Shadow Magic (2009) Read online

  It was the most I’d got out of him since the incident with the Emperor. If the coat took credit for his unusual loquaciousness, there was room for me to feel immensely pleased with myself over having found the perfect solution to our problem.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and forgotten the play,” I said, in tones suggesting the utmost consternation.

  Alcibiades only looked at me as though I’d told him the Ke-Han were putting a permanent ban on fried-dumpling stands.

  “Oh, honestly,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s our entertainment for tonight. You were lurking about when Lord Temur told me, same as Josette. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already!”

  “Huh,” Alcibiades said, in a way that I knew meant that he had, in fact, done exactly that. “Well, at least it’s not going to be singing. There isn’t singing involved in these plays, is there?”

  As it happened, we were among the first to arrive to dinner. This was because I’d left enough time for Alcibiades to decide if he wanted last-minute alterations to his coat, and when he didn’t, there hadn’t been much to do but leave for the dining chamber. Normally I would have abhorred arriving early at any location—it would have been deliciously dramatic to arrive late, clad all in scarlet—but there was a certain pleasure in watching the various Ke-Han warlords enter with their servants and take their proper seats at the high table. Before the meal was served there was normally some accompanying music to set the mood, which more often than not set Alcibiades to grumbling and shifting and kicking me—he said it was by accident—like a sullen child.

  It took all my strength not to invoke Yana at those times—since, like all powerful weapons, her name retained its power only if used sparingly.

  “I see Lord Jiro is already here,” I noted. So far, the room was gifted with an overabundance of red—we hardly stood out at all yet—though the lord’s coloring was sadly in his face and not his clothing.

  “We match him, too,” Alcibiades noted, and took a drink of his water before I could see if he’d actually cracked a smile. I would never know whether or not that had been a joke.

  If it was, I was quite prepared to cede my anticipation for the play in favor of further such entertainment, the sort only Alcibiades and his peculiar nature could provide.

  Lord Maidar entered next, seating himself with a space between himself and Lord Jiro, though the night before they’d sat next to one another and shared conversation quite comfortably. In Volstov, I’d followed the rise and fall of various courtiers as they all scrambled to reach the very tiptop of the Esar’s esteem. It had been a game, and a tremendously amusing one at that, until the day I’d been condemned to exile myself, after which it became a very difficult thing to keep track of, so far removed from the playing field had I been. It was somewhat more difficult keeping track of things at the Ke-Han palace, since—like anywhere—the servants held all the best gossip, and I hadn’t yet learned enough of the Ke-Han language to be able to communicate with them. I’d studied abroad—as abroad as exile could be termed in those days—but an education in the formal language was quite a different thing from knowing the ins and outs of all the common slang. I would pick up on it eventually, I was sure. I was determined, though; my time would come. Until then, I would have to settle for gossiping with my fellow countrymen.

  I leaned close to Alcibiades, holding my cup out so that he might pour me some of the delightful jasmine tea we’d been enjoying with dinner. “Do you think that Lord Maidar is sitting farther away today because of their disagreement in the talks?”

  Alcibiades glanced up at the high table, taking no notice of my teacup at all. “Don’t know,” he said. “Personally, I think Jiro’s right, and there isn’t much point in focusing all our resources on one lost prince who doesn’t even seem all that menacing anyway. Better to see what he’s planning and deal with it then, isn’t it? And in the meantime, we can get our talks out of the way. It’s a—what’s it, a nonissue, some kind of smoke screen. Keeps us from getting to the real issues. The Emperor probably couldn’t’ve planned it better if he’d worked the whole thing himself.”

  I shrugged, tapping the delicate base of my cup against the table ever so subtly. “Don’t look now, my dear, but I do believe the good lord has taken notice of our patriotic garments.”

  Alcibiades followed the direction of my glance, though whether it had anything to do with the fact that I didn’t want him to was another matter entirely.

  “Let him stare,” he said, then glanced at me as though suddenly confused. “Is there a reason you’re banging your teacup against the table? Or did you just get inspired by the music?”

