The Usurper's Crown (49 page)

“Yes,” said the sorcerer at last. “It is enough.” He turned to the skinny official. “Release Her Imperial Majesty.”

The skinny official bowed immediately and deeply. He pulled out his ring of keys and unlocked Medeoan’s shackles. She stood, letting the chains fall rattling to the floor without looking at them. They were beneath her notice, as was the raw chafing on her wrists.

“If Her Imperial Majesty will follow me.” The sorcerer bowed, although not as deeply as the skinny official.

Medeoan nodded. She hoped her face was strong, for she did not trust her voice. Her body felt weak, weak from hunger and thirst, from fear and relief, and from the working that had passed through her.

The sorcerer straightened up and paced through the door. Medeoan followed, and the soldiers formed up at her back.

Medeoan knew from childhood lessons that the Heart of the World was laid out in a pattern of nine squares containing five palaces. Each of the four outer palaces was surrounded by four walls, and had two adjoining gardens. One palace was for the imperial women, one was for the high-level administrators and bureaucrats. Another was for foreign ambassadors and hostage guests. The fourth was for the Dowager Empress and her family.

The fifth palace waited at the center of the great complex. This was the true Heart, the home of the emperor, who was “the Heart of Heaven and Earth,” and the Imperial Protectors, the Nine Elders. It was toward this palace that the sorcerer led her. The final yellow gate opened for them and they stepped out into a courtyard so huge that Medeoan was willing to swear it could have held all of Vyshtavos and still had room left over. Across the expanse of pale sandstone, Medeoan saw the scarlet-and-emerald wings of the Heart spreading out so far she could not take them in with a single glance. In the center rose a great, gilded tower with more windows than she could easily count looking out across the land of Hung Tse.

Medeoan tried to keep her composure. She worked hard not to gape at the pillars of carnelian and jade that flanked the palace’s entranceway. More pillars, these scarlet with gilded tops and bases, held up the soaring golden roof. Instead of tapestries, the broad hall was hung with silken banners. Some had been painted with images of the four protectors: the dragon, the phoenix, the unicorn and the tortoise. Others carried pictograms woven together so fancifully they could not be anything but spells. More silk covered the polished floor they walked. Beneath the silk, the wood was so dark it could not have been anything but lacquered mahogany.

They did not stop at any of the doors they passed. None of the guards in their shimmering black armor made any move as they passed.

The hall ended at a gate of carved wood that had been polished until it shone like silk. Medeoan’s eyes automatically traced the carving. She found the spells woven into the carving and knew that despite its delicate appearance, this gate was stronger than any she had yet passed through.

Before the gate stood a single figure. Medeoan thought it was a man, but it was difficult to tell. The figure wore a long, enveloping robe of deep blue embroidered all over with sinuous dragons of so many colors that they dazzled Medeoan’s eyes. More dragons covered his folded hands. Curving lines and graceful clouds had been tattooed all across his face, turning his skin into a living mask. It was by these signs that Medeoan knew she stood before the Minister of Air.

Her escort knelt, pressing their hands and their foreheads against the floor. Medeoan remained standing. Properly, the minister should have knelt to her. The fact he remained standing sent a shiver of warning through her. All was not going smoothly yet.

“If Her Imperial Majesty will consent to come with me,” said the minister in perfect High Isavaltan. He had a rich, mellifluous voice that nonetheless set Medeoan’s skin to pricking. Even in his words there was an undercurrent of power, and he was but one of nine.

“Lead on,” said Medeoan stiffly. Hunger and uncertainty both gnawed at her. What manner of reception would she have beyond this deceptive gate? How would she be able to stand up to it?

The Minister of Air turned and bowed to the gate, holding his hands out so his left hand covered his right fist. At this gesture, the gate pulled open of its own accord. The minister stepped through, without looking back to see if Medeoan followed. Medeoan straightened her shoulders and walked past her still-kneeling escort into the audience chamber.

