leaving soon. A pity. He's much nicer than some of the other special envoys."
"You mean he doesn't pinch your bottom, Mimisem," joked one of the other maids.
Aly watched Tkaa curiously. To uninformed eyes, the basilisk might look plump, as the pouch on his belly bulged. What was Tkaa carrying? wondered Aly. Not weapons. Nobody who can turn folk to stone with a sound needs weapons. Unless he's ill, perhaps?
Imajane smiled up at the immortal, who had deftly stopped just far enough from her that she would not get a crick in her neck as she met his eyes. She chatted with him briefly. When the basilisk went to pay his respects to Prince Rubinyan across the room, Nuritin rose and beckoned to Winnamine. Immediately the duchess walked over to Imajane and curtsied. With a graceful movement of her hand, Imajane invited Winnamine to take the seat Nuritin had just left.
Aly ’spared a glance for a pudgy man who whispered in Rubinyan's ear until Tkaa reached the prince. Noting how the fellow stood so that no one could see his lips moving, Aly was sure this was Sevmire Ambau, Rubinyan's private spy-master, the one who he'd asked to keep watch on his own brother. After memorizing Sevmire's face, Aly turned her attention back to Winnamine and Imajane.
"And so the Balitangs return to court," the princess said with a smile. A maid glided forward to pour out goblets of wine for the two ladies. Aly looked at Tkaa, then gave a mental shrug. He would know where she was if he needed to find her, and she was certain that he would. She didn't worry about Tkaa giving her identity away. The basilisk was one of her fathers best operatives.
She continued to inspect the room. Here and there groups of people sat or stood. They talked, drank, and ate as slaves circulated with trays full of delights. It was obvious that, although they seemed absorbed in their chatter, they were equally observant of both regents. While Imajane and Winnamine talked, Rubinyan stood in a far rear corner. In addition to Tkaa, a group of noblemen attended the prince regent. Rubinyan was a listener, not a talker. He kept a gold cup in one hand, often masking his expression by looking into it.
Aly read the men's lips. They discussed pirate raids along the islands. One man accused another of taking a profit from pirates. The other told him that he would do better to mind his own pirates. The whole thing might have spun out of control had Rubinyan not put a hand on one debater's shoulder and smiled at the other, saying that he would ask the navy to step up its patrols. He handled them like an accomplished diplomat. Aly was impressed.
Forget your pirates, another noble grumbled as Aly read his lips. What I want to know is, what's being done about our missing tax collectors? The flooding this winter swept away three of the bridges in my province, and I have no way to pay for new ones! I need tax money!
You'll be missing more than bridges before the summer's done, thought Aly. A peal of laughter drew her attention to Sarai. She stood at the heart of a group of young men and women, all of whom were applauding some joke. The men's presence did not surprise Aly, Sarai drew men like honey drew bees. Her surprise lay in the number of women of Sarai’s age or a little older, women who clearly liked Sarai as well.
Many of the group were luarin who obviously didn't feel, as some of their elders seemed to, that they lowered themselves by association with a half-raka. It was too early yet to tell, but if the younger luarin were more open to friendship with someone of raka blood, they might yet avoid the bloody revolution that Aly feared. It was all too easy to imagine these smug, wealthy people as the dead, the smooth columns and gleaming floor marred with the bloody gouges of swords and the black sooty splashes of magical fire. It was Aly's nightmare. She just hoped and prayed Ulasim and the rebel leaders could keep the rebellion from turning into an all-out massacre.
A brown-skinned
"You mean he doesn't pinch your bottom, Mimisem," joked one of the other maids.
Aly watched Tkaa curiously. To uninformed eyes, the basilisk might look plump, as the pouch on his belly bulged. What was Tkaa carrying? wondered Aly. Not weapons. Nobody who can turn folk to stone with a sound needs weapons. Unless he's ill, perhaps?
Imajane smiled up at the immortal, who had deftly stopped just far enough from her that she would not get a crick in her neck as she met his eyes. She chatted with him briefly. When the basilisk went to pay his respects to Prince Rubinyan across the room, Nuritin rose and beckoned to Winnamine. Immediately the duchess walked over to Imajane and curtsied. With a graceful movement of her hand, Imajane invited Winnamine to take the seat Nuritin had just left.
Aly ’spared a glance for a pudgy man who whispered in Rubinyan's ear until Tkaa reached the prince. Noting how the fellow stood so that no one could see his lips moving, Aly was sure this was Sevmire Ambau, Rubinyan's private spy-master, the one who he'd asked to keep watch on his own brother. After memorizing Sevmire's face, Aly turned her attention back to Winnamine and Imajane.
"And so the Balitangs return to court," the princess said with a smile. A maid glided forward to pour out goblets of wine for the two ladies. Aly looked at Tkaa, then gave a mental shrug. He would know where she was if he needed to find her, and she was certain that he would. She didn't worry about Tkaa giving her identity away. The basilisk was one of her fathers best operatives.
She continued to inspect the room. Here and there groups of people sat or stood. They talked, drank, and ate as slaves circulated with trays full of delights. It was obvious that, although they seemed absorbed in their chatter, they were equally observant of both regents. While Imajane and Winnamine talked, Rubinyan stood in a far rear corner. In addition to Tkaa, a group of noblemen attended the prince regent. Rubinyan was a listener, not a talker. He kept a gold cup in one hand, often masking his expression by looking into it.
Aly read the men's lips. They discussed pirate raids along the islands. One man accused another of taking a profit from pirates. The other told him that he would do better to mind his own pirates. The whole thing might have spun out of control had Rubinyan not put a hand on one debater's shoulder and smiled at the other, saying that he would ask the navy to step up its patrols. He handled them like an accomplished diplomat. Aly was impressed.
Forget your pirates, another noble grumbled as Aly read his lips. What I want to know is, what's being done about our missing tax collectors? The flooding this winter swept away three of the bridges in my province, and I have no way to pay for new ones! I need tax money!
You'll be missing more than bridges before the summer's done, thought Aly. A peal of laughter drew her attention to Sarai. She stood at the heart of a group of young men and women, all of whom were applauding some joke. The men's presence did not surprise Aly, Sarai drew men like honey drew bees. Her surprise lay in the number of women of Sarai’s age or a little older, women who clearly liked Sarai as well.
Many of the group were luarin who obviously didn't feel, as some of their elders seemed to, that they lowered themselves by association with a half-raka. It was too early yet to tell, but if the younger luarin were more open to friendship with someone of raka blood, they might yet avoid the bloody revolution that Aly feared. It was all too easy to imagine these smug, wealthy people as the dead, the smooth columns and gleaming floor marred with the bloody gouges of swords and the black sooty splashes of magical fire. It was Aly's nightmare. She just hoped and prayed Ulasim and the rebel leaders could keep the rebellion from turning into an all-out massacre.
A brown-skinned
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