Trickster's Queen

by Tamora Pierce

  Aly put her sarong and sash into the bag and closed it. She listened to make sure no one else had come in, then left the privy. Carrying the bag low, where few might notice it, she returned to the salon. Most of the servants were still at the food tables, loading their plates. Boulaj sat near their ladies' dress boxes, a full plate in her hands. Aly set her bag behind the boxes. Boulaj would not remember seeing her, but she knew what the bag meant. If anyone came looking for Aly, Boulaj would send them in all the wrong directions.

  Thanks to the raka conspirators among the palace staff, Aly had memorized the map of the Gray Palace. Thanks to her magical Sight, she saw and avoided the alarm spells. The vision spells that littered the rooms and halls slid uselessly over her suit, not recognizing it as anything more than empty cloth. Moving silently, Aly placed two darkings in the small throne room of the inner palace. They chittered their glee and began to explore their new home.

  Walking onto an outside terrace, Aly eyed the rough stone of the walls, then began to climb. It was simple enough. The Gray Palace's builders had been in such a hurry to build a defensible stronghold that they had not smoothed the stones, and their approach to mortar had been haphazard. Cracks between the blocks gave a determined climber hand- and footholds. Once again she had her palace informers to thank. Masters here had no idea that their servants and slaves clambered up and down the walls to spy or to steal.

  Moving as quickly as she dared, Aly released darkings in Imajane's and Rubinyan's rooms. She placed two darkings in the private audience chamber where the regents discussed delicate matters with favored subjects, one in the informal dining room used by the regents, and others in the clerk's office, Rubinyan's study, and a map room. One darking went to the office next to Rubinyan's study, where his personal spymaster, Sevmire, worked. She sent four in search of the kitchens and the servants' quarters. She even left a darking in the king's bedroom, just so she could say she had done it. She hardly expected anyone to discuss royal policy with Dunevon, but the regents might say something interesting to the King's Guard in a moment of irritation.

  Feeling pleased with herself, she changed back into her normal clothes and returned to her fellow maids. The thinner pouch of darkings stayed with her as she left two more where the servants awaited their masters.

  The banquet ended eventually. The nobles went back to the Robing Pavilion to change out of dinner clothes and into those considered appropriate for viewing an eclipse. The maids then completed the last touches on their ladies' hair and makeup. Vereyu presided over them all, taking in everything. She and Aly had exchanged nods when Aly had followed Dove into the ladies' side of the pavilion.

  As the women worked and chattered, many part- or full-raka maids volunteered to do any service for Sarai or Dove. Aly shared what duties she could, ignoring Dove's request for people to stop fussing. Boulaj stood back and let other maids tend Sarai if they could do so without their own mistresses' noticing. Observing that Nuritin watched this with a frown, Aly shifted her position to block the old woman's view. She wasn't sure how far to trust Nuritin or her secretary and maid yet, if she could trust them at all.

  Sarai was oblivious to the quiet war for her attention. She smiled at everyone and gossiped with her friends. Aly let three darkings slip to the floor as she listened.

  “It's not right,” a young woman complained. “At least five men are jostling for your favors! You could share!”

  Sarai giggled. “You could have most of them with my blessing. Really, some of these fellows must think we're no more intelligent than sheep. The only one who treats me like I've a brain in my head is the Carthaki.”

  “Does that mean Ferdy is out of contention?” one of Sarai's friends inquired, inspecting her lip color in a mirror. “I'll take him if you let him know you're not interested.”

  Sarai smiled at her. “And will you take that female Stormwing who gave birth to him?”

  Isalena shuddered at the thought of living with Lady Genore Tomang. “Into every life some rain must fall. Besides, I don't want to keep him, just use him for a month or two.” She sighed. “He has such lovely muscles!”

  A footman wearing Obemaek livery appeared in the door to the outside and beckoned to one of the Obemaek maids. He had the air of a man with important news. All of the women fell silent and watched, while Aly's belly cramped. Had something gone wrong? Had the prison break been discovered before it had even begun?

