Chapter 26


    Zaidna


    The Empire of Judath


    Bakavoth Palace


    “Are one of those goblets for me, Tirbeth?”


    Startled, Tirbeth nearly sloshed the wine out of the pair of gold cups she had snatched from the refreshment table.  Be nice, she told herself as she pasted a smile on her lips and whirled around with a giggle.  It was Xaoshu, the high prince of Xeshun, accompanied as always by his entourage of engstaxi chums.  They were all squeezed unnaturally beneath the shade of one of the few trees that grew in the palace complex, presumably to protect their fragile bodies from the sun.  He was only taller than Tirbeth by an inch or two, but the layers of black he wore, combined with the unyielding glare of his wide, red eyes, made him look much taller.


    “Oh, this?” Tirbeth held up a cup, pretending to offer it to him, but then pulled it away as he reached for it.  “You know that I would, but they’re both for me.  Besides, I doubt you’d be able to handle this super-fancy Judathian wine.”


    Before she had the chance to make her escape, the high prince caught her arm and tugged her to him.  “Well, when you’re done with that wine, do come back for more,” he drawled through his heavy veil.  “I would like nothing more than to see a little blood rise to the surface of that golden brown skin of yours.”  He slid his gloved fingers down her arm and released her.


    Tirbeth screamed inwardly, but forced a laugh and gushed, “Anything for you!”  With that, she backed cheerily into the sunlight, knowing that Xaoshu couldn’t follow her.  Aside from the fact that engstaxis were gross, this particular one was only fifteen, which made her feel a little lecherous even though everyone knew engstaxis aged much faster than eshtans.  He was just about at full maturity, whereas she still had five years to go until she reached the age of majority.


    Tirbeth finally spotted Anji, who was sitting beside Javan on the ledge of a fountain basin.  They both had their arms folded and eyes locked on the ground, with looks of supreme discomfort smeared across their faces.  Probably nothing would help Javan to relax, but this wine ought to do the trick with Anji.  “I’m back!” she called.  “And look what I have!”


    Anji snorted awake from her stupor as Tirbeth thrust one of the cups into her hands.


    “I want us to have our first drink of wine together!” Tirbeth cried.  She’d always imagined that wine, especially the red kind like this, must taste like the most delicious, tangy berry juice imaginable.  “Let’s do it on the count of three.  Ready?  One, two, three!”  Tirbeth lifted her cup to take a hearty swig but stopped short when she saw that Anji hadn’t joined in.  “What’s wrong?”


    Anji rubbed at her eyes, where her skin was looking unusually saggy.  “I’ve got a headache.  I think the wine would probably make it worse.”


    “Nonsense, it’ll make you feel better!” Tirbeth exclaimed.  “We can be silly and get our minds off of all of the nightmares!”


    “I don’t know,” Anji mumbled.


    “Look, we won’t have another opportunity like this for another three years.  Imagine all the boys we can impress if we’re grown up enough to get drunk!”


    Anji visibly shivered.  “Boys.”  She stared at the cup and licked her lips as though willing herself to suck down poison, but didn’t have the chance to taste it before Javan had to go and snatch the cup out of her hand.


    “You’re pretty stupid if you think that’s what’ll impress a man,” Javan snapped, rising.  “So long as I’m your chaperone, neither one of you will be getting drunk.  You’d better nurse that wine for the rest of the day, Tirbeth; it’s the only cup you’re getting.”


    Tirbeth glared up at Javan, the heat of her fury escaping her lips in the form of a high-pitched hiss.  “Just because Kirin doesn’t like you doesn’t give you the right to get in the way of everybody else’s fun!”


    Javan reached down and forcefully dug his knuckles into her scalp.  “Shut your mouth!”


    “Ow!” Tirbeth screeched, rubbing at the crown of her head.  “Anji!  Javan is being mean!  Do something about it!”


    Anji looked at Javan.  It seemed as though she was trying to muster up the courage to yell at him, but then changed her mind.  “You probably shouldn’t mention anything about Kirin to him,” she finally whispered.


