Emperor Mage (The Immortals Book 3) Page 3

  They went from their quarters to the women guests’ baths soon after their arrival, to Daine’s relief. Not only was she able to wash, but maids brought a basin and extra mild soap so that she could bathe her new friend. They even gave her towels for him. She dried him quickly there, then returned with him and Kitten to her room to do a more thorough job.

  She used the work to get acquainted with this odd creature. Lindhall had called him a pygmy marmoset. Imported from the Copper Isles, he’d been the pet of the child he called the Monsterboy, the one who had let him fall into the river. His fur was strange—a mix of yellow, brown, gray, and olive green, which looked as if it might turn its wearer invisible in a proper forest. The marmoset gave his name, but it was in whistles and clucks, impossible for her to pronounce. She asked if he would mind if she called him Zekoi, or Zek, after the river she had taken him from. He seemed quite taken with that, even trying to pronounce it on his own.

  Finished with Zek’s grooming, Daine got to her feet. “I need to change,” she told the marmoset when he clung to her. “Hold on to Kitten.” Zek eyed the dragon with misgiving. Kitten chirped, and offered her forepaw. He clutched it and watched Daine’s every movement.

  Drawing on a shift, the girl surveyed her room. It was simple, elegant, and costly. Walls, floor, and ceiling were polished marble. Carved cedar window screens gave off their famous scent. The bed was delicately carved, the sheets fine cotton. Over it lay a silk comforter in autumn colors. The clean, sweet-scented privy lay off a small dressing room. That chamber, a few feet from the bed, was furnished with a table and matching chair, a long mirror, and a number of tiny jars which held various cosmetics, salves, and perfumes.

  There was but one feature she disliked—a tiger-skin rug. Its jaws were open in a snarl; yellow glass eyes glared at the world. “I have to ask them to move this,” she told her audience. “I can’t sleep with it here.” Kneeling, Daine touched it sadly. She had seen tigers in the king’s menagerie. They were magnificent cats, and she preferred the ones whose skin was still attached.

  Her palms felt hot, itchy. Suddenly they pulsed. White fire spilled from her hands onto the tiger. Slowly the eyelids fell, and rose again. The jaw relaxed; the great mouth closed.

  She thrust herself away so quickly that she fell over. “Did you see that?” she demanded of Kitten and Zek. “What was it?” Both stared at her, plainly as bewildered as she was.

  Although she waited, the skin did not move again. Using a long-handled brush, she shoved it under her bed, poking it repeatedly to keep any part from sticking out. At last it was securely tucked away, and she could dress.

  TWO

  IMPERIAL WELCOME

  Some hours later, Daine looked round the antechamber to the throne room with awe. Kitten did the same. The marmoset Zek, who had refused to stay behind, observed everything from his hiding place under her hair, at the back of her neck.

  There was much to stare at. The room was filled with nobles and mages dressed in their finest. Shave-headed slaves were everywhere, offering food, drinks, flower garlands, and feathered or jeweled fans. Huge screens had been pushed back to reveal a broad terrace and gardens. Light came from large globes hung by chains from the ceiling. As the sky darkened, the globes shone brighter.

  “How do the lamps keep burning?” Daine asked.

  “Magic.” The speaker was Harailt of Aili, dean of magical studies at the royal university in Tortall. He was a stocky, round-faced man with an endless supply of jokes. Stuck in his outer room, waiting to bow to the emperor, Daine had been grateful for each and every jest. “Numair, why didn’t you tell us about this light spell?” Harailt asked. “To have strong, steady illumination—”

  Numair looked up. “They didn’t have it when I was here,” he said absently. “They did something with glass balls, but they faded after a short time. These aren’t glass.”

  “The globes are filled with crystals,” Lindhall Reed explained. “Remind me and I’ll have one of the craft mages explain it for you.” Seeing the door to the emperor’s audience chamber open, he added, “You’ll be all right, Arra—I’m sorry—Numair?”

  The younger mage smiled. “I have to be, don’t I?” As a page beckoned their group forward, he took a deep breath. “Here we go, into the presence of the one and only Emperor Mage. Huzza.”

