The Pyramid Waltz

by Barbara Ann Wright

  Some of the burlier farmers nudged their companions, grinned, and gave Brutal challenging looks. “Won’t be long now.” Katya gestured at the burly farmers with her chin. “Watch for anyone familiar.”

  Crowe ordered a round of the local brew, nothing fancy that would give away expensive tastes. A few of the patrons glanced at Katya’s party out of the corners of their eyes. These Katya made note of along with those who didn’t look at all, especially the travelers.

  Ten minutes after they sat down, a big farmer stood from an entire table of big farmers. He sauntered to Katya’s table, his eyes filled with the prospect of a good-natured fight.

  “Here we go,” Katya mumbled.

  Brutal wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his robe, set his mug down, and turned.

  The farmer cracked his knuckles. “You’re a big man,” he said, as if that explained everything that was about to happen. “Been in many fights?”

  They always underestimated his age. Even at nineteen, the baby face took off a few years. “Some, brother. It is only through combat that one may understand the universe.”

  “Ah,” the farmer said, “a fightin’ monk!”

  Brutal stood, his face calm if a bit expectant. This was his meat and milk, after all. Katya scooted her chair back, the better to get out of the way in a hurry. Across from her, Maia and Crowe did the same.

  The farmer started to say something else, and Brutal frowned. “The posturing that comes before a fight interrupts the purity of the fight itself, brother.”

  “Is that so?”

  Brutal punched him, one hard smack. He didn’t put his shoulder into it, but a man his size didn’t need to give it all he had. The bar erupted in cheers as the farmer staggered and dropped to one knee. To his credit, he rushed up with a vengeance and wrapped his arms around Brutal. The farmer launched Brutal backward to crash into the table. Katya jumped, dumping her chair over. The farmer’s buddies shouted and hit the air, and it was a short step before they were hitting each other. As the bar dissolved into total chaos, Katya circled around toward Crowe and Maia.

  “Not so fast!” someone shouted behind her. Katya turned just as one of the female farmers punched her in the gut.

  The air left Katya’s lungs in a rush as pain blossomed in her stomach. She stared up into the woman’s gleeful face.

  “You can’t just leave in the middle of a punch-up!” the woman cried.

  Katya coughed and straightened. “Very well.” Katya hit her square in the mouth, and when she reeled, Katya grabbed the back of her homespun shirt and launched her into the crowd. She landed on several patrons and started another pocket of fighting. More vigilant this time, Katya started through the rumble again.

  A barmaid had Maia around the waist and swung her around. Maia, never a great one for brawling, fumbled for her belt knife. Katya crouched and waited for Maia’s legs to pass overhead before she kicked the barmaid in the back of the knees. She crumpled and dumped Maia on the floor. Katya shoved the woman into another fight.

  A bleary-eyed man stumbled out of the press. He launched haymaker swings at random. Katya ducked and then rolled out of the way as he tumbled forward, the remains of a chair clinging to his shoulders. Crowe threw the rest of the chair away and signaled for Katya to follow him. They picked up Maia and headed for the door.

  When they reached the bright afternoon sunshine, Katya studied the other patrons who’d made a run for it. None of them wore farmers’ homespun. They talked in small groups and gestured at the fight raging inside the tavern. A few of them shook their heads and pointed to their disheveled clothing, complaining. One traveler stood apart, and as Katya looked him over, he glanced up, and their eyes met. His widened; he recognized her, and as he took off running, Katya could only think that Maia had been right.

  Maia took a step in pursuit, but Katya grabbed her arm. “No,” she whispered. “Right now, he’s the suspicious one, not us.”

  One of the other watchers pointed at the fleeing man. “What do you suppose he’s so frightened of?”

  “Must’ve had a big tab,” Katya drawled.

  Crowe clapped her on the shoulder. “Or maybe he took a few liberties with a barmaid on his way out!”

  The watchers catcalled to the fleeing man as he cleared the line of buildings in the small town square. “Pennynail will nab him,” Katya said in Maia’s ear.

