by M K Hutchins
“How common are resignations?”
“We haven’t had one in two years.”
This couldn’t be a coincidence. Likely, this was the girl he’d been trying to get inside the palace, and he’d finally found another way to do it. One where having her name on the list would look odd or become a liability. I chewed my lip. Or he’d reached some kind of deadline, some crucial moment, and had to risk a more difficult route of entry?
When Dami put her name on the list, we thought she’d join the Redwood Palace in six months, not three years. Three years during which Fir pulled pranks and scared servants away, trying to hurry the list. And who better to do it? Everyone seemed to dismiss him as an inconsequential loafer living off Lady Egal’s charity.
Fir became aggressive—robbing me, leaving the snake. The actions of a man running out of time.
“Do you know who the resigned girl is?”
“No.” Linaan shook her head. “Someone from the Treasury came for her paper. I didn’t look at the name.”
“How do I see the records of the Ministry of the Treasury?” I asked.
Linaan laughed. “You become a Royal Auditor. Members of the Royal Household are welcome in the Hall of Records, but the Treasury’s another matter.”
Outside, Moss showed me the Office of the Treasury. With its dozen Palace Guards. No, I wasn’t stealing those records anytime soon.
“Could Lady Sulat look at that record? Get the name?”
“The Treasury Minister has no great love for her. War plays havoc on ledgers.”
“That’s a no, then.”
Moss laughed. “That’s an it-would-take-longer-than-two-weeks, so-why-do-you-care?”
Even if he did have a robust, grandpa laugh, I didn’t share his mirth.
“Why is this girl so important?”
“Don’t worry about it.” If Lady Sulat couldn’t help, why explain? I still couldn’t tell if she was my ally or not.
At least I knew one person who wasn’t my enemy: Lady Egal. If she backed Fir’s plots, she would have tossed me out of the palace instead of appointing me to the kitchens. As Matron of the Household, she’d approved this girl’s application. And she might remember her name.
I paused. Nisaat had fetched my records. Perhaps she’d glimpsed the name beneath Dami’s application?
I returned to Lady Sulat’s quarters, tested her lunch, then headed out with Moss at my heels, like a faithful dog who’d like nothing more than to turn me into meat chunks for supper. Again, I walked slowly.
Nisaat sat on a bench under a cherry tree, near the gate. Pink and white blossoms trailed from the well-manicured branches. I didn’t see any other servants, just Palace Guards. Nisaat’s emerald green skirt with the bleached eagle was neat as always, her braided sandals well-oiled.
“Does Lady Egal often expect visitors?” I asked.
She smiled and gestured for me to sit next to her. “You look a sight better than when I first dragged you in. And it’s not always visitors for her. As Matron of the Household, she’s responsible to provide an escort for other guests, too.”
“Ah.”
“Besides,” Nisaat lowered her voice, smiling, “she likes knowing everybody that goes in and out of that gate.”
It seemed like everyone in this palace gathered secrets. Myself included. Moss stood some fifteen paces away, hands clasped behind his back.
“I have a question for you.”
Nisaat’s spine straightened and her eyes flashed. “Yes?”
“Did you happen to see the name of the girl’s application under mine? When you fetched it for Lady Egal?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Oh. You’re not here to ask about Bane. He’s mortified it’s been so long since he could call on you.”
I shifted on the bench, my cheeks heating. Of course that’s what she’d expected. I couldn’t exactly explain that my double-life was the last thing Bane needed in a spouse.
“I know the trial delays things, but once your name is cleared of this slander...” she trailed off. Nisaat didn’t realize it wasn’t slander at all. “Did you enjoy touring the palace with him? He seemed to think so.”
“Except for the part where he got attacked.”
Nisaat shot the Palace Guards a dirty look, not that they were watching. “I’m afraid I didn’t notice the name, but I could take you to the Hall of Records and help you find it.”
“That’s all right.” I stood. “Thanks for talking with me.”
To Lady Egal’s apartments, then. I breathed deeply, assuring myself as I climbed those porch steps that this woman wasn’t Fir’s ally, even if she disliked me.
