Trickster's Queen

by Tamora Pierce

  “How can you be so sure of what you've just told us?” the footman asked. “You speak as if it's fact, not rumor, and you've been unconscious for three days.”

  “Because it is fact,” Aly assured him. “Ulasim, didn't your mother ever tell you to leave a girl some secrets? I was picked by the god, and this particular information is real. If Rubinyan thinks they dare not punish the villages and estates that have already rebelled, what will he do if more rise up? He'll have to send someone, and at the moment, all he has are the reserves in Galodon. Wouldn't it be dreadful if he were having problems with the reserves? With food, say, or good water?”

  She left the men to their planning, fluttering her fingers at them as she walked out and closed the door. Before it shut, she heard Fesgao tell Ulasim, “Old Lokeij used to say she'd never say a thing straight out if she could come at it from the side. He never mentioned the headaches you'd get listening to her.”

  Aly found Dove in her workroom, calmly going over reports. “Just the person I wanted to see,” Aly remarked, locking the door. “Thank you for sorting those out while I was . . . away. You did wonderful work.”

  Dove put down her quill. “Honestly? I don't know how you keep up. I thought I might go blind.” She nudged at the quill with a finger, her face shadowed. Finally she asked, “Aly, what if it goes to pieces because I'm not Sarai? Because it really should have been her?”

  “It won't go to pieces,” Aly told her. “The last piece is finally where it's supposed to be—that's you. The raka have planned this for generations, and planned it well. The only change is Sarai. Now we have you instead. Sarai may have gotten all passionate about the people and how they're being trampled, but you're the one who knows the people. Go to bed, my lady. We have one more day of the halt to work here in Rajmuat, one more day of peace for us to settle our plans. If you don't go get some rest right away, I'll come up to prepare you for bed. Maybe put lotion on your face for you to wear as you sleep. Oh, and I'll brush out your hair a hundred strokes. . . .”

  “Stop it!” cried Dove. “I'm going, I'm going! Don't follow me! I can undress myself!”

  Aly watched her go, thinking, a little sadly, And when you are queen, you will have proper ladies-in-waiting who will do all of those things for you. You will not be able to dismiss them for fear of offending their powerful families. So enjoy dismissing me while you can.

  She locked the door behind Dove and returned to her work. There was more news from the palace darkings as well as more reports to read. Near midnight a darking posted in Rubinyan's chamber gave Trick a message that made Aly grin. She found Ulasim and Fesgao still in the conspirators' meeting room. She told them what she had learned and invited them to her workroom to talk.

  She then gathered her pack's most determined members: Fegoro, Yoyox, Eyun, and Jimarn. They joined Ulasim and Fesgao. It's good to be home, Aly thought.

  In the morning a palace messenger arrived with an invitation to a lily-viewing party the next day. Nuritin, Winnamine, and Dove were included in the invitation, which was not a request but a demand. Winnamine sent a note of acceptance. The house was quiet as everyone caught up on chores. It was during the noon resting time that the King's Watch swarmed into the city to arrest a third of those who had taken part in the three-day stop of work. By then Ulasim and Fesgao, forewarned by Aly, had hidden any important rebels from the searches. Those unfortunates caught by the Watch were sent to the slave market's pens, to be sold in Carthak as soon as vessels were ready to take them. The Watch expected to ship them out in two days. Aly prayed that Jimarn, Yoyox, Eyun, and Fegoro would concoct a suitably firm surprise for the slave markets before then.

  Word of the arrests reached Balitang House in the early evening. Dove, furious, came flying into the workroom as Aly met with her pack. Aly smiled at her young mistress as sweetly as she knew how.

  They understood each other. Dove did not need to ask if Aly had known about the arrests. Aly did not need to tell her that she had the matter in hand. The girl turned and walked out again.

  “Where were we?” Aly asked her pack as she viewed her notes once more.

  The ride to the palace the next afternoon was quiet, though not as quiet as it might have been. Rajmuat was simmering over the arrests. The regents had obviously expected this response. Rittevon's Lance was heavily guarded, with soldiers at each major crossroads and square and guards in pairs on every block.

