Dove had followed them outside. “We can talk at home. Why don't you two start packing up, please?”
The women moved to obey as Dove turned to Aly. “Walk with me. I don't have that much to pack.”
They strolled out into the misty air. It was cool. Howler monkeys proclaimed their territories; crows shrieked in reply. Aly walked at Dove's elbow without mentioning that her feet were soaked. Sandals were inadequate cover for early morning grass. They halted by one of the many streams that crossed the property. Aly looked around. There was no sign of magic anywhere.
“They act like it's the end of everything.” Dove's soft voice sounded tentative.
“But it isn't,” Aly replied. “It could be the beginning.”
Dove looked at her, eyes ablaze in her small face. “How may I convince them?”
Aly thought about it. “Work,” she said at last. “You're farming, that's all. The ground's been tilled and prepared and it's ready to take the seed. If one batch of seed gets moldy, we find another batch.”
“One less vulnerable to mold,” added Dove. “Will you help me?”
Aly held out her hand. Dove clasped her by the forearm. After a moment's hesitation, Aly clasped Dove's forearm.
“I don't need a maid,” Dove said. “I need a friend.”
For a moment Aly found it hard to breathe. It had been hard to get passionate about Sarai as queen, as the raka had been. But Dove . . . Dove was no stranger to emotion, Aly knew, but it didn't govern her as it did Sarai. Dove understood duty to those who needed her. Dove could be trusted to keep a clear head. She was one of the most ferociously intelligent people Aly had ever known. Aly had seen it the night before: they must put Dove on the throne.
“I will be your friend until the end of time,” she told the younger girl.
The ride home was silent. All along the way the raka who came to watch them pass saw that Sarai was not with them. Aly studied their faces, her mind busy. At the city's outskirts she saw members of her pack, as uneasy as the bystanders over Sarai's absence. To each query they made by way of hand-signal Aly replied: When we meet at home. She didn't want word getting to Balitang House ahead of them.
While Dove and Aly had settled the focus of the rebellion between them, Aly knew some raka conspirators would require persuasion. They were used to seeing Dove as Sarai's intelligent, bookish, quiet sister, a fine counselor, but not the kind of person who could rally the passions of her followers. Dove would have to show them they were mistaken.
When they reached Middle Town, Dove greeted many soldiers at the checkpoints by name. Vendors and shopkeepers waved and called to her; Dove waved back with a smile. Aly was instantly reassured. Dove did have charm. It was quieter and less flashy than Sarai's, but it was there. Aly also thought that once the people remembered they still had one twice-royal girl, their first concern would be to put her on a throne. Afterward they could fret about her ability to win the crowd.
As the riders clattered into the courtyard before the house, servants ran to take their horses. Ulasim trotted out the front door, bowed to the duchess, then pulled Aly down until she could hear his whisper: “Nawat and his crows got every one of the raka who rose on that Ikang estate off the island. Every one! He and his crows drove the army mad while our people made it to the escape ships. More than two hundred raka, safe thanks to him.”
Aly's heart lifted at the sound of Nawat's name. She nodded her thanks and dismounted as Ulasim moved clear of her. Now that he'd unburdened himself, the big footman noticed there was something wrong with their company. He took the sleeping Petranne as Rihani handed the girl to him, but his eyes were busy reading their faces.
Suddenly they widened. Aly knew he'd realized who was missing.
“Ulasim,” the duchess called. He went over to her, still holding Petranne in his arms. “Open the ballroom and summon the household,” Winnamine ordered quietly. “Lock the gates and bring all the household in, even those who are off duty. We have news that everyone must hear.”
It was not long before all but Rihani, Petranne, and Elsren, who had gone to the nursery, had assembled in the great ballroom. Aly stood just below the dais where Winna-mine, Nuritin, and Dove sat, waiting. From the faces of the household she could tell they knew only that Sarai had not come home with the duchess. The maids and guards who had been at the Fonfalas' had told them nothing, leaving it in their mistress's hands.
Maybe, thought Aly, they were afraid of how people would react.
Everyone stared at the duchess, their eyes flicking from her to Dove to Nuritin and back.