    Tirbeth moaned and stamped her foot.  She couldn’t believe that Javan was still being such a baby.  You would have had to have been blind or living under an old, moldering log somewhere to not have known that Javan was a dribbling, lovesick fool over Kirin.  And with the way Kirin always blushed whenever he was around, it had seemed as though she liked him back, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.  The news from Anji was that ever since Kirin had stood him up at the temple, they hadn’t seen each other for more than a week!


    Javan had even tried to send Kirin little notes but didn’t get even one reply.  It was an epic rejection, and it tickled Tirbeth pink!  The only downside to this whole debacle was that Kirin didn’t want to talk to Anji anymore, either, which was really sad because it took Anji forever to open up to people and make friends.


    “Kirin or no Kirin, I’m tired of looking at your sour faces,” Tirbeth admonished.  “It’s the summit, already!  We get to have parties and dances and races and oodles of fun for the next three weeks.  You’d better cheer up, because I’m not going to let you spoil it!”  To make her point clear, she brought up her cup and took a giant gulp, only to spit the wine out as soon as it hit the back of her tongue.  “Ugh!  How can anybody drink this stuff?  It tastes like someone vomited in my mouth!”  She poured the rest of the sluice out over the grass and scraped her tongue clean with her teeth.  What a disappointment.


    “It’s an acquired taste,” Javan explained sullenly, before he downed the wine he had swiped from Anji in one go.


    “Sick!” Tirbeth spat.  She was secretly impressed.


    The next moment, a loud drone of horns flooded the palace grounds, forcing Tirbeth to throw down her empty goblet to cover her ears.  Yet another procession of nobles had just arrived, and from the palpable excitement rushing through the crowds, this procession was probably a big one.  Tirbeth had seen plenty of eshtans and way too many engstaxis so far at the summit, but was desperate to flirt with more princes from Chalei, who seemed to be in short supply for whatever reason.  Hopefully this new procession would change that.


    “Great, more people and more noise,” Javan grumbled.  “Let’s go.  I want to check out the engstaxi food.”  Without waiting for a response, he stood up and started moving in the opposite direction of the blaring horns.


    Anji leapt after him as he retreated from the thickening crowds, flinging her hands to her sides.  “You’ve got to be joking, Javan!  Engstaxi food?  They use all sorts of weird, alchemized spices!”


    “I know why he wants to look at the engstaxi food,” Tirbeth muttered sideways with a sly grin as she caught up with Anji.  “I once heard Kirin mention to him that she likes it.”


    Anji’s expression shuddered into a tight pucker, as though a sour drop had burst in her mouth.  “He’s so stupid.  He’s certain she’s here somewhere, what with her father and all these wardens running around, and probably thinks that that’s the one place he’ll spot her.”


    Tirbeth flushed.  “Have you ever seen so many wardens in one place?  They’re everywhere!  I recognized some that were sneaking around dressed like nobles!  They’re even wearing fake crests, which keep smearing because it’s so hot!”  She started to giggle.  “Oh, I guess Javan is probably right that Kirin is here somewhere.  Ooh, do you think Kirin will give us the dirt on what Javan did to her if we find her first?”


    “I’d prefer to give her a piece of my mind,” Anji groused with a hint of sadness in her eyes.  “I can understand turning down Javan, but sending me that rude note about me being a sinner responsible for my own nightmares?  I didn’t do anything to her!”


    “Oh, I know, I know,” Tirbeth soothed.  It was clear that Anji was still angry at Kirin, but Tirbeth couldn’t hold the same grudge since she hadn’t gotten a letter.  Really, the whole situation was just silly and could probably be cleared up in an hour if they could all just sit down and talk.  Maybe that filthy Javan had tried feeling her up or something.


    Eventually, they reached the far end of the complex, where a long buffet table, draped in starched green and white linen, was loaded up with all sorts of bizarre engstaxi foods.  Everything from the blackened century eggs to the gelatinous cubes of bean curd looked and smelled disgusting.  As expected, the table was surrounded by a horde of veiled engstaxis, but the only one actually eating any of their slop was a lone little sazi, who sat perched beside a platter of mushrooms, gobbling up pawfuls of steamed dumplings.