  The Tortallans entered the imperial audience chamber, Daine, Zek, and Kitten at the back of the company with the clerks. The admiring looks of that group of young men told Daine that not only had she been wise to wear this twilight-blue silk gown, but that she had done well to accept the royal gift of a wardrobe for this trip. “You go as a representative of the Crown, just like the ambassadors,” Queen Thayet had said, hazel eyes smiling. “My lord and I insist. Trust me: there is nothing like a good appearance to give a woman confidence.” The queen had been right. It was hard to feel insignificant in a gown that whispered as she moved and winked with silver embroidery.

  Introduced by a herald, Duke Gareth gave his speech to the emperor, announcing their desire to meet Carthak halfway and their hopes for a lasting peace. He then presented gifts from the king and queen to the emperor. As he spoke, Daine studied the ruler of Carthak, who sat on a tall throne before them, flanked by his ministers and nobles.

  She had never heard of him until two-and-a-half years ago, when she had come from Galla to Tortall after her mother’s death. Now she knew him all too well. Most Tortallans believed it was this emperor who had managed to break the walls between mortal and divine realms on frequent occasions, turning loose the creatures known as immortals to prey upon Carthak’s enemies. Daine herself, working with Numair a year ago, had found evidence that Ozorne was helping to plan a rebellion against the rulers of Tortall. When the monarchs of the other Eastern Lands, those countries north of the Inland Sea, had learned of Emperor Ozorne’s plot against one of them, they had united. The threat of the entire northern continent going to war against the southern one had caused Emperor Ozorne to back down, and to open peace talks with Tortall.

  Her first sight of the infamous Emperor Mage filled her with awe. She had thought the prince was fine, but he was a barnyard rooster to his uncle’s peacock. Gold frosted Ozorne’s hair; gold beads hung from a wealth of thin braids. Gold paint shimmered on lips, brows, even his eyelashes. Gold rings marched up the curve of each ear; a diamond hung from his left earlobe. His neck was ringed with six rows of deep-blue stones that sparked with many-colored fires: black opals, expensive stones prized because they could hold magical power. Beneath them he wore the calf-length, short-sleeved robe of his people in heavy gold brocade. Looped at his right hip and passing over his left shoulder was a crimson drape. The long end of the cloth was linked to the emperor’s left wrist by a gold bracelet. Each finger sported a ring. His sandals were gilded. Like the prince, he wore toe rings, and added to them ankle bracelets.

  She’d heard of Carthak’s wealth and power, but it was one matter to hear such things, another to see one man decked out like an idol in gold and gems.

  Duke Gareth had finished. Now the line of Tortallans started forward as Duke Gareth gave their names, each bowing to the emperor as they were presented. Watching them, Daine felt a rush of pride. Carthak might be proud and great, but Tortall had sent wise and famous people to work out a peace settlement. Alanna the Lioness was a legend in the Eastern and Southern Lands, one the Carthakis couldn’t match; and as far as Daine was concerned, Numair was the fish their hosts had allowed to get away.

  At last her name and Kitten’s were called. Taking a deep breath, Daine walked up to the first step of the dais on which the throne stood, and curtsied, spreading her blue skirts at her sides. The queen had worked on the movement with her for hours, and she was glad to do her teacher proud. Kitten walked up the steps, halting only when she reached the emperor’s feet.

  “Greetings, dragon child. This is a pleasure.” He reached down. Kitten sniffed his fingers, and sneezed. Grasping his hand with her forepaws, she examined th
e gems on his rings with interest. “And you are her keeper?” inquired the emperor. “The one who is also a healer of animals?”

  She didn’t like that word, keeper, but she nodded. Lord Martin cleared his throat, and she realized she was supposed to answer the ruler of Carthak. “I take care of her, Your Imperial Majesty. And I have wild magic with animals of all kinds.”

  “How was she taken, your dragon? A trap, or a pit? A net?”

  Daine swallowed. Traps or snares for Kitten? “I don’t think you understand our relationship, Your Imperial Majesty. I’m not a keeper; I didn’t take her. Kit’s—Kitten’s—ma died to protect my friends and me. She left Kitten to my care.”

  “Indeed?” He looked at her with curious amber eyes. “It is true, then. You are able to commune with the immortals.”