A door servant admitted me into her sitting room; Moss waited outside.
Lady Egal still radiated regal beauty. Her slate-gray hair was sculpted into a dignified bun, her posture sang of poise, and her eyes seemed to flay the flesh from my bones. She laid her brush down on her desk.
“Yes?” Her monosyllabic greeting dripped with disdain.
“I had a question for you.”
“Had? Did you lose it?” Sunlight streamed from the lattice-and-eagle window behind her, giving her a supernatural glow.
I swallowed my pride. “The girl on the serving list after me. Do you remember her name?”
“Lazy girl. Haven’t you checked the Hall of Records?”
She dipped her brush in the well of the inkstone and wrote, ignoring me.
My knees knocked like hollow gourds, but I didn’t have any other source of information to turn to. “She resigned. I’d hoped—”
“Then perhaps you should ask the Treasury.” Her tone left no doubt that she knew they wouldn’t help me.
“Please. It’s one name.”
She looked up again, her eyes sharp, predatory. “My Fir’s told me about you. How you accosted him on the road, begging for money because you’d gambled your traveling funds away. No wonder you arrived so disheveled! Do you know why he journeyed to Meadowind?”
I gaped. He’d robbed me.
“He was paying respects to my late husband’s family shrine. To our lasting dismay, he arrived too late to warn me about your coarse habits. If I’d known, I would have turned you out from your post.”
I nearly choked. “Nonsense. Another one of Fir’s pranks. He’s apparently notorious for those.”
“Fir is a good boy. A sweet boy. The only grandson of mine, regardless of rank, who’s ever cared more about me and his ancestors than about fighting his way to a higher position in life.”
My marrow turned to slush as she leaned forward.
“I am glad that your base nature has caught up with you. I’ve already put in my request to the Minister of Justice to witness as to your suspicious, disheveled arrival. I’ll add today’s odd behavior.” She glared, her scorn slicing me like obsidian through soft dough. “Leave my grandson alone. Now get out, before I call the Palace Guard.”
“I could have told you Lady Egal’s fond of Fir. Brings her infusions for her joints regularly.”
“Thanks, Moss,” I muttered.
But the trip wasn’t a complete waste. I’d confirmed Lady Egal wasn’t behind Fir and that Fir wanted me out of the palace. If not for the downpour, he would have beaten me to Askan-Wod by cart and gotten me dismissed. I silently thanked my Ancestors for the rain that I’d cursed while I was walking through it.
For the rest of the day, I worked in Lady Sulat’s apartments trying to make up the long absence she’d generously granted me. I polished chairs and tables with Poppy in the sitting room—all carved with low-relief chickadees and pine boughs that required slow, thorough work. Busy hands made for a busy mind, Mother always said. If she needed to think, she worked. Exercise increased circulation, after all.
Even with the aid of work, I couldn’t puzzle it out. Fir couldn’t be acting alone—he didn’t have the skill to poison Lady Sulat so subtly. What did anyone stand to gain from hurting her? Did someone want her post as Minister of Military Affairs? Or were they trying to g
et rid of her influence on Heir Valerian?
I needed to understand the structure of the Royal Family better.
Poppy left for her half-day off, so I scrubbed the floorboards alone. By evening, my knees ached and I reeked of varnish. Sleep came slowly. With the guard breathing outside my door, I couldn’t stop thinking about my trial. One day closer.
In the morning, I tasted Lady Sulat’s breakfast, then asked leave to revisit the Hall of Records. Again, she consented. I thanked my Ancestors for small favors and headed back, Moss at my heels.
The room smelled as it had yesterday—of paper and time and sanded wood. Kochan, the crinkled Chief Royal Archivist, arranged some manuscript boxes on a shelf. I didn’t see his wife. “Ah! Did you not find what you needed yesterday?”
“Yes, I did, thanks to your excellent help.” I bowed. “But I’m hoping to look at something else. You have a copy of the royal genealogy, I presume?”
“We have several copies. I do love seeing young folks interested in our heritage.” He winked at me and shuffled off into the stacks.
Moss dropped into a chair and polished the granite of his bolas. “This job would be a lot more interesting if you weren’t so boring.”
