Emperor Mage

  The emperor remained oddly still for several long moments after Numair’s exit. Wondering if he were in a trance, she changed once more, until she looked at him with an eagle’s eyes. Now she saw fine-pearled sweat on Ozorne’s face. The pupils of his eyes had opened all the way up, in defiance of the light that streamed through the glass walls. His breathing came deep and soft; his mouth trembled slightly.

  Slowly he lifted his right hand and held it palm up. Emerald light in four different streamers spiraled from the air before him, forming a small and fiery cyclone in his open palm. Bit by bit it solidified into a human shape. It was Numair dressed in rags, hair tumbling around his face.

  When the image was complete, Ozorne, left hand palm-down, began to crush it. The image shrieked, its tiny voice a perfect copy of Numair’s own. It screamed and screamed as Ozorne bore down. The emperor was smiling.

  Daine fled to her clothes. She heard the image’s cries as she became human, dressed, and left the aviary as silently as she could. Racing back to the guest wing, even with her hands over her ears, she thought the screams followed her.

  Numair said nothing when she came late to breakfast, picking at his food as she told the others she’d paid a predawn visit to the aviary and gotten lost coming back. If anyone noticed that she barely ate, or that she trembled so hard that she spilled her juice, they made no comment. Afterward, as they were preparing to go, Numair said, “Daine, you asked to speak to me alone. Let’s go to my room.”

  Alanna heard. “Then I go, too.”

  “It isn’t needful—it’s just a magic thing,” explained the girl. She’d prefer to confront him about what she’d seen with no witnesses.

  “If you visit a man’s room, you need a chaperon.” The lady knight shook her head. “Really, Numair, you know Carthakis. They think an unveiled woman is no better than she ought to be. Until we leave here, you can’t talk with her unless she is chaperoned or you can manage it in public.”

  “A fine thing, when I can’t talk to my student alone,” said Numair, red-faced. “Let’s go, then.”

  Inside his room, Daine smelled perfume in the air, a mixed-flower scent she recognized. “Did Varice have a chaperon?” she muttered to Alanna.

  The woman kicked her lightly. “Perhaps she didn’t want one for what she was here to do.”

  Daine scowled. A midwife’s daughter, she knew very well that men enjoyed going to bed with women they weren’t necessarily married to. Lately, the knowledge that Numair had such affairs had begun to irk her. She didn’t want to mention that to him; she was afraid he’d laugh.

  Once inside, the door closed, Numair spoke a word. Black fire bloomed in every corner, covering the windows and door. “It’s safe now.” He sat on the bed next to Alanna. “Talk.”

  Daine told them what the badger had said, and reminded Numair of Rikash’s words. “It’s hardly new,” the mage said once she was done. “Seers throughout the Eastern and Southern Lands have been giving warnings of some disaster that looms over Carthak. Without better information, we have no reason to break off the talks and return home. Have you such information?”

  Daine shook her head.

  “Next time, tell the badger he must be more specific, if the warning is to be of any use.”

  “What about that breath thing the badger did?” Alanna inquired. “Do you know what it is?”

  “Oh, I know,” said Daine grimly. “And I don’t like it—not one bit.”

  A dead animal was on display in this room as well as in hers: not a tiger, but a stuffed king vulture, fully two-and-a-half feet long. It was posed on a tall pedestal in the corner, the purples, reds, oranges, and yellows of its head were as bright as if the huge bird were still alive. Daine went over and removed the handkerchief someone had put over its skull. Looking at it, she saw that the fine cambric bore a delicately embroidered initial, V.

  Scowling, she thrust it into her pocket and looked at the adults. “Here’s what the badger did.” She rubbed her palms on her breeches, then grasped the vulture with both hands. Light blazed around her fingers, blinding her. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, but the first hint that she had succeeded came when a wing brushed her ear. When the spots were gone, she found the vulture leaning forward, his many-colored face inches from hers.

  Daine smiled. “Hello,” she told him. “I need to sit.” Her knees quivered; she went to the bed. Once sitting, she put her head between her knees to hold off a faint.

