by Jaida Jones
“How are you?” Kouje asked, so quietly that I suspected he was wary of our translators as well.
“Better,” I said, not bothering to lower my tone. “But it is morning, and they say that they haven’t quite diagnosed it yet. I’m not sure what all this is.” For the benefit of the others around us, I added, “We have no such instruments in the Ke-Han.”
Kouje’s gaze turned troubled, and he glanced away from me for a moment. Not for the first time, I felt the separation between us that had been caused by the fever. He knew things that I didn’t, things I’d missed during my delirium and wouldn’t ever have the chance to know.
If we’d still been in the forest, I’d have reached out to tug at his sleeve, drawing his attention to me that way. Yet we were in Volstov, and I could no longer act like a traveling actor, or even a fugitive. There was a protocol for refugees, especially those of royal blood, and I would not shame my ancestors by pretending to have forgotten it.
I sat up a little straighter, though the pillows helped me more than good breeding.
“Perhaps I should speak with them,” Kouje said, as though wrestling with some invisible foe in his mind. “There are things that I could tell them—things you might not remember, my lord, since you were in the grips of it.”
He had stumbled over not using my given name, so that I knew he’d remembered himself as well and was just as bound not to shame his family. It was almost funny, after how long it had taken me to convince him it was all right in the first place.
“Excuse me,” Royston said, startling me. He bowed when we both turned to meet his gaze, and when he straightened up he kept his eyes on Kouje, as though he were someone to be wary of. Then again, I rather supposed he was. I hadn’t been conscious for the scenes Kouje had caused—memories that he and Royston shared, and which echoed in the wary, intrigued amusement in Royston’s eyes.
“We couldn’t help overhearing,” Antoinette added, resting a hand on Royston’s arm. “We must insist that, if there is any information you’ve been keeping from us, now would certainly be the time to share it. It could mean the difference between a speedy recovery and, well… A speedy recovery is preferable, I believe. Especially since Your Highness expressed a desire to see the Esar as soon as possible.”
Kouje turned to look at me, surprise mixed with something else in his face. He nodded slowly.
“I will speak with you,” he said. “Perhaps while my lord prepares himself for his audience?”
There it was again, the feeling that somewhere along the way Kouje had learned something I hadn’t, and he had no intentions of sharing it with me.
“My retainer knows more of the situation than I do, it would seem,” I acquiesced. I’d trusted him for so long, and he had proven himself far better than my equal. Even if I was royalty, friendship and expediency demanded that I give him his autonomy.
“Then I shall escort you to the Esar,” Royston said, “for he is very keen to meet you.”
“And I will discuss things with your retainer,” Antoinette added. “That is, if this delegation of actions is agreeable to you.”
Kouje looked after me with a flash of panic in his eyes, then glanced to the open window, where sunlight streamed into the already bright room. He nodded to me, once.
“It is most agreeable,” I said.
“I take it that haste will also be agreeable,” Royston said, while he and Kouje helped me from the bed. I felt separated from my body still, though how much of that was the fever and how much of that was the Volstov magic, I was uncertain.
“Will you be able to stand?” Kouje asked.
“Will you?” I countered.
Beside me, Royston snorted, though not impolitely; I saw, too, that the velikaia Antoinette was stifling a smile. “Come,” she said, gesturing to Kouje. “All will go faster this way.”
“And as for us,” Royston said, “with your permission, I will teach you as we walk how to address our Esar.”
“Is he very far away?” I asked, accompanying Royston from the room. He held one arm out for me, and I wished we’d been alone, rather than accompanied by three of the men who’d been in the room when I awoke. They were not magicians, I decided just by looking at them, but guards. I was hardly dangerous in my condition, but I supposed they had no reason to believe this wasn’t a ploy of some sort.
“Not to worry,” Royston replied wryly. “It is much less difficult to address our leader than it is to address yours. No offense, of course; merely a statement of truth.”
“I understand,” I replied.
“In fact, you need only bow slightly to him to flatter his ego, and he will bow back, to flatter yours. But I doubt we’ll waste much time on formalities. The real crux of the matter is that he wishes to speak with you. So much so, in fact, that he has come to the Basquiat in order to meet with you as quickly as possible. If we have the time later, then I will explain why that is such an interesting break with protocol. Isn’t it a lucky thing that these faithful guards have no idea what I’m saying to you?”
“I have some information of interest to him,” I said.
“Ah,” Royston said. “I look forward to translating it.”
I was led down one impressive hall into one even more imposing than the last. The walls were hung with draperies, the wood carved to the very last detail, and the ceilings high. All was open to the sunlight, which shone in through enormous windows of stained glass and turned my skin all different colors as we walked. It was like passing into another world entirely.
There was too much color and too much light to appreciate the beauty beneath it. It was enough for me that I was placing one foot in front of the other without leaning too heavily on my impromptu translator, whose skill with words would have been baffling to me even if I had been in top form. Nonetheless, he didn’t look at me quite as though I were an enemy—which admittedly the three guards were—and I was grateful for that. When he spoke, it meant I did not have to.
