The Unbound Empire

by Melissa Caruso

  Miranda eyed me suspiciously. “If I give it to you, what protection do I have against him?”

  “Mine,” I said firmly.

  “And he’ll have no reason to go after you anymore, if you didn’t do the job and Amalia’s got the evidence already.” Zaira shrugged. “You keep it, you’re putting a target on yourself.”

  “Can I trust her?” Miranda asked Zaira, jerking her chin in my direction.

  I tensed, trying not to show how much I cared about the answer.

  Zaira didn’t so much as glance at me. “Her? She’s a terrible liar. She couldn’t trick a brat out of their least favorite candy. You can trust her.”

  “Thanks,” I muttered. Zaira flashed me a grin.

  Miranda let out a long breath. Then she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a carefully folded paper bearing the imperial seal in blue wax. “Take it, then,” she said. “And stick him between the ribs with it for me.”

  I waited to make sure Miranda and the boy had left the party before confronting Lord Caulin. I had to make certain I was approaching the right masked servant, so Zaira and I watched and picked out the one who was moving restlessly about the ballroom, exchanging murmured words with certain guards. Once he was alone, I approached him, with Zaira and Terika watching from close by.

  “Lord Caulin,” I called, trying to make my eyes as wide and my voice as innocent as possible. “May I have a word?”

  He drew closer, glancing around to see whether anyone had heard his name. I took a moment to relish his annoyance at my apparent disregard for his attempts to keep his presence unknown. For once, I had an unbeatable hand, and knew it before he did, and the feeling was intoxicating.

  This must be how my mother felt all the time. I could finally begin to understand why she loved playing this game.

  “What is it, Lady Amalia?” Lord Caulin asked, his voice low.

  “I’ve learned something about the criminal deeds planned for tonight,” I whispered.

  He leaned in close. “What did you learn?” His tone was wary, guarded, but not yet concerned. Let’s see if I can change that.

  “I learned,” I said, my voice going deep and deadly serious, “that you’re new at this.”

  Caulin froze.

  “Your authority was always secret before,” I murmured. “You never had the power to sign anything, to write orders and writs, to put your seal on documents. You never learned how to protect yourself.”

  I heard the faintest, briefest hiss of air, as if Caulin had sucked his breath in through his teeth.

  “It must have seemed so harmless,” I went on, with false sympathy. “That document would only be out in the world for a few days, and then you could destroy it. Even if you somehow failed to retrieve it, what harm could it do? You’d already have frightened the Assembly into seeing mages as a threat. You’d have what you wanted.”

  “And what do you want, Lady Amalia?” Caulin asked, grating the words out.

  “What do I want?” I let my anger come through at last. “I want you to do your job and protect the Serene Empire, Lord Caulin. You let the Council believe your little scheme was Ruven’s plot, distracting us from whatever he’s truly planning. You had better find out what that is and stop him, Lord Caulin, or the blood he spills will be on your hands.”

  Caulin’s mask dipped in a wary nod. “I assure you I have been doing my utmost to uncover his plans, and I will continue to do so. If that’s all—”

  “One more thing,” I interrupted him. “If you try anything underhanded like this again—if you do anything to threaten me, my friends, those nice mages you attempted to hire, or the Empire you are sworn to uphold—I will let the whole Assembly know you were willing to poison them to win political points. And I’ll show them your writ to prove it.”

  “Give me the writ, and I’ll abide by those terms,” Caulin said evenly.

  “Oh, no. My mother raised me better than that.” I shook my head. “I’m keeping the writ, Lord Caulin. Let it serve as a reminder of a warning you should have taken to heart before this.”

  “And that is?”

  I met his eyes through the holes in his mask. “I told you it wasn’t my mother you should be afraid of.”

  At my mother’s advice, I allowed Lord Caulin the grace of telling the doge and the Council that his information about Ruven hiring Raverran alchemists was wrong rather than exposing his scheme to them.