  FIVE

  PALACE TOUR

  “Daine?” Alanna came over to check her pulse.

  “I’m fine. Just dizzy.” She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, then sat up. From some pocket Numair had produced his vial of wake-flower, a scent guaranteed to revive the dead. Just the threat of having to smell it cleared her mind.

  The vulture flapped awkwardly across the room, clutching the wooden screen over the window. He pecked at the openings in the wood. Six feet in wingspan, he made the room much smaller.

  “Is your weakness part of this new working?” asked Numair.

  “I don’t know. The times it happened before—the tiger rug in my room, and a three-horn skeleton in the Hall of Bones—it was just a flash. They didn’t move about for long.”

  “I need to sit,” Alanna said, and did. “The—what did you say?—tiger, and the three-horn. Did you bring them to life on purpose?”

  “No. It was an accident.” The vulture hopped onto the bed and leaned against Daine.

  “That may explain why you’re weak. This time you tried to do it.” The Champion looked at Numair. “Do you agree?”

  The mage tugged his long nose. Daine braced herself. That tug always came before a flood of learning. “To reason without information is fruitless. To acquire more information, Daine must conduct further experiments.” Numair rubbed his temples. “What precisely did the badger say?”

  She repeated it as closely as she could remember.

  “The tiger and three-horn—what happened?” He paced as she explained, the vulture watching him with interest. “You are sure neither the slave in your room nor Lindhall saw anything?”

  “No. I don’t think they could have covered up if they saw.”

  Alanna laughed shakily. “Nor could I!”

  Daine tickled the bird’s foot, and he nibbled her hair. “I can’t talk with him. It’s like he’s got no mind. But he must, mustn’t he? He looks like he can think.”

  “The timing is inconvenient,” Numair said, toying with his black-opal pendant. “We can’t investigate properly while we are here. I will say this much—what you have done sounds like no wild magic I have ever heard. Only the gods can bring the dead back even to a seeming of life.”

  “I’m no god,” protested Daine. “What if the badger passed some of his godness on to me?”

  The mage shook his head. “There is nothing in the writings about animal gods to indicate they are able to do such a transfer. Not only that, but normally their power affects only those of their own species. The badger’s magic should apply to badgers alone, as the wolf god applies only to wolves, and so on. Only the great gods have power that translates across species: Mithros, the Goddess, the Black God, the Graveyard Hag, the Master of Dream Gainel—”

  “Don’t name them all,” Alanna said, too patiently.

  Numair smiled. “No—of course not. In the meantime, Daine, I think it would be best if you said nothing of this and, in particular, did nothing with it until we got home.”

  “I’ll try. It keeps getting away from me, though.”

  “What about him?” asked the Champion, pointing to the vulture. “We can’t just let him run around in here. He’s losing feathers, for one thing.”

  It was true: the bird’s movements had shaken a number of small feathers from their moorings.

  Daine asked, “What do you want to do, wing-brother?”

  The vulture hopped from the bed, landing on the deep windowsill. Keeping his balance with the help of his wings, he pe
cked at the cedar screen.

  “You want out?”

  “Taking him out now is tough,” Alanna remarked. “People will ask questions. I assume you want this kept quiet.”

  “As quiet as possible,” Numair said. “You don’t know Ozorne. If he found out she could do this . . . You don’t ever want him to find out.”

  Daine said nothing. After what she had seen that morning, she planned to give Ozorne as wide a berth as possible. Something about the way he’d made the image scream without letup had chilled her to the bone. To the vulture she said, “If I take you to my rooms, will you stay there and pretend to be stuffed if the servants come in? When it’s dark, we’ll go outside.”

  The vulture nodded.

  Numair reached into his belt pouch and produced a round stone. “This cat’s-eye agate will make you two invisible once the spell is activated. When you’re in your room, put it in your pocket. Out of the light, the charm will end. Don’t bump into anyone, or they will see you, spell or no.”

