She was too worried about Lea. Adding to her concern was the fact that so far the Magria had not responded to her summons. This was so discourteous, so unusual that it alarmed Elandra.
Even if the Magria were too busy to come immediately, it was her custom to send a message explaining the circumstances behind a delay. Instead, there had been only silence. Elandra feared her message had perhaps been intercepted, or tampered with. She was trying to decide whether to send members of the Imperial Guard to make sure all was well with the sisterhood.
“And so you agree to these arrangements, Majesty?” Nardeth asked. “You feel they are suitable?”
Blinking, Elandra realized she’d heard almost nothing he’d said. She bestowed a gracious smile on him. “Most suitable. Everything is as I would wish.”
Delight and relief lit his thin face. He bowed deeply to her. “Your Majesty is kind indeed. Thank you. I shall commission purchase of the texts immediately, subject to your final approval, of course.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
From the corner of her eye she glimpsed a messenger approaching rapidly. More bad news? she wondered. She kept her expression calm, but it was difficult.
“The emperor and I appreciate your hard work,” she said to the priest in dismissal.
Respectfully he bowed, retreating just as the messenger strode up.
“Speak,” Elandra said to the man.
He swept her a bow. “By your leave, Majesty. A Penestrican is at the gates and says she has your summons.”
“Has she been kept waiting outside like an errand girl?” Elandra asked in astonishment. “Does the gatekeeper not understand the Magria is always allowed admittance?”
“It’s not the Magria, Majesty.”
Perplexed, Elandra held back a frown. A messenger from Anas, she decided in disappointment. Another delay.
Although she knew she should, for the sake of appearances, continue her promenade, Elandra was too impatient. With Lea’s welfare at stake, the rules of protocol could wait.
“Order the gatekeeper to admit the Penestrican at once,” she commanded. “Have her conducted into the women’s pavilion. I shall receive her shortly.”
The boy bowed and loped away to do her bidding. Elandra turned to her ladies and announced the end of her promenade, dismissing them to do as they wished for the remainder of the afternoon. While everyone was looking baffled or curious, she twitched her train from the hands of her pages, caught her protector’s eye, and left the carpet to make her way across the grass to a stone path leading to one of the canals. Descending the shallow steps leading to the water’s edge, she jumped lightly onto one of the large silver disks floating on its surface without waiting for her protector’s assistance.
Someone behind her gasped aloud. “She’ll be drowned!”
Elandra paid no heed. Keeping her balance, she even managed to avoid wetting the hem of her ample skirts and was intrigued by how the disk supported her weight, bobbing only slightly beneath her.
“To the palace,” she commanded.
At once, the disk glided forward, bearing her along on the water’s surface without a splash or even a ripple. There was no rush of speed, only a slow, steady motion; just the same, Elandra found it rather exhilarating. This was the first time she’d used a canal disk, although she knew Caelan made a habit of utilizing this newest gift of Choven magic.
Now, as she glided through the gardens toward the palace, standing serene and dignified on this amazing form of transport, she smiled and nodded graciously to the people she passed on the banks. Most of them looked too startled, too dumbfounded to respond, although a few managed to give her obeisance. She promised herself that, when Lea was safe again, and some of the empire’s troubles quieted, she would bring little Jarel to the canals and cross the water like this with him. How he would love it.
Reaching the opposite end of the central canal, the disk beneath her feet slowed to a gradual stop and bobbed at the base of the stone steps. She climbed them, sweeping past the astonished pair of palace officials who had been chatting there, and made her way indoors.
Guards were waiting to escort her. Alone, without the rest of her abandoned entourage, she went swiftly to the women’s pavilion and settled herself in a rather austere public chamber, instead of her more comfortable and exotic personal sitting room. With Lea in trouble and Caelan nearly beside himself with worry, this was not a time for sipping fruit water and nibbling delicacies.