  “The ones like animals, sire. The griffins, and winged horses. Dragons. The ones that are part human, no.” She made a face. “They can communicate without my help.”

  Kitten, bored with the conversation, voiced a whistle-croak. The gems on the emperor’s fingers blazed with light.

  “Amazing!” he cried, delighted. “Has she always been able to do that?”

  “No, sir. She learned a year ago, from a basilisk. She learns things fast.”

  “Then she is blessed, as we are blessed to look upon her.” He nodded a dismissal, and Daine stepped back to join the others.

  Introductions over, the emperor said, “To you, representatives of our royal cousins Jonathan and Thayet, we say, welcome to Carthak. We pray that peace will reign between our lands and know that with such a distinguished company to smooth the way, peace is all but assured. And now, there is food outside, and drink, music, and good company. In your time among us, we have arranged for entertainment that we hope will arouse wonder and interest in our empire. Enjoy all these things, please. If you desire anything, only voice it to our servants. Within reason it shall be granted you.”

  Dismissed from the imperial presence, the Tortallans bowed as they backed up, until they were outside again. Once they had left the area closest to the door of the audience chamber, a gong sounded and a grinding noise filled the air. Everyone, guests and servants, froze in place. Slowly the walls that cut the audience chamber off from the antechamber sank into the floor. Now the emperor’s dais commanded a view of the combined rooms. Everyone bowed or curtsied deeply to the golden man on the golden throne. He waved a hand; talk and movement picked up where they’d left off. A slave knelt beside the throne, offering a bowl of fruit. The emperor selected a fig, and nibbled it.

  Daine felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Luckily niches in the walls held couches, with brightly colored pillows to cushion those who wished to sit. She nearly fell into the closest one. Zek squeaked and left his place of concealment to climb into her lap. Duke Gareth and Numair sat beside her, and the remaining Tortallans gathered around.

  “Are you all right?” Numair asked softly, cupping her cheek with one large hand. “I had forgotten how intimidating he can be when he has all his imperialness on.”

  The girl looked at the gilded figure on the dais. “I noticed. Are you all right? Did he say anything to you?”

  He smiled. “No. If I’m lucky, he’ll ignore me for the rest of our stay. That’s how he always managed such things when we were boys, anyway. If someone bested him at anything, he just pretended that person didn’t exist. He got to be very good at it.”

  Duke Gareth remarked, “It went quite well. You did us credit, Daine.”

  The girl blushed and smiled at him. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Gareth the Younger and Harailt, who had quietly left them, returned with servants bearing trays of cups. “Fruit juices,” the mage said as his companions helped themselves.

  “So far, so good.” Lindhall had come with the servants. “Numair, did he speak to you?”

  “He didn’t even look at me. He spoke the most with Daine.”

  “But what about his birds?” the girl asked, confused. “I came all this way to see them, and he didn’t mention them at all.”

  “Rulers don’t act as other men,” Duke Gareth told her. “All requirements of protocol must be met before personal considerations may intrude. You must be patient until he sends for you.”

  “But more of them might get sick then,” she muttered. Numair looked at her and put a finger to his lips. Daine sighed, but obeyed the command to be quiet.

  “Arram,” said a female voice. Everyone looked around. A blue-eyed blonde in an open mage’s robe of cream-colored silk approached, hands out. Her pretty face was artfully colored with the contents of pots like those that were on Daine’s dressing-room table. Under the robe was a northern-style dress of rose-petal pink, cut to accent a narrow waist and a richly curved figure. Daine, thinking of her own modest curves, sighed with envy.

  Numair rose, a stunned look on his face. Alanna slid into the place he’d just left.

  “Varice?”

  “The same old Varice Kingsford,” the newcomer replied, smiling. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

  Numair kissed first one of her offered hands, then the other, and continued to hold both. “How could I forget you, my dear? You’re lovelier than I remember. You must tell me everything I’ve missed. What changes are in the palace, and at the university? Are you married; may I kill your husband—” Laughing, Varice drew Numair through the crowd, leading him to a niche across the room, where they sat down.

  “Is that who I think it is?” Alanna directed the question to Lindhall, who had come to lean against the wall beside the Lioness and Daine.

  “She was his lover before he fled the country,” the older mage replied. “Apparently there were no hard feelings.”