  The footman left. The maid turned and saw that all eyes were on her. “Oh, my,” she whispered. Then she straightened. “There is news. The raka on the Velochiru estates of Imahyn Isle have risen in revolt. They have burned the overseer's home and the Velochiru's family home there. The governor has sent to the regents for the army.”

  Oh, that, thought Aly with disdain. We knew about that last night.

  Most of the women present made the star-shaped Sign against evil on their chests. Any slaves with raka blood retreated to the rear wall of the pavilion; raka and part-raka maids stepped back, wary eyes on their mistresses. All around the room noblewomen shifted, their hands and feet restless. Their eyes were unsure, their voices soft. They were frightened. Some had turned their eyes toward the raka. More were looking at the door to the Robing Pavilion.

  Winnamine thanked Pembery and got to her feet. She looked at the other nobles and smiled. “It could simply be a rumor.” She looked at Nuritin, who nodded. “I will inquire of Their Highnesses.” She swept from the room before anyone could say a word against it.

  “What has gotten into the raka?” asked a noblewoman, her voice quavering with anxiety. “This is the second rising this month. Do they forget what they owe to us?”

  Those of raka blood in the room, all servants or slaves, looked carefully at the glossy boards of the floor, doing their best imitation of women who could not hear. Aly shook her head. People always believe what they want to believe, not what's true, she thought with disgust. They never use their eyes and see the world around them.

  “These will be wild raka,” said a woman in her sixties, one of Nuritin's friends. “Or slaves on some huge rice farm, ruled by a paid overseer. This is the ill that comes of not looking after your own lands. Those who farm for you can't feel a servant's affection for someone who is not there.”

  “Forgive me, Lady Ankoret,” began Sarai politely, addressing Nuritin's friend, “but there are brutal owners as well as overseers. Some bitternesses come not from bad present usage. They come from seeing others profit from the lands where your ancestors are buried. Have you seen how the raka in the big rice farms and in the mines live? I don't understand how we can treat our people so.”

  “Saraiyu Balitang!” cried Nuritin. “Apologize at once and speak with respect for your elders!”

  Sarai got to her feet. “Forgive me if I offended, Great-aunt, Lady Ankoret,” she said proudly, her chin raised, “but I think also of the elders who work in the fields and the mines.” She swept out of the room like a queen. Aly heard a worshipful sound, though it would be impossible to identify the ones who had made it.

  Dove made a face. “Idiot,” she murmured. “We need to put a muzzle on her.”

  Aly, kneeling beside Dove, raised an eyebrow.

  “Don't look at me,” protested Dove. “I'm going to marry Baron Engan and have my own personal observatory. Someone else can muzzle Sarai.”

  Aly couldn't help it. She giggled softly into her hands, then murmured, “Until the excitement of being married to you kills him, anyway.”

  She heard the whisper of silks and brocades in movement and rose instantly to her feet. The other maids and slaves, trained to notice such tiny clues, also stood as Princess Imajane swept in, Winnamine at her elbow. The maids and slaves bowed low and stayed that way. The noblewomen and young ladies rose and curtsied to the princess regent. Imajane was a sight to inspire awe and fear. She wore her hair braided and coiled on her head like a crown. Her large blue eyes, lined with kohl, blazed in a pale, tight-drawn face. Her mouth, red with color, was
tight as well. Her hands clenched and unclenched in the folds of her ice blue silk gown and white silk overrobe.

  “I see that news travels fast,” she said, her voice cutting through the heavy spring air. “I assure you, ladies, the situation on Imahyn is trifling. We must not give it more attention than it deserves. The Goddess has blessed us with an unusual event tonight as she veils her face. We would not forego this for something of importance, let alone the unrest of a small rabble. Come. The Jade Pavilion awaits us. Baron Engan, His Majesty's own astronomer, has a new spyglass that I think is quite extraordinary. Lady Nuritin, Lady Ankoret, you would honor me if you gave me your arms.”

  With the two oldest ladies in the room, the princess left the pavilion. The other ladies trailed after her, Sarai at the center of a tiny knot of younger women, and Dove with her mother. Aly straightened from her bow along with the rest of the servants and slaves.

  Whatever else you can say about the princess regent, she has the royal manner, Aly thought wryly. Once I'm rid of Topabaw—maybe even before I'm rid of him—I need to work out a way to drive a wedge between the regents.