  “The doge knows the truth of the matter regardless,” La Contessa assured me. “But if you allow Caulin to retain his dignity, he’ll have more to lose, and you’ll have greater leverage over him.” She seemed quite pleased to hear that I had obtained my first blackmail material on a Council member at the young age of nineteen; if I didn’t know better, I’d almost think her eyes went somewhat misty.

  We were left, however, with one inescapable problem: with Caulin’s tip proven false, we had no leads on Ruven’s true plans.

  Terika’s blood test had uncovered a couple of poisoned clerks among a Callamornish general’s staff, but no victims of Ruven’s potion yet in Raverra, or so Ciardha informed me during my breakfast briefing. Such morning news between sips of warm chocolate had replaced my customary dinners with my mother more often than not of late, as the grim business of preparing for war frequently kept La Contessa at the Imperial Palace overnight.

  “The Council may have questions for you about what exactly Lord Ignazio told you before he died.” Ciardha laid another paper on top of the pile of intelligence reports and social invitations beside my plate of warm fluffy rolls and almond pastry: a schedule that thoroughly vivisected my day in Ciardha’s tidy handwriting. “I’ve reserved two hours in case they call for you during their meeting this afternoon.”

  “I need to work on building up support for my Falcon reforms today,” I fretted, crushing pastry crumbs between my fingers. “I wanted to speak with Lord Bertali about trading support for his tariff reductions—which I was going to vote for anyway, but he doesn’t need to know that. And to persuade the Duchess of Calsida that her city will benefit if Raverra doesn’t sweep up all its mage-marked. If I’m sitting around awaiting the pleasure of the Council—”

  Ciardha tapped the schedule with one elegant finger. “I’ve arranged your meetings for this evening, Lady. We haven’t forgotten.”

  “Ah. Of course. Thank you.”

  I actually looked at the schedule, this time, feeling foolish. The low golden light streaming through the breakfast room windows caught tiny shadows in every irregularity of the vellum. I drew in a breath to ask whether we’d gotten any useful information from the controlled Callamornish clerks.

  But Ciardha lifted a finger, her head tilted to listen, suddenly alert and poised as a cat who hears a mouse in the wainscoting.

  “Excuse me, Lady,” she murmured. She flowed to the side of one of the breakfast room’s tall windows, which let out onto a balcony overlooking the canal. Gauzy curtains obscured the balcony itself; if there was anything out there, I couldn’t see it.

  She paused a moment, still as a stalking heron. I barely dared breathe.

  Then she moved, with lightning speed and fluid grace. Before my eyes could even sort out what had happened, the window was open and she was out on the balcony, the gleaming point of a dagger held beneath the chin of a lean young man who lifted his hands in surprised surrender, an incongruous laugh lighting his familiar face.

  Black feathers stirred at his shoulders, and the piercing yellow rings of his mage mark met my eyes through the gap in the blowing curtains. “Hello, Lady Amalia,” he said. “I hope I haven’t come at an inconvenient time.”

  Ciardha eased her dagger away from his throat. “You appear to have a visitor, Lady,” she announced.

  I rose from my chair and offered him a bow, suppressing a flutter of mirth or something more in my chest. “Hello, Kathe.”

  Chapter Five

  In Raverra, we have a quaint custom of arriving at doors when paying visits,” I said.

&nb
sp; Ciardha whisked the papers off the breakfast table before Kathe might see their contents. “I won’t be far if you need me, Lady,” she said as she withdrew, with a cool warning glance at my guest. I had no doubt I would find my morning appointments all efficiently rescheduled; with Ruven and his allies poised to attack at our borders, very little took precedence over our alliance with the Crow Lord of Let.

  Kathe gazed around the breakfast room, taking in the artifice runes worked into the decorative molding around the tall windows, the fresco of the Nine Graces in their garden set in an oval medallion in the ceiling, and the luminaries in their gilded sconces, crystals dark now in the light of the winter sun. His black cloak with its feathered shoulders seemed jarringly out of place, and his simple gray leather tunic with its asymmetrical Vaskandran embroidery snaking like lightning down one edge was no better. He was a breath of winter setting a candle to gutter, a crow’s feather fluttering down onto a silken pillow, a black cat settling with a secret grin among jeweled clockwork mice.