  “Just enjoying myself, my dear,” I said, and nodded in the direction of the doorway. “The fun, I believe, is nearly about to start.”

  Josette, dressed quite fetchingly in a pale shade of cerulean, was standing there; she’d seemed happy enough until she’d caught sight of the two of us. Then her expression changed completely. I was quite fond of her—and her temper. She reminded me of Alcibiades in that respect—and I was doubly pleased with her when she barely hesitated at all before charging straight toward us.

  “What,” she demanded, “do you think you’re doing?”

  “Eating dinner with the Ke-Han,” Alcibiades said, as though a pat of butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. His lips didn’t even twitch; he had quite a knack for deadpan delivery, and I was forced to hide my delighted laughter behind my sleeve. “Why, what’s it look like we’re doing?”

  “As if fighting with the Emperor wasn’t bad enough,” Josette hissed, taking the empty seat beside Alcibiades and fixing him with a terrifying glare. “What are you trying to do—cause an international incident?”

  “We won the war,” Alcibiades said, better than if I’d coached him through his lines myself. He really was a fantastic creature, my new friend. “Don’t see why we have to pretend all the time like we didn’t.”

  “These matters are sensitive, General,” Josette said, though some of the anger in her eyes was becoming suffused with a sort of admiration and wonder. “As diplomats, we must… we must do what we can to make sure things progress as smoothly as possible.”

  “Good thing I’m not a diplomat, then, isn’t it?” Alcibiades said. He took a cool sip of his water and sighed. “Ahh. Hits the spot. Real refreshing.”

  Josette turned her accusatory glare to me. “This is your fault, isn’t it, Greylace?” I had to give her credit for seeing right through our little charade. I understood her position, of course—I’d even been in agreement with her at the beginning of our sojourn in the palace—but Alcibiades was, for all his brute strength, something of a delicate creature. All the rules were stifling him, and I was merely trying to give him a little fresh air to breathe before he went mad and did something very foolish, indeed.

  “I like to show solidarity,” I said. “My dear, would you pour me a little more tea?”

  “Gladly,” Alcibiades said, and obliged. “That enough?”

  “Perfection,” I replied. “Perhaps Josette would also like some tea?”

  “Josette most certainly would not,” Josette said, scanning the rest of the guests. Perhaps she was waiting for Fiacre to appear, in hopes that he would have the inclination and the clout to put an end to our game. Or perhaps she was on the lookout for the Emperor’s arrival, which, considering Alcibiades’ current standing in his graces, would result in something of a situation. It appeared, however, that Josette was doing her best to pointedly ignore us, so I turned my attention once more to the entranceway, just as Lord Temur arrived.

  His expression revealed nothing when he saw us—the Ke-Han warlords were dreadful spoilsports—but I was delighted when he strode purposely over to us and chose his seat at my side.

  “Lord Greylace,” he said, nodding in our direction. “General. Lady Josette.”

  “Lovely day, isn’t it?” Alcibiades said. “Would you like some tea? Apparently it’s delicious.”

  All this time,
I thought, and the secret to success with Alcibiades was so simple as giving him something he wanted! People were such complicated animals, far harder to please than dogs and far harder to care for than horses. In many ways they were the most like cats—aloof yet dependent, with moods of so many shades and variations that it was impossible to tell which they’d be sporting next.

  Lord Temur glanced at me, then to Alcibiades, then to Josette. Josette merely shrugged, a dainty rise and fall of her shoulders that might have been taken for anything else but was, of course, exactly what it looked like. Who knows? her expression seemed to say, and, It’s awful being even the slightest bit associated with them.

  “I see you have made use of my tailor,” Lord Temur said, after a pause. “General Alcibiades did not wish also to try the Ke-Han style? It is much more comfortable when sitting cross-legged for the talks, I find.”

  “I’d look pretty damn silly wearing something like that,” Alcibiades said, nodding toward me. “All due respect, of course.”

  “Of course,” Lord Temur said thinly. “It suits Lord Greylace very well. He has caused quite a commotion among some of the younger lords, who think he has a poet’s aesthetic taste.”