“Good morning,” Winnamine said. “Forgive me if I am blunt, but I know of no easy way to say this. Lady Saraiyu eloped from my father's party last night with Master Zaimid Hetnim, the Carthaki.” She smiled grimly. “We shall be apologizing for what she has done for months, I think. Do not blame our maids for not looking after her. Sarai made arrangements to get them all out of the way. No one knew until Sarai was long gone.”
The members of the conspiracy within the household stared at Aly with disbelief or outright suspicion. Aly made a note to herself to ask Ulasim to let them know about the Graveyard Hag. The conspirators had to learn Aly had not betrayed them, or she would find herself in very hot water.
Winnamine continued, “On Sarai's behalf I apologize to you. We must be happy for her. She wrote that she loves Master Zaimid. While we could have wished her to love closer to home, we had no choice in the matter. She was very sure to make it look as if Zaimid meant no more than her other suitors.”
The duchess rubbed her temples. “We must write to people, explaining what has happened. Ulasim, I will require every message carrier you can spare, and a footman in livery to take a letter to the regents.” She noticed that the servants were disturbed by this move and explained, “Lord Elsren is in the line of inheritance, and our girls are of royal blood. Their behavior is a matter of state.” She smoothed her skirts with her hands. “Thank you all again. I am sorry to bring such tidings. Those of you on gate duty, see if any visitors will return another day. Only admit them if they insist.”
Slowly, murmuring to one another, the household dispersed. Dove watched them go, then hugged Winnamine. “I'll help you with those notes, Winna,” she said.
“As will Jesi and I,” Nuritin said.
Dove looked at Aly. “I believe we'll need tea in the ladies' study.”
Chenaol grabbed Aly in the kitchen, but Aly shook her head. “Tonight,” she said quietly. “Things will be a shambles today. We'll have company as soon as word gets out.”
Chenaol gasped. “Gods, yes. Here.” She stocked a tray with fruits, cheeses, flatbreads, and luarin-style sweet biscuits. “I'll need an assistant cook if all this entertaining keeps going on,” she muttered. Thrusting the tray of food into Aly's hands, she said, “I'll send tea as soon as it's ready. Start heating oil,” she ordered the kitchen maids. “Get out what bean curd we have. I'll need three of you to go to market, and if anyone so much as breathes word of what's happened, I'll filet her, understand?”
The footman returned from the palace around noon with a note granting the duchess a private audience the next morning, when Elsren went to attend Dunevon. In the afternoon the Balitang cousins came on the footman's heels, followed by Countess Tomang still dressed in riding clothes: she too had left the Fonfalas' early. She demanded a private conversation, but did not stay long. Aly, listening outside the Teak Sitting Room, heard Ferdy's mother shout that Sarai had made a monkey of her son, and that blood would tell. Winnamine did not answer. Aly knew the duchess probably agreed.
Nobody else came after the Countess and the Balitang relatives left. Apparently no one wished further contact at Balitang House until they knew how the regents would jump. Winnamine and Dove wandered through the rooms, talking to servants and slaves, showing themselves as steady and unshaken. Aly unpacked Dove's things, took her dirty clothes to the house laundry, and retired to her office to work. Two days of reports awaited her, as w
ell as the darkings' news from the palace.
“Trick,” she asked, “what do you hear from the regents?” Instantly her bead necklace turned into Trick and Secret, who stuck heads out of their blobby bodies to look at Aly.
“Yesterday morning regents in private audience chamber when head of shipwright guild ask for talk,” Trick informed her. “He makes ships for king and navy. He is angry because man sail little ship to royal dock and show him a paper with Rubinyan order, saying put little ship there. He say little ship is for king's birthday. Guildmaster say guild and navy should make little ship for king. Rubinyan say he have man who build little ship for his birthday make one for king, so man feel useful. Rubinyan writes paper so navy shipwrights build six more ships right away and get three ready to sail. He says shipwrights here needed for serious work to send ships to kill rebels. Guildmaster go away.
“Then messenger come. Messenger say slaves on Rittevon estate, north Gempang, kill overseer, then kill Imajane's old nursemaid. Imajane very angry and say, kill all slaves on estates. Rubinyan sends order to army fort in north Gempang to kill slaves.”