  Maia nodded and rubbed her side. “That barmaid hurt my ribs.”

  Crowe snorted. “You’ll live.”

  Maia gave him an angry glance and then stared down at her boots. Katya patted her shoulder. “Always the spirit of tactfulness, Crowe. If it still hurts in an hour, Maia, let me know.”

  One of the tradeswomen wandered close to Katya’s group. “Your big friend is having a time of it.”

  “Watch yourself,” Katya answered, “he’ll probably be thrown from the door any minute now!”

  They laughed, and true to Katya’s prophecy, Brutal was ejected from the door by a great many people. They cheered each other, cheered Brutal, and then went back into the tavern as if nothing had happened. All the travelers and a few of the tradespeople headed inside; the rest wandered toward the other buildings.

  Brutal pushed to his feet, his eye blackened and his nose bloody. He grinned from ear to ear. “Glorious.”

  “Lucky for you,” Katya said, “it bore fruit.”

  She nodded toward the end of the square. They hesitated a moment longer and engaged in a mock debate about whether or not to go back into the tavern.

  “I’ve had enough fun for the day,” Crowe declared at last. Brutal put up a protest, half-fake, Katya decided, before he relented, and they rode for the trees.

  Maia handed him a handkerchief. “Are you sure you’re all right, Brutal?”

  “I saw a bit more of the universe, a small sampling of…everything.”

  “What was it like?”

  Katya watched him for the answer, equally curious.

  Brutal stared at nothing for a moment. “We’re all objects, constantly colliding. In the fight, our souls come closer to perfect understanding of one another. I am the farmer, and he is me. I know what it is to plant his crops, till his fields, and love his family.”

  “His family?” Maia asked. A blush darkened her fair cheeks, but she kept her head up.

  “Yes.”

  “If we fought, would you understand me better?”

  He looked away with a frown. “If you want to seek enlightenment via my chapterhouse, someone else will have to put you on the path.”

  Maia stared down at her saddle. When she smiled and blushed again, Katya knew they’d both come to the same conclusion. Brutal couldn’t help Maia to enlightenment because he couldn’t bear to strike her.

  They collected a riderless horse in the middle of a field, and just inside the tree line, they found the man who’d fled the tavern. Pennynail had tied his arms and legs with leather cords and tied a handkerchief around his mouth. He touched the eyeholes of his mask and then tapped his temple.

  “Good catch.” Katya knelt and stared into the bound man’s eyes. “Should we try the old-fashioned way first or go straight to the pyramid?”

  “Look at his face,” Crowe said. “Take that handkerchief from his mouth and he’ll scream to the heavens.”

  “Pyramid it is.”

  “But what if he’s not involved?” Maia said.

  Crowe gave her a black look. “There is no risk of my damaging him, young lady. I’ve been using pyramids for quite some time.” He drew one from his coat; the clear sides of it glinted in the light that penetrated the forest canopy.

  The bound man shook his head rapidly as Pennynail hauled him to his knees. Crowe pressed the base of the pyramid to his forehead, and his eyes rolled back just as Crowe’s slipped shut. Katya studied the captive’s clothing. His dark green shirt and black coat were simple but finely made; his coat even had a hint of embroidery around the neck. A bit of lace poked from his shirt cuffs, and his black trousers
were a little tight for a farmer or traveler. They were city clothes, too good for traveling a great distance unless he rode with a carriage, and she’d seen no carriages in Longside. Besides, his clothes were not quite good enough for someone who rode inside a carriage, unless he was a servant or footman.

  “Pennynail,” Katya said, “watch the town. If he’s a servant, his master or mistress might be searching for him or making a run for it.” She pointed at Maia. “You, too. If anyone runs, he pursues, and you come tell us.”

  Maia took off after Pennynail. After a few minutes of silence, Crowe straightened. “Smuggling.”

  Katya blinked. “What?”