  “Do they really?” I asked. This evening was shaping up to be even better than I’d hoped. “Why, Lord Temur, I had absolutely no idea!”

  “They are in quite the state,” Lord Temur said. “In particular, I believe they are enamored of the color of your hair.”

  “Now, Lord Temur,” Alcibiades warned, though there was only surprising good humor in his voice, “do you think it’s such a good idea to let Caius know that? He’s so little, and if his head gets any bigger, it’ll snap his neck.”

  Lord Temur looked at Alcibiades mildly—an expression I was coming to discover implied some modicum of surprise. “I think I have misunderstood something,” he said. “It is often the case when speaking your language—I understand the basic grammar well enough, but the colloquialisms, the less formal turns of phrase… I admit that I am occasionally lost.”

  “That’s better than I am with your language, anyway,” Alcibiades said, on the verge of sounding amiable. “It sounds like so many hens clucking at one another, if you know what I mean.”

  “You must forgive him,” I interrupted, as smoothly as I could given the circumstances. “He was raised on a farm, and apparently by wolves. What General Alcibiades meant earlier was something of an insult. He was intimating that, if you continued to compliment me or relay such praise from other sources, I would grow too proud and puff up like a peacock.”

  “A red peacock,” Lord Temur said.

  “The best kind of peacock there is,” Alcibiades agreed.

  “The Emperor,” Josette said.

  Immediately, the air in the dining chamber changed. The Emperor had a certain fearsome presence that consumed all the air in any room he entered; even when he’d stepped outside to observe Lord Temur and Alcibiades as they sparred, he’d managed to steal my breath away. Of course, I didn’t like him, not even for the barest moment. It was something about his eyes; he reminded me of a panther on the prowl, a beast of prey in the jungle, the sort that pretended to be sleeping up until the very instant before you found it at your throat. He moved with the same lazy, intentional grace. It wouldn’t have surprised me at all if he had falsely accused his younger brother; he seemed just the type. The poor little thing, I thought, out in the wild with only his loyal retainer to protect him! It must have been dreadful, as accustomed as he was to all the comforts and luxuries of palace life. I did hope he’d managed to escape.

  But all that was mere speculation; the pondering of an otherwise unoccupied mind. I didn’t share my suspicions with anyone, not even Alcibiades.

  Imprudence and pride had seen me banished from the Esar’s court once before. I’d suffered long, dreadful years in the countryside, with nothing more to occupy my time than counting sheep and gossiping with dreadful chatelains, or teasing their equally dreadful sons and daughters. Despite my exotic new surroundings, and despite my exotic new companions—and though I could have been the center of such grand, infamous scandals without even trying—I wished to get through my stint as a diplomat with as little incident as possible.

  Perhaps, I mused, I shouldn’t have followed through with the matching red outfits.

  Yet the decision had already been made, the coats exquisitely tailored, and there we were in the Ke-Han dining chamber as the Emperor made his appearance. I had, as they liked to say in the country, made my bed in the stables and had no right to complain about sleeping with the sheep.

  As on all other nights, everyone assembled bowed low over the tables. Even Alcibiades was game enough to follow suit, though that might have been less because of his new coat and my unexpected showing of Volstovic nationalism, and more because he wasn’t actually drinking water but rather the clear, sweet Ke-Han wine. It was meant, as far as I could tell, for those who were too easily affected by the redder, richer draft—for children and the infirm—but Alcibiades had been knocking it back as though it were water. It was bound to be an interesting night.

  I knew the exact moment when Emperor Iseul caught sight of us, like two red peas in a pod. To his credit, his expression revealed nothing—though when, of course, had I ever expected it to?

  It was a dangerous little game we were playing, for I knew by then that the Emperor was prone to fits of passion despite the rigidity of Ke-Han protocol. He was fastidious and immaculate and dangerously powerful, but just like the Ke-Han wrapping paper in that he was shot with flashes of silver and gold—the colors of obsession and madness. All great men, I supposed, in positions of great power, must have been in some form or another exactly like him. How could I, little Caius Greylace, presume to know what it was like to be raised as a second-in-command, the replacement for my father should anything happen to him in battle, trained within an inch of perfection, with all my servants whispering to me since birth that I was descended from the gods themselves?