On and on the reports went. Aly realized that more estates throughout the Isles were experiencing violent upheavals. She set pins with red ribbons at every spot on the map where Trick reported trouble. They showed her a deliberate pattern. The rebellions began on the estates nearest the sea, closest to the lands and towns that would be the first on the island to get help by water. Army fortresses had also come under attack, even if the mischief was as subtle as the disappearance of patrols into the jungles, or the constant illness of the men.
Among the reports passed on by Trick were appeals for help by landowners. The palace darkings had also heard Rubinyan and Imajane talk about how many remaining soldiers, cavalry, pikemen, fighting ships, and sailors they had. They had sent companies of soldiers and cavalry all over the Isles to back up troops already assigned there. Their reserves of men in the city were dwindling.
Aly saw it, as plain as day: This was Ulasim's grand plan. Bit by bit, the rebels were drawing protection away from Rajmuat. Ulasim had not lied when he'd said he had not ordered the first uprisings. But would I see a lie on him if I asked him about that now? Aly wondered. He knew his people. He may even have sent agents last year to whisper ideas to the raka who lived closest to the coast, where ships could unload men and supplies.
Rittevon Lanman had demoralized the raka three centuries ago. He had overrun the most powerful of the Isles, then captured Rajmuat, already torn by bloodshed in the royal family's never-ending feuds. He'd executed the queen and her remaining family. Then the still-feuding raka had come down from the inner lands to be fought, killed, or enslaved. Now the reverse was happening. The inland raka were drawing the Rittevon forces up onto their ground, taking them into the jungles. It was so devious that, unless Rubinyan and Imajane had grown up around maps of trouble spots, they might not realize how thinly they were spread. This was no accident. This was planned by Ulasim.
Aly was silent, awed. Years of preparations by Ulasim's predecessors had gone into the picture she saw here. They and he had built it up bit by bit, deciding who needed instruction, and who could be trusted to exercise their ancient hatreds of the invaders at just the right time.
She wanted to help. Someone should point out to Ulasim that more damage would result if the Crown's troops were weakened by hunger. An attack was a thing the enemy was prepared for. People driving wagons filled with supplies that arrived on schedule were another matter. It could be arranged for some of those supplies to be drugged, or for some of those wagons never to arrive at their destination.
What could she find for her own people to work on? The army was not the only group with storehouses. Wealthy merchants kept their goods in warehouses in Downwind and Market Town. After the attacks on the fortresses and on the slave docks, the waterfront and the royal and naval docks were under extra guard, but the storehouses were not.
It was late afternoon when the darking Bean reported the reaction of the court to news of Sarai's elopement. After Trick finished passing on Bean's report, the supper bell rang. Nuritin, Winnamine, and Dove went to the nursery to eat with Elsren and Petranne and try to explain what had happened. After the children were put to bed, Nuritin and Winnamine retired to their own rooms. Dove and Aly went nervously down to the conspiracy's meeting room.
Everyone was there: Ulasim, Fesgao, Ysul, Chenaol, Quedanga, Ochobu. As soon as Dove and Aly came in, Ochobu threw up the room's magical shields and glared at Aly. “How could you let this happen?” the old mage demanded. “You're the clever one, you're the spy—”
Aly shook her head. She was in no mood to be verbally whipped. “I was unable to stop it,” she said. “You see, I had a bigger problem. The Graveyard Hag paid us a visit. She's the patron goddess of Carthak—of Zaimid. And while she's fun in a perverse way, she is no easier to cross than your Bright One. When was the last time you argued with a god?”
Ochobu scowled. “A likely story!”
Reproachfully Aly said, “You have forgotten I like to tell lies that will be believed.”
Chenaol's mouth twitched in spite of her distress. “She's got you there,” she told Ochobu.
Aly continued, “Kyprioth got the better of the Hag on a few occasions. She wished to pay him back. And yes, I made an immense mistake.” She leaned against the wall, taking care not to smash her darking necklace. “I was so busy watching the world outside the house, I neglected to keep an eye on things inside. Can you possibly kick me harder than I'm kicking myself?”