Like everything else about the Heart of the World, the audience chamber had been built on a grand scale. Life-sized statues of the gods and the powers with their swords and spears raised, or their arms lifted to bar the entrance of any unwelcome thing, stood guard between elaborately carved pillars of cinnabar. At the center of the chamber rose a dais with ten stone steps. The emperor himself sat on a simple platform of lacquered wood. His robe was unadorned saffron and his hair was rolled high on his head and lacquered until it shone like the platform on which he sat. His skin was clear brown and his eyes black, and he was younger than Medeoan had thought he would be, almost as young as she. Beside him stood a man in white with his hands neatly folded. This was the Imperial Voice, Medeoan knew. The emperor could never be heard to speak by any other, lest his words be captured and used to weave a spell against him.

Five steps below the emperor stood the remaining eight of the Nine Elders.

Medeoan swallowed the temptation to giggle nervously. At least they took her seriously. Avanasy had told her that the way one measured how seriously Hung Tse regarded a threat was to see how many of the Nine Elders stood between the emperor and any ambassador or messenger. All nine were seldom present at once.

One minister for each of the five elements, Medeoan remembered; earth, air, fire, water and metal. One for each of the directions; north, south, east and west. The emperor himself was the fifth direction; center.

So, as the Minister of Air mounted the dais to stand with his colleagues and turn toward her, the whole world faced Medeoan.

Mindful of her position as an unwelcome guest, Medeoan folded her hands over her breast and reverenced deeply to the assemblage in front of her.

“I am most grateful to my Brother Emperor for receiving me into his Heart,” she said in her best court manner. Her words echoed briefly around the still chamber, and were quickly swallowed by the vast space.

The emperor nodded and gestured to his Voice.

“I greet my Sister Empress, and I ask her to accept my sorrow and deep respect for her departed parents.”

Medeoan reverenced again. “My thanks to my Brother Emperor.”

“Your refreshment has been arranged for. Please, take your ease and eat and drink.”

At those words, Medeoan almost collapsed with relief. But she forced herself to remain standing while silent servitors in black robes with white hems and cuffs swept forward, bringing with them a chair and table of carved wood. Still others laid out a tray covered with small bowls of cold dainties, and a ceramic beaker of clear wine and another of water, and a pair of small cups to accompany the drinks. A maid bowed before Medeoan, offering a bowl of steaming water and a clean towel.

All this was done under the eyes of the emperor and the Nine Elders. Medeoan’s eyes narrowed. This had the feel of a subtle insult somehow, but she could not unearth its meaning. So, she rinsed her hands and dabbed them dry. She sat in the presented chair, and ate from each of the bowls. It was all she could do not to fall upon the food like a dog, but a lifetime of training helped her keep her dignity.

“Again, I thank my Brother Emperor,” she said when she could make herself stop eating. “The courtesies of the Heart of the World are as legendary as its wealth. Now I see those legends spoke nothing but the purest truth.”

The emperor nodded briefly and turned to his Voice again. Medeoan saw his hand move swiftly, making some sign or signal that the Voice might interpret.

“I wonder what grave circumstances have occurred that cause one of my Sister Empress’s station to be wandering alone and in common garb in the open streets of the city.”

Here it was. Here was where she had to pull her mind together. She’d had plenty of time on the voyage and wandering the streets to think of what to say, and now was her time to speak.

Medeoan rose to her feet. The eyes of all Nine of the Elders tracked her as she did.

“It has been said, and wisely, that the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” said Medeoan, pitching her voice to carry. The room would hear her, the emperor would hear her. She would make them listen. “I do not pretend that there has not long been great trouble between Isavalta and Hung Tse. My Brother feels we have wronged him, and we feel that my Brother has wronged us. This is ever the way of Empire.” Father had spoken those words, but he had said them to the ambassador from Hastinapura. Medeoan had sat at his side that day, still and quiet, and wishing she was somewhere else. “But when a common threat arises, it is also the way of the wise in the empire to set aside reckoning for those wrongs and attend to the business of survival.”

The emperor’s eyes narrowed, and he gestured to his Voice.

“Do you say there is a threat to Hung Tse?”

“I do.”

“And the name of this threat?”

“Hastinapura.”

Much to Medeoan’s consternation, the Nine Elders all laughed. Even the emperor smiled.