  “Come on,” Daine told the vulture. “You’d best walk. You’re too big to carry.”

  The bird hopped to the floor, wings half opened for balance. Numair made a sign over the cat’s-eye, then gave it to Daine. Without looking at her tall friend, she said quietly, “Numair—you shouldn’t have tried to hit him. I don’t think he liked it.”

  Quickly, before he could answer, she left, the vulture hopping beside her.

  Kitten dropped a pawful of ribbons and screeched when Daine walked into her room. Zek, absorbed in the paint pots on the dressing table, didn’t see Daine and her companion until the girl put the invisibility stone away. The vulture looked at him, and Zek chattered unhappily.

  “He’s all right,” Daine assured the marmoset. “He’s dead. He won’t hurt you.”

  Did you do the thing to him you did with the tiger and the big skeleton? Zek asked.

  “Yes. Seemingly, if I do it a-purpose, it lasts longer.” The vulture hopped onto her desk and folded his wings. “Tonight I’ll take you out and put you where you won’t be found,” she told him. “And you two leave all this alone,” she scolded Zek and Kitten, seeing the mess on the dressing table. “Pick those things up, Kit.” Replacing tops on the jars, she noticed her hair in the mirror.

  “Goddess!” Sitting, she grabbed the brush and attacked her curls. “It looks like birds nested in it.” Someone tapped on her door. “Come in.”

  Alanna entered, smiling when she saw Daine in front of the mirror. Then, looking at each corner of the suite of rooms, she flicked her fingers, sending balls of purpie fire into them. Once they reached their destinations, they stretched, lengthened, and turned into sheets of purple light that covered the door and windows. Coming to Daine, she took a ribbon from Kitten and began to thread it through the girl’s hair.

  Daine looked at her in the mirror. “Why’d you ward the room? Are we talking secrets now?”

  “Who did Numair try to hit?”

  Daine related what she had seen. When she was done, Alanna cursed under her breath. “You’re right to be upset. I can’t believe he was so foolish!”

  “He gets fair protective of me, sometimes.”

  “He also as much as told the emperor you’re his weak spot.”

  Daine nodded.

  “I don’t think Ozorne would endanger these talks, but—there is life after them to be considered. When we go home, it will be hard to stop Ozorne’s spies from trying to hurt either of you. Men! Why they can’t just keep quiet about things—” Outside a gong sounded the call to the talks. Alanna sighed. “I have to go. Be careful in what you say to the prince. Remember he is the emperor’s heir.”

  “I’m hardly likely to forget, as much jewelry as he wears,” Daine said dryly.

  Alanna grinned. “Be polite. And if you see Numair about to do anything else stupid, try to stop him.”

  Kitten chattered agreement. Daine nodded. “Believe me, I will.”

  Alanna clapped her on the shoulder and left.

  The girl looked at the vulture. “Are you still awake?” Its great wings spread, and folded again. “All right. Remember what I said.”

  The bird’s feathers ruffled, then went smooth, as another hand rapped on the door. “Excuse me—Lady Daine? It’s Prince Kaddar.”

  “And here we go,” she told Kitten and Zek, lifting the marmoset onto her shoulder. Kitten raced ahead and opened the door.

  Kaddar blinked when he saw her companions. “Won’t they be happier inside?”

  “No, they would not, thank you. Kitten’s a smart creature. If you don’t give her new things to do and see, she finds them.”

  “Like a puppy and my new slippers?” he inquired.

  “Like a bear cub in your wardrobe, only bear cubs don’t have magic. She does. She can whistle locks off doors—among other things.”

  “Very well. You would know best, of course. Since we’re touring the palace, is there any area in particular that you would like to see?”

  She took a breath. “Actually, I’d like to look at chapels and temples and such. Have you any here?” Until that moment she had forgotten the old slave woman had suggested it. I’d like to have a nice long talk with her, next time I see her, she thought grimly.

  Kaddar frowned. “Well—yes, but—they’re nothing special. You probably have finer ones at home. Except for the temple of Mithros in Carthak City—it’s very beautiful.”