“I’m not sorry in the least to disappoint.”
Kochan returned in a moment with the box—the title page read The Genealogy of the Purple and Blue of Rowak. Ranks determined what position a person could hold in the government. Only Kings and their ratified heir held Purple rank—the ability to sit in the throne. Those of Blue rank were related to the Royal Family, though only a blue-ranked father and mother passed that high rank to their children. The titles Lord and Lady were granted to children of present or former kings, regardless of their rank.
I carefully turned pages until I reached the end. Rowak currently had three men of Purple rank: the ailing King Former Fulsaan who’d abdicated; our current monarch, King Alder; and his son, Lord Valerian. King Former Fulsaan had two sisters: Lady Thrush, who died giving birth to Captain Gano, and Blue Lady Egal. Gano started life green-ranked, a highly honored citizen, but had been adopted into the Blue Rank to fill the position of Captain of the Palace Guard. Apparently, his skill merited this honor.
My eyes blurred over the charts of Blue-rank people. Nothing jumped out at me here—just long lists of families and genealogies.
So I focused on the current King. He had three siblings. I passed over Red Lord Ospren—he’d been the Purple Heir but was exiled some eight years ago for stealing from the Treasury. Stripped to the Red rank, he now lived in a remote cabin near Rowak’s southern border with the Toskang Empire, forced to remain inside on pain of death.
Alder was next oldest, then Blue Lady Sulat, followed by Blue Lord Torut, who was only a few years older than me. Near Fir’s age. Had they grown up together? I could imagine them becoming friends. Co-conspirators.
“Chief Archivist Kochan... might you answer a question for me?” I asked.
He shuffled to my side. “Yes?”
“The Purple-Blue Council... they decide the appointment of Ministers, don’t they?” I asked.
Kochan knelt next to me. “The Purple-Blue convenes on all of the highest positions and makes a decision after hearing the advice of the Ministry of the Interior.”
The Ministry of the Interior regulated the assignment of government posts. “If, for example, a new Minister of Military Affairs was needed... who would they chose to take the position?”
“Such talk!” Kochan shook his head, then tapped Blue Lord Torut’s name. “But I’d place my wager here.”
I bit my lip. “So he’s an ambitious man?”
Kochan frowned, wrinkles cascading up his cheeks. Gingerly, he replaced the pages back into their box and settled the lid on top. “This is starting to reek of politics. You’re a yellow-ranked servant. You should keep to your post.”
Kochan turned to Moss, as if seeking approval.
“She’s already condemned to die in... what do you have now, Dami? Eleven days to your trial?” Moss pitched in cheerfully.
Kochan coughed from deep in his throat. “Well, if that’s the case...” he glanced around the still-empty Hall of Records and lowered his voice. “General Yuin is popular. He and Lady Sulat are a powerful pair—especially if he ever returns victorious from this accursed war. Lord Torut is anything but ambitious. He’d make an excellent puppet for the king, no? King Alder gave him the responsibility of delivering offerings to the Royal Shrine every evening, with the stated purpose of preparing him for a post.”
Odd. “I’ve never seen Lord Torut in the kitchens.”
“He has a servant fetch the offering.”
“Oh.” Wouldn’t getting it himself be more respectful? “You think the Purple-Blue Council would approve Lord Torut’s appointment?”
Kochan nodded slowly. “King Alder still controls the Council.”
“Thank you. For all your help.” After all the plots, a straightforward answer was refreshing.
“I wish you luck in your trial.” He smiled, then disappeared into the racks with the royal genealogy.
I’d need more than luck. Despite the bright day and the lilac hedges in bloom, my stomach sank. If Fir was the King’s man, and if King Alder held sway over the Council, uncovering Fir’s crime would guarantee my hanging.
“I doubt His Majesty did it,” Moss said. “If, you know, you’d like to stop looking for rain on a fine day.”
“Why not? He wouldn’t have to sneak someone in through the waiting list?”
“Oh, that’s the perfect way to sneak someone in. If he’s caught at anything, he can feign innocence. But poisoning’s a bit blunt for him. Besides, he needs Lady Sulat and General Yuin if he wants a chance of winning this war.”
