Reign of Shadows (31 page)

The
serpent struck the wall and vanished. The air smelled scorched and tainted.

Wrinkling
her nose, Elandra stared at Hecati in amazement. The woman backed away from her
with an expression of mingled fury and dread.

“The
jinja
has given me protection,”
Elandra said in amazement. Relief spread through her. For the first time in
years she felt free and safe. “You’ll never beat me again.”

“Is
that what you think?” Hecati retorted. She rubbed her hands together violently
as though to brush away some taint. “Take care, bastard-girl. Take great care.
I have plenty of tricks left.”

Elandra
backed up. “Leave me be!” she said vehemently. “I want nothing but to be left
alone.”

“Fool,”
Hecati said, sneering. “Do you think I believe that? You were born under the
sign of mischief. Even now, you seek to diminish Lady Bixia’s moment of glory.”

“You’re
wrong.”

“Do
not try to stand in Lady Bixia’s way.”

“I
have no interest in Bixia at all,” Elandra said with a frown. “I’ve never
wanted to interfere with her good fortune. I don’t now.”

“Stay
away from us,” Hecati said. “I warn you, I have other ways to protect my niece.”

“I
mean her no harm.”

Hecati
sniffed. “Oh, what lies you love to tell. You want revenge, my girl. That’s
plain enough. But you’ll never get it.”

Elandra
stared at her, tired of her paranoia. “You heard Father. My destiny isn’t even
close to Bixia’s.”

“You
were wise to keep silent before Albain. Mind that you continue to watch your
tongue. I want no trouble from you. None at all.” Hecati pointed her finger at
Elandra. “Keep yourself apart from her. If she’s in a room, depart from it. If
she speaks, fall silent. If she is mentioned by others, show only respect. You
will bring no notice to yourself, not during the journey and not among the
Penestricans. I don’t even want you to bring her a cup of water. Is that clear?”

Elandra
drew in a deep breath, then another.

“I
asked you a question, Elandra.”

“Yes,”
Elandra replied, her voice flat and quick. “Everything is very clear.”

“Then
go! See that you are dressed, packed, and downstairs waiting by the time Lady Bixia
is ready to depart.”

Elandra
started to speak, but Hecati raised her hand. Her eyes raked Elandra with
contempt.

“Get
out,” she said.

And
she shoved Elandra into the corridor with a slam of the door.

Less
than an
hour after her father had turned her life upside down, Elandra hurried through
the vaulted entry of state with its polished marble floor and soaring columns.

Outside
beyond the portico, the famous thousand steps of gleaming white limestone
stretched down to an immense rectangular courtyard where normally her father’s
troops assembled for inspections or conducted precise cavalry drills.

Today,
however, a full ten squadrons stood in silent formation on matched horses. Five
squadrons wore the white and yellow surplices of Gialta over gilded mail armor.
Turbaned and mustachioed, they were mounted on white horses. Curved scimitars
hung at their belts, and the Albain coat of arms flew from thin banners affixed
to their spears. The five squadrons of Imperial Guards wore polished breastplates
and plumed helmets. They were mounted on tall, muscular war horses, all bays.
Wearing vivid crimson cloaks that spread out over the rumps of their horses,
they looked foreign and formidable. The double-eagle crest of the emperor
glittered with pure gold, magnificent in the bright sunlight. Imperial banners
flowed and unfurled in the humid breeze, flying above Albain’s own coat of
arms.

The
elephants of the caravan stood lined up at the foot of the steps, placidly
waving their big ears to fan themselves. Their handlers squatted beneath them,
ivory goad sticks dangling from idle hands.

The
elephants were beautifully plumed and caparisoned with embroidered harnesses.
Bright red curtains fluttered from their palanquins. Even the pack elephants
wore the ornate harness of state, and red pack cloths showed beneath their
loads.

Catching
her breath at the sight, Elandra paused beneath the portico amid the waiting
courtiers and officials.

Several
of them turned and bowed to her automatically, then drew back as they realized
she was not Bixia.

But
even those few acknowledgments were enough to fill Elandra’s heart with an
unfamiliar sensation. She had found Magan waiting in her tiny tower room, newly
assigned to be her personal maid. Magan had bathed her and dressed her in a
traveling gown of stiff blue linen with a veil that fluttered now in the hot,
sticky breeze. With her hair coiffed in a complicated knot as befitted a lady,
Elandra hardly recognized herself.

For
all her initial reluctance to go, she now found her heart beating faster with
growing excitement. A new life stretched ahead of her—one of uncertainty, yes,
but also one filled with all kinds of possibilities.

She
lifted her head high and carried herself proudly, determined to act worthy of
the honor her father had bestowed on her today.

Still,
she must not forget that the imperial troops were waiting for Bixia, not her.
This parade was in her sister’s honor. Elandra must not keep anyone waiting.

One
of the porters had already taken her shabby trunk and Magan’s little cloth bag
down to be loaded on the rear elephant.

“We
must hurry,” Elandra said to Magan and hurried outside into the blazing
sunshine.

She
started down the broad white steps, her veil streaming out around her.

Shouted
commands rang out, and two hundred polished swords were drawn in unison.
Sunlight blazed off the steel. The Gialtan troops stood in their stirrups,
brandishing their scimitars. Each member of the Imperial Guard rested his sword
on the shoulder of the man to his right.

