A Posse of Princesses (30 page)

When she finally woke for good, Sidal was
there. Someone had brought her a little desk, at which she sat,
that familiar, dear little strand of hair falling over her forehead
as she worked at copying something from a book.

Rhis watched her for a while, just enjoying
lying still without having to do anything. But slowly the questions
floated up from the murk of memory, like little bubbles when water
begins to boil—and then they began to pop.

“Sidal,” she said.

Her sister glanced up, smiled, and dropped
her quill. “You look much better now,” she said. “How about a real
bath? There’s one right through that doorway. It’s a sunken pool,
big enough to swim in!”

“Oh, that sounds so good.” Rhis got out of
bed. She was slightly dizzy but otherwise felt so much better.

Sidal kept up a calm, pleasant stream of
chatter as Rhis got a bath, one of her dresses to wear (Sidal said,
“We had your clothes brought here from Eskanda”), and a good,
hearty meal.

When she was done, Sidal said, “Do you want
to sleep some more?”

Rhis considered. “I think I’m all slept out.
Now I’m full of questions. How long has it been, anyway? Where is
everyone else? Um, where am
I
?”

Sidal touched her fingers. “You’ve been
sleeping for four days—this is the morning of the fifth. Most of
your ‘others’ are here, having arrived yesterday. Except for Lios,
who rode ahead, and arrived the day before. ‘Here’ is Queen
Briath’s palace in Hai Taresal, capital of Vesarja.”

“Oh,” Rhis said. She made a face. “The queen
who hates Dandiar—ah, Lios?”

Sidal said, “What the queen thinks or doesn’t
think is her business to tell. But we are her guests. And in case
our own parents are your next question, yes, they do know you are
here.”

“Uh oh.”

Sidal’s smile was ironic. “I am here to see
that in all the questions of magic and state that have been flying
about, you yourself are not forgotten.” Sidal tipped her head. “So
far, everyone’s been fairly reasonable. Despite that very close
call.”

Rhis smacked her hands up to her forehead. “I
can’t believe it. I hoped if I slept long enough, that whole thing
about the diamond would turn into a dream. But I really did steal
it, didn’t I? And it was the magical protection of a
whole
kingdom
?”

Sidal nodded once at the end of each
question, and Rhis groaned, hands still over her eyes.

Sidal leaned forward, forearms on her knees.
“There are things you’d better know before your interview with the
queen.”

“Interview with the queen?” Rhis repeated
faintly.

Sidal gave another of those firm single nods.
“Rhis, you girls didn’t just catch the attention of all the local
rulers with your mad dash, you yourself managed to catch the eye of
every mage within a month’s hard travel.”

Rhis moaned from behind her hands.

“Now. Do you want the bad news first, or the
good news?”

“There’s
more
bad news?”

“I’ll take that as a ‘bad news first.’ Unless
you’re not feeling ready?”

Rhis sighed, and dropped her hands into her
lap. “I supposed I’ll just sound sulky if I say I’m never going to
be ready. I feel fine, Sidal. Go ahead. Get the worst over
quick.”

“Well, you did manage to resolve the state
question very neatly, at least. Everyone attests to it except for
Princess Iardith, and, of course, her father. But since the King of
Damatras upheld what everyone said, that’s that. The biggest
question is the magic aspect. Now. The bad news is, you somehow
discovered one of the old Singing Diamonds, left over from the
ancient days. The mage council has been seeking those and trying to
get rid of them, one by one, for centuries. To be fair to the King
of Damatras, he didn’t know he had one—none of his immediate
ancestors did. They don’t know anything about magic. They don’t
even like magic. And they didn’t have to learn about it, because
they had this very, very powerful protection. Understand so
far?”

Rhis gave a cautious nod.

“The reason a single object could contain so
many powerful spells is that the Singing Diamonds seem almost
alive. Some think they
are
alive, in a way impossible for us
humans to easily define. So the mages have been collecting them,
one by one, for many, many years. They replace the protections, and
send the stone back through the World Gate to another world where
such things are more common—and can be dealt with. Understand so
far?”

“Yes.”