  As always, the men-at-arms left them at the gate. The ladies were to meet the regents in their private audience chamber. Aly assumed they would offer Dove the marriage they had Sarai. As she waited, Aly spent her time in the Robing Pavilion investigating something the darkings had relayed. According to them, the regents distrusted their mages. Aly had to confirm this, not because she didn't trust the darkings, but because she could hardly believe it. Someone had once complained that in the Tortallan palace it was hard to turn without stepping on a mage. Except for Topabaw and his staff, the monarchs here preferred to send their mages to support soldiers outside the capital, and to man the harbor fortresses. The servants Aly asked about it waved off the question with a reply that boiled down to, “Everybody knows that!”

  How have they stayed in power this long? Aly wondered as she flirted with servants on the men's side of the pavilion. Were they smarter at first, and the intelligence got bred out of them, or were they simply lucky at the beginning?

  At last the Balitang ladies came to the Robing Pavilion to change. As Aly helped Dove to remove her overrobe, Dove hand-signed to her, They offered me the marriage.

  Aly slid a lightweight sleeveless silk robe over Dove's shoulders, then signed, And?

  “I dithered,” Dove murmured. She didn't care if this part of the conversation was overheard. “It was so sudden, and such an honor after Sarai. . . .” She shrugged. Aly smoothed her young mistress's hair and shared a smile with Dove in the looking glass.

  Aly kept an eye on Nuritin and Winnamine. At last they rose, ready for the party. “Dovasary?” called Nuritin.

  As Dove stood, Aly bent close, fussing with the line of her overgown, then followed them out. She had already talked this out with Dove. Pembery and Dorilize would remain in the Robing Pavilion; they always did. Aly would go with her young mistress and fan her. The Lapis Pavilion would be warm, and other maids would be there performing the same duty. Winnamine and Nuritin had looked askance when Dove had told them what Aly would be doing, but they had not argued, though they believed in fanning themselves. They both understood Aly was not there just to show how spoiled Dove was.

  Down the Golden Road they walked, nodding and bowing to nobles they passed, until they reached the trails around the Lily Water. If they heard the whispers about Sarai that began before they were out of earshot, they did not speak, though crimson flags burned on both Winnamine's and Nuritin's cheekbones. Dove showed a calmly smiling face, even after the nobles could no longer see her.

  “You do that very well,” Aly said with approval after they had bidden farewell to an especially annoying dowager.

  “They only talk about it because they're thinking, ‘There but for the blessings of the gods I go,'” Dove said thoughtfully. “Lady Merani”—one of the women they had just left—“has a sixteen-year-old daughter who's a handful. And her husband drinks.”

  “It's no excuse,” Nuritin said in a low voice that shook with fury. “They should have sympathy, and keep their mouths shut.”

  “This is why my lord and I always hated this place,” added Winnamine softly. “Because everyone is encouraged to bite and pinch and cut at one another with words, until the words are so real the courtiers end by trusting no one. It's a poisonous life. Frankly, I'm envious of Sarai.”

  The two older ladies moved ahead as the path narrowed. Aly waited until they could not hear, then asked Dove, “Tell me, do you know everything about everybody here?”

  “No, but it's easy enough to get information. The merchants keep track of the nobility because they affect their lives.
” Dove's mouth curved in a tiny, impish smile. “You know a lot of my friends are merchants.”

  “I had noticed,” Aly said, trying not to smile herself.

  Dove clucked to a marmoset, offering the tiny creature a grape she had tucked into her belt-purse. Gingerly the animal, who had a magnificent white mane, leaned down to accept the grape. Once it snatched the fruit, it fled back into its tree. Dove continued, “Besides, I like gossip.” She smiled shyly. “I like knowing what people are doing and why. It's just so interesting.”

  “I always thought so, too,” Aly said. They left the shelter of the garden and emerged onto the open ground. Nuritin and Winnamine had already climbed the steps of the Lapis Pavilion and walked over to curtsy to the regents. The pavilion was a roofed stone square set in the water and approached by a short stone bridge. Around it floated water lilies, lotuses, and swans.

  Inside the pavilion, the group of ladies seated closest to the bridge was commanded by Princess Imajane. She looked ethereal in white, almost transparent silk with gold embroidery. Aly wasn't sure if it was decent, but then, she still felt half dressed in a sarong with her shoulders bare. And the day was impossibly hot. Maybe Her Highness is the wisest of us all, Aly thought as sweat trickled down her spine.

