Trickster's Queen

by Tamora Pierce

  “The first flock,” Sky explained. “I must say, I see why our cousin Nawat feels so strongly about you.”

  “Oddly,” said the Dawn Crow.

  “Strongly,” retorted Sky, fixing her mate with a beady stare. When he did not answer, she told Aly, “Not every mortal could talk back to Kyprioth when he's in one of his tempers. His nasty streak is very nasty.”

  “I've certainly enjoyed myself with what he's shown me so far,” replied Aly.

  “I do not approve of one of our kind changing his shape just for a mortal,” the Dawn Crow remarked stiffly.

  “You must ask Nawat if he cares,” replied Sky. “He is free as all of us are free, to fly as he wishes and to steal as he may.”

  Aly smiled and ducked her head, suddenly shy. “I miss him,” she found herself admitting to the goddess. “He—”

  The air boomed with a sound that was hard to recognize at first: an old woman's laughter. It made the pavilion house shudder. It was followed by an immense shriek of rage. Both sounds grew fainter. Shivering, Aly gave the necklace a fresh inspection. “Kyprioth wagered my life on this thing,” she said, aghast. “I've probably seen uglier, but the shock has driven them from my mind.”

  “Actually, he wagered one of them for each of us who helps you,” Sky explained. “They are very sparkly and colorful. They are well worth our mortal cousins' efforts.”

  Aly looked at the necklace. “If you say so, goddess, then I must believe you,” she said reluctantly. “It certainly is, um, sparkly.”

  Time passed. She itched to get back to the raka, but she was stuck in Kyprioth's home until he returned. The crows might have had the power to send her, but they told her it would be rude. She was Kyprioth's guest, which meant it was up to Kyprioth to send her back.

  She talked with the crows a while, then took a sudden nap as all the fright she'd felt in dealing with the god came home to her. When she woke, he was still nowhere to be seen. She explored the house, ignoring the part of herself that constantly reminded her time was passing. The crows brought her berries and a melon, and told her stories of all the other trickster gods in the Divine Realms.

  Aly refused to think that she might not return home. If she didn't, then she didn't, but in the meantime, why waste so many uninterrupted hours with no one to call on her and no reports to read? Planning what she would set in motion for Dove, she dozed off again.

  When she woke, Kyprioth sat next to her. “You were right,” he told her, back to his cheerful self. “The old girl admitted to it readily enough. And I managed to remind her who is the boss Trickster around here. So. Do you really think Dove can win the people?”

  “I think at the moment a howler monkey could win the people,” Aly said. “They will rally to Dove because she is what they have. And they will be glad they did so, because she is everything Sarai is not, from cool head to cool heart. And she knows how to talk to different kinds of people so they feel she thinks of them as equals. Sarai's friends were all that young noble crowd. Dove is friends with beggars and street vendors, spice merchants, cobblers, booksellers, the royal astronomer, priests, priestesses. . . . Even that milky luarin conspiracy group that's been meeting with Winnamine and Nuritin listens to her ideas with respect.”

  Kyprioth's black eyes caught and held Aly's. “You've sworn to her already,” he remarked, his crisp voice soft.

  “Oh, stop that,” Aly said crossly. “What's important is that Dove will do the thing right. She'll not only get your Isles back for you, but she'll keep them for you.”

  Kyprioth patted her cheek. “I would have been very sorry to have killed you. You are the most amusing mortal I've dealt with in ages.”

  Aly gave him her sweetest smile. “All that flattery is going straight to my happy, unkilled head. May I go back? I've left Dove there all alone, convincing the raka she will be worth their support.”

  “Cheer up,” he ordered. “She convinced them, without you. And you have convinced me. We shall continue. And it is time for you to . . .”

  “I think she's waking up.” That sounded like Boulaj. “Where's that pitcher of water? Wayan, go tell Lady Dove and Her Grace that Aly is coming around.”

  Aly heard bare, running feet, then the gurgle of water poured into a cup. She fought to open her eyes. “The god had me,” she croaked.

  Arms helped Aly to sit up: Chenaol's. “Drink,” the cook ordered, putting the cup to Aly's lips.