  Graces help me, he was beautiful.

  “Doors are boring,” he said. “Though I should have remembered your bodyguard might not be amused.”

  “Ciardha isn’t my bodyguard. She’s… my mother’s second in command, I suppose.”

  Kathe lifted an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that be you?”

  I laughed. “I’m not qualified.” I gestured to a chair, but Kathe prowled around the room, poking curiously at the mantel clock and casting a rather disdainful glance at a potted plant. I supposed they didn’t have much need for either in the wild domains of Vaskandar.

  I had no idea how to host a guest who wouldn’t sit down. Kathe had never visited my home before; in the past two months we’d written back and forth, but only seen each other once, meeting halfway in Callamorne.

  “What brings you to the Serene City?” I asked, falling back on ritual pleasantry.

  “You, of course. It would be terribly rude to neglect the woman I’m courting.”

  His circuit of the room brought him to my side. This close, I could feel the barely checked power that shivered the air around him. He offered a hand, a question in his eyes.

  I let him lift the backs of my fingers to his lips. He placed a slow, deliberate kiss on my knuckles; I held his gaze, focusing all my will on not flushing. With Kathe, I never wanted to relinquish a crumb of control, or Hells only knew where we’d end up.

  A discreet cough sounded at the door, and Old Anzo entered the room, bearing a fresh tray of chocolate and pastries for me and my unexpected visitor. I snatched my hand back, avoiding the old man’s eyes. He’d worked for my mother since long before I was born, and for her father before that; I tried not to wonder what he must think of the family heir courting a Witch Lord.

  Though to be fair, Old Anzo had probably seen things I couldn’t dream of, working for the Cornaro family for half a century. And indeed, he exuded nothing but professional calm as he laid out new dishes, gathered my old ones onto his tray, and left the room.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t arrive without a gift,” Kathe said once Old Anzo was gone, his eyes gleaming. “And we all know information is the best present of all. Tell me what you have for me, and I’ll tell you what I’ve got for you.”

  “What makes you think I have anything for you?” I asked, keeping my tone light and teasing despite the quickening of my pulse.

  Kathe lifted an eyebrow. “You are a Cornaro, my lady. You always have cards in your hand.”

  “Very well.” I took a sip of chocolate to buy myself time to organize my thoughts, which was difficult under Kathe’s watchful, yellow-ringed gaze. We’d been trading simple messages by letter, often carried by Kathe’s crows, but having him here in the flesh staring at me was an entirely different experience. “We’ve managed to infiltrate the court of the Lady of Thorns’ daughter, such as it is. She’s desperate, with the Lady of Lynxes carving off pieces of her domain and no confidence in Ruven’s continued alliance, and would take almost any bargain that will leave her with enough of a domain to survive. There’s advantage to be had there one way or another, as her neighbor.”

  “Interesting.” Kathe tapped his chin. “Perhaps I can broker a peace deal between her and the Lady of Lynxes, and wind up with everyone owing me favors.”

  “Do you have any information on Ruven?” I asked. “I’ve heard some intelligence that he might be planning a move against the Empire.” I tried to sound casual; with Kathe, it wouldn’t do to seem to want something too much. I doubted he could resist dangling it out of reach, no matter how sincere his promises to assist the Serene Empire in fighting Ruven.

  “Heh. He’s likely planning several moves against the Empire. My crows can barely keep up with him.” He dragged a chair at a confidential angle to mine and settled in it with a swirl of dark feathers. “What do you want to hear about first? Subterfuge or war?”

  “It’s not a war until he invades us.” I perched next to Kathe, entirely unable to relax in his presence, clutching my fresh cup of chocolate in both hands. “Which the doge is certain won’t happen until the spring, given that the border passes are buried deep in snow.”

  Kathe’s eyes danced. “But you know better, don’t you?”

  “I know that this is a man who, when he wanted to take out a fortress, decided that the best way was to erupt a volcano.” I leaned in toward Kathe. “I don’t think a bit of snow will stop him.”

