by Sharon Shinn
Actually, there was a second, more immediate risk, and I wanted to mitigate that one, too. Once I’d examined the blond wigs, I began to look at the options in brown. In the end I bought two, one in each color, and made sure that the fair one was carefully wrapped and laid in the bottom of my straw bag, with the dark one on top.
I stepped out of the shop with the frowning air of someone who was trying to remember if there was anything else she needed to accomplish, and I paused to glance around. Were there any other items in this particular district that might prove useful to a pair of women engaged in a dangerous charade?
“What’s next on your shopping list?” asked a voice in my ear, and I made a creditable show of jumping in surprise. In truth, I had been expecting Nico to appear ever since I left the palace.
“You startled me!” I exclaimed. “You shouldn’t leap out at people like that.”
“I don’t know why not. It’s very entertaining,” Nico said. “So what else do you need?”
“I think I’ve gotten what I came for. Right now I’m just looking around.”
He nodded at my woven basket. “So you bought a love potion at the chemist’s—”
I had to strangle a laugh. “Headache powder! For Marguerite.”
“And—” He cocked his head. “A wig?”
I nodded vigorously.
“Also for Marguerite?”
This time I did laugh. “No! It sounds so silly, but before I left Oberton, my aunt Jean asked me to buy a wig for her. Apparently she once knew someone—a romantic rival, I think—who had the most beautiful hairpiece, and she’d bought it in Camarria, and my aunt Jean had always been jealous. So when she heard I was coming here—” I shrugged, to indicate that I thought it was ridiculous, but I had been trying to humor an old woman. What Aunt Jean would say about this story I didn’t even want to imagine. “Here, let me show it to you.”
I brought out the brown wig, leaving the blond one concealed in the bottom of the bag, and held it out for his inspection. Nico tried to summon polite interest. “It looks very fine. I hope she likes it as much as she expects to.”
“I guess we’ll find out when I return to Oberton,” I said, tucking the wig back in my bag.
“So you’re finished with your errands? Are you heading to the palace?”
“Yes, if I can retrace my steps.”
“No need. I’ll take you.”
I frowned, like someone who had suddenly remembered that she was angry with the scamp who had just showed up in her life again. “Maybe I don’t want your company.”
“Sweet goddess,” he muttered before saying in a normal tone of voice, “Didn’t we go through all this already? You’re angry—I’m sorry—we’ll start over.”
“That was before you started trailing behind Marguerite, spying on her!”
He shrugged. “I thought it was no bad thing for her to realize from her earliest days here that people are closely watching her movements. If the prince intends to take her as his bride, her behavior must be completely above reproach.”
“She was at a temple.”
His expression was serious. “I think we both know that Marguerite can get in trouble at a temple just as easily she can anywhere else.”
I flounced a little and started walking, picking a direction at random. Nico easily caught up and gently took hold of my arm to set me on a slightly different course. “So tell me,” I said in a voice of great annoyance. “Are you running behind all of Prince Cormac’s other guests and advising them to watch their behavior? Surely one or two of them has engaged in activities you do not approve of.”
“I am not,” he said cheerfully. “All of them can sell state secrets and befriend smugglers and visit illicit lovers, and I wouldn’t so much as whisper a warning.”
“Then why are you so concerned with Marguerite’s well-being?”
He glanced down at me. He still hadn’t released my arm. “Because you would care if she came to harm,” he said, his voice unwontedly serious. “And perhaps come to harm alongside her. Surely you don’t even need to ask me that?”
I met his gaze and for a moment we walked on blindly, too engrossed in each other to pay any attention to where we were heading. Fortunately, we didn’t trip over any impediments in the street or stumble into anyone blocking our way.
“You don’t know me well enough to care what happens to me,” I said.
“I might not know you very well, but I care what happens to you.”
“I’m only going to be in Camarria for a month,” I answered.
“Unless the prince marries Marguerite.”
Silence again, and another moment of staring, then I pulled my gaze away and concentrated on my feet. “Well,” I said, and nothing else.
His grip on my arm changed as he tugged me in another direction. “I want to show you something. How soon do you have to be back at the palace?”
“Within the hour, I suppose. Marguerite has a headache and I don’t think she’ll leave her room until I’m back.”
“That’s enough time,” he said. “Come this way.”
I didn’t say yes but I didn’t say no, and pretty soon he had guided me out of the crowded shopping area and onto quieter streets watched over by taller and more ancient buildings. “The financial district,” he explained. “Every merchant who owns a ship or has a stake in a mine has an office in one of these places. If you wanted to strike at the heart of the Seven Jewels, you’d come here and set the whole block on fire.”
“I have no such ambitions,” I said. “So this is what you wanted to show me? These old buildings?”
“No. This.”