  Aly drank, thinking, The last time the god took me, it was Nawat who was there when I woke. She blinked rapidly to keep her eyes from watering.

  “How long?” she asked.

  “Three days, but they've been quiet ones,” Chenaol said as Boulaj poured a second cup of water.

  Aly looked at the older woman. There was a smug tone to her voice and a smug smile on her lips. “Quiet?” she asked.

  “It was Atisa's idea,” Boulaj explained. “She said if folk were going to be unhappy about Sarai's departure, they should be allowed to be unhappy. Quietly. Very quietly.”

  “Stop dancing,” Aly said crossly, struggling to sit up. She was in Ochobu's infirmary, on one of the low beds. “What did Atisa suggest?”

  “Shutdown,” said Chenaol. “Except for the luarin households, most luarin businesses, and the palace, the entire city has stopped work and has gone indoors. It took us a day to get the word out, and it started at dawn yesterday morning. It's a beautiful thing, and there are too many people in it for the regents to kill everyone.”

  Aly chewed a hangnail. “But what if the Crown holds reprisals? All they have to do is see what businesses and houses are open and which are not.”

  “That is a risk they must weigh.” Ochobu stood in the open doorway. “But the regents must first consider where to exact vengeance first. The royal governors of Imahyn and Jerykun Isles are dead, shot near their homes with crow-fletched arrows.”

  Chenaol winked at Aly. “What do you call four dead governors?”

  Aly blinked at her, her mind still trying to catch up. “I don't know.”

  Chenaol grinned a wolf's grin, all teeth and predatory intent. “A good start.”

  14

  DOVE

  AMONG THE NOBLES

  Aly woke in the dark, with a dark shape seated by her bed. She sat up with a gasp. She groped for knives—taken from her when she was put to bed in the infirmary—as she adjusted her Sight. The figure got up and opened the door to the torchlit hall, but Aly had already identified her visitor: Nuritin Balitang. Aly waited as the lady took a lamp from a niche in the hall. She placed it on the table at Aly's bedside and resumed her seat.

  “You needn't rise,” the old woman said. “I just wanted us to have a quiet chat. The family and the servants are at their supper.”

  It's not that late after all, Aly thought. It's just there are no windows in here, so no one can spy on Ochobu and Ysul. “I'm at your ladyship's service,” she said cautiously.

  “Winnamine says that your service is in fact the god's. Mithros's.” Nuritin's eyes were sharp as she looked at Aly. “She has also said you know all our secrets. Is this true?”

  Aly shook her head. Nuritin was every bit as sharp as the duchess, Dove, or Ulasim. “I'm only one person, my lady,” she replied. “I couldn't possibly know everyone's secrets. It's a big household. I do know some.”

  “Don't toy with me, girl. I am out of patience with anything that crosses my path after Sarai's disgraceful behavior—which you also appear not to have known about.”

  Aly hung her head. “I'm not very happy with that myself, my lady. I would have stopped her, had I known.” Would I? she wondered briefly. Really, would I?

  Nuritin continued. “Do you know what is discussed in the Teak Sitting Room?”

  Aly scratched her nose, considering. Let's see how far she wants to play this, she told herself. To Nuritin she said, “I do, my lady.”

  “And you have told . . . ?”

  “No one,” replied Aly. “Forgive my saying so, but it's not much of a
conspiracy. It's more a complaint society.”

  Nuritin pursed her lips. “It is hard to get comfortable people to do anything when it might cost them their comfort. And only a fool takes on the Crown with a handful of allies.”

  Aly thought carefully. At last she remarked, “There might be allies, somewhere. It would help if your complaint society members showed they were earnest in some way.”

  Nuritin raised her brows with elegance. “And I suppose you have a suggestion?”

  Aly shook her head. “Even chosen by the god, I am just a servant girl. But, do you know, with the city and the people so unsettled, your friends might consider bringing more men-at-arms, or even mages, to Rajmuat. Finding housing for them, and so on. If the men had extra weapons, they might even bring those. Just in case.”