When the doors opened to admit a young woman in long black robes, Elandra was sitting erect and quietly in a tall-backed chair carved from Mahiran satinwood. Her jinja crouched beside her chair, busy fingering the elaborate embroidery on her skirts and chittering softly beneath its breath. Two of her ladies-in-waiting, who had not accompanied her to the garden, stood nearby, their expressions pleasant and without expectation. A chamberlain hovered near the door, and Elandra’s protector prowled about before taking a stance behind her chair.
The woman who entered alone wore a stole of black cloth draped over her head, and walked forward with eyes cast down and head slightly bowed. She was short of stature and plump, yet her movement held a hint of seductive grace not usually found among the sisterhood.
As she drew near, Elandra’s jinja suddenly twitched its pointed ears and jumped upright to stare hard at the priestess. Hissing in fury, it flung its brimless fur cap away and jumped off the dais toward her.
The priestess halted, shrinking back, but at that moment Lady Avitria hurried in by a side door. Her own jinja—a small, cowed creature with unhealthy blue coloring and a small dark blue cap—rushed past her to dart into the path of Elandra’s jinja. Suddenly there was vicious snarling from both creatures, and they swirled into a fight.
“Bronzidaec!” Lady Avitria said. “Bronzidaec, stop at once!”
Gasping, the priestess backed away, pressing a corner of her stole to her face, her enormous eyes peeping over its edge.
Elandra jumped to her feet. “Send for Rumasin!” she said. “Hurry! They must be parted before one is killed.”
Snarling and snapping, the two jinjas clawed and bit until magic began flashing in green bursts about them. As her ladies scattered in alarm, Elandra took a prudent step back, agonized with worry for her golden. Only Lady Avitria held her ground, watching the battle coolly without expression on her haughty face.
By the time Rumasin came hurrying in with two bulky servants carrying a large square of canvas and a net, Lady Avitria’s jinja was squealing in agony.
Helplessly, Elandra pressed her fists together. She had not called commands to her own jinja, for she knew it would neither hear her nor obey. Occasionally in her childhood, she’d seen jinjas fighting. Such battles were vicious and sometimes both combatants perished, even if they were parted in time. Jinja bites made awful, poisonous sores and could be lethal.
“Hurry!” Elandra called to Rumasin.
The eunuch clapped his hands, and the menservants rushed forward to throw their net over the fighting creatures. Using long rods, the men expertly forced the jinjas apart. While one man held the net in place, the other deftly snared Elandra’s jinja in the canvas and rolled it up.
Furious squalling and much thrashing went on, surprising Elandra, for she’d expected her golden to quieten immediately. It had served her well and during the Terrors it had been quick to sense shadow magic and the approach of evil. Elandra was extremely fond of it.
“I’m sorry, Majesty,” Lady Avitria said. “My blue is always causing trouble. I don’t know why.”
Elandra nodded unhappily. She knew that most of the jinjas in the palace were walking bundles of jealousy, quick to lose their tempers, show their teeth at each other, and snap at the air in warning. For some reason, none of them liked the blue. Elandra had no idea where Lady Avitria had acquired it, but by all accounts it was not well trained.
Now it lay on the carpet, whimpering as it was rolled in the net and carried out. Lady Avitria watched it go wit
hout making any effort to touch it. “Oh, Bronzidaec,” she said sadly.
Quiet fell over the room. The other ladies fanned themselves, still looking scared. The chamberlain cleared his throat. Elandra’s protector relaxed beside her and stepped back.
Lady Avitria walked over the torn parts of the carpet and curtsied low to Elandra.
“I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness for my jinja’s behavior. It was very wrong to attack your golden. It knew better than to start a fight.”
Shaken, feeling a little sick now that the incident was over, Elandra sat down without paying much attention. “I thought it was the other way around. My jinja attacked yours.”
“Oh no.” Lady Avitria smiled fleetingly, although her eyes looked cold. “Your Majesty is too kind, too gracious. No, no, my Bronzidaec was to blame. If it survives, I assure Your Majesty that it will be punished.”
Frowning, Elandra said, “You do not need to flatter me by holding your creature to blame. I saw clearly what happened.”
“Majesty—”
“Enough.” Elandra lifted her hand in dismissal of the matter.