He guided me around a corner and into a scene of lovely chaos. We’d arrived at a broad, crowded square that seemed to be the very center point of the financial district, with clerks and lawyers and merchants and servants crossing in all directions with purposeful, hurried strides. No horses or carriages, though—this particular plaza seemed to be reserved for pedestrians. Over it all arched a long, elegant bridge built from honey-gold stone. Inset into its supporting architecture were carved faces alternating with ancient heraldry. They stared out over the busy plaza like watchful guardians.
“The bridge at Amanda Plaza, named after our first queen,” he said. “I thought you’d like to see it.”
“Gorsey,” I said, like any yokel, staring at the site. “I think I would.”
His hand slipped down my arm to twine with my fingers, and he pulled me after him. “Come on, then.”
Handfast as any lovers, we climbed onto the smooth arch of the bridge as it rose higher and higher above the city. People passed us in both directions, the professional-looking ones moving with determination and speed, while the young couples and the nannies and the first-time visitors dawdled even more than we did. Near the midpoint, we stopped and gazed down at the sight below. From this perspective, I could see the pattern in the brickwork of the plaza, a complex arrangement of straight lines and herringbone angles, brighter in some spots than others where new bricks had been laid in over the decades to repair broken sections. I could also see that five different boulevards fed into this one central spot and that each street was lined with more of those tall, stern buildings that looked older than any structure I’d ever seen in Oberton.
When I said as much, Nico nodded. “This is the oldest block in the oldest city in all the Seven Jewels. They say that before the plaza was laid down, and before the buildings around it went up, this spot was the center for trade between the lands across the mountains and all the small communities on this side of the divide. King Edwin set up court here partly for that reason and partly because he said having the mountains at his back gave him a defensible position. He was more worried about uprisings in his own provinces than attacks from his neighbors.”
“You seem to know a lot about history.”
“I like it. I like to know what happened before I was born. Makes me wonder what will happen after I’m gone.”
I’
d never had the time for such philosophical musings. Or maybe I’d just never had the interest. I placed my basket at my feet and pointed with the hand I had just freed up.
“Those statues over there—who are they supposed to be?”
“Queen Amanda and her echoes. Can you tell that the echoes are carved from lighter stone? Other than that, they’re identical.”
“What’s that in the center of the plaza? A shrine?”
It was another grouping of statues, this time featuring the three incarnations of the triple goddess, standing with their backs to each other and their arms extended in the traditional poses. In the brickwork behind them, in the triangle of space created by their bodies, was a metal grate that might have been two feet square. While we watched, I saw three different people approach the statues and toss coins into the grate by pitching them over or under one of the goddess’s outstretched hands.
“Something like that,” Nico answered. “Except for the main temple, it’s the most famous holy spot in the city. It’s considered lucky to drop a few coins in when you’re hoping for the goodwill of the goddess. Wedding parties often come here on their way to the ceremony. Families whose loved ones are sick will throw in a few coppers. People awaiting trial.” He shrugged. “Anyone, really.”
I leaned over the railing, trying to get a better look. “Is there a way to get the money out?”
He nodded. “There’s a small tunnel that the priestesses use to gather the donations once a quarter or so. Rumors always abound about thieves who’ve found ways to break into the tunnel and clean out the money, but in my experience that’s never happened.”
“And you would know.”
I picked up my bag and tugged him to the other side of the bridge, so we could examine any interesting features on that side of the plaza. The first thing that caught my eye was a small dais large enough for about five people to stand side by side. “What’s that?”
“That’s where the king sends his herald when he has some important proclamation to make. For instance, when Cormac was born, the news was announced here. If we ever go to war, this will be where the public finds out about it.” He glanced down at me. “When Cormac gets engaged, here’s where the announcement will be made.”
“So some lucky random passers-by who came to the plaza to throw money at the feet of the goddess will be the first people to find out that the prince is taking a bride.”
Nico laughed. “Well, usually there’s already a sense throughout the city that something important is about to happen. I’ve heard stories about the days right before Cormac was born. Everyone knew that the queen was about to give birth, so people flocked to the plaza to hear the news. Some of them camped here for days, bringing commerce to a virtual halt. One story is that the king asked the midwives to hurry her labor along just so the city would go back to normal. People usually know when to expect a big announcement and they come here for the details.”
“Do you think people are already gathered here hoping to learn about Cormac’s engagement?”
“I suppose there might be a few,” he said. “But no one expects an announcement till the end of the month, right before the visitors are supposed to leave. Then you might see the crowds start to form.”
“What if there’s no announcement?”
“Then the crowds go home disappointed. But most people seem to think the prince will be betrothed by that time—and to Marguerite.”
I knew Marguerite both dreaded that thought—and dreaded what it might mean for the kingdom if the betrothal did not go forward. I couldn’t think of anything noncommittal to say, so I remained silent.
“I liked her,” Nico said. “I didn’t think I would.”
I turned just enough to give him a mock curtsey. “Since she values your opinion so highly,” I said, “I’ll share your approval with her.”
He grinned. “She’s uncommon,” he went on. “I would say she’s both sharp and gentle, with an unexpected sense of humor.”