  She waited, looking at the lady's face. Aly was taking a risk, but it was time to take a few. It was time for the luarin conspiracy to prove if it had what it took to be proper allies to the raka when the time came. There was a darking in Tomang House. Aly would ensure that darkings reached the other conspirators' houses. If she had guessed wrong about Nuritin or her friends, the darkings would warn her in time to stop the luarin from reporting to the regents.

  It was an acceptable risk, Aly decided. Having listened as Feather passed on what was said by the luarin conspiracy, Aly knew they were frightened and angry. The regents should not have killed Topabaw without a trial. Duke Lohearn Mantawu had been a luarin noble before he was the spymaster Topabaw. Imajane and Rubinyan had killed yet another member of the class that would normally support them, without even a pretense at legality. That, the executions of the Ibaduns, and Nomru's arrest had told the luarin nobility that their bloodlines no longer made them safe. If the regents could be pushed to do something even more extreme, the luarin conspirators might throw their lot in with the raka. And Aly knew Dove would be able to talk the raka into joining hands with these uneasy nobles, if the raka accepted her in place of Sarai.

  “You have given me food for thought,” Nuritin said at last, getting to her feet. “I will broach the matter with my fellows, without mentioning you.”

  “Oh, please don't,” Aly begged, glowing with false sincerity. “Thank you ever so, my lady. Such great persons would not care for ideas from the likes of me.”

  “You are an impertinent minx,” Nuritin said drily. “Take care someone does not shorten that clever tongue.”

  “I do, all the time,” Aly assured her earnestly.

  Shaking her head, Nuritin left the infirmary, shutting the door behind her.

  Someone had left fresh clothes on the bench at the foot of Aly's bed. Her bead necklace lay on top of them. As soon as Nuritin had gone, Trick and Secret thrust heads up from their large connecting bead disguises. Aly set them gently on the bed, kissing each tiny head quickly.

  “Thank you for helping me up there,” she told the darkings softly as she put on a breast band and began to wrap her sarong around her body. She checked the seams. All of her thin, needle-like knives were in place.

  “Had to help,” Trick said. “Crow gods annoying.”

  “But fun,” Secret pointed out.

  “But fun,” agreed Trick. “Kyprioth fun, too. Wailing and howling like Elsren and Petranne.”

  Aly grinned at them as she lifted her folded sash. It was heavier than it looked, because it held still more knives. Carefully she settled it around her waist, ensuring that the hilt to each blade was where it was supposed to be.

  “What news from the palace?” she asked Trick.

  “Regents say bad things about Sarai,” the darking replied instantly.

  Aly waved the comment away. “Sarai opened us to that,” she replied grimly. “What else?”

  “Imajane want to arrest people in every third house that is closed,” said Trick. “Imajane shake all the time now. Too many noises in the night, she complains. Too many people talking but she cannot tell what they say. She tells maid she will feel better if people who make her nervous die. Rubinyan say killing many people make others angry. Imajane throw a vase at him. They not share bedchamber last night.” It stopped talking for a moment, then told Aly, “She shouts at him about it now. She say with mages saying two more governors are dead, Examples must be made. She say death only thing raka understand. She say, burn rebel villages and hang headman or headwoman of every town near rebel villages.” For a moment Trick stopped, tiny mouth agape in wonder.

  “Tell,” urged Secret. “Tell, tell.”

  Trick raised its head as if meeting Aly's eyes with its own invisible ones. “Rubinyan say they dare not. Rubinyan say, soldiers spread too thin.” Trick rose up to look Aly more closely in the face. “This good, yes?”

  Aly smiled. “Let us but stretch them a wee bit more,” she told the darkings, not aware that she sounded much like her father. “Just to be thorough.”

  “Thorough good,” said Trick, nodding.

  “Thorough fun?” Secret asked.

  Aly put on her sandals. “We shall have to see.”