“Then back to us. That stone had been atop
the tower in Damatras for hundreds of years, and it was . . . well,
it was bored. It wanted to be doing more interesting things than
just protecting a kingdom. So when you came by, it did its best to
get into your pocket, and it tried to get you to run away with it.
Am I right?”

Flee! Flee!
Rhis rubbed her forehead.
“Yes.”

“It wanted you long enough for it to be
carried to someone more interesting—someone with a lot farther
reach in magical power. Someone . . . like the Emperor of Sveran
Djur, who—the council thinks—may have already found one of those
stones once. It would explain his incredible powers. What we don’t
know is if he controls the stone—or if the stone controls him.”

“It was trying to control me,” Rhis said.

Sidal had been watching her closely. She
said, “But you managed to fight off its effects. Not many can.
Yuzhyu knew enough not to touch it. She said she almost lost
herself in just the few moments she held your hand to keep you from
falling off the bridge.”

Rhis let out a cry of alarm. “But what about
that Emperor? Is he on his way here?”

“No. Now we can get to the good news. Your
young friend Princess Yuzhyu, who is a very smart girl, figured out
what that thing was, and she threw a protection around the stone,
and just in time. See, when you held the stone over the chasm, it
was fighting hard to stay in control of you. It fought so hard that
every mage within five kingdoms in any direction ‘heard’ its cry in
their scry stones. We could all feel its power, but we couldn’t
tell what it was, or where it was.”

Rhis clasped her hands together tightly.

“Yuzhyu shrouded it just in time, because the
council all agree that they sensed the Emperor using his own stone
to seek this one. He would love, very much, to have two of those
stones—if he can master them, and they don’t master him.”

Rhis shivered.

“And now we come to you. Who managed to keep
your will intact.”

Rhis said, “Just barely.”

“And that despite the fact that you have no
training. Some think that having no training helped you. I don’t
think that’s quite true, but either way the matter remains that you
have an enormous potential for magic. Yet you are quite ignorant.
If you’d known what that stone was, you would have gotten off that
roof as fast as possible. The mages are very worried, let me tell
you.”

Rhis was still thinking about Yuzhyu. Now she
understood all those images, ending with the huge wave swamping a
line of battle ships: those were the stone trying to lure Yuzhyu.
“It promised to kill any enemies that came to Ndai,” she
whispered.

“You
heard
that?” Sidal asked. “Oh
yes, you’ve more ability than ever we thought.” She patted the
front of her robe, grinning. “That’s our family!”

Rhis said dismally, “So what, are they going
to put me in mage school?”

“Not unless you want to study magic,” Sidal
said.

“No.” Rhis wrung her hands. “You know I
admire you ever so much, Sidal. But the thought of doing magic
spells all day, not having music, and gardens, and plays, and,
well,
people
—”

Sidal patted the air between them. “Calm
down, calm down. Papa and Mama are keeping the promise they made
when you were first tested: nobody is going to force you to do
anything. Including becoming a mage, just because you have an
enormous talent for it. History is far too full of disgruntled
mages who were forced into magical studies because they had the
talent for it—and ended up doing some terrible things.”

“I don’t think I’d turn evil,” Rhis said.
“But I don’t think I’d be happy.”

“I agree,” Sidal said. “And so I told them,
and they accepted it. The question is really about any children you
might have some day.” And at Rhis’s uncomprehending look, “If you
were to, say, marry a prince, and your children have this ability,
including one who might be picked as heir—”

“Oh,” Rhis said, feeling prickly heat at
those words
marry a prince
. Because she didn’t think of any
prince, her first thought was of Prince Lios who had once been
Dandiar the Scribe. She forced her mind back to the subject. “I get
it. This is about the problem of magic and politics, and no ruler
can be a mage. What did they decide about that?”

“They didn’t. That’s where we are now. There
are many debates going on—the queen of Ndai insisting that it makes
sense for queens, and kings, to know how to protect their kingdoms,
and others arguing about too much power in the hands of a single
person. The Emperor of Sveran Djur being the ready example of just
how bad an idea that can be.”

“Ndai’s ruler knows magic because they’re an
island?” Rhis asked.

“That, but also because they are the island
closest to Sveran Djur. Everyone agrees that Ndai needs a strong
magical defense as well as a strong navy.”