“So he’s not scared of her.”
“No, he’s smart enough to strike after.” Moss laughed. “There’s no great love between them. The King Former, their father? King Alder only lets Lady Sulat visit him once a week, under his close, personal supervision. I think he’s worried they’d plot against him otherwise.”
I peered at Moss, at his inconspicuous, middle-aged face. He spoke freely. Suspiciously so. The look he and Kochan exchange replayed in my mind. “Lady Sulat ordered you to be as helpful as possible to me, didn’t she?”
“Oh, maybe.”
Did Lady Sulat want me to succeed? I still couldn’t tell. In any case, I didn’t entirely trust Moss.
We strolled back toward Lady Sulat’s apartments the long way, around the Royal Shrine—a stark building with a black peaked roof, black pillars, and white walls. Inside rested the heads of kings and queens, lords and ladies, protectors of Rowak. Beyond it stood the Royal Bear House—the king’s residence, towering three stories high. Even its shingles shone bright red, signifying this was the true heart of all Rowak. Guards manned the wall—the only such wall inside the palace. If Lady Sulat could get in just once a week to see her father, I had no chance of investigating King Alder.
“Chief Archivist Kochan... he’s loyal to Lady Sulat, isn’t he?”
“Ah, you are getting a little smarter. Not that it’s hard to see. Kochan’s a brilliant archivist, but less brilliant on politics.”
I chewed my lip. “You think he’s wrong. About Lord Torut.”
“Oh, spot-on. That one’s not hard to see. But if you think that lay-about Lord Torut planned this, you’re grasping at straws.”
Straws were all I had. “Do you know who the poisoner is?”
“Nope.”
“Then don’t mock me for looking.”
I mended with Poppy until the midday meal. Then we beat rugs outside, the dust mushrooming out into the air.
Poppy intuitively understood my mood. She gave me a smile but let me think in silence. Was she perceptive-of-eye? Or just good with people? Either way, Poppy was an asset in her post. As Lady Egal had judged, scrubbing crocks suited my skills better than attending the Blue and Green ranks.
My brain felt dustier than the rugs. Ho
w could I spy on Blue Lord Torut? I had no such skills, no horde of willing soldiers, and precious little time.
“Dami!”
I turned. Bane jogged up the path. He looked as he had before: black hair sweeping low over his brown eyes, his military insignia tied in a lopsided, one-handed knot around his arm. Worry covered his face. “Dami... I heard what happened.”
“With the trial.” Thinking of it tightened my throat.
He fidgeted with the envelope in his hand. “I’m delivering this to Lady Sulat, but after that, it’s my half-day off. Given your upcoming trial... maybe she’d give you the afternoon off as well. May I ask for you?”
Inwardly, I beamed. If he were a mercenary wife-hunter like Osem claimed, he wasn’t a very good one. Who’d waste time courting a dead woman? Apparently I’d made a real friend that afternoon, sitting by the pond and skipping rocks. I’d been wrong to avoid him for so long.
“If you’re sure you won’t come to trouble for it. I’ve missed a good deal of work already today.”
He nodded and headed up the steps to Lady Sulat’s room.
It was nice that two people in the palace—Bane and Osem—would mourn me after the trial.
Bane returned shortly. “The ever-gracious Blue Lady Sulat granted my wish.”
Poppy giggled, but I didn’t mind. Talking to Bane might be more helpful than beating rugs. Moss didn’t follow; apparently Lady Sulat trusted Bane to guard me.
We strolled together through the gardens. Bane watched my every step, like I was an ill-made crock poised to shatter. Like we were marching to my funeral.
“I hope... I hope the Council is fair to you,” Bane said. I’m sure he meant that he hoped they’d pardon me, but unfortunately fair in this case meant hanging.
Time to change the conversation. “Did you ever do any spying? Out on the warfront?”
Bane’s brow wrinkled. “Scouting. But it’s not the same thing.”
“Oh.” I chewed my lip.
“Why the sudden interest? I won’t believe you’re a Shoreed spy no matter how hard you try to convince me.”