“Not a bad description,” I admitted. “I can’t imagine I’d ever find anyone else to work for that I liked half so well.”
“So you don’t contemplate leaving her service. For any reason. Whether she returns to Oberton or moves permanently to Camarria.”
He didn’t specify what the reasons might be. Such as forming a romantic attachment to someone who lived in a city that Marguerite had left behind. “Not at the moment,” I said, staring out over the bridge instead of meeting his gaze. “I suppose that could change.”
We spent a moment silently contemplating the scene below us, though the hurrying clerks and laughing lovers seemed much less intriguing to me now. I let my eyes travel over other points of interest—a high brass gate that sat between stone posts but didn’t seem to be guarding anything; a lone tree growing out of the only patch of ground that wasn’t completely bricked over; and a blank stone wall, maybe eight feet high and ten feet wide, that anchored one corner of the plaza.
I asked about each one in turn. The gate was symbolic; King Edwin had installed it to signify that Camarria was the entrance to the Seven Jewels. The tree, which was nearly one hundred years old, had been a gift from the queen of Ferrenlea, across the ocean; it was supposed to represent the flowering of friendship between the two nations.
“Though apparently it has never actually flowered,” Nico added. “In Ferrenlea, such trees put out big white blossoms in the spring, but this one never has.”
“What about that wall?”
Nico turned his head to contemplate it. “That’s for public executions.”
“What? That’s gruesome.”
He shrugged slightly. “Execution is reserved for serious crimes. The idea of making it public is to give other miscreants pause before they commit the same kinds of acts.”
I stared somewhat fearfully at the wall of mortared stone, which took on a sinister aspect now that I knew how it was used. And because I was closely affiliated with someone who had committed a serious crime. “How are they— What method is used to kill them?”
He glanced down. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so bloodthirsty.”
“I’m horrified. But I feel compelled to ask.”
“The guilty parties are lined up against the wall, facing a team of archers—two for every criminal. There’s a signal, and all the archers shoot at the same time.”
“Why two archers?”
“In case one misses the mark. To make sure the death is quick.”
“Who gives the signal?”
He was still looking down at me, his face very serious. “The inquisitor.”
“You?”
“My uncle.”
“How many executions do have you in the average year?”
“Since I have been in the city, only three.”
“What were their crimes?”
“Two attempted treason, and one committed murder.”
“In this whole city, you’ve only had one murder in two years? I’m impressed.”
I could tell he didn’t like the note of sarcasm in my voice because a slight frown pulled down his eyebrows. But he answered readily enough, “It was a scandalous case in which one nobleman plotted against another in an elaborate scheme designed to ruin an entire family. The whole city followed the investigation and was interested in the outcome, so the sentence had to be carried out for the whole kingdom to see. For crimes of passion or accidental killings in barroom fights, justice tends not to be so severe.” He shrugged. “Or so public.”
I took a deep breath. “Ah. So there are some instances in which criminals are punished in secret, quietly disappearing from their shops or houses instead of being shot through the heart for the entertainment of the masses.”
“It’s not entertainment,” he said quietly. “A civil society cannot endure if there aren’t rules—and if there aren’t consequences when the rules are broken.”
“Well, make me a promise,” I said, wriggling my hand free from his hold, where it had rested comf
ortably all this time. “If you ever have cause to arrest me, and you think I might end up in front of your squad of archers, slit my throat quietly in some alley instead. I would much prefer that ending.”
His face was even more serious now. “Why would you ever have cause to be arrested?”
“I can’t think. I certainly hope I’m not. But I can’t imagine a worse way to die than being paraded through the streets and shot in front of the whole city.”
“I don’t think you need to worry,” he said. “Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
I bent over to pick up my straw bag. “Time to get back, I think. Marguerite will be waiting.”
We followed the bridge to the other side, just so I could say I had traversed the whole thing, then cut through the middle of the plaza with the rest of the pedestrians. Our route took us past the goddess statues and Nico paused just long enough to toss a few coins toward the grate. I saw them glitter as they arced through the air before passing soundlessly through one of the narrow openings. He had offered the goddess real gold, then. I looked at him with my eyebrows raised, as if to ask, What did you wish for? He only smiled and shook his head. But he did take my hand again as we continued on toward the palace, and I let him hold it the whole way back.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
When I finally returned to Marguerite’s rooms, I found her almost as fretful as I had painted her to the servants belowstairs, and it took me a few moments to calm her down. I didn’t think the detour with Nico had added more than thirty minutes to my outing, but apparently it had seemed like hours to her. I hardly liked to say that I had been dallying with the king’s inquisitor while she was pacing through her suite, wracked with nerves, so I told her that the shopping district was farther than I’d thought it would be and I’d gotten lost on the way home.
“I’m sorry you were so anxious,” I said in a gentle voice. “But I only see two choices. Either I never leave to run errands or you try not to worry when I’m gone.”
“I know—you’re right—it’s just that when you’re not here I start thinking of all the things that can go wrong.”