  Even I’d gone mad once or twice, so the gossip said, and I was merely an Esar’s cat’s-paw. It was a tragic fact of the Greylace family that we were bred for beauty and Talent but little true function besides that. My great-aunt had been a famed beauty, and my mother, the second Lady Greylace, had been the rival of the formidable Lady Antoinette before the former’s mysterious and very private death. I myself was nothing so fancy: raised in the palace due to some lingering fondness for my mother on the part of the Esar, until one of his men had caught me practicing my Talent in the eastern wing of the palace.

  I was seven at the time.

  “Fernand tells me he saw you with a tiger in the eastern corridor,” the Esar had said, his beard the color of spiced wine.

  “Not a real tiger,” I’d admitted, to my great disappointment. “I made him.”

  Looking back, I couldn’t help but wish I’d announced the thing with more grandeur, but what does a child know of such artifice?

  “Show me,” the Esar had said. “If you prove yourself useful, then you may have all the tigers you could ever want.”

  Royal blood—whether you were inbred or not—was always distinctly corrupt.

  I reveled in the Emperor’s aura despite that, for I had never felt such a presence in all my life, nor seen such impeccable grace firsthand. He was better than any actor, with greater stage presence, and he dwarfed us all in comparison. We were not fit to sit in a room with him. He believed this, as did most of his men, and the sheer force of that belief was beginning to convince even me.

  Beside me, Lord Temur bowed lower than the rest of us, and I had to wonder what punishment he had received, outright or oblique, for being carried away with Alcibiades the other morning. At least, bless his heart, he hadn’t tried to kill the general. And Alcibiades was going to have to practice harder if he ever intended to be quick enough on his feet to present Emperor Iseul with any real challenge.

  The Emperor ascended to his place on the dais at the far end of the
room and lifted one hand, palm outward—the signal for us to cease formalities and commence eating. Lord Temur continued to keep his head low for a moment longer than the rest of us.

  “This is the best water I’ve ever had,” Alcibiades murmured to me, in what he may have thought—poor dear—was a whisper.

  “Must be from the mountains,” I said, patting him on the shoulder. “How does your new coat suit you?”

  “Fits better in the shoulders,” he admitted, and less grudging than I would have thought him capable of being. “Like the epaulettes, too. A bit above my station, I think, but not too much so.”

  “Are you doing it for a purpose?” Lord Temur asked, as calm as you like. He spoke our tongue better than he gave himself credit for, which I supposed was all part of his tactic to encourage us to talk more freely around him. “I do hope,” he added, without turning to look at either of us, “that you do not mistake my question for rudeness. I have a genuine curiosity when it comes to such Volstovic displays. We are each proud countries, but in a different fashion from one another.”

  “Greylace here likes the color better,” Alcibiades said. He’d even stopped tugging at his collar—though I realized a moment later and to my chagrin that he’d undone the top button while I wasn’t looking.

  “I like variety in my wardrobe,” I confirmed, sipping meekly at my tea. “Besides, I always find it better to wear red near autumn.”

  “That way you match the leaves,” Alcibiades provided.

  “Yes, my dear, that’s quite enough, thank you,” I said.

  “Lord Temur,” Josette said, brown eyes keen as she reached toward Alcibiades’ setting to confiscate the clear wine and, I noted, pour a little for herself, “I believe that my two companions are what is known in Volstov as ‘characters.’”

  “Ah,” Lord Temur said, though I could tell he honestly had trouble with this new and unfamiliar idiom. “Characters, you say? Perhaps… from a play?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes.” Josette set Alcibiades’ bottle down on the opposite side of her own table, so that he’d need to make a clumsy lunge for it to retrieve it, and pointedly ignored his dirty looks. “They are—somewhat over the top in the same way. Do you understand that?”