    “Aw!  Sazis are just so cute!” Tirbeth cooed.  “Think he’ll let me pet—oh!  Wait, I know that one!”  She brushed past Javan, and her supposition was made certain when she spotted the sazi’s collar.  “It’s Rao!  Rao, come here, boy!  It’s me!”Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Rao spun around and stared in their general direction with narrowed, suspicious eyes until he spotted Tirbeth, at which point his mouth curled into an adorable grin.  He swallowed the rest of the dumpling that was sitting in his maw and scrambled from the table to greet her.  She scooped him up with a squeal of delight, and he let loose a strained mewl as she squeezed him.


    “Oh, I missed you!” Tirbeth exclaimed.  She had always wanted to have a sazi to cuddle and talk to, but her father was terribly allergic and hated the way they smelled.  Two winters ago, she had come down with a nasty bout of pneumonia and had been sent to Chalei for a season to recuperate in the warm and moist climate, housed at Lanae Palace.  There, she had the opportunity to meet Rao, who quickly became the pretend pet she always wanted.  She let him sleep in her bed and share food off of her plate, and as a result he had gotten adorably possessive of her.  She thought he was wonderful fun.


    Anji grimaced as Rao rubbed his soft, tickly face all over Tirbeth’s neck and jaw.  “This is the sazi you told me so much about?”


    “Isn’t he just the cutest thing ever?”  Tirbeth flipped Rao over and began to rub his warm, round belly.  She loved how soft his fur was.  “Rao, you’ll be my pretend pet again for the next few weeks, won’t you?”


    Rao’s eyes got all huge and watery, and he stared at Tirbeth as if in worship.  “I missed you, my mate!”


    Anji let loose a vehement snarl.  “What did he just call you?”  Jealousy, clearly.


    “Oh, he used to call me that all the time in Chalei, too,” Tirbeth explained.  “It’s a dalanai saying, I think.  We’re best mates—friends—you know!”


    Anji looked as though she had swallowed a worm.


    “Just when I think you can’t get any stupider,” Javan sneered.  “You’ve gotten him confused by rubbing his stomach like that.  Don’t you know that wild sazis only do that to each other during mating season?  You need to stop!”


    Tirbeth glowered.  “Liar!  As if an animal would ever be confused over something like that.  I’ve rubbed Rao’s belly lots of times and he’s always been a perfect gentleman.”


    “It doesn’t look that way to me,” Anji muttered, inching further away from her as Rao began to snake his way about Tirbeth’s shoulders, his fluffy, prehensile tail wrapping several times about her neck.  It was like the softest, warmest, cuddliest fur scarf ever!


    “Oh, pshaw!”  Tirbeth threw her hands at Anji dismissively, before realizing the implication of Rao’s sudden appearance at the summit.  “Wait!  Rao, if you’re here, that must mean Tash is here as well!  When did you arrive?  I would have known if it were this morning.”


    “Yes, he’s here,” Rao said as he began to toy with one of Tirbeth’s earrings.  “And we arrived just now.  I was so hungry that I jumped from the procession as soon as it entered the palace grounds and ran here as fast as I could.  Engstaxi food is a little strange, but it’s much better than eshtan food.  Blech!”


    “Really?”  Javan’s eyes scrunched in obvious disbelief.  “You mean that was the star emperor’s procession just now?  But he was seriously injured, wasn’t he?  There’s no way that he’d travel all the way to Judath.  Maybe it’s another representative from Chalei, here to carry the kada.”


    Rao growled up at Javan, his tail tightening about Tirbeth’s neck so much that it became a little difficult for her to breathe.  “No, my master is here!  If you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself.”  He lifted his chin in the direction of the palace.