  Nuritin and Winnamine, having saluted the princess and received a nod from her, drifted over to the prince and his companions. Aly saw why as she and Dove curtsied to Imajane: Countess Tomang sat next to the princess. Ferdy's mother looked as if she sucked on a lemon.

  “Lady Dovasary, welcome,” said Imajane lazily. “I am honored. With your brother attendant upon His Majesty, all the Balitangs but little Petranne are here.” She indicated the group of boys at the far corner of the pavilion. Dunevon and his small court stood on the steps that led down to the water, each boy with a wooden sailboat in hand. “As you can see, His Majesty minds the sun less than we fragile adults,” she drawled, causing the ladies seated with her to chuckle. “Though we had to supply a mage so the children might have a breeze.”

  Sure enough, a young man whose hands sparkled with his magical Gift crouched on the lowest step to the water. Tiny puffs of power pushed at the sail of each little boat to the boys' gleeful yells. Aly wondered if the mage heard Imajane, and if he had studied magic so his Gift could be spent on the amusement of children. Admittedly, her experience of mages was extraordinary, but even such confident mages as her mother, Aunt Daine, and Uncle Numair did not appreciate being slighted.

  Imajane flicked her fingers at the woman who sat on her left. She obediently got to her feet and curtsied to the princess. As she left the company, Aly looked for Nuritin and Winnamine. They were still talking easily with Rubinyan and his friends.

  Dove curtsied to the princess again, then moved to the vacant seat. She sat gracefully, apparently unaware of the glare that Countess Tomang leveled at her. Aly wondered if the princess knew that the last meeting between the countess and the Balitangs had not gone well. From the creamy, self-satisfied smile on Imajane's mouth, Aly would happily bet that she did.

  Dove snapped her fingers. “You may fan me,” she ordered Aly, nearly as haughty as the princess. Aly installed herself behind Dove. She took the woven palm-leaf fan a maid passed to her and began to wave it gently.

  Imajane placed a graceful, well-cared-for hand on Dove's arm. “We had no chance to talk about your sister's elopement earlier,” she said archly. “Your mother says you did not know, but I fancy I may know a little more about young girls. Tell me honestly, Dovasary, did you not have some tiny hint of what Lady Saraiyu intended?”

  Dove lowered her head, shamefaced. “Your Highness, I would never be so foolish as to tell you a falsehood,” she said quietly. “Besides, Sarai is five years older than I. Girls with suitors have little interest in talking to sisters who are bored by them.” She picked at her skirt. “And she knew I'd tell Winna—Her Grace,” she amended herself artfully, “she knew I'd tell, to keep her from disgracing our name.”

  Aly wanted to hug her. Thirteen, and already aware enough to maneuver around a question about the duchess's watch over her stepdaughters. In the games played at palaces, the whisper that Winnamine could not keep her family under control might cause Elsren to be dismissed from court. By that game's rules, Elsren's position in the king's group of playmates was the kind of thing families used to gain advantages. Even Aly wanted Elsren to be one of the king's companions. It meant the Balitangs were invited to more palace events than most nobles, so there could be more trades of information with palace rebels. The darkings couldn't be everywhere.

  “These young girls,” one of the ladies across from Dove remarked with a sigh. “No patience. I'm certain Lord Zaimid's family would have accepted Lady Saraiyu if they had gotten married in the proper way. Carthakis are so . . . cosmopolitan about their marriages.”

  Aly felt the breath desert her lungs at the implication that brown-skinned Carthakis didn't care if they married half-raka girls. Her gentle waving of the fan did not falter. And why do you care what's said of Sarai? Aly asked herself. You're the one who thinks her running off with Zaimid was for the best, even if it was a black eye for your ability to watch members of the household.

  She was relieved to see that Winnamine and Nuritin were wrapped up in their conversation with the prince. How many such darts had the two women taken since Sarai eloped?

  “Oh?” Dove asked politely, as if she discussed a change in fish prices. “Cosmopolitan. How wonderful that sounds! Have you been to Carthak, Lady Uniunu?”

  The lady smiled at her. “Actually, I have not.”

  Dove raised her dark brows. “Have you visited Tyra, then?” she inquired.

  The lady shook her head.