“That there is danger to the south of our borders is not news,” said the Voice. “Perhaps it is because our Sister Empress is so young she finds it noteworthy.”

Medeoan forced herself to wait until the last of the laughter had died away. “The danger of a bear sleeping in its den is far different from the danger of a bear hunting and hungry.”

“You say that Hastinapura plans to attack us?”

“They seek to use treachery to overthrow Isavalta, with whom they have a treaty. If this is accomplished, will they leave at peace Hung Tse with whom they have an active quarrel? Kacha …” She stumbled over the name. “… has broken the treaty my father entered into with the bonds of our marriage. He is supported by powerful magics and more powerful lies. Because of them, my own lords may not be trusted. But,” she raised her finger, “long is the memory of Hung Tse, and subtle are the ways of my Brother Emperor and his Protectors. If we together end this ignoble and unclean overthrow of the right order, the benefits to both our lands will be manifold.”

The emperor and the Nine Elders were silent for a long time. Medeoan’s heart beat hard in her chest, driven by uncertainty. Did they believe? Did they hear the promise in that last statement?

At last, the emperor waved his hand to his Voice.

“But none of this explains why my sister has come here alone and in such disguise.”

For which there was no choice but to lie. She could not have them know that Isavalta had already fallen. “There are some matters that may be spoken of only between princes. What messenger could I now trust with such a letter? Who else’s magics could I safely employ? The efficiency and perception of the Heart of the World are known to all; I knew I would be brought before my Brother Emperor before it was too late.”

Silence again, and she and the emperor looking across a gulf into each other’s eyes. She felt a sudden stab of envy for her “brother,” comfortable on his dais surrounded by advisors he could trust.
One day
, she tried to tell herself.
One day, it shall be so with me
.

Then, the emperor turned away, making signs to his Voice. Medeoan wished fervently her tutors had thought to teach her this language of the emperor’s hand, so that she might know for certain what was being said.

The Voice spoke. “I hear the words of my Sister Empress of Isavalta and they are grave and worthy of much thought. I ask that she accept the hospitality of the Heart of the World while I take council with the Nine Elders so that I may give to her a worthy answer.”

Hospitality. A bed, a bath, a true meal. Medeoan kept her face still and solemn. “I accept willingly. I only ask that my Brother Emperor understand that this matter is most urgent, and delay for leisurely debate only allows the treacherous to further their plans.”

“I assure my sister that I am quite aware of the urgency of her words, and she will not have to wait long for my answer.”

Medeoan reverenced, and the emperor bowed in acknowledgment. The Minister of Air left his fellows and walked her back to the inner gate. All the time, she felt the eyes of the others on her, and she could almost hear the air whispering around her. What were they thinking? What were they planning? Medeoan’s jaw tightened. She needed to find out.

Medeoan expected to be conducted to the foreigners’ palace, but instead, she was taken to the Palace of the Autumn, and there was greeted by the dowager empress, Dieu Han, as soon as she stepped through the gilded doors.

“Ah! My Daughter, how pale you look! It is a shame upon my son and my house that he left you talking so long!” She wagged her head to express the strength of her emotion. “Come, come, let me show you your rooms. Let me summon your attendants. You must be faint from all your trials!”

Or, at least, that was what Medeoan could make out from her speech. The woman talked fast and moved constantly, and if she was old enough to have mothered the emperor, she did not look it. Her face appeared only gently lined and her hair was as black as his. She looked more like his sister than his mother, and Medeoan found herself wondering if the woman was a sorceress. She did not know. She could not remember her father, or anyone else, talking about the dowager.

Dieu Han took Medeoan’s arm with comfortable familiarity and steered her through the scarlet-and-sienna corridors, sending servants scurrying in every direction with rapid-fire orders, so that by the time they reached the “poor, very poor,” as she called it, chamber set aside for Medeoan, the room was open to the warm sun and fresh air of the early afternoon. Fresh flowers bloomed in the basins, a cold meal of roasted meats and chilled rice was waiting along with tea and wine, and even a small pot of coffee. “It is much favored in your country, is it not?” asked the dowager anxiously. “There is so little comfort here to offer such a visitor.”