The Gods of Amyrantha (7 page)

It also boasted extensive (not to mention expensive-to-maintain) stables almost as impressive as the royal stables. The Torlenians were mad for horseracing, she soon discovered, and expected every man of substance to keep a number of thoroughbreds for just that purpose. They'd inherited, along with the vast ambassadorial palace, the Glaeban racing stables and Stellan was already receiving polite challenges on a daily basis to race his horses against other noble houses in the capital.

There were several other wives living in the seraglium, but few of them struck Arkady as being the

sort of women she might befriend. They were either privately scornful of her common-born origins, or scandalised by her much-talked-about independence. They had their own lives and concerns and weren't all that interested in welcoming a newcomer into their midst, which really didn't bother Arkady, because there wasn't one of them capable of holding an intelligent conversation in the first place.

The palace staff numbered over a hundred and was made up of a mixture of Torlenian and Glaeban Crasii and a number of human servants. Before they'd left Glaeba, Declan Hawkes, the King's Spymaster, had provided Arkady and Stellan with a comprehensive list of who, among their vast staff, was thought to be a spy, not only of Torlenia but of Caelum, Senestra, Tenacia, the Commonwealth of Elenovia, Stevania and half-a-dozen other countries who considered it prudent to know what was happening in the Glaeban embassy. Stellan had dismissed a dozen of the suspected spies on his arrival, but kept on the ones Declan was certain of. The dismissals were for show, of course. Everyone would think the new ambassador had cleaned out his palace, unaware of the other spies in his midst. It meant Stellan was now free to spread a great deal of disinformation among the remaining spies who believed they had escaped detection.

This whole business of spies and disinformation made Arkady's head ache. She had two known spies in her service: her hairdresser, a canine Crasii named Peppi, who spied for the Elenovians and a Glaeban wardrobe mistress named Natalay Wren, who was, according to Declan's report, in the pay of the Torlenians. Arkady couldn't understand why they put up with her. The woman was selling out her own country for a tidy monthly stipend. She should be beheaded for treason, in Arkady's opinion, not indulged or ignored. Arkady had made a point of telling Declan that, too, for all the good it did.

She was thinking it still, as Natalay put the finishing touches on her hair and the palace seamstress, Linnie Kirell, adjusted the hem of her gown. Arkady was being very careful of her appearance this morning. The Imperator's Consort had issued an invitation to the Glaeban Ambassador's wife to visit her in the royal seraglium.

Although hidden away by their men like valuable treasures one feared the neighbours might steal, in their own way, the women of Torlenia had power. Of a sort. It was subtle and it was usually hidden and the pinnacle of that power was the Imperator's Consort.

Arkady couldn't afford to offend her.

'Have you ever met the consort?' Arkady asked her seamstress, as the woman bit off a loose thread and then smoothed down the hem of the gown. It was made from embroidered gold cloth, exquisite in its detail and completely wasted, given that over the top of all this finery would have to go that wretched shroud.

'No, your grace,' the woman replied, standing back to admire her handiwork. 'Lady Jorgan met her, though.'

'And how did they get along — Lady Jorgan and the Imperator's Consort?'

'Not very well,' Linnie admitted. And then she smiled. 'But I'd not place too much store in that, your grace. Nobody got on very well with Lady Jorgan. Not even
Lord
Jorgan.'

Arkady frowned at the seamstress. 'I'm not sure how things were run here in the past, Linnie, but I've no wish to hear you repeating gossip.' Even as she said it, she knew she was probably making a mistake. Gossip was the lifeblood of this place. 'Unless you're certain there's some truth in it,' she amended, thinking she must sound like a flanking fool. 'Can you tell me anything
useful
about the consort?'

'She's very beautiful.'

'Has anybody actually seen her, or is that just another rumour?'

'Lady Jorgan told us as much after she first met her,' Natalay said, no doubt trying to appear more reliable than her companion. 'She also said she was foreign.'

'What nationality is she?'

'Lady Jorgan didn't say,' Natalay replied. 'Just that she was foreign.'