  Dove pressed. “Tortall? Scanra?”

  With each shake of her head, the lady looked less and less pleased.

  “Oh,” Dove murmured, tracing a design in the embroidery on her sleeve. “But travel is what makes us cosmopolitan, or so I was taught.” She looked up and smiled girlishly at Lady Uniunu. “But perhaps our own cities count? Have you been to Fajurat on Malubesang? I hear the water is so clean there you can view coral reefs from a ship's deck. Or Ambririp? Or Yimosuat on Gempang?”

  The lady had stopped bothering even to shake her head. Her hands, tucked into her lap, were white-knuckled as she clenched them into fists. “Our lands are here, on Kypriang,” she said, her voice trembling. “I have learned all I know of what is cosmopolitan right here, Lady Dovasary.”

  Back off, Aly thought to Dove. She's gotten your point. Drop it, before she becomes your enemy.

  As if she heard Aly, Dove gasped and put her hand to her lips. “I hope you didn't mean I thought . . . ,” she said, her face dismayed. “Please believe me, I meant only that I am eager to learn of other places.” She hung her head. “I have spent my entire life here in Rajmuat, or at Tanair, on Lombyn.” Glancing up, she made a face. “Tanair was not in the least cosmopolitan, I'm afraid. We were all living in the keep last winter, because a keep was all the holdings Tanair has. Well, that and outbuildings.”

  The woman, who had started to fluff like an irate pigeon, slowly resettled. “You are young, and no doubt unschooled as to the proper form of conversation among grown women,” she said graciously. Dove hung her head even lower.

  “Tell me,” began another lady, “do you know why those people were always staring at your sister?”

  Dove's lower lip protruded slightly. She looked the spirit of the pouting thirteen-year-old. “I suppose because she's so beautiful, your ladyship,” she said, clearly unhappy. “Aunt Nuritin said my looks will improve, but it seems to be taking a long time.”

  This produced polite laughter from the ladies. The talk moved on to other things, such as the boy king's approaching fifth birthday. “I have an invitation on its way to your home,” Imajane told Dove. “There is a separate invitation for Lord Elsren,” she explained, leaning closer to the girl. “You see, my dear, His Majesty has been asking for a true ship of his own. On
His Majesty's birthday, he and his little friends will board his very own ship, the Rittevon.”

  Dove bowed her head. “We're all honored by His Majesty's invitation to Elsren,” she said with just the right amount of awe in her voice. Inclusion in such a party would tell everyone that Imajane and Rubinyan meant to keep Els-ren in Dunevon's household, making him a veritable brother to the king.

  Aly continued to fan, listening and reading lips. A group of ladies and nobles talked about the hottest part of the summer, when everyone would move to their country estates for a month. Some of the young men in Rubinyan's group urged him to let them go fight the rebels. Winnamine pretended to be interested in the conversation. Nuritin did not.

  Aly sensed him behind her before Taybur Sibigat leaned down to speak into her ear. “Do you rest easier since Topabaw has been replaced by a complete nincompoop?”

  Aly turned slightly, never allowing her fan to stop its movement, to whisper, “Which nincompoop would that be, my lord captain?”

  “Tease,” he said, amusement in his eyes. “Sevmire. His Highness took him from a fish pond and tossed him into the ocean. I'll wager you he doesn't last till September.”

  “I never wager, my lord,” Aly murmured flirtatiously. “Particularly not with the nobility. It's so hard to collect.”

  “What a charming little creature you are,” he said with frank admiration. “Really, you're wasted among the Balitangs. You'd have more scope here in the palace.”

  Aly coughed to hide the giggle that almost escaped her. “I have scope enough, sir,” she replied demurely. Behind her laughing face lay a bleak thought: This man might die in the storm to come, and I like him.

  And that's your first mistake, lass, said the part of her that sounded like her da. You can't afford to like one of the enemy in this game, and he is the enemy.

  Raucous shrieks cut through the humid air like knives. Along with the rest of the people on the Lapis Pavilion, Aly turned to find the source. Over the Lily Water, Stormwings and crows battled for possession of the sky. At last one female Stormwing escaped the battle to land on the waist-high balustrade around the pavilion. She was a handsome female, despite the claw marks on her flesh. If her broad, steel-toothed grin was any indication, they didn't bother her.