  Many of the servants settled in for their evening's wait. The male servants drifted over from the men's side of the Robing Pavilion to gossip or flirt. A few people had brought cards and dice. Some of the maids did embroidery or bobbin lace. Others went for a walk on the palace grounds as the day's heat faded. Aly, too, went out, stepping around a pair of crowned pigeons. She idled along the Golden Road until she entered the gardens at the southwest corner of the palace. Slowly she walked along, listening to other passersby as they speculated about the news from Imahyn, the rebellion on Tongkang, and the boy king's health. When she reached the path that followed the edge of the pond, Aly halted. Taybur Sibigat looked as if he'd been waiting for her. There was a broad smile on his boyish face. He stood casually in his black mail, one hand tucked into his breeches pocket.

  “Do you know, I thought I might find you around here,” he greeted her, his words pelting her in his usual rush to get them all said. “A wonderful evening for an eclipse, isn't it? How goes the contact-making process? Have you recruited anyone in the Gray Palace yet?”

  Aly widened her eyes in fear, though inside she was delighted. She needed a playmate while Nawat was away. She could serve both the rebels and herself if Taybur held that position. “My lord—”

  “Oh, please,” he interrupted. “Spare me. Pretend that you've said the ‘I don't know what you mean' speech and we may both continue our evening with more time for a proper talk. I've been dealing with dolts all day and I have a headache. And they're keeping His Majesty up past his bedtime, even though they know it makes him cranky.” He held out the hand he'd kept in his pocket and opened his fist. It contained a darking: the one named Spot, because it was about half the size of its fellows. The one she had left in the king's bedroom.

  Aly took a big step back.

  “It's the most curious thing,” Taybur said. “I briefly left the king in his room, and I return to find him bouncing on the bed with this little fellow. He's rather sweet, whatever he is. He even said hello. Dunevon said he caught him roll-ing around the walls. So I asked him what he is, and he said—”

  “Darking,” interrupted Spot, putting up its head so it could look over its blob shoulder at Taybur.

  “Yes, that was it. So I asked his name, and he said—”

  “Spot,” the darking told him. “Dunevon like Spot. Spot like Dunevon.”

  Aly wanted to knock her head slowly and repeatedly against the nearest tree. Approached the right way, the darkings could be fatally friendly. Spot was younger than the rest, which was why she had used it in the king's bedroom. She honestly hadn't thought Spot would learn anything important, but the darking had been so depressed to see Aly collect most of its fellows that she couldn't bear it. This is what I get for being sentimental, she told herself.

  “The thing talks,” said Aly, playing the timid maid still. “It's not natural.”

  Taybur ignored this. “And then I asked Spot what he was doing in the king's bedroom. First he said . . .” With a nod, he indicated Spot could fill in.

  “Nothing,” the darking supplied.

  “So I asked again, and this time he said . . .”

  “Playing,” Spot responded.

  “And I asked him why, and he said . . .”

  “Secret.”

  “Secret,” agreed Taybur, smiling. “I've known the folk who poke their noses through the palace for years. Even the new ones are all alike. They use the same tools, corrupt people in the same positions, use the same codes. Then you arrive, Aly Homewood. You are not what I expect. And then I find another thing I do not expect, and I'm sure it's no accident that you're in the Gray Palace at the same time. I imagine you may have sowed these little creatures—”

  “Darkings!” Spot insisted.

  “These darkings in the hope they will gather information for you,” Taybur said, closing his fist to hide Spot as several parties of nobles passed by on their way to the pavilions. Aly thought it over and mentally shrugged. If he'd meant harm to her, she would be in shackles. When the nobles were gone, she crossed the path to stand closer to Taybur.

  As if he'd never gone silent, Taybur opened his fist and continued speaking. “I don't care if you've left darkings from the dungeons to the rooftops of the Gray Palace. If you've left one in my office, prepare for disappointment. I discuss nothing important in there. Topabaw has papered it in listening spells. Eavesdrop on palace gossip all you like, though if you can afford medicine for migraines, I'd invest in it. It's like eavesdropping on vipers. But this”—he patted Spot's head with a finger—“no. Dunevon is a little boy who deserves silence and consideration. And he is my charge. Please don't go into his bedroom again . . . though don't mistake me, I'd love to know just how you did it.” He thrust the darking at her.