  Daine frowned. “Why didn’t she go with him?”

  “He didn’t ask, and evidently she didn’t offer,” said Lindhall. “But she never married, either, and she’s had a few serious proposals.”

  One by one, Ozorne’s ministers came to speak with various Tortallans and to introduce them to Carthakis. Mages came for Harailt. Lord Martin and both Gareths were led away by the minister who’d stood closest to the emperor in the audience chamber. Even Alanna, who was uncomfortable in social situations, was deep in talk with a general in the crimson kilt and gold-washed armor of the Imperial Guard, better known as the Red Legion.

  Lindhall beckoned to a slave with a tray of fruit. “Your small friend will like grapes,” he told Daine, pointing to Zek. “You may also.” He put a bowl of grapes and plums beside her. Zek devoured the grapes, while Kitten selected a plum.

  “What does she do here? Lady Varice?” Daine asked.

  “She is Ozorne’s official hostess,” Lindhall replied, his voice neutral. “Her magic allows her to specialize in things such as entertainment and cookery.” He frowned. “I hope Arram—Numair—realizes that Varice is now completely devoted to imperial interests.”

  Daine looked up at him and realized that here was someone who genuinely cared about her lanky friend. “You’ve missed him, haven’t you, sir?”

  Lindhall smiled. “I never had another student whose interests so closely matched my own, and when he was no longer my student, we became friends. It’s good to see him now, though I am apprehensive. The emperor never forgives. I doubt that he would imperil the peace talks to settle his score with Numair, but I cannot feel easy in my mind about his reasons for issuing that pardon.”

  Daine looked down, fighting the urge to tell this man of her own worries and the badger’s ominous warning. She knew it was a bad idea, however nice Lindhall seemed, but she needed to tell someone. If only she could get Numair or Alanna someplace where they couldn’t be overheard! She didn’t want to tell Duke Gareth or any of the others. They didn’t know her like Alanna and Numair did, nor did they know about the badger.

  “Master Lindhall, could we have a word?” someone called.

  Lindhall sighed. “You’ll be all right here?” he asked Daine.

  “Yes, thank yo
u,” she replied, smiling. “I’m not going to budge.”

  Lindhall looked at the crowds before them. “Probably that’s just as well. I promise, when we get the chance, I would like to have a good, long chat about wildlife.”

  “Master Lindhall, the emperor’s birds—”

  The mage smiled, pale eyes sympathetic. “The emperor will explain, in his own time. That is how things are done here.”

  She watched him thread his way through the crowd, and shuddered at the thought of meeting so many strangers. Zek gravely offered her a grape; she accepted, with thanks. Looking around, she wished her pony, Cloud, were here. It had made sense to leave her at home, but now Daine longed for Cloud’s horse sense and tart opinions. She felt lost among so many adults and such magnificent surroundings. The rulers of Tortall didn’t have the kind of wealth, or surplus of mages, to create rooms like this for their palace.

  Suddenly Kitten began to trill, producing sounds that rose and fell like music. At intervals she uttered a chk! sound. Each time she did so, the girl could see a man-sized distortion in the air to her left where Kitten stared intently.

  “She sees you,” the girl told the distorted spot. “It’s the first thing student mages at the royal university try—the invisibility trick. It doesn’t work with her. You do it well, the best I’ve ever seen, but if you don’t show yourself now, she’ll bite. She really dislikes invisibility spells.”

  The air rippled: there stood the Emperor Mage. “I trust she won’t bite me,” he said in a mild voice. “I would hate to bleed on this robe.”

  Daine’s jaw dropped; she turned to look at the throne. He sat there, too, a figure identical to the one beside her. “Simulacrum,” he explained. “A living puppet. I’m uncomfortable at state occasions. They really don’t want me in attendance, just something to awe the empire’s guests. I mastered the art of magical copies so that I might be able to move around. May I sit down?”

  “It’s your couch,” she replied. For a moment she had spoken to him as she might have to King Jonathan or Queen Thayet, monarchs who insisted on informality. Belatedly remembering her instructions on proper behavior with the emperor, she said, “I’m sorry, Your Imperial Majesty. I should bow, or stand, but I’d upset Zek and the fruit and all.”