It was only a jinja spat, more violent than usual, nothing more. Elandra beckoned to the priestess, who’d retreated nearly to the door. “Come here.”
Hesitantly, the priestess obeyed. “Majesty, thank you for your summons.”
Elandra’s slim brows lifted. “I sent for the Magria, not you. What message do you bring?”
“One of apology, deepest apology, and a plea for your pardon.” The priestess pulled away her stole to reveal the brassy blond hair and rounded face of Elandra’s half sister, Bixia.
Astonished, Elandra could only stare. She had not seen Bixia in years, not since her half sister was led away from the sandpit inside the Penestrical stronghold, screaming in rage and promising revenge. Bixia, pampered and spoiled, had been their father’s legitimate daughter, born of his first wife. Elandra had been Count Albain’s natural-born daughter, a product of his passionate affair with the wife of another man. Raised together in Albain’s palace, the two girls had never felt any bond for each other. Bixia’s cruel and jealous aunt had made Elandra a servant within the household and abused her without Albain’s knowledge. And Bixia, believing herself destined to marry Emperor Kostimon, was indifferent to Elandra’s plight. Instead, it was Elandra who had gone to the imperial palace while Bixia had vanished, never to be found…until now.
It was too great a surprise, so completely unexpected that Elandra found herself with nothing to say at all.
Bixia’s eyes searched hers for a moment, bold and defiant until Elandra said nothing, did nothing. Then Bixia’s expression grew unsure. She frowned, stepped back, and sank into a curtsy.
“Majesty,” she said softly.
If any resentment lingered in her voice, Elandra could not hear it. Rising to her feet and waving back her protector, Elandra moved to the edge of the dais.
“Well, Maelite,” Elandra said finally, her tone brittle. “What brings you to me?”
Someone in the room gasped aloud, and everyone stared suspiciously at Bixia, who jerked upright. Her face turned very pink. Her eyes were both wary and indignant. “I’m no Maelite, Majesty. I swear it to you.”
“Swear what you please. Why should I believe you?”
“Majesty, please—”
“Your aunt was a witch who practiced her evil for years undetected. She raised you. Did she not train you well in her ways?”
“No, Majesty. I—”
“My jinja just tried to attack you, did it not?”
“No, Majesty!”
Lady Avitria stepped forward. “Your golden went for Bronzidaec, Majesty. I saw it clearly from where I was standing.”
Elandra swept her attendant a look of impatience. “Do not interfere,” she said coldly, and Lady Avitria retreated in chastened silence.
“Well, Bixia?” Elandra asked coldly. “The last time I saw you, you cursed me and swore revenge. Is that why you’re here now, to execute it?”
“No, Majesty. I was angry that day. I have repented since then.”
“Have you?” Elandra looked her up and down. “What proof do you bring?”
Bixia touched her robes. “I wear the black of the sisterhood. I have joined them and trained hard.”
“You wear the robes,” Elandra said, still suspicious. “But you bring no Penestricans with you.”
“The Magria sent me alone today. It is part of my penitence before I can achieve the next level of training.” Bixia hesitated, then quoted, “‘The past must be unchained, the future abandoned. The now is all that matters, for now is all the gods provide.’”
Some of Elandra’s sharpest suspicions subsided. Sitting down, she looked her half sister over. It remained difficult to think of indolent, vain Bixia willingly embracing the austere rigors of the sisterhood. “So you can now quote Penestrican text. When did you decide to join the order?”
“I never left the sisters,” Bixia said. “I never left the stronghold from the day I entered it.”
“Nonsense! You were taken out.”
“Taken from the sand and snakes. But I remained inside the walls.”
Elandra frowned. The Magria had never mentioned Bixia’s presence there, but strangely enough that made sense. The Penestricans were full of secrets and mysteries. They did many inexplicable things for their own purposes and seldom bothered to explain. On the other hand, in the city there had been an occasional rumor of a buxom, blond-haired tavern dancer called Beesia, who always disappeared before any imperial agents could question her.
“Why,” Elandra asked, “have I heard nothing from you before?”
