The Seer King: Book One of the Seer King Trilogy (37 page)

The Golden Helms were ordered to full readiness for the conference, to provide security and glitter. Two of the city’s other parade units, the Nineteenth Foot and the Second Heavy Cavalry, also had leaves canceled and all men ordered to stand by.

We would be spread most thinly, even so. The people of Nicias pride themselves on never being surprised by anything. But this appearance of Chardin Sher, the first time he had deigned to visit the capital, set the populace atremble. His route from the docks to the palace he’d been assigned by the Rule of Ten was laid out in the broadsides, and every window along the procession sold for a good price in silver. The streets would be jammed on that day with spectators. Nicias planned to give itself a holiday when the Kallian arrived.

“Is it not interesting,” Tenedos observed, “how the masses will flock around a man they know to be strong, even though he could well be their enemy in a month or a year.” He then added that he himself hoped to meet Chardin Sher. When I asked him if this didn’t mean he was no different from the rest of us, he looked angry for a moment, then chuckled. “That is why I like you, Damastes. You serve to remind me I’m just as prone to the passions and angers of the moment as anyone.”

Now I was very busy, and Marán almost, but not quite, was put to the back of my mind. I had B Troop out half a dozen times riding the back streets that paralleled Chardin Sher’s route — we were to be the reaction element if there were any problems. Fortunately, none were anticipated, except what could happen if the crowd pressed too hard in its enthusiasm. We received no word from the wardens of plots or anyone intending harm to the Kallian. But to make sure of his safety we would have the Nineteenth Foot along the parade route, and the cavalry units standing by.

During the conference we would also be called to add glamour to the various social events planned for Chardin Sher and the others in every capacity from door openers to escorts. I felt less soldier than body servant, and was reminded just how different the Helms were from the Lancers by the fact my fellow officers and soldiers were delighted by what was going on.

The two biggest events were a great masked ball, to be held shortly after his arrival, and a banquet the night the conference was scheduled to end.

The day before Chardin Sher’s arrival, while I was busy grooming that misbegotten vile-tempered black my duties insisted I ride, while Lucan whickered jealously in the background, a uniformed equerry delivered a sealed note.

I should have told the messenger to wait for a moment while I jotted a quick note of regret. This was not only the path of common sense, but what duty required.

Instead, I told the man I’d reply within the day, and, before the noon meal, asked the adjutant, Captain of the Upper Half Lardier, if there was a possibility I could be excused on the night in question.

He glowered at me. “Captain, if you were a fresh legate I might expect such a question. But from a troop commander? I hardly think — ”

Before he could continue, I handed him the invitation. Instantly his manner changed.

“Ah. Forgive me. I see why you consulted me on the matter. Certainly the Agramónte and Lavedans are important families, and the last thing we would wish to do is give the slightest cause for offense. But I must consult the domina.”

He disappeared toward Domina Lehar’s office, and was back before we’d been called to the table. “The domina quite understands the matter, and gives his full approval. He would only ask you present his compliments to the Count Lavedan when next you see him.”

I blandly assured Captain Lardier I would do just that the next time the count and I were socializing. I felt guilty, but only for about three seconds.

That night, in the mess, though, a complication arose. Captain Lardier, as I’d already learned, was a gossip of the first water, and so the fact that I had an exalted friend was known to my fellow officers.

I’d gotten myself my usual before-dinner drink, a glass of iced lime juice with a sprinkling of sugar, and was about to join Legate Petre where he sat reading, when I heard a burst of laughter and my name mentioned. I looked across the room, where stood Legate Nexo with a group of his friends, all equally snobbish in their attitudes.

“Captain á Cimabue,” he said, noting he’d drawn my attention and smiling nastily, “I understand you’ve been most fortunate in being favored by a certain countess. Might I ask what … hidden talents you have, since none of us have even been granted a smile from the beautiful one.”

I certainly did not need a rumor like
that
to begin spreading. I set my drink down, and walked over to the legate, my face set hard. He tried to keep his smile, but it slowly vanished the closer I got. There was some merit to the reputation Cimabuans have as impetuous brawlers, after all.

My hand shot out, and he flinched, no doubt expecting to be struck. Instead, I plucked the glass he was holding from his hand, and sniffed at it.

“Legate, I perceive you have been drinking. Otherwise, I know you would not have slandered one of this city’s most reputable families.”

This was an angle of attack he was not expecting.

“Captain, I — ”

“And now you argue with me?” I turned and caught the attention of Nexo’s troop commander, Captain of the Lower Half Abercorn, senior to me with more time in grade.

“Captain, if I may have a moment of your time?”

Abercorn walked over.

“Captain, this legate of yours had the temerity to insult a friend of mine, Countess Agramónte and Lavedan, in the presence of these other officers. He is either a fool or a drunkard. I cannot, of course, call this lower-ranking man to account for his words, nor would I sully my blade with his blood willingly.

“I could call for him to appear before a court of honor. But considering the legate’s youth and foolishness, might I suggest you impose a more fitting penalty for a stupid boy?”

Nexo was purple with rage and fright. He knew better than to say anything. I was beginning to enjoy myself. Captain Abercorn, not known for being a swift thinker, stammered, then said, of course, of course, this could not be permitted, and did I have a thought as to what might be appropriate?

“I do indeed, sir. Perhaps you might bar him from the mess for a month, and, since he evidently has a problem with the grape, from drink for a suitably longer time. If nothing else, it will reduce his mess bills.”

“So ordered, sir. Legate, you heard what the captain said. Begone with you, and I never wish to hear of another such incident as long as you care to remain with the Helms!”

That took care of Legate Nexo. The rumor might persist, but it would travel well underground.