  “It wouldn’t stop any sufficiently determined Witch Lord willing to take some losses. The reason you haven’t been invaded in winter before is because most of us have more care for the lives in our domains, even if only as a source of power.” Kathe’s mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something bitter. “Ruven, bastion of compassion that he is, has no such reservations. His reserves are marching to the border. He’s getting ready to make a move.”

  I let out a long breath. “That’s very good to know.” Our forces were concentrated in the heavily fortified river valleys and the Loreician hills; we’d need to reinforce the high passes as quickly as possible if they weren’t as safe as we’d thought.

  “I’ve got more for you, but it’s your turn.” Kathe sniffed his chocolate and took an experimental sip, and his brows lifted. “This isn’t coffee.”

  “No, it’s chocolate. I like it much better.” I sipped from my own cup. “I’ll make this one quick: Terika has come up with a blood test to identify people who’ve fallen under the control of Ruven’s potion. I can get you the recipe, if you’ve got any alchemists.”

  “Oh, that is useful. I’d know if he tampered with my own people, of course, but it’s wearisome not being able to trust anyone visiting Let.” Kathe’s grin faded. “I wish I had good news to give you in return, but mine is grimmer, I’m afraid. Ruven is making human chimeras.”

  My guts knotted, remembering the creatures I’d seen in Vaskandar—three-eyed hounds armored in bristling thorns, half-feline reptiles with venomous fangs—and the crushed thing that was not a scorpion on the floor of Ignazio’s cell. “He’s doing that to humans?”

  “He’s a charming fellow, isn’t he?” Kathe’s lip curled in disgust. “There isn’t much that’s forbidden to Witch Lords in Vaskandar. But every rule we have, he breaks, no matter how old and sacred. He’s earned a lot of enemies, and even his few allies are starting to distance themselves from him.”

  “Maybe we can use that.” I frowned. “The Lady of Bears and the Serpent Lord still have armies poised to attack us across the Loreician border, and it’s forcing us to split our defenses. If we can put pressure on them to back off for fear of being associated with Ruven, we’d be able to bring more of our strength against him. Are any of the more influential Witch Lords taking a stand against Ruven?”

  “Your esteemed ancestor the Lady of Eagles is already annoyed with him. It wouldn’t take much to convince her to let it be known that anyone continuing to work with him will earn her displeasure, and that’s probably all it would take to get Ruven’s allies to abandon him
.” Kathe rubbed his hands. “Nothing quite like sowing a little discord among your enemies. I’ll talk to her when I get back to Vaskandar.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.”

  Kathe shrugged my gratitude off. “I have a long debt to work off before you owe me any thanks.”

  An awkward silence fell between us. It was far too easy to forget that he’d betrayed me, but not so easy to forgive. I traced the rim of my chocolate cup.

  “I suppose you do,” I said at last. “It’s difficult to entirely trust you after that, Kathe. I want to, but I can’t.”

  “Trust is such a broad concept, my lady. I have friends I would trust with my life, but not my secrets. Others I would trust with my secrets, but not with the last slice of cake.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So with what can I trust you?”

  A glitter came into his eyes. “I’ll bet you can guess how I’m going to answer you.”

  “I’ll wager I can, too.” I couldn’t stop a smile. “‘Let’s play a game.’”

  “You are an oracle, my lady.” He drew a leg up onto his chair, as if sitting still was too much for him and he might launch into action at any moment. “Now, one could argue that trust is nothing more than knowing how a person will reliably choose when faced with conflicting principles. For instance, in a case of honesty versus politeness, I daresay you can trust your friend Zaira to always choose honesty.”

  I laughed. “Yes, even when most decent people might disagree with her.”

  “Then shall we take turns presenting each other with such quandaries?” He spread a hand, as if offering me something marvelous. “We can both answer each one.”

  “Very well.” I couldn’t resist the chance for a glimpse into Kathe’s inner workings. “Who should go first?”

  “How about we start with my example?” He cocked his head. “Honesty or politeness?”