“We have to get her back,” said Chenaol. “Some of us will have to go after her. And at least one should be a mage, in case this Graveyard Hag is hanging around.”
Ysul hand-signed, You can't chase Sarai to Carthak. We don't have people or time.
From her chair Dove said quietly, “Sarai isn't the only one with royal blood from both sides of the family.”
Aly saw them all turn to look at Dove, and then her world went black. Aly was whipped through an immense, howling darkness. Trick and Secret keened in her ears. Everything around her roared, until she landed on her behind with a painful thump.
She sat in a pavilion house that looked bigger than the palace. She could have sworn there were clouds among the ceiling beams. Jewelry dangled along the walls in crazy ranks. Enormous pillows were strewn over piles of gaudy rugs. A number of large crows pecked through the contents of dishes on the floor.
Beyond them stood Kyprioth, his dark eyes blazing. “What have you done?” shrieked the god. Aly clapped her hands to her ears. He roared, “It's all ruined! Ruined! You bumbling, blind, oblivious mortal! How could you let her slip away? I leave to do one little thing and I return to find everything in ruins. Ruins!”
Thunder rolled in the ceiling clouds. Lightning bolts raced over the god's jewelry.
“I thought you'd be gone for a while,” Aly remarked, as if this were another casual talk between them. “I thought you were preparing a trick of your own.”
Kyprioth glared at her. An invisible force pressed Aly against the nearest marble column. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn't cook you where you stand,” the god snarled. “You, the clever one, and you can't keep an eye on one lone, lovesick chit!”
“The way you're carrying on, I'd say you were in love with her yourself,” Aly said lightly, her stomach in knots. “Isn't she a little young for you? Not to mention boring, but that could just be me.”
“You mock me,” he said, coming closer. He'd begun to blaze with light.
The crows suddenly rose in a thunder of wings. They glided through the air until they landed beside Aly.
“It's not like you're making it easy to have a proper conversation,” Aly pointed out to Kyprioth as she shaded her eyes. What could she do but talk back? He was a great god and could do as he wished with her. If she was going to die, she wanted to die arguing. “Honestly, Kyprioth, how long would it have been before that lovesick girl lost the throne you s
chemed so to get her? How long before she got angry and insulted someone, or married the wrong noble and started the Haiming rebellions all over again?”
He pointed at her. “That's it. You die.”
Aly forced a merry tone into her voice as she replied, “You'll lose your wager with the crows. You never said the bet didn't count if it was you who killed me, so you'd still have to pay them. And I know you hate to lose wagers.”
“This is what I wagered,” Kyprioth snapped.
A long necklace detached itself from a wall and flew at Aly to strike her full in the face. She yelped in pain and pulled it off. Blood dripped from a number of cuts on her skin. She had never seen anything uglier. It was made of gold and silver beads, gem beads in all colors, and gaudy glass beads. “You mean to tell me the crows were helping me for this?” she demanded, indignant.
One of the crows walked over and grabbed the dangling end in its beak. To Aly's surprise, little Secret rolled down her arm and wrapped around the end of the necklace that Aly still held, securing it to her hand. “Not yours,” Secret told the crow. “You didn't win it. Help her.”
The crow cocked its head, looking the darking over. Trick flowed down Aly to cover Secret and twine itself with a foot of the necklace beyond Aly's hold.
Dropping the necklace, the crow turned to look at Kyprioth. “How can she fail if she was tricked in turn?” the crow demanded sharply. Somehow it sounded male. “Ask the Graveyard Hag where she was that night the girl ran away.”
“The—” Kyprioth said, his face dark with fury. There was a pop. Air rushed to fill the space he had occupied.
Aly knelt so she could be face to face with her defender. “Thank you.”
Another crow walked over to take a lock of her hair in its beak. It gave a hard tug, making Aly wince, then let go. “Save your thanks,” the crow advised in a voice that was the female version of the male crow's. “You're not back in the Mortal Realms yet.”
Aly had guessed she was in the Divine Realms. She'd never heard of a human dwelling with clouds under the roof beams. “So you're the Dawn Crow and Sky, the crow goddess?” she asked. “But what are they?” She pointed to the others.
Trickster's Queen Page 26