    “Let’s go see!” Tirbeth cried.  Before Javan could stop her, she bounded toward the entrance of the palace in the far distance, forcing Javan and Anji to run to catch up.  As they neared the towering archways, it became evident that Rao had been telling the truth.  Several wood-paneled wagons were heading toward the stables, and there was a steady stream of dalanai nobles going into and exiting the palace, presumably to announce their presence and then seek out food and entertainment.  Standing guard amongst them were dozens of delicious-looking dalanai wardens carrying blue and silver banners, emblazoned with the imperial star of Chalei.


    Tirbeth craned her sazi-wrapped neck as they entered the thicker mobs.  She hoped that Tashau’s face hadn’t been torn up in the assassination attempt.  She had first realized her love of dalanai men (especially those with brown hair like Tashau’s) after seeing him those two winters ago.  Oh, it would break her heart to see his beautiful face ruined.  Instead, her heart leapt for joy when she saw Tashau exiting a gilded litter, the kada of Chalei shining brilliantly in his left hand.  He was still handsome!


    Tashau waved and smiled at the crowds.  He stood in full regalia, as was proper for such an occasion.  The blue and black brocade of his robes was absolutely gorgeous against his white skin.  Beneath his robes, Tirbeth knew his body to be so athletic and stunning that she could almost die just thinking about it—especially the times when she’d seen him bend over, as he was doing now to grasp the hand of—


    “Augh!” Tirbeth screeched.  “I thought she was dead!”


    Empress Sorai, much gaunter than Tirbeth remembered, allowed Tashau to help her to her feet.


    “Master and Mistress!” Rao trilled.


    “She looks awful,” Javan breathed as the crowds began to shout and cheer in celebration over the star empress’s preserved life.


    Tirbeth gnawed on her lip.  While convalescing at Lanae Palace, Sorai had sat with her often and taught her how to embroider.  She remembered watching Sorai during those quiet sessions and thinking that she was one of those women who was so pretty and nice that you couldn’t help but like being around her, even if you wanted to be jealous.  But not now.  Tirbeth had always thought that Sorai’s skin looked like she’d been carved out of ivory.  Now she looked as gray and used up as an old bar of soap.


    “What a pity,” Anji murmured.  “I’ve never seen someone so emaciated.”


    “Mistress doesn’t smell right anymore, either,” Rao grumbled.


    Javan shook his head and nudged Anji with his elbow, pointing as Tashau and Sorai vanished into the palace.  “That’s why if you ever go to Chalei, you keep to the coast and stay out of the jungle.  If it doesn’t kill you, you come out looking like that.”


    ***


    “Stupid idiot!” Zalas hissed as he watched Davim turn his naru around and weave his way dejectedly back through the teeming throngs that waited on the side of the road.  “I thought I told you to go around them.  You’re lucky that warden didn’t bludgeon you to death!”


    Davim, whose face was red, jerked his hand away from his bruised crown.  “I did!  The wardens have the city gates surrounded on both sides and are keeping the road cleared for some reason.  Nobody is getting in or out.”


    Zalas sat up tall on the back of his naru and looked to his left, squinting at the palace complex a half-mile down the road, his irritation intensifying as the ceaseless buzz of the crowds burrowed relentlessly into his ears.  “The summit can’t have already started.”  They had to get into Marin somehow.  He couldn’t take the noise or the stench of these Naltite peasants for much longer.


    “I don’t know if it has,” Davim grumbled distractedly, digging for and finding a thick strip of jerky in one of his saddlebags.  “How can we tell what any of these Naltites are doing?  If this were going on outside of Tijar, the hadirs would have had their—well, would you look at that!”


    A huge procession was beginning to crawl from between the city gates.  At first Zalas thought it was some kind of parade meant only to delight all the squealing children in the crowds, but then he saw the dalanais marching on either side of the procession, bearing the blue banners of Chalei, and knew better.  A glint of gold caught his eye toward the middle of the procession as an enormous curtained litter was carried from the shade of the city walls on the shoulders of at least a dozen servants, and the air became even more putrid with the sickeningly sweet stench of peasant-thrown flower petals.