  “If it’s all the same, I’d like to see your temples here, please.” His reluctance hardened her resolve. She smiled up at him. “I’m making a study of them, you see.”

  It was the right argument to employ with a young man who attended the imperial university. “Very well, though I still think you’ll be disappointed. It’s also a bit of a walk.”

  When he offered his arm, Daine put Zek there instead of hanging on to it as he seemed to expect. He laughed, and let Zek climb to his shoulder, then set off through the gardens.

  Daine walked beside him, looking at him sidelong. He looked different from the times she’d seen him before. He still wore his ruby drop and ruby nose button, but had switched his other earrings to small hoops. He wore only a single, heavy silver bracelet and no rings; boots; a white shirt; and loose, maroon breeches. An open collar revealed a muscular chest, and his dark hands were large and strong-looking.

  “Are you related to the emperor on your mother’s side, or your father’s?” she asked, curious.

  Kaddar, grinning as Zek inspected the gold rings in his left ear, asked, “What?” She repeated the question. “My mother, Princess Fazia, is my uncle’s sister. My father was a prince of the Chelogu province in Zallara, far to the south. As you can see”—his teeth flashed in a broad grin—“my father was much darker than my mother.”

  “Forgive me for asking, but you said he was?”

  “Five years ago he was killed, putting down a rebellion in Siraj—What in Mithros’s name is going on here?”

  They had turned onto a broad walk lined with trees. Coming toward them was a squad of five soldiers, marching in order, armed with spears and small, round shields. Instead of armor they wore gilded breastplates over knee-length scarlet tunics. The emblem on shields and breastplates alike was part of the imperial seal of Carthak, a crown wrapped in a jagged circle.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “They’re members of the Red Legion—soldiers—and they’re here. The army isn’t allowed on palace grounds—ever. Will you excuse me for a moment? I must speak with these men.”

  Daine took Zek back from him. “Go ahead.”

  He left briskly, seeming to grow an inch or two in authority as he advanced on the soldiers. They bowed deeply in unison, right hands placed on their hearts. When he spoke to them, Daine could see he addressed them as a prince, not as a teenager, and their leader spoke to him with respect. She wondered if she ought to improve her hearing to eavesdrop, and decided against it. Instead she looked around, wondering where she was.

  To her lef
t, on the far side of a bed of late roses, she saw an arch that led to an enclosed garden. At its center was a fountain, a tower of ornamental sculpture rising from a wide, deep bowl. On its rim sat the old slave woman. At least, Daine was fairly sure of the sitter’s identity, but her appearance had changed again. The black stubble on her head was now at least an inch long. Parts of it were even longer, and gray. Her gown reached to her calves; the leather sandals of last night had been changed for worn slippers with holes through which the lady’s bunions protruded. A knobby walking stick leaned against the rim beside her.

  More startling than the change in her appearance was her company, a mass of black and brown rats. She was feeding them—at her feet, in her lap, and from her hands. Frowning, Daine headed for the fountain. Whatever was going on here, she wanted to know what it was—no more hints!

  Kitten squawked a demand, and the old woman looked up. One of her wicked black eyes was gone; a mass of old scar tissue filled the socket. The other eye danced at the sight of Daine as its owner grinned and waved. The rats turned to stare at girl, dragon, and marmoset.

  Daine stepped up her pace, only to find that no matter how fast she walked, the woman and courtyard moved away, keeping the same distance from her as they had been when she first saw them. Kitten stretched her long neck out and trilled, the sound harsh in Daine’s ears. Undoubtedly it was a spell of some kind, but it had no effect on the gap between Daine and her quarry.

  When the girl halted to catch her breath, the receding courtyard picked up speed, getting smaller and smaller as it moved away. At last it vanished.

  That was interesting, commented Zek. Can you do that?

  “No.” Vexed, Daine put her hands on her hips. “Something funny is going on here.”

  Kitten nodded agreement, her eyes half silver, her scales pink with irritation.