The Diplomat (36 page)

Calicio tapped the side of his nose. “You don’t need to tell an old spy about the art of illusion. So in this plan Jalaya sings, Muhan conjures, Artunos moves props, Sothis wheedles…what role is there for me?”

“We don’t all need to risk our lives,” said Rema. “It’s best if you keep your hands clean.”

“Speaking of clean hands,” said Artunos. “Ormun can hardly stay unconscious forever. Who here is willing to spill imperial blood?”

“Leave that to me.”

Artunos nodded at her, his brow indented with worry. “Very well, Rema. Tell me my entire part in this farce.”

“You must know the best smiths. Take Muhan to the city tomorrow and help him construct the prop. Then you’ll take your place in the performance tomorrow as a stagehand or otherwise send your most trusted guards.”

“You’re lovesick and pigheaded, Rema. I wish you’d rethink this.”

Rema sighed. Even if he was right, it was too late to heed his advice. “What do you think, Sothis?”

Sothis peered back at her, his eyes tired. “I think you’re gambling everything. And if what Artunos says is true, all for the sake of some woman.”

“For her, yes, but also for all of us. There are aspects of Ormun’s evil that will never change but only worsen. The longer this farce continues, the more responsibility we bear for all the blood and suffering.” Rema grimaced. “Look, it’s late. Let’s either agree to do this, or you can all abandon me and I’ll end up doing something even madder by myself.”

“I’ll do it,” said Muhan. “It should be a performance to remember.”

“As will I,” said Jalaya. “You know I’d die for you, Rema.”

“I suspect we all will.” Artunos shrugged. “Damn you, Remela. I’ll do it.”

Calicio and Sothis exchanged glances. “I’d like to help,” said Calicio. “Let me see if my spies can’t find something we can use as leverage against our enemies.”

“And I’ll help you talk to Ferruro,” said Sothis. “But that is all. I have a family to worry about.”

“Thank you all.” Cold sweat beaded the back of Rema’s neck. She had expected to win over the group in the end, but even so, their support was moving. Especially that of Muhan—a man she hardly knew, yet still prepared to risk his life for her. Would the day ever come when she no longer had to gamble with the lives of innocents?

“I’ve certainly an appetite now,” said Artunos. “Muhan, let’s share some wine. It’s the least I can offer you.”

“I need my rest.” Sothis staggered to his feet. “The air is dry down here, not good for my lungs. Could someone be so kind as to aid me up the stairs?”

“I’ll come with you,” said Rema, moving to his side. “Jalaya, Calicio?”

“I’ll stay,” said Jalaya. “I want to talk to Muhan too.”

“And I’ll stay as well,” said Calicio. “To gather intelligence.” Rema smiled and squeezed his hand. Doubt mingled with determination in his eyes. It was clear he was doing this not only for her, but to protect the man he loved.

“Goodnight then,” said Rema. “We can get to work tomorrow.”

“Say goodnight to Elsie for me,” said Jalaya, and a sharp, unfamiliar emotion pierced Rema’s chest. “May you both float through honeyed dreams.”

Rema attempted a smile but only managed to make her lips tremble. “Come on, Sothis.” They ascended through the trapdoor and into the dark kitchens.

“We should try to catch Ferruro at his breakfast,” said Sothis as he steadied himself against a shelf. “We’re all early risers.”

“That sounds wise. I’ll find him first and invite him to one of the inner gardens. Perhaps that one with the jade inlay on the benches?”

“I know it. I’ll wait for you both there.”

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.” Sothis gave a slight, stiff bow, pulled his robes around his body and limped from the kitchen.

Rema lingered for several minutes, to avoid their being seen together, before beginning the long walk toward Elise’s chambers. The palace shone tonight, illuminated by ghostly light pouring through the many windows and carved openings. As she passed by moon-soaked outdoor courts, she paused to inhale the mild air and to gaze at the far-flung stars. Her plan had seemed clever in her head, but the more she had explained, the more absurd it seemed. Was it really necessary to make Ormun’s fate a mystery when Bannon could simply put a knife in his back?

Of course, Rema hadn’t dared voice her real motive for sealing Ormun in a box and leaving his fate unknown even to her co-conspirators. The others would be furious to learn what she intended, all but Jalaya, who would have been proud of Rema for still feeling the restraint of mercy. But Jalaya was unique in that way, a soul steeped in love and compassion.

