celeste. Already her absence made him feel as if he were missing a limb. He kept thinking she was there, and then feeling the ache anew when he remembered she was not.
“I did warn you about that,” said Lornis, who folded up the handbill and stuffed it in his pocket. “Still, you might have done it if you hadn’t been called back prematurely.”
At the Merchants’ Guild, they hopped down and handed off their horses to a pair of grooms. A steward showed them inside. This was to be a luncheon meeting, and food was set out for them: boiled carp in a sauce of jackfruit and coconut milk, rice steamed in banana leaves, bitter melon soup, and other Inyan delicacies.
He worked the room, clasping wrists with each man. They took seats at the common table, and food was passed around. Lornis sat several seats away, allowing Rayn access to more merchants. Rayn filled his plate.
“Prince Rayn,” began a merchant who traded in coffee, “during your trip, did you find the Kjallans amenable to opening trade with our little nation?”
“Very amenable,” said Rayn. “They’re particularly interested in brimstone, but my impression was that they were eager to open trade for all goods.”
“Do you worry,” asked another merchant, “that their intentions are duplicitous? That they might send their ships here under pretense of trade and instead launch an attack?”
“No.” To his surprise, Rayn realized he felt confident about that now. The Kjallans were no longer strangers to him, and despite his annoyance at Lucien for sending him away, he could not see the man ordering an attack on his country. “I think we need to be cautious, because Kjall has a worrisome history, and I’m concerned about trading them brimstone, with which they can manufacture gunpowder. But Lucien has been, thus far, a peaceable ruler. While he remains in power, I believe we have nothing to fear from Kjall.”
“What are the terms of the treaty they’re offering?” asked a third merchant.
“It’s under negotiation. I had to leave Kjall abruptly because of my father’s abdication, and we hadn’t settled everything.”
“We need this market opened,” said an older, bearded merchant. “How hard can it be to settle upon some mutually agreeable terms?”
Rayn wondered if this man had seen the handbill from the glow post. In truth, he was at fault with regard to the treaty; he’d wasted a lot of time in Kjall by not taking the negotiations more seriously. It was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. “Negotiations were proceeding before they were interrupted by the necessity of my returning home. Once I’m ratified, I’ll complete them and finalize the treaty.”
“How are we to have confidence in you,” asked a thin-faced man, “when thus far you have produced no results?”
“Sir, I’m taking the issue of Kjallan trade seriously, unlike any other Inyan political leader. My father never visited Kjall. Neither has any council member, excepting Burr, who accompanied me on this trip only for the purpose of obstructing the negotiations. I’ve met with the Kjallan rulers and opened a dialogue with them, something no Inyan has done for nearly a century.”
There were nods around the table, but Rayn didn’t see a lot of enthusiasm, and he couldn’t blame these people. His arguments were weak. Merchants cared about results. Trade goods sold or they didn’t. Coffers filled up with coin or they didn’t. Vague promises would not satisfy people who dealt in physical reality every day.
• • •
Back at the Tiasan Palace, he and Lornis dropped off their horses at the stable and headed toward the main gallery.
“That didn’t go as well as I’d hoped,” said Rayn.
“Don’t lose heart,” said Lornis. “It wasn’t a disaster, and you are the right leader for Inya—I’m convinced of it. We need only convince the rest of Inya, and I don’t think that will be hard. Ever since you stopped the Land Council from selling off the King’s Lands, you’ve been popular.”
Rayn nodded, somewhat mollified.
As they reached the base of the spiral staircase, Lornis halted. “I have a thought. I’m going to speak to a handbill printer.”
“You’re going to print some handbills of your own?”
“Yes, exactly.” Lornis’s eyes darted in the direction of the stable. “Will you be all right getting back to your room, or would you prefer company?”
Rayn waved him away. “I’m fine. Print your handbills.” If Worryn meant to try once more to assassinate him, he would not do it in the middle of the palace where there were so many witnesses.
He trudged up the two long flights of stairs, down the hallway, across the suspension bridge, inhaling mango scent. He needed to meet with the Fireturners to work up a plan of action in case the mountain blew. For that, he wouldn’t need his finery. He headed into the bedroom.
The wet nurse Kima was standing in the entryway, holding Aderyn. She bobbed in a curtsy. “Your Highness.”
He nodded. “Kima. Is everything all right?” He took Aderyn, who wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you might want to know. Zoe’s disappeared.”
The hair rose on the back of his neck as he remembered those two lumps he’d found. After he’d asked her about them, Zoe had stayed away from him. “You mean she didn’t show up for work?”
“Right. Not yesterday, and not today either. Her supervisor came looking for her in my room, thinking she might have come to see her daughter. But she hasn’t been by, sir.”