“It’s just a few more architectural wonders this way,” Royston added, leading me into an antechamber, followed by another, followed at last by a third, each, bafflingly enough, smaller than the last, though all of them equally crammed with tables and chairs and vases full of flowers, with portraits of foreign men on every wall. In the last room, three more men were waiting for us. They were simply dressed, though only one was sitting, his hand resting upon a white cane.
Royston, alongside our guards, dropped to his knees.
“You might wish to bow, Lord Mamoru,” Royston whispered, in the Ke-Han tongue.
It had been a long time since last I bowed, and I wondered dizzily if I would topple over in the midst of the formality. Still, as I lowered my head and bent stiffly at the waist, I heard the man in the chair rise and do the same.
So, I realized. This was the Esar.
He began to speak, and Royston translated for me. “His Majesty beseeches you most politely to take a seat, for you have traveled a long way to arrive in our humble capital,” Royston said, with a touch of humor in his voice. “Please, do sit,” he added, and these appeared to be his own words. “You look as though you will collapse before you manage to say anything at all.”
I took a seat gratefully after the Esar had done the same, not sure where to place my hands. We were separated by a long, polished table of very dark wood, in which I could see my own reflection. The legs of the chair were too long, and my feet barely brushed the carpeted floor.
“Now,” Royston continued, translating once more. “He is eager to hear what you have to say—and, he adds, is in awe to meet a member of the imperial family of the proud Ke-Han at last.”
I almost smiled. We’d been enemies for four times my own lifetime, and now I was the man the Volstov Esar met. Hardly a terrifying sight. I should have sent Kouje in my place.
I lowered my head to thank him for the opportunity to speak. “Your Highness,” I said, as Royston spoke heavy Volstovic syllables beside me, “it is my honor to meet yo
u, and, under other circumstances, I would offer more appropriate formalities than time allows me. I hope one day you will forgive me and allow me to greet you as befits your status.” The Esar lifted one hand, and smiled behind his beard—a gesture I recognized as well as Royston did. Go on. “I am a member of the imperial family, it is true, though I arrive here in this unorthodox manner. The events leading to my presence now are stranger than even a playwright might divine, but I hope you will believe my story, Your Highness, as I have no cause to lie to you.”
And then, I told him of my brother’s betrayal, of Kouje’s loyalty, and of what we had found during our flight through the mountains.
It had often been said that no man could read the emotions upon the face of a Ke-Han warrior—which was integral to every man’s training—but in that moment I saw, too, how difficult it was to read the expression on the face of the Esar of Volstov, whose clipped beard and blunt features revealed nothing, even when I told him of the troops garrisoned in the Cobalt range.
We both knew that I was betraying my brother. We could at least tell ourselves that he had made the first move in betraying us.
“Water,” the Esar said when I had finished speaking; it was a simple enough word, and I could recognize it well. “Bring the prince water.” One of his guard disappeared to comply with his request, and once again I found myself bowing to him in gratitude.
“Your Highness,” Royston said, “the troops in the mountainside will be dispatched easily enough, if the element of surprise is on our side. It is our diplomatic envoy in the capital that worries me.”
“They will have been taken hostage, of course,” the Esar said simply. “It is our royal duty to save our people.”
“Including the diplomats,” Royston said, a simple enough statement, though it was not entirely as though he was agreeing with the Esar. It seemed more as though he was attempting to remind him of something.
“We must think of what the best course of action is for all of our people,” the Esar said, and though it sounded as though they were speaking of the same thing, I knew somehow that they weren’t.
The guard brought me my water, and I took it gratefully, careful not to drink too greedily. To be truthful, I was glad to have something to occupy me beyond the tension rising in the room, thick like the air before a thunderstorm. As little as I knew of diplomacy in Volstov, I could sense well enough that my translator was speaking beyond his place, and the Esar was not particularly keen on accepting his counsel.
Royston’s easy air from our previous conversation had disappeared, and in its place was a countenance of pure steel. I had known many men with each of those attributes, but it was much rarer to find both within the same body. At any other time, I would have dearly wished for the opportunity to know him a bit better.
However, it was not the time for my own wishes. I had the Ke-Han people to think about, and as a member of the royal family it was my duty to honor the provisional treaty my father had negotiated. Surely the Esar felt the same way. As a ruler, how could he not?
“You’re going to leave them there,” Royston said, with a terrible look on his face.
“I have no other choice,” said the Esar, in his own tongue. It was a simple enough phrase that even I could understand it.
“The magicians can take care of themselves,” Royston translated as the Esar continued speaking. The undercurrent of anger in his voice was subtle, but unmistakable when compared to a Ke-Han warlord’s neutral tones. “He hopes that if we move swiftly enough, the troops in the mountains may be dispatched without the Emperor’s knowledge. It would be difficult to replicate such a feat in the capital, and he does not wish to disturb the peace that has doubtless taken root among the people in your country. He feels that sending troops through to the lapis city would only set off a panic that could set the diplomatic process back months, if not to the very beginning. As we all realize,” he added, and this was him speaking once more, “to march upon the capital, no matter what the circumstances are, would be an act of war.”
