She paced the room, going from the window that overlooked the courtyard to scour the space below for her handmaid, then to her bed, to her vanity, to the table in the center of the room.
By the gods, where was that girl?
She opened the door to the antechamber. “Joslyn?” she called. “I need a distraction. Come play Castles and Knights with me.”
The guard entered obediently, sat at the table by the window while Tasia set up the board.
“Do you want white or red?” Tasia asked.
“You choose.”
“Alright. I’ll be red tonight.” Tasia lined up her pieces along the Sunrise Mountains, thinking of the barbarians and the routed battalion. The guard watched her, leaning forward over the table and propping her chin in the palm of one hand. The gesture made her look almost girlish. A moment later, the guard began setting up her white pieces in the Terintan desert. In real life, her pieces occupied Lord M’Tongliss’s lands.
“Joslyn?”
“Yes?”
“Why do you think Lord M’Tongliss said what he did at the first council meeting — about army deserters raving about demons?”
Joslyn straightened in her chair. “I suspect he said it because he believes it’s true.”
Tasia let out a half-laugh. “Are all desert nomads so gullible and superstitious? I suspect that the deserters just wanted sympathy and didn’t want to be turned in to local magistrates for their disloyalty. After all, the penalty for desertion is death.”
Joslyn looked down at the board, adding a ship to one of Terinto’s two port cities. “I do not find nomads to be very gullible. When you make your home in the desert, there is only life, or death. Those taken in by fables and fantasies quickly find themselves on the side of death.”
“So are you saying that you really believe the barbarians have recruited demons to fight for them?” Tasia handed the dice to Joslyn and placed the cards of fortune face down in the center of the board.
Joslyn took the dice and rolled, then picked up a card of fortune.
“I’m saying that the things I have seen and heard on cold nights in the desert and while I lived with my ku-sai in the Zaris Mountains might surprise you,” the guard said.
The words sent a chill down Tasia’s spine.
“Can you read the card for me?” Joslyn asked, showing Tasia the card she’d drawn.
“You read it.”
Joslyn sounded out the card with a little help from Tasia, then made her opening move.
“My mother was from the Zaris Mountains. Though probably far to the north of you and your ku-sai,” Tasia said, taking the dice back. “She used to tell us all sorts of stories about the mountains when we were little, and it wasn’t always easy to tell when she was telling the truth and when she was having us on. I was almost nine before I realized there was no such thing as a talking cat.”
Tasia and Joslyn shared a laugh.
“In Terinto, it is said that sorcerers sometimes take the bodies of cats so that they can spy upon their enemies,” Joslyn said matter-of-factly.
“My mother used to speak of sorcerers,” said Tasia. “And witches, too. She believed in them.”
“They are both more common than you might think,” said the guard without a trace of sarcasm. She moved a cavalry unit to the west, and Tasia cocked her head, trying to understand if the guard was now just moving pieces at random.
“She talked of the race of small men, too,” Tasia said. “The ones who build entire cities below the Zaris Mountains. Have you ever met a small man? When I was a girl I used to dream of visiting one of their underground cities. They sounded so fabulous — filled with emeralds and rubies and lit by phosphorescent lakes.”
“I’ve met a few small men.”
Tasia gasped. “Really? How? You must tell me everything.”
Joslyn chuckled and rolled the dice again. “They used to come to the village where I lived with my ku-sai to trade for furs and food. They are notoriously difficult to bargain with. If they don’t like the terms of the deal, they will simply walk away, and you might not see them again for months.”
“What do they look like? Do they really have eyes that take up almost their entire face, like the stories say?”
Joslyn nodded. “But you rarely see their eyes, because they cover them with gemstone lenses designed to block the sun. They’ve lived beneath the mountains for so many generations that they can no longer tolerate much sun. Which is why it’s much more common to come across them at night.”
“Do they — ” Tasia started, but the bedchamber door burst open.
Joslyn stood so quickly from her seat that her chair toppled to the stone floor with a clatter. In an untrackable blur of motion, she drew her sword and positioned herself in front of the Princess before Tasia even had time to draw a breath.
16
“Do you intend to run me through, nomad?” asked a familiar voice.
Joslyn relaxed, re-sheathing her sword.
Tasia leaned around the guard. “Mylla? Where have you been?”
The handmaid heaved a great sigh. “Where have I been? Where haven’t I been? I’ve been traipsing all over the city, trying to retrieve my gown from the washer woman, and my shoes — and your shoes — from the cobbler, and my new hat from the furrier. And after all that, I’m still going to be late to meet Father.” She moved to the center of the room, dropping a armload of parcels before placing her hands on her hips. “Why can’t common people fulfill their obligations to their betters in a timely fashion? ‘Oh, Lady Mylla, we thought you were coming tomorrow,’” she said, pitching her voice high in imitation of some unknown commoner. “Do they not understand how important the proper dress can be for an evening? No,” she said, answering her own question. “Of course they don’t understand. Why would they? They’ve never owned anything finer than cotton in their lives. They can’t even point to where silk comes from on a map, let alone understand the way the right gown can shape the outcome of an evening.”
Normally, Tasia found this kind of flustered behavior from her handmaid endearing, but now, given the knowledge about the pending marriage she’d learned about from Mylla’s father earlier, she was simply irritated.
“I saw your father today. After the council meeting.”
“Oh?” said Mylla as she stooped to retrieve one of her packages. “And did he say anything about your ascendancy?”
“He was surprised,” Tasia said evenly. “Though probably not nearly as surprised as I was to hear of your upcoming marriage to my cousin.”
Mylla froze. She placed the parcel she was picking up back on the floor and straightened slowly. Her eyes were wide.
Tasia stood from her place at the table and took a step towards the handmaid. “Nothing to say?” she asked. “Do you know how it felt to hear that news from him instead of you?”
Mylla’s face collapsed, gaze falling to the floor. “Tazy… I’m sorry. I was going to tell you, but…”
“You were going to tell me when?” Tasia asked, her voice warbling with tears of frustration. “The night before your wedding? You’ve known for a fortnight, Mylla.”