Arkady glanced at Linnie for confirmation but the seamstress just shrugged. 'Lady Jorgan wasn't the type to share her observations with the help, your grace.'

Get to know the servants. They'll be your greatest source of intelligence,
Declan had advised her before they left Glaeba.

What did he know?

Taking one last look in the tall polished mirror in her dressing room, Arkady decided she'd probably do. She swept up her layered skirts and turned to Natalay. 'Would you let the guards know I'm ready to leave, please?'

'Of course, your grace.'

The wardrobe mistress hurried away to do as Arkady ordered, leaving her alone with Linnie. 'Did Lady Jorgan tell you
anything
useful, Linnie?'

The seamstress pursed her lips for a moment and then nodded. 'The only other thing I remember her saying was that the Lady Chintara seemed bored.'

'Bored? By Lady Jorgan?'

'By everything,' Linnie corrected. 'Lady Jorgan was quite put out by her, I gather. They only met a couple of times, and after that she wasn't invited back to the palace. Before she could get too upset about it, though, Lord Jorgan and the Imperator had that awful row over the Chelae Islands and they were ordered out of Ramahn.' She shrugged apologetically. 'There's not much more than that I can tell you, your grace.'

'You
know
the reason our ambassador was expelled?' Arkady asked, a little concerned to think something like that was common knowledge among the servants.

Linnie smiled, leaning forward to brush a speck from the shoulder of Arkady's exquisite golden gown. 'Everybody in Ramahn knows the reason, your grace. There aren't a lot of secrets in this city.' With that warning issued, the seamstress gathered up the ubiquitous shroud to help Arkady into it.

Til
have to remember that,' Arkady replied, thinking of how many dangerous secrets she was already privy to as she helped Linnie lift the shroud over her head. Careful not to catch it in the pins holding her hair in place, the two women managed to get it on without doing any damage to their hours of hard work.

'Well, if you forget, your grace,' Linnie assured her, as she smoothed down the folds, 'someone will remind you soon enough. I can
promise
you that.'

Lady Chintara sent a carriage to collect Arkady. It was an exquisitely lacquered closed-in phaeton, drawn by two matched greys and perforated across the front of the cabin for ventilation and to allow the occupants to see out. It did neither job very well and the shroud just made it worse. Although it was still quite early in the day, encased in a full-length mantle and crammed into a closed box, Arkady was feeling quite faint by the time the carriage pulled up inside the entrance to the royal seraglium.

The door opened to a welcome gust of cooler air. By the time a step had been placed at the door of the phaeton for her to alight safely, the male coach driver had been hurried from the enclosed entrance so only the palace's female staff were on hand to greet the Glaeban ambassador's wife. Much to Arkady's delight, not one of the women was covered and as soon as the phaeton was

led away, the women swarmed around her and lifted her shroud away. Then a tall, thin woman with greying hair stepped forward and curtseyed graciously.

'Welcome, your grace,' she said in near flawless Glaeban. 'If you will follow me, please? The Lady Chintara is expecting you.'

Arkady inclined her head and followed the older woman, looking around with open curiosity as she walked through the palace seraglium. Although similar in its construction and decor, the royal seraglium was much larger and emptier than Arkady's quarters at the ambassador's palace and seemed much quieter as a result. It was also staffed — somewhat to her surprise — with the occasional male servant.

'There are men here,' she couldn't help remarking, after walking past one room where a tall and quite pleasant-looking young man, was holding forth to a group of young women seated on the floor around him, on a topic Arkady could only guess at, given they were speaking Torlenian.

'The men are blinded before being allowed to take up service in the seraglium,' the woman informed her, as if such a thing was an everyday occurrence. 'And castrated.'

'A man has to be a blind eunuch to work here?' Arkady smiled. 'I'm guessing you don't have too many volunteers.'

Her escort was not amused. 'On the contrary, your grace. To serve in the royal seraglium is an honour without peer. We select only the most worthy applicants.'