The situation was curious. Had she left on purpose, or had something happened to her? “I’ll send someone to her father’s house to inquire after her. Tell me if you hear anything else.”
He blinked. Something felt wrong. The bed was moving.
No, the whole room was moving. The whole tower.
“Tremor,” he said shortly. He grabbed Kima’s arm and, still carrying Aderyn, dragged the wet nurse across the floor to his writing table. He shoved her underneath and then folded himself into the too-small space, shielding his daughter with his body. There was a grating noise— he always heard it during tremors—like two enormous stones being rubbed together.
Kima was calm beside him. She had no doubt ridden out many a tremor like this one. But poor Aderyn was screaming her head off.
A chair scraped the floor as it inched, unbidden, across the room. Something fell and shattered, showering them with shards of clay. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the tremor ended. He crawled out from under the table with a terrif
ied but unhurt Aderyn and helped Kima up.
“What do you think?” he asked, bouncing Aderyn to calm her. “Was that much like the last one?”
“A little stronger,” said Kima.
Lornis appeared in the doorway, coming to a sudden stop after what appeared to have been a full-out run. He gave Kima a quizzical look and turned to Rayn. “Mount Drav’s erupting,” he said. “You’re needed on the mountain at once.”
25
As the Soldier’s Sweep hove to outside the Tiasan harbor, Celeste stared, awestruck, at the first volcano she’d ever laid eyes on. She stood at the rail with Vitala, her face damp with the afternoon’s fine drizzle, watching the mountain while the ship’s signaler tried to contact the Inyan authorities. Inya had a strong navy. Their harbor was well defended with shore batteries and warships, and a lone Kjallan ship dared not enter without permission.
“It must be Mount Drav,” said Celeste. “Do you suppose it always looks like that?”
“I would think not,” said Vitala.
The mountain was shrouded in mist—or was that smoke? She couldn’t tell from this distance; the mountain was inland, beyond the city of Tiasa. Red lines trailed down the mountain, glowing like the iridescent trails of fireworks. One thick ribbon of fire wound down the left-hand side of the mountain, forking in two places. Elsewhere, the fiery lines were slimmer, like glowing filaments, or pinpricks of red light. It was a beautiful sight, but some primal instinct within her screamed danger.
The ship’s captain joined them at the rail. “We haven’t been able to contact Prince Rayn.”
Celeste gripped the rail so hard, her fingers hurt. Please don’t let him be dead. “Who did you talk to, and what did he say?”
“Some harbor official. He said Rayn was unavailable.”
She loosened her grip a little. Unavailable didn’t sound like dead. “Can you talk to someone else? The Land Council, perhaps?”
“I was told they couldn’t authorize our entering the harbor at this time, because Tiasa is in a state of emergency.”
Celeste turned to Mount Drav. “The volcano.”
“That was my assumption,” said the captain.
“You don’t suppose we could just sail in?” suggested Vitala. “We’re obviously not an attack fleet. Surely they won’t open fire.”
“With respect, Empress,” said the captain, “we cannot take that chance. They would be foolish to fire upon us, since that would be an act of war. But our sailing in unauthorized could also be interpreted as an act of war.”
Vitala sighed. “We can’t just heave to and wait. It’s obvious the volcano isn’t an immediate danger; look at all the Tiasans at the docks just going about their business. I don’t see anyone panicking. I’ve a feeling the Land Council doesn’t want us landing and assisting Rayn.”
“Contact them again,” said Celeste to the captain, “and ask for Magister Lornis this time.”
“I’ll try that, Your Imperial Highness.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Vitala. “See if I can talk some sense into someone.”
The captain and the empress departed, and Celeste returned her gaze to the volcano. If this was an eruption—and that seemed likely; what else could explain those glowing red lines?—Rayn might be up on the mountain right now. How tiny he must be in comparison to that red ribbon of lava. She could see the lava flow from here, but she certainly couldn’t see anything as small as a person. She tried to guess where he might be. Near the top, where the ribbon began? Or perhaps at the bottom, diverting the tail end.
For half an hour she watched, shaking raindrops off her face. Then, behind her, someone began shouting orders, and the ship’s crewmen swarmed into the tops. Vitala returned to the rail and said, “That was a good idea, to contact Magister Lornis. He’s granted us authorization to anchor.”
A frisson of excitement ran through Celeste. She was about to set foot on Inya—Rayn’s home country—for the very first time. Neither Lucien nor Florian had ever been here. She and Vitala would be the first Kjallan imperials to visit this country in decades.