  Aly went to her workroom, braced for the heap of reports from her pack and their recruits that she would find there. To her surprise, the heap was smaller than she had expected after three days' absence: the more people her spies recruited, the more reports had come. Then she saw the thick notebook next to a stack of reports. Opening it, she found notes in Dove's precise handwriting. They were in the proper code and condensed the reports into vital information including the informant, date, and anything that might be of use. Dove had even adopted Aly's way of sorting which of the conspiracy's leaders could most benefit from a particular bit of intelligence. Being a cautious Dove, she had left the reports in a wooden box to the side of Aly's desk, each with a number that matched its location in the book. Aly read through both the notebook and the reports rapidly, and realized that Dove had done as good a job as she could have herself.

  With a lighter heart—it was always nice to have help—Aly reviewed the newest pack reports, condensing them and writing information onto sheets for each leader at the nightly meeting. The light outside her office faded. At last she heard the raka conspirators come down the hall to their meeting room. Aly gathered up the information to be passed on and went to join them.

  Ulasim smiled at her. “I take it the god was displeased.” He looked as if he lazed his days away, rather than conducted a small series of battle campaigns in secret.

  Aly returned the smile, glad to see him. “And I take it you all agreed a nice, three-day work stop throughout Rajmuat was just what the healer ordered.”

  Fesgao chuckled. “It gave our people something to do. Hotheads in the Honeypot were all for burning the city down around our ears over losing Sarai. Then one of their old grannies got up and said, ‘You act as if Sarai is the only one who is twice royal.' They still required persuasion, but after my lads dented a head or two, the idiots decided to see how Dove manages.”

  “In case I fall flat on my face,” remarked Dove with a yawn. “How's the god?” She patted a seat next to her.

  “Feeling better since he's had a chat with the Graveyard Hag,” Aly said, taking the offered seat. “I confess, I was a bit worried that he might go off in a pout. Not enough to give me wrinkles, but a bit. I talked him into giving you a try.” She looked around. “And from the looks of things, I take it you have convinced our friends.”

  “It's not like we have a choice,” said Chenaol as Ochobu sniffed.

  “Well, it would be a waste of all this planning, and all these dead governors,” Aly replied, falsely helpful. She looked at Dove. “Her Grace formally told the regents?”

  “They knew already, of course, but she still had to tell them in person,” Dove said. “They made remarks that weren't very nice, along the lines that blood will tell. Winna came home and broke those two big vases in the front hall.”

  “Those vases were ugly anyway,” Aly commented, thinking the regents must have said very bad things for the duchess to lose her temper. She began to
pass out the reports to those who could best use the information in them as their usual meeting began.

  They were nearly done when Dove announced, “The day after tomorrow I'll start my walks again. People are worried. They wanted Sarai, and she's gone. They'll be happier if I remind them I'm still here.”

  “Absolutely not,” snapped Fesgao.

  “It doesn't look right, you being the heir's sister,” added Chenaol.

  Dove looked at Aly, who shrugged. “She needs to show the people that being the hope of the raka hasn't gone to her head, and she needs to show the Crown's spies that she hasn't changed her routine. You'll need more guards,” Aly said. “I'll see who my pack recommends for mingling with the crowd. Fesgao, maybe another ten fighters not in livery?”

  “It's mad,” Ochobu announced. “She is all we have.”

  “There are still hotheads in the Honeypot,” replied Dove, leaning forward to make her point. “They need a real candidate to look at. I'm not beautiful, I'm not elegant on a horse, but I talk to people. And there are others I should speak to, people who could be of use to us. The only way I can do that is to continue visiting the marketplaces.”

  “Ysul wants to say something,” Aly noted.

  In hand-signs the mage said, I will go with Lady Dove, too.

  “Yes,” said Ulasim. He saw Dove's frown and said, “No complaints, and no tricks.”

  Dove thought it over, then nodded.

  As the meeting broke up, Aly asked Fesgao and Ulasim to stay a moment. When the others had left, she told these two, in charge of the combat troops, about Rubinyan, the coming arrests, and the regents not daring to expend more soldiers to punish the raka. Ulasim and Fesgao looked at one another and smiled, their eyes alight. They could use this information to direct their fighters to the Crown's softest spots and to halt arrests.

  When Aly turned to go, Ulasim said, “Wait.”

  She looked at him, raising an eyebrow.