Feeling a twinge of loneliness, Rema quickened her pace. She needed to see Elise again in order to make sense of the mad path she’d chosen. The shadows of the sleeping palace enveloped her, and her boots echoed through the carven halls.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The door to Elise’s room was open, spilling a wedge of light into the hallway. Two voices in conversation were audible beyond it. One was Elise’s, soft and low, and the other a male voice that Rema couldn’t identify. She stood outside the door, her breath held, and peeked through the gap.

Elise was beside her desk. Melnennor stood before her, his shoulders stooped to bring his face closer to hers. Rema saw the court magician only rarely, and each time she was startled by how tall he was—the only figure at court who might look Ferruro in the eye. His Ajulese features were severe and precise; he looked, in fact, a little like one of Rema’s uncles. His black silk robe was embellished by a cascade of red symbols, and he lifted its long sleeves as he talked, turning his thin hands to add some esoteric significance.

Rema leaned forward, listening. “…understand,” said Elise. “But you know that…” The rest slipped out of Rema’s hearing. Melnennor wagged his head in response and tucked his hands back into his sleeves.

“You know the dangers of this path.” Melnennor’s strong voice was the louder of the two. “See that you don’t destroy the very thing you hope to preserve.”

Elise said something in response, and Melnennor put his hand briefly upon her shoulder before turning to the door. His eyes met Rema’s, but he continued to the doorway without pausing or saying a word. Rema stepped back as he entered the corridor and closed the door behind him. “I hope your evening is well, Remela,” he said in Ajulai. The complex, fluting language came somber from his tongue. “I bid you goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” said Rema, too surprised to say anything more. She watched him retreat down the hall, his long shape dwindling until she could hardly discern him from the shadows. After a second’s confused hesitation, she knocked on Elise’s door. The door opened, and Elise smiled and waved Rema in.

The bedchamber was hot, though it was difficult to determine the source of the heat. The desk overflowed with even more apparatus than before, including a cluster of jars that whirled with odd colors and spilt smoke in every hue. The space that Rema had earlier made on the bed had long been devoured by its neighboring books.

“You should sit,” said Elise. “Though I have to admit, I’m not sure where.”

“Help me clear the bed.” Elise’s lips drooped, but she nodded. “How were you planning to sleep tonight under all of this?”

“Who said anything about sleep?” Elise grumbled as she moved a heavy volume to the floor. “I’ve lost the page on this one now!”

Would she mention Melnennor, or had something secret transpired between them? “It’s so hot in here.” Rema sank onto the bed and shook off her boots. “Why aren’t you sweating?”

“It’s this light dress. It’s wonderful. In Danosha, I couldn’t wear most of these dresses—they were meant for much warmer climates. But here, I’ll be able to wear them all.”

“You won’t catch me complaining.”

“If only Calan could see me.” Elise grinned as she shook a tangle from her hair. “He once told me that women were better covered until men had need of them. I laughed until he turned scarlet. I’m sure half of these dresses were meant for courtesans, and I don’t care. I enjoy my body and I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”

Rema admired Elise’s smooth, bare thigh. “I’d never get away with a dress like that. I don’t have your hips, and my legs are hairy.”

“In truth, I have coarse black hairs all the way up to my knee. I discovered a cream that makes them turn lighter so you can only see them in the sun. I invented another one that makes them drop off, but it burns when I use it.”

“You’re as mad as Jalaya. She’s determined to be hairless all over, so she shaves her legs with a long razor. She’s always cutting herself.”

“I’m sure she feels wonderfully smooth, though. If men can shave their chins, I don’t see a problem with Jalaya shaving her legs.”

“Who knows why men or women do the mad things that they do? I try to focus on more important things.”

“Are you saying I’m trivial?” Elise gave a triumphant smile. “Well, this trivial woman just met your court magician. Melnennor.”

“Oh? What did he want?”

Elise settled onto the bed, her boastful expression still in place. “He came to tell me I was up to no good. I was so startled when I opened the door and saw him standing there, ominous and grim. I had a coquettish look on my face too. I was expecting you!”

Rema laughed as she tugged Elise closer. “I hope he didn’t get the wrong idea.”