  “He did recognize you. He’s a footman for Baron Sumpter, but he’s a smuggler, not a traitor. He was in Longside to buy Bronian wine, but his contact never arrived.”

  “Bronian wine?” Brutal asked. “The stuff that eats holes in your brain?”

  “Hence the need to smuggle,” Crowe said.

  “Does the baron know?” Katya asked.

  “Not from what I gathered. This man smuggles the wine in order to line his own pockets.”

  “Hardly worth our time.”

  “But a crime nonetheless. I’ll turn him over to the baron. It’s likely that Sumpter will be so embarrassed he’ll uncover the entire operation for me.”

  “And when the baron asks how you caught his footman?”

  “Having a reputation as the king’s personal sneak is not always a liability. No one questions how I know things anymore, and I don’t bother to explain. It furthers the notion that I know everything.”

  “Might as well paint a target on your back,” Brutal said.

  “I’ve had one for years.”

  “Well.” Katya rubbed her hands together and fought disappointment. “Let’s collect the others. We’re done here.”

  On the way back to Marienne, Katya mourned the day’s trip. At least Brutal got a good fight out of it, but they were no closer to finding their conspirators. She moved her horse close to Crowe’s. “Are you certain the dead courtier’s pyramid would have killed my father?”

  “It killed the courtier, didn’t it?”

  “It seems so strange. That courtier said we were monsters. He knew something about the Aspect. Wouldn’t he want to expose us rather than kill us?”

  “Perhaps he didn’t care about exposure, just about ridding the world of King Einrich and the rest of your family.”

  “Assassinate us rather than overthrow us?”

  “Maybe he thought killing would be easier than exposing. To bring on the Aspect, a pyramid would’ve had to overcome the power of Einrich’s necklace. That would have been difficult to make.”

  “I know. It’s just so frustrating trying to stay ahead of these people.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “How can they make better pyramids than you? You’re the best pyradisté there is.”

  “But not the best there ever was. You should have seen…”

  “Who?” But she knew who he meant, the same person he always meant: Roland. “The traitor’s pyramid was shoddy work, beneath you.”

  “An ugly tool for an ugly deed.”

  Katya thought on that and rode in silence.

  They rendezvoused with Averie late in the afternoon. She had a brace of geese and a small pig waiting for them. Katya made a face as Averie slung both across her horse, the birds in front of the saddle, the pig behind.

  “Lovely,” Katya said.

  Averie tsked. “My skills are unappreciated in my time.”

  “Forgive me, jewel of my heart. What I meant to say was that poets will sing your praises until the flame of time has burned to an ember.”

  “I’d settle for a thank-you.”

  “I’m royalty. We don’t thank anyone.”

  Along with Maia, Averie, and Brutal, Katya bade Crowe and Pennynail farewell. The two started along their secret path through the city, and Katya and her party wound through Marienne to the royal stables.

  It was close to sundown when Katya and Averie reached their apartment. Katya stretched behind closed doors, looking forward to a hot bath and then a long think. The usual stack of flowers and gifts from admirers awaited her, but a single box caught her attention. Deep red, with Allusian letters painted on the lid, it stood out like a beacon. Katya dug it out of the pile. There was no card or note, just a box of meringues when she opened the lid.

  “Anything interesting?” Averie asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “Oh yes? I’ll see to your bath. Do you want an early night?”

  “No,” Katya bit into one of the meringues and let the sugary confection dissolve on her tongue. “I’m in the mood for a bit of reading. After the bath, I think I’ll visit the library.”

  Chapter Six: Starbride

  Starbride was well into her second stack of books; her mother would have been appalled. Dawnmother had heard of at least two picnics, three riding parties, countless tea room visits, and who knew how many card and lawn games going on that day, but Starbride hadn’t budged from the library. Three blue-robed knowledge monks were her only company, and they didn’t talk much. Throughout the day, Starbride had learned to ignore their quiet movements, the swish of their robes, the thump of a book being set on a table, or a quiet cough.