    Davim stared open-mouthed.  The strip of jerky he had been doggedly gnawing at fell from his lips and tumbled to the grass, where it was trampled by some fat Naltite.  It was a pitiable waste of food, but it wasn’t as though they had paid good money for it.  The village by the sea had proven to be fruitful hunting grounds, and they had come away with more food than they could realistically carry.  The only cost had been the life of a single grocer, whom they had murdered in his bedclothes after he had led them, at the end of Zalas’s knife, to his tethered narus.


    Davim raised his good arm and pointed.  “There, in the litter.  It’s Anoth’s whore!” he hissed.


    Zalas tilted his head and stared through the sheer blue silk of the litter’s curtains.  Davim was right; that was Sorai seated beside the star emperor.  Only when she extended her hand from behind the curtain to wave at the crowds did Zalas realize her deteriorating state.  The grayness of her skin was like those of the hadirs he’d seen imprisoned who were intentionally starved to death.  Anoth’s endgame was still a mystery, but if he didn’t act soon to reclaim his prize, he’d end up taking home a puddle of gore to wed.


    “Anoth is going to be furious when he finds out,” Davim whispered.  “What should we do?  Should we try to take her back?”


    Zalas snorted.  Although he couldn’t be certain, he strongly suspected that with Sorai here, Anoth couldn’t be far behind.  He was probably lurking within a stone’s throw, blending in with the Naltites, as he seemed to enjoy doing.  “It doesn’t matter.  Our objective is to infiltrate Bakavoth Palace, find the witnesses, and go home.”


    Of course, the matter of finding these witnesses was still an unknown to Zalas.  He glanced to the Orb, which still slumbered in the pouch hanging from his belt.  It would not be wise to wake Verahi again, at least not until Zalas had the witnesses in his possession.  Their last encounter had damn near killed him.  But how would they obtain the witnesses without Verahi’s direct—no, he would not doubt.


    And yet, what if ormé was as diluted in the blood of the Naltites as it was in his own people?  In Yalet, sons and daughters born beneath high houses were protected as long as they could breed.  If it were the same here in this world, Zalas and Davim would have no chance of sneaking up upon a worthy candidate, more likely meeting a swift end at the hands of numerous bodyguards.  And that was if there were any witnesses to be found at all.  There was a distinct possibility that they would return to Yalet empty-handed, after which Zalas dared not imagine his fate.


    “Anoth, that bastard!” Davim spat, interrupting Zalas’s train of thought.  “Instead of traipsing through the jungle for all those weeks just to get his whore, we could have been relaxing in Tijar all winter long and simply come here and gone back home within a day!  He did it just to torture us!  We go through all that and the bitch ends up right here!”


    “That’s enough,” Zalas murmured.  “There’s no point in complaining now that our trial is almost complete.  If the Orb will truly direct us like a compass, finding the witnesses should prove to be a simple matter.”


    “Oh, yes, very simple,” Davim sneered.  “We’ll just trot into the complex at the tail end of this procession looking like this.  Look at us both, proper nobles, what with all this dirt on our faces.”


    Though Zalas hated to admit it, Davim had a point.  They had not bathed in weeks, and he had to grudgingly acknowledge that they might not smell much better than the mass of Naltite peasants.


    “But if we go back home empty-handed we’ll be passed off to some hadir,” Davim whined. “It’ll be Tovam, that albino prick.”


    Zalas’s hands curled about his naru’s reins until the leather cut soothingly into his skin.  “The Orb will know a witness when it senses one.  We should get inside Marin and make preparations.  We’re eshtans, just like they are.  We just need to look like their nobles.”


    Davim let loose a furious, yet despairing laugh.  “How are we supposed to blend in with a bunch of Naltite nobles even if we’re clean and wearing the proper clothes?  Surely, they all know each other, and we have no crests on our foreheads.”


    Zalas gazed at the end of the dalanai procession, which was now far off in the distance.  Faintly blaring horns signaled its entrance into the palace complex.  That was where they needed to go, and there was no room for failure.  If even one crest was required to gain access to the witnesses, they would have one, even if Zalas had to burn it into Davim’s forehead himself.