Inya wasn’t a single island but an archipelago. The island upon which the capital city of Tiasa sat was called Rul Linaran, which in literal Inyan translated to “island of people.” As the ship sailed into the harbor, she marveled at what a beautiful island Rul Linaran was. Despite the rain, the sea was brilliant blue and the beaches pale and sandy. Tiasan buildings clustered around the harbor with nary a space between them, like soldiers cozying up to a campfire. Some were built of pale stone and others of painted wood. Despite the lack of open space, plants were everywhere. Ivies climbed the walls, trees rose up alongside buildings to shade the streets, and flowering bushes hid in every nook.
Anchoring the ship took over an hour, during which time she waited impatiently, eager to see the city of Tiasa up close and to hear about Rayn. Had Zoe tried to attack him? Was he up on the mountain? Had his ratification vote taken place?
The sailors rowed her ashore in the company of Vitala, Patricus, and an escort of Legaciatti. Magister Lornis met them at the docks as they disembarked. The air smelled of dampness and flowers, and it wasn’t even spring.
Lornis bowed first to the empress and then to Celeste. “You can’t imagine how happy I am to see you.”
“Where’s Rayn?” Celeste asked. “Is he all right?”
Vitala shot her a scolding look, and Celeste closed her mouth. This wasn’t proper diplomatic etiquette.
“I apologize for our arriving unannounced and uninvited,” Vitala said to Lornis. “Thank you for allowing us to anchor.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.” Lornis turned to Celeste. “Prince Rayn is up on the mountain with the Fireturners, controlling the lava flow. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to see you when his work is done.”
Thank the gods he was safe—as safe as any man could be on an erupting volcano. But Celeste didn’t worry overmuch about the mountain. Rayn was trained to handle that. Her real concern was Zoe. “How long will he be up there?”
“Days,” said Lornis. “It’s no small feat, turning lava.”
Celeste gazed upon the glowing red ribbons on distant Mount Drav. “That’s fire, isn’t it? The glowing red.”
“It’s stone that’s so hot it melts and glows red,” said Lornis. “It sets fire to everything it touches. But you needn’t worry. It’s far away, and the Fireturners are adept at handling it.”
“Do you think I could go up on the mountain and watch them?” Then she realized how unreasonable a request that was. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t ask such a thing.”
“Actually, I’d love to see that myself, if it’s possible,” said Vitala.
Lornis looked uncertain. “It may be too dangerous for spectators. I’ll contact the base camp and ask how stable the flow is right now; perhaps we can arrange something. For now, please accompany me to the Tiasan Palace. We have rooms prepared for you, and once your needs have been seen to, we should discuss a few things.”
Celeste nodded. “I have urgent news for you. But I can’t tell you here.” She didn’t feel comfortable speaking about Zoe on the docks, where any bystander could listen in. Even so, Rayn needed to be warned as soon as possible.
• • •
Celeste had grown up in the Imperial Palace, easily the loveliest building in Kjall with its marble domes and gilt roofs, yet she was unprepared for the sight of the Tiasan Palace. It looked like a delicate piece of latticework. Everywhere Celeste turned, she saw windows and breezeways and open-air plazas. Her Kjallan eyes instantly picked out its vulnerabilities—the stately old trees whose branches afforded access to windows and balconies, the twining ivy that might allow an intruder to scale the walls. Inya had always possessed a strong navy. As an island nation, they feared no land invaders, and for that reason, perhaps, they had built their palace not for defense but to please the eye.
As she entered the palace, she realized the building was practical in at least one respect: the open, airy structure helped to keep it cool. Inya was a warm country—really, it was hot, even on a day when the sun wasn’t shining. At home in Kjall, cold winters were the bigger problem, and the Imperial Palace had a system of underground heat-glows that kept it warm. No one had yet managed to invent a “cold-glow,” so the Inyan building’s many openings were strategically placed to funnel in the island’s prevailing breezes. Without them, the palace would have been unbearably stuffy. As it was, she found it pleasant and comfortable.
The palace was not a single building but a complex, with spires of all shapes and sizes jutting up around a large central building. She could make out no pattern to the arrangement of towers. Possibly they had just been added over the years. She thought of building sand castles on the beach as a girl, upending her bucket to mold tower after tower in an arrangement that, though it seemed random, nonetheless satisfied her sense of aesthetics. The Tiasan Palace was disorganized, yet its apparent lack of planning did not diminish its beauty.
This is a wild place, she thought. Something about Tiasa exhilarated her.
Magister Lornis led them into the main building, where they entered an open-air gallery with a polished floor. To the left was a single hallway and to the right were two others. She smiled: not symmetrical.
Her companions paused as a group of men approached them from across the open gallery. Lornis stiffened at their approach, and she took his reaction to mean that these weren’t friends.
“Your Imperial Majesty and Your Imperial Highness.” One of the men inclined his head. “My name is Worryn. I serve on the Inyan Land Council. Your visit is an unexpected honor.”