  She made note of a river trade law on her scroll, a law that could help keep the Farradain merchant families in Newhope from price-fixing. She had a contact she could send such things to, a friend of the family who tried to practice Farradain law but didn’t have all the tools. Well, she’d put a stop to that.

  She closed one book, shifted it to the side, and searched the pile of texts beside her. She pulled out another and scanned the first few pages. The smell of ink and paper was so familiar to her, but the language of the Farradains reminded her that she was far from home.

  Without thinking, she touched her necklace and ran her fingers over the seven starbursts in yellow enamel and the delicate golden wire that ran between them. Her father had shaped the wire to form the character “bride” if she wore it one way and “lucky” if she wore it the other way around, which she did constantly. It was her favorite, made in her childhood with links added as she grew. The pages in front of her grew hazy as she thought of it.

  “Why ‘lucky,’ Papa?” she’d asked.

  Seated at his worktable with her in his lap, he’d bent the sparkling gold wire with ease. “It’s my fondest hope for you, little Star, what I would have named you.” He’d chuckled. “But your mother’s will is as strong as an ox.”

  Starbride had frowned with childish stubbornness. “I hate my name. I’ll never get married!”

  His lips had smacked against her temple in a noisy kiss. “You’ll fall in love and change your mind one day.” He’d picked up one of the starburst links and held it beside the twisted wire. “This necklace will be there to remind you that you are both mine and your mother’s child. And that Papa loves you, my lucky Star.”

  In the library in Farraday, Starbride shook her head. The creation of her necklace had taken place several hundred miles away and over ten years in the past. There was no time to be homesick. She had a job to do.

  She barely noticed when someone took a seat beside her. It made sense. The huge library was nearly empty, but she’d chosen a spot near two wall sconces and a candelabrum, so the light was good. A blue sleeve entered her vision near her book, and five slender fingers drummed softly. Starbride glanced at the signet ring on the forefinger, a hawk clutching a rose. She didn’t look up, smiling to herself instead.

  “Trade law,” Katya said. “Riveting.” She plucked the sleeve of Starbride’s gown. “Hmm, would your mother be thinking mint or limes with this?”

  Starbride put down her pencil. “Mint. She’s not a big fan of fruit.” Katya wore the same loose bun that let her hair frame her face and the same dark blue coat she seemed to prefer, paired with dark trousers, except this coat had far less embroidery than her ball coat. When she glan
ced near Katya’s collar, though, Starbride couldn’t contain a laugh. Her butterfly hairclip perched on the fabric with the aid of a straight pin.

  “You like my new jewelry?” Katya asked.

  “It doesn’t seem your style.”

  “Being royalty carries the luxury of choice when it comes to style.”

  “Of course it does, Highness.” Starbride picked up her pencil again and twirled it in her fingers.

  “Ah, we’re back to that.”

  “What did your…admirers think of your pin?”

  “It’s going to be all the rage.” Katya stuck her long legs out and crossed her knee-high boots at the ankle. “I expect to see several of the courtiers in full butterfly costumes by the next ball.”

  Starbride chuckled, and across the room, one of the monks gave her a dirty look that he hadn’t bothered, or dared, to give Katya. “I’d enjoy seeing that, especially on Lady Hilda.”

  Katya prodded Starbride’s slipper with her boot. “Jealous?”

  Starbride sniffed and turned back to her book. “Absolutely not.”

  “Of course. I didn’t really think so.”

  “So glad to hear it.”

  “Anyway, Lady Hilda is not a courtier.”

  “What is she?”

  “A pain in the ass.”

  Starbride had to clap a hand over her mouth. This time, all three monks gave her dirty looks. She shifted her chair and leaned close. “Isn’t everyone a pain in the ass sometimes?”

  “Of course, but courtiers are pains in the ass who are at least paying to be here.”

  “Nobles don’t have to pay?” Starbride’s jaw dropped as she thought of the exorbitant price her family paid to keep her at Marienne.

  “Not directly. Nobles are landowners. Their ‘rent’ is taken out of the taxes they collect.”