'Forgive me,' she said, wishing she'd kept her opinion to herself.
Some diplomat's wife you'll make, Arkady.
'I did not mean to give offence.'

'I am but a slave, your grace. It is not possible to offend me.'

Arkady was quite sure that wasn't the case, but she was more interested in the woman's status as a slave. Human slavery in Glaeba was rare. 'Are there many human slaves in Torlenia?'

'Quite a number,' the woman replied, looking at Arkady curiously. 'Why?'

'In Glaeba, only the Crasii are permitted to be enslaved. We count human life to be more valuable than that of an animal and believe freedom is an inherent right of all men.'

The Torlenian woman frowned as she walked. 'As do we, your grace, but neither do we have slums where the dispossessed and homeless gather for cold comfort while they slowly starve to death on the streets of our wealthiest cities.'

The woman's hostility was astonishing, all the more surprising, given she was a slave. 'What are you implying?' Arkady asked. 'That slavery is your idea of a
welfare
system?'

'Only the poor, the disenfranchised, those with a debt they cannot meet or a debt to society they must repay are enslaved, your grace,' the woman said as they reached the end of a long tiled hall and stepped into another vast chamber. 'Slavery in Torlenia means these people are cared for, fed, and given an opportunity to redeem themselves through honest hard work. If you wish to call that a welfare system, then I suppose you're right. It may not suit your delicate Glaeban sensibilities, but at least we
have
a system, which is more than you can say for your country.'

Arkady stopped and stared at the woman, a little appalled at her outburst. Such outspokenness was completely unexpected. Obviously the Torlenian definition of slavery varied a great deal from the Glaeban idea of the practice. Why hadn't Declan warned her about
that?

'You'll have to forgive Nitta's passion on the subject of slavery, your grace,' a voice said from behind Arkady. 'She fancies herself something of a champion of injustice and doesn't get nearly enough opportunities to vent her spleen.'

Arkady spun around to find a woman who could only be the Imperator's Consort standing behind her.

'My lady!' she said, bending in a deep curtsey.

As she rose, her first thought was that Lady Jorgan had been right. The Imperator's Consort
was
foreign. In this land of delicate women, dusky skin and dark eyes she was as tall as Arkady, blue-eyed, blonde and statuesque. She seemed to be about thirty, but her skin was so flawless, it was hard to pinpoint her exact age. Her Glaeban was perfect, her bearing effortlessly elegant, her white, sleeveless gown stylish but simple. Arkady felt overdressed and ungainly beside her.

'I heard rumours you were quite the Glaeban beauty, Lady Desean,' the consort remarked. 'I see they were not exaggerated.'

'You flatter me, my lady.'

'Such was not my intention. Leave us, Nitta.' With a final glare at Arkady, the slave bowed silently and withdrew, leaving the women alone. 'I also hear you're very well educated,' Lady Chintara added, indicating with her arm that Arkady should accompany her to the couches on the other side of the vast room. Through the open doors on the other side of the hall she could see part of a lush garden, and the hall had a fountain trickling down from an outlet near the garden doors 'Perhaps that's why Nitta felt the urge to berate you. Such a tongue lashing would have been wasted on your predecessor.'

Arkady wasn't sure how to answer that. 'Yes ... she's very outspoken for a ...'

'Slave?' the consort finished for her with a faint smile.

'Actually, I was going to say for a woman,' Arkady corrected, falling into step beside the consort, a little surprised by how pleasantly the woman was behaving. She'd heard Lady Chintara could be a terror. 'I was under the impression education was something denied the women of Torlenia.'

'Then you are as sadly misinformed about our country as Nitta is about yours. What exactly is it that you are educated in, your grace?'

'I have a doctorate in history from the University of Lebec'

Chintara seemed amused. 'History? You have no history beyond the last Cataclysm, have you? Why would you want to study such a thing?'

'In truth? I had no desire to be a historian at the outset. I wanted to study medicine, and become a physician like my father, but I'm a woman so that meant they wouldn't accept me into any other faculty.'