Bixia bowed her head. “I wasn’t ready.”
Elandra’s frown deepened. That, at least, had the ring of truth.
“Please,” Bixia said. “It hasn’t been easy for me. I was angry for a very long time. I thought you robbed me of a glorious future. That reversal of destiny was—was very hard to accept.”
“And have you accepted it?”
“Yes.”
Staring into her eyes, Elandra saw no guile in them. But Bixia had always lied when it suited her purposes. She could exert charm, or tears, at the snap of fingers. She was not to be trusted.
“So you’ve come, as part of your training,” Elandra said coolly. “Do you bring me a message from the Magria?”
“Oh yes. I am to say for her that she regrets not attending Your Majesty today, as requested. She will come soon.”
“When?”
Bixia blinked. “I don’t know. She has seen a—a disturbing vision and I am supposed to escort Your Majesty to the serpent pit for its interpretation.”
“You just said she was coming to me.”
“Soon,” Bixia said, looking confused. “Soon, but not now. It would be better if Your Majesty could go to her.”
The chamberlain puffed up in outrage. “Her Majesty does not go forth like a common—”
“Enough,” Elandra said, and he fell silent, breathing hard.
She leaned back in her chair. If what Bixia said was true, she thought, then Caelan’s vision of Lea had not been false. Perhaps Lea had also reached out to the Magria for help. Aware that no one save for Caelan and herself as yet knew of his vision, Elandra found herself starting to believe Bixia.
“Tell me more of the Magria’s vision.”
“I cannot, Majesty.” Ducking her head, Bixia simpered a little. “You know that no one is permitted to discuss them.”
“No one in this room will gossip,” Elandra said coldly. “Tell me what you know.”
“I’m sorry, Majesty. I witnessed nothing.”
“You were not present? You did not assist in the ritual?”
“No.”
Elandra waved dismissal. “Then you’ve spoken your message, and wasted too much of my time. You may go.”
The chamberlain bustled forward, but Bixia dodged him to rush to the dais edge. Elandra’s protector moved to intercept her, but she
was already sinking to her knees in supplication.
“Please, please don’t send me away,” she pleaded. “Please don’t be cold to me. I have suffered much. You have no idea. And now if you don’t come, the Magria will be angry.”
Elandra stiffened.
Lady Avitria stepped forward. “How dare you speak to Her Majesty this way? It’s not your place to rebuke the empress!”
Bixia’s gaze darted back and forth. She turned pale with alarm. “I beg Your Majesty’s pardon. I didn’t mean it that way. The Magria will be angry with me, Majesty. Not with you. Never with you.”
“Don’t grovel,” Elandra said in cold disgust.
But Bixia crept even closer, reaching out as though she would dare touch Elandra’s slipper. The protector’s sword point stabbed the floor right in front of her fingers, and she pulled back her hand with a gasp.
“Oh.” She stared up at Elandra with big eyes. “Will you please come, as the Magria has requested? It’s urgent, Majesty. Very urgent.”
If it was an urgent matter, Elandra thought, still annoyed, then Bixia had shown no hurry to deliver the Magria’s message. As usual, Bixia seemed to be centered on her own concerns more than any others’.
“I do not choose to leave the palace today,” Elandra said formally. “I shall communicate with the Magria later. You may tell her that I am disappointed, and you have my permission to—”
“Oh, please, please don’t make me go yet!” Bixia cried. “I know I’ve offended you, but I want your forgiveness! I beg you, Elandra, don’t be cold to me now. Hecati was so mean to you, so cruel, and I didn’t care. I understand now what you went through. I’ve been hungry and mistreated. I’ve been beaten. I understand, truly I do. I’m sorry, very sorry. Please don’t send me away.”
As she spoke, she parted her robes slightly to show scars on her shoulders next to a very tiny tattoo of a serpent. “You see?” she whispered. “I do know.”
Elandra’s heart was touched by those ugly scars. She saw the memories of hurt and humiliation in Bixia’s eyes, and remembered her own ordeals.
The Pearls Page 25