I still would rather have smashed his face in, but this more subtle army way of punishing him would be satisfactory. The only reason it had worked was, of course, because of the fear all these social climbers who called themselves soldiers had of offending a powerful family like the Agramóntes or Lavedans.

So I was going to play the fool after all. I thought about what sort of costume the fool should wear, and, for the first time in my life, had to deal with the meaningless but worrisome trivia the very rich fill their lives with.

I could not attend in uniform, of course. I thought of Vachan, but that might trivialize the monkey god I revered. Legate Yonge had a simple solution: dig out the rags I’d used to disguise myself as a Kaiti and wear them. I considered that, but my skin crawled — they were my enemies, and I would not deign to ennoble them in any way. Lance Karjan, who was definitely rising above himself, suggested I go naked and back into the room.

“What would that represent?”

“Why, a breadroll, sir.”

I sent him to the stables and went to Tenedos for advice. He was also going, with Rasenna. I’d spent a bit of time around her by then, and, since I never paid much mind to people’s reputation in any area other than honesty, was beginning to like her. She had a well-honed wit, and specialized in skewering the pretensions of the nobility who swarmed in the capital.

Tenedos said his outfit had been decided on already by the baroness: They’d be wearing furs and carrying clubs as the First Man and Woman.

“Why don’t you wear peasant rags,” he said, “with a yellow silk cord around your neck? Then look to see how many people recognize the costume, and you’ll know how much of a penetration the Tovieti have made.” I’d told him, of course, about the Marchioness Fenelon and her golden bauble, and he said he wasn’t surprised. I thought his suggestion interesting, but no more.

Other ideas were considered, but discarded as absurd, expensive, or impractical. I guess half of the nobility of Dara was going through the same pangs — the expensive dressmakers’ shops were packed, and the carriages of their customers blocked the streets outside.

Finally, I settled on the role of a wandering begger-monk, which required no more costume than a baggy orange robe, a rope around the waist, a hood, and begging bowl with hook to hang on the rope. I added a half-mask and was content.

• • •

Marán came down the stairs toward me, and I forgot whatever weak witticism about needing but a bowl of rice before my prayers.

A sea monster’s evil visage covered her head, except for nose and lips, and wide, dark lenses hid her eyes. There was a small hole at the back to allow her hair to fall free.

The mask flowed into the rest of her outfit, a shimmering light green fabric that might have been silk but was not that clung to her body from ankle to head. It was slit to her upper thigh, so every step she took showed silken skin.

It hugged her form so closely it was obvious she wore nothing under it. I could see her nipples under the garment, and I felt my blood race. My reaction was obvious, because I saw her nipples firm and rise slightly. I was grateful robes hid my own body’s response.

The dress had a subtle pattern that suggested the scales of a serpent. The outfit was magical, and I mean that literally. With each step she took, the colors of the dress moved as a snake slithers, coils running up to her shoulders, then back down.

She stopped a few steps from me.

“Well?”

“Madam the Sea Serpent is the loveliest thing on all the oceans,” I said. “Count Lavedan’s sailors are very lucky real sea snakes aren’t so intoxicating, or he would have a great number of ships drifting on the oceans after their crews jump overboard.”

“I thank you, sir.” Her expression became serious. “How-ever, one request. I do not care to hear the name of the count my husband for the remainder of the evening.”

That was certainly acceptable to
me.

Marán pouted. “This damned business of his in Cicognara. He could have sent an agent, but he had to go see for himself. I think he didn’t want me to be able to go to this ball.

“But there is always a way, isn’t there?”

“As milady has said, we are not discussing a certain shipowner, so I cannot answer.”

She laughed, a silver glissade of loveliness.

“Your imagination frightens me,” I said, once more studying her costume.

“
Anyone
can imagine,” she said. “
I
admire the two who were able to build it. First my seamstress, then the seer who put the motion spell on it.

“It will live but the evening,” she went on. “Then it shall be nothing but another dress. Not that it’ll matter — I’ll probably tear the stitches getting out of it anyway.”

I’d heard the expression being sewn into a garment, but never imagined it could be real. I did not want to know what that dress cost — no doubt my father could have bought an entire season’s seeds for our estate and not spent as much. But the Agramóntes could afford any extravagance.

“Shall we go?” I suggested. “You might bring a wrap, although I hate to ruin the effect of your costume. Since we’ll be out of doors it might be chilly.”

“Already provided for as part of the spell,” she said smugly. “Besides, if I get cold I’m sure there’s room for two under those robes of yours, most reverend sir.”

• • •

In those days the Water Palace belonged to the Rule of Ten, although it was only used for ceremonial occasions. Now I am very familiar with its every garden, pool, and room, since it became mine not long afterward. But this was the first time I’d been there, and so was in awe when we stepped out of Marán’s brougham in its courtyard.

It sits on a hill about three miles from the center of Nicias, in a 100-acre park. One branch of the Latane River flows close to it, and water is pumped from the river up into an artificial lake above the palace, where it is filtered until it is as clear as a mountain stream. Then it’s permitted to run down the hill in over a hundred different stone creeks that feed fountains, purl over small waterfalls or swirl in ponds where multicolored fish swim, and then flow back into the Latane. Other pools are heated by Nicias’s omnipresent gas supply to various temperatures, and are intended for bathing.

The palace is actually a series of buildings cascading down this hill, each appearing separate but all connected through underground passageways.

There are open pavilions, gazebos, and hideaways; the palace is perfect for everything from a secret lovers’ meeting to a Grand Ball such as the one we attended.

I was right when I thought all of Nicias’s upper class would attend — they were all there that night, and their costumes dazzled. Marán was watched and commented on more than most, but then, she most likely would have stood out if she’d been wearing my monk’s robes.