Rhis brought her knees up under her skirt and
hugged them against her chest. “So what will happen now?”

“What happens next,” Sidal said, “is your
interview with the Council, and then with Vesarja’s queen.”

Rhis hardly had time to feel the constriction
of worry around her heart at that before an impatient knock at the
door brought Sidal to her feet. “That has to be Shera,” she said.
“This must be about the fifth time. Today.” She looked over her
shoulder. “I take it you feel ready for visitors?”

“Oh, please let her in,” Rhis exclaimed,
leaping up.

Sidal laughed as she opened the door. Shera
raced impatiently in.

“Rhis!” she cried in a tragic voice. “It
would have been
too horrible
if they didn’t let me see you
before I have to go home—”

Sidal called over her shoulder, “I’ll tell
them you’re feeling better, Rhis. Stay here, mind.”

“Stay here?” Rhis asked, but her sister was
gone. “Am I a prisoner?”

Shera slammed the door. “There!
Now
we
can talk. You’re not a prisoner, but the queen won’t let Lios come
see you until she—oh, never mind that. Rhis, I have to go home
tonight! Isn’t that horrid?” She flung herself face down on the
bed, her ringlets wild.

Rhis had gotten so used to seeing Shera with
her hair pulled back into the simple braid she almost did not
recognize her sister-by-marriage. Shera wore one of her prettiest
dresses, her hair dressed beautifully, with ribbons binding up
curling locks.

She raised a tearful face.

Rhis said, “Sidal told me you got back
yesterday. Is Glaen angry with you again?”

“Yes. No—yes. Oh, I have to tell you
everything.” Shera flopped onto her back across the bed, her feet
in their embroidered slippers kicking her lacy petticoats up and
down. “I’m so mad I can hardly think! Glaen and I came to an
agreement on the ride, and everything was
soooo
nice. If you
didn’t count Lios looking all sad and grim before he just plain
left us to ride ahead. And Iardith being
absolutely hideous
to everyone. Especially Andos, who is the sweetest fellow—if you
don’t mind a sword master’s son. But Glaen and I talked it all
over, and we agreed that Rastian really didn’t count—I was far too
young, and had no experience yet. Of course I’d fall for the first
familiar fellow I saw.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, we arrived yesterday—and who do you
think was right there in front, waiting?” She did not give Rhis
time to guess, but wailed, “Rastian!”

“Oh.” Rhis winced. “Uh oh.”

“Glaen and I were holding hands, see, and
well, he got all formal and distant and just horrid. Called me a
heartless flirt, said he couldn’t trust my word. Demanded to know
this and that, but would he listen? No! I tried to explain, but he
heard everything wrong, and finally I told him that Glaen and I
both thought he was a blockhead—which wasn’t true, I was just so
mad—and
then
he ran off to challenge Glaen to a duel!”

“No!”

“Oh, yes. So there I was, yelling like a wet
cat, and Rastian full of
honor
and
my promised word
and all that rot, and Glaen got ever so nasty, and started making
jokes out of every silly, pompous thing Rastian said, and they were
about to get into a fight before they could even go to their rooms
to fetch their swords, but then Lios came in and shut them up like
that.” She clapped her hands.

“What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything. He just said—you know
how nice he is—that the west tower was where they used to keep the
political prisoners, and the two were welcome to move in and
continue their quarrel. He’d provide whatever weapons they wanted,
from pin-whistles to arbalests.”

Rhis gulped on a laugh. “Pin-whistles?”

“That’s what he said. Everyone was in there
by then. He told us about a couple of dukes two hundred years ago
who each claimed to be experts in playing the pin-whistle, and they
had this duel—well, anyway, everyone was laughing too hard by then,
and then he took them all downstairs for iced punch.”

“Phew!”

“Rastian said I wasn’t worth a pin-whistle,
which I think quite horrid, especially as he’s to lead the escort
home, and Glaen said
he
wasn’t worth a pin-whistle, and when
Lios showed up and said he could call for the escort to the tower,
they both stomped off in different directions. I was crying, and
Breggo escorted me the rest of the way, and sat next to me while we
had the ice, and was so nice to me. I mean, he’d been so kind all
along, despite his being disappointed about Taniva.”