A deafening roar rose up fom the courtyard, hitting her
with a wall of noise.

Startled, Elandra stopped in her tracks about hallway down
the steps and stood there with growing dismay at this tremendous tribute. They
had mistaken her for Bixia.

The cheering bounded and rebounded oil the walls, growing
louder and louder, liven the elephants lilted their trunks to bugle.

Elandra’s face grew hot behind her veil. She raised her
hands helplessly to stop them, then glanced back over her shoulder to see if
Bixia was coming.

Her sister was nowhere in sight.

Elandra met Magan’s amazed gaze. “They think I’m Bixia. How
do I stop them?”

Magan grinned, her nut-brown face filled with deviltry. “She
ought to be out here on time to get her cheers, oughtn’t she?”

Elandra lifted her hands at the troops again, but the
cheering only swelled louder.

Exasperated, she reached for her veil clip. “As soon as
they see who I am, they’ll stop.”

“My lady, don’t!” Magan said in alarm. “You can’t unveil
out here.”

“But—”

“No! It isn’t done.”

Elandra glared at her. “I’ve gone without a veil all my
life. I’ve been seen by my father’s soldiers countless times. What difference—”

Magan gripped her hand, and her eyes were serious now with
warning. “The difference is that your father has recognized you officially
today. You are a lady now. You must act in the way of a lady.”

“But I can’t let this go on—”

“You
cannot stop it now,” Magan said. “That would embarrass everyone.”

Biting
her lip, Elandra ducked her head and hurried down the rest of the steps as
quickly as she could. She could not believe the trick of fate that had made
them mistake her for Bixia. Her father would be angry, and Hecati would be
furious.

Breathless,
she reached the elephants and glared at the bowing handlers.

Then
a herald’s trumpet rang out above the cheering, cutting it off abruptly.

Elandra
whirled around and saw the standard bearers with her father’s coat of arms
emerging from the portico. More trumpets continued to ring out in a fanfare.

Then
Albain appeared with a veiled Bixia on his arm. Her gown was of green silk
gauze, fluttering and stirring in the wind. Her veil was sheer and long enough
to be looped up over her golden hair and fastened there with jeweled pins that
winked and flashed in the sunlight.

Elandra
shrank back closer against the side of an elephant, wishing she could sink
through the ground for her mistake. She dared not even look to see what the
troops were doing.

But
as the fanfare ended from the trumpets, commands rang out a second time across
the courtyard. Elandra saw the troops draw their swords again, and again the
cheers rose up.

But
they were not as loud this time, not as heartfelt or vehement.

When
Albain and Bixia reached the foot of the steps, the cheers cut off as though in
relief.

Silence
flooded the courtyard, in its way almost as grueling as the heat.

Elandra
met Bixia’s enraged green eyes briefly, then dropped her own. She dared not
look at Hecati at all.

Beneath
her veil, she took short, shallow breaths and knew reprisals would come.

Albain’s
one good eye was squinting balefully. As the two generals dismounted and
approached side by side, he gestured for them to step back.

Wooden-faced,
they saluted and did so.

Bixia
plucked at Albain’s sleeve. “Father, you saw how they insulted me. I will not
receive them.”

He
turned his glare on her. “You will,” he growled in a low voice. “Or, by the
gods, I’ll take a strap to you. Soldiers will cheer whom they please, and you
got plenty.”

“But
it wasn’t the same. Not after she ruined everything.” Bixia swung her gaze to
Elandra. “You cheap schemer! How dare you come down before me. I’ll—”

“Compose
yourself,” Albain broke in. “Hell’s breath, Bixia, remember who you are.”

“I
am future empress,” Bixia said snappishly. “I will not be demeaned by this bastard
upstart of yours.”

Elandra’s
face flamed hot with fresh embarrassment. She stepped forward to speak, but
Bixia pointed at her.

“I
shan’t have her in my caravan. Scheming and conniving, who knows what she’ll do
next to embarrass me? Send her away, Father. I command it!”

Albain’s
face turned purple. “You command
me?”
he roared, forgetting the need for discretion. “Murdeth
and Fury, I’ll brook no such impertinence, not even from you!” Abruptly he
lowered his tone. “You are not empress yet, girl. Until the crown sits on your
head, see that you remember that.”

Bixia
stuck her nose in the air. “In two months I’ll—”

“Go
on as you are today, and I swear I’ll break off the arrangement.”

Bixia
blinked and turned pale beneath her sheer veil. She stared at him a long while,
as though to make sure he meant it. Then her gaze shifted to Elandra and filled
with tears.

“Why
do you favor her?” she asked. “Why are you so good to her and cruel to me? She
has ruined today, ruined it.”

Bixia
started to snivel, but Albain gripped her wrist and drew her close to his side.
“By the gods, you’ll stop this and compose yourself. Now! Do you hear? Start
acting like the empress you want to be. Straighten your sour face and receive
these officers properly.”

Bixia
gulped and sniffed. “Why do you scold me? Elandra is the one who has spoiled
everything.”

“Elandra,
at least, knows how to keep her poise and act properly in public,” he growled
back, making Bixia gasp.

Wide-eyed,
she gulped and straightened her shoulders.

“That’s
better.” Albain glared once again at Elandra, who hadn’t dared move, then
gestured at the two generals.