I understood, then, what had caused the change in atmosphere and what Royston was frowning about now, twisting one of his many rings over and over as though he wished it were the Esar’s neck. They were going to leave the diplomats in the capital to fend for themselves.
The cup slipped from my fingers, spilling what water remained all over the tabletop.
“He’ll kill them,” I said urgently, as one of the guards moved to dry the wood and retrieve the cup. In my fervor, I had little concern for what in the Ke-Han court would have been a humiliating breach in protocol. “My brother takes no prisoners. No warlord does. If he discovers what’s happened, he won’t bother to keep them as hostages. They won’t have a chance.”
“I’m aware of that,” Royston murmured in Ke-Han, so that I understood that while I spoke enough Volstovic to get by, the Esar did not mirror my knowledge. Royston then began to translate what I’d said, though I could tell by his gestures and the tone of his voice that he’d added in several of his own personal flourishes.
The Esar touched his clipped beard with his thumb, clearly thinking something over. He, too, wore rings—it appeared to be a common practice for men there, though it made me wonder whether the ornamentation might get in the way of their swords—and they glinted like jeweled eyes in the light of the reception room. When he spoke next his words came more slowly, though even I was not naive enough to mistake that care for hesitance. My head was beginning to swim with everything that was in it, the importance of it all under the strain of the fever. Instead of trying to understand the Esar’s words this time, I watched Royston. After all, Volstovics were not trained to hide their emotions, and my plan was the next best way of evaluating what was being said and how I was to prepare myself for a response. My translator had stopped toying with the ring, and indeed his hands were held completely still. His expression was harder to read than it had been before, and he kept his face turned from mine this time.
When he spoke next, it was with a wry smile, as though he’d tasted something bad in his food.
“He says that he understands now the need for action. He understands that for diplomacy to work between our two countries, we will need two leaders of a like mind, able to forge a future together based on trust and mutual benefit. If everything you have told us is true—and he believes that it is, based upon our reconnaissance in the Cobalts—then our solution is a simple one. What better way to earn the trust of the people than to put their beloved prince at an army’s head? If we are to send in troops to rescue our diplomats in the capital, then we must have a familiar face to allay the fears of the people about a renewed outbreak of hostilities. If they see that you are the guiding influence of this change, then they will not complain.”
“What about Iseul?” I asked, forcing my voice to be strong and even as the Esar’s was. “My brother. He will not—He would never allow such a thing. He’d die first.”
“That, I believe, is the Esar’s intent,” Royston replied, not bothering to translate for the man he served.
I felt something well up within me, like a rush of wind from the shows the magicians had once put on to entertain the royal family. It filled my lungs to bursting and made my chest ache with the sharp suddenness of it. I pressed my hands flat against the table, still damp from when I had spilled my drink, and straightened my back. Many people had been brave in order to bring me here, people who’d owed me nothing at all but had risked everything nonetheless.
Kouje, I was sure, had nearly killed himself bringing me over the mountains.
I would not lose strength and shame them all for their efforts.
“You… Your Highness intends to replace my brother with me,” I said, ignoring the fluttering of panic in my chest, like the sails of a ship picking up wind. I was not ready to become Emperor. Iseul had been right in that, if nothing else.
“Just so,” said Royston, though his expression remained unreadable.
I wanted a few
days to think it over. I wanted Kouje at my side, to tell me what the wisest course of action was so that I could follow it. I wanted to go back to bed and sleep until the seasons changed, to wake up in a fisherman’s hut with little wooden boats and nets and hooks.
I had never met Kouje’s sister. As Emperor, I never would.
“Time is of the essence,” I said, ignoring the lapping of waves against the shore. “We must move as soon as I am able, as soon as you are able to gather enough men together. I do not know when my brother plans to attack, but we cannot risk an assumption of its being later rather than sooner.”
“I agree,” said Royston, and he began to speak again, translating what I’d said to the Esar while I kept my head high, my gaze level.
He nodded, with what I hoped was his approval, then said something quickly that I wasn’t able to catch.
“The main roads will take you there in a week if we send other troops to deal with the threat in the mountains. We will speed your party back as swiftly as possible. He worries only about your condition,” Royston translated. “I’ve reassured him that we’re doing our best and reminded him that magicians, as he so helpfully put it, can look after themselves.”
I smiled faintly.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’m not so certain I deserve that, but I’ll accept it anyway,” said Royston. “That charmingly subtle hint is our cue to leave, in any case.”
He pushed his chair back to rise, and I followed his example, holding on to the table only slightly more than I might have preferred. If we’d been required to bow again, I might have toppled over completely, but fortunately the guards moved to open the doors before I could start calculating how rude it might have been to use one’s translator as support while showing respect for a foreign leader—and new ally.
“I’ll accompany you back to your room,” Royston said, taking my arm beneath the elbow as though it were nothing. I found myself immensely grateful for the gesture, nonetheless. “He’ll be wanting to make a speedy retreat, get home, and wash all the magician germs off him, that sort of thing.”