  Aly knew she'd get nowhere if she argued. Instead, keeping an eye on Taybur, she reached out and took Spot. “It's warm,” she said with surprise, as if she'd never seen one before. Holding Spot up to her face, she spoke to it as if she might a very small child as she asked, “Now, confess, little fellow. What were you doing in the king's bedroom?”

  Spot looked at her, or at least, the position of its head-blob showed that it looked at her. It remembered this part of its instructions, that it was to act as if it had never seen or heard Aly before. “Secret,” it told her.

  She looked up at Taybur, still acting the part of an ordinary maid. “Can't His Majesty keep it? It seems harmless enough.” She gave him a shy smile.

  He grimaced. “Because I work very hard to keep those rooms like a proper child's home, and because he deserves a place where he can be himself with harm or advantage to no one but himself. Because I think someone should be able to cry himself to sleep in privacy.”

  Aly petted Spot with her finger, thinking about Taybur's approach with her. Many spies could be erratic. All her life she had dealt with her father's agents and with the agents of other countries, and she could testify that this was so. Some of them, however, knew the reality of the world. Her instincts told her that Taybur understood that spies were inevitable. If she did no harm to him, he would do no harm to her. She was under no illusions. If he'd been in Topabaw's place, guarding the kingdom, she would have been on the next ship to someplace nasty. But she couldn't see this man having a person killed just for doing their work unless it hurt someone. If he thought she meant harm to Dunevon, she would not be surprised to find herself dropping into a deep stream filled with meat-eating fish some night.

  A child's furious “No!” cut through the summer air. Taybur shook his head. “If they let him eat soursop fruit again, I swear, I'll shackle the regents in the dungeon. It always makes him sick.” He turned and hurried away. Aly sat on a bench tucked between hedges to think.

  Point one, she thought as Spot climbed up her shoulder to be consoled by Trick. Dunevon has a devoted guardian. A devoted, clever, attentive guardian. O
ne with very good instincts. Point two. What will the raka do with Taybur when they rebel? He won't let them murder his king without a fight. Three. How wide does Taybur cast his net? Does he know about Kanodang and Nomru?

  That one was easily answered. If he had legions of spies at his beck and call, he would have set a few on Aly at Balitang House to understand her better. He was too relaxed for someone who knew the raka plans to open up Kanodang and steal its treasures. He probably kept most of his people inside the palace, where they could watch Dunevon and anyone close to him.

  She nibbled her lip. She needed a plan to get Taybur out of the country without killing him, if possible. He was no fool, and he guarded a Rittevon king.

  Even the rebels had an affection for the big man. Ulasim and Fesgao had mentioned that the new captain of the King's Guard treated raka as if they were luarin. The main problem would be getting him away from his charge.

  That was the other problem: his charge. Aly had always thrust away the knowledge that Dunevon and Elsren would probably be killed for the crime of possessing Rittevon blood. She couldn't thrust it away now, not if she wanted to avoid killing Dunevon's diverting guardian, and not if she didn't want children's blood on her hands.

  What if we let him take Dunevon? she asked herself. Ulasim and the others would kick at leaving the boy alive, but if Dunevon and Elsren both swear in blood they will never try to take back the Crown or the Isles, it might work.

  It was a dream. Part of her knew that, the part that had been raised in the brutal schools of history and royal politics. She refused to listen to it.

  Aly continued her amble toward the water. Crystal globe lamps shone on two of the water's three pavilions: the central one was dark. Shifting her Sight to see better over distance, she found Baron Engan's immense spyglass there, where the globe lights would not make it impossible to view the sky. Dove stood at his side, chatting, as did Winnamine and some other nobles. Aly hoped that Dove had stopped at the Jade Pavilion before she had joined the astronomer, so that the darking Aly had set on her mistress's shoe at the Robing Pavilion could eavesdrop. Not for the first time she thanked the gods the creatures were so light. Had Dove noticed it, she would have asked questions that Aly dared not answer.