“I thought he’d be angry, but he wasn’t at all. He accurately suspected what I was doing, and I admitted to it. He didn’t seem like the kind of person it’s easy to lie to.”

Rema placed her hand on Elise’s warm thigh, and her gaze wandered by its own initiative across the other bare parts of Elise’s body. “Go on.”

“Rema, I’m preparing a spell that could well kill Ormun. I admitted it to Melnennor, and he didn’t even threaten me. Instead, he talked to me about magic, and told about where he was from, and described things he’d seen and learned. He told me stories I couldn’t even begin to retell.” Elise brushed her hair from her eyes, a silly smile spreading on her face. “I liked him. He’s the first magician I’ve met since the clumsy one who sold me his books, and he was so much more impressive. He took me seriously and spoke to me with respect, like we were equals.”

“How curious. He’s supposed to be responsible for protecting Ormun’s life.”

“He left politics aside. We talked only about magic and mystery. I think it might have been a long time since he had anyone to talk to about such things, and he seemed as interested in me as I was in him. I don’t think he’d ever met a self-taught enchantress before.”

“So this spell of yours could actually kill Ormun?”

“Yes. But Melnennor reminded me of what I already know very well. That kind of magic always hurts more than its target.”

It was terrifying to think that something as chaotic as magic might intrude into the careful order of Rema’s schemes. She frowned, but continued stroking Elise’s knee. “So what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to think. Meanwhile, let’s talk about less serious matters.”

“Well, there is something else we could discuss.” Rema hesitated. It was embarrassing, and yet…“It’s not serious at all. It’s my knees. They hurt when I sit for too long, especially when it’s cold.”

“Why didn’t you say so? Nobody should have to endure painful knees! Have they been hurting lately?”

“Not too much in Arann. It’s the warmth, I think. In Danosha they ached terribly. I’m worried it’s getting worse as I get older.”

“Look at that sheepish face. You’re shy about getting old as if it were somehow your fault.”

“Well, I’m almost five years older than you. I was following my parents across dunes before you were even born.”

Elise replied with her deep, sensual laugh, the sound of which set a welcome warmth moving through Rema’s body. “What a foolish thing for someone so clever to say. Men routinely marry women thirty years their juniors, and that’s supposed to be normal. Meanwhile, we’re practically the same age.”

“I know.” The heat gathered in Rema’s cheeks. “I’ve never been insecure before. Or jealous, for that matter. But then, I’ve never fallen in love like this before.”

“You’re a strange one, Remela. Let’s have a look at these withered old legs. Take off your trousers.”

“You just want to see how hairy my legs really are.”

Elise undid the silver button of Rema’s trousers. Her fingers lingered for a moment over Rema’s lap before pulling away. “Take them off,” she said in a commanding voice. Rema pulled the trousers free, kicking her legs so as to send the garment flying to the carpet.

Elise stared at the short-legged pants Rema wore beneath, and her lips puckered in distaste. “That is the ugliest piece of clothing I’ve ever seen. Horrible!”

Rema blinked. Usually, her lovers were more interested in the contents of her undergarments than in their appearance. “I suppose you wear fashionable underwear designed for courtesans.”

“You’ll never find out if you keep those disgusting things on. I’m going to have to insist you take them off. They’re dangerous to your health.”

“Is that so?” The heat spreading through Rema’s body became a thrill. “I suppose I’d better do as you say.” Her legs pressed chastely together, Rema wiggled off the undergarment and dropped it to the floor beside her trousers.

“Oh, Rema.” Elise’s face twitched, and she broke into laughter, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. You just look so funny in your coat and nothing else. You’d better take it off as well.”

With a petulant sniff, Rema undid her coat and heaved it off her shoulders. She tugged her long purple shirt down to cover her lap. “Am I less funny now?”

“We’re getting there.” Elise’s eyes remained serious, but a scarlet line crested her cheeks. “Now let’s look at these knees. Oh, here’s the hair you were so shy about!” She ran her hands across the light red fuzz. “You poor ape.”

“I never said I was shy about it. I like my legs, hair and all.”

“I like them too.” An amorous intensity shone in Elise’s eyes as she massaged Rema’s kneecap, her other hand resting lightly on Rema’s upper thigh. “How old were you when the pain started?”

“Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, I suppose.”