The Will of the Empress

And I blame Sandrilene, unfair though that is. If the girl had simply done her duty, none of these annoyances would be on my plate now. She must be brought to an understanding of her place in my scheme of things. Thus far I’ve shown her the orchids, thought Berenene, throwing down her napkin. It’s time she found the thorns.

She stood abruptly, startling her attendants. “Hunting will settle me,” she announced. “Send for Shan. Tell the huntsmen I’ll look for hares for supper.”

She was half-dressed in riding gear when one of her ladies came in from the outer rooms. The girl had that timid look that Berenene loathed. I’ll be so glad when Rizu feels she is her old cheerful self and can take up her tasks again, Berenene told herself mournfully. Rizu knows how to keep these silly girls from annoying me. If I could get her Daja back, I would have her company in the mornings again sooner, rather than later.

“Imperial Majesty,” the young lady began, half-shrinking.

Berenene glared at her. “Stand up straight. I want ladies-in-waiting, not mice!” she snapped. “What is it?”

The lady shrank even more. “The, the huntsmen say Pershan fer Roth got word of a white stag seen in the Hobin Forest. He left this morning at dawn to confirm its existence before your Imperial Majesty went to the expense of a hunt for it. Huntsmaster Pershan left word that his assistant would take your orders.”

Berenene gripped a handkerchief and twisted it. Shan didn’t ask my permission, she thought angrily. If he thinks he may punish me for not welcoming him to my chamber lately, he will soon learn otherwise. But what if this report of a white stag is true? Perhaps Shan believes finding it is the way to return to my good graces.

A week ago, would he still have dared leave without permission?

Berenene flapped a hand at the shrinking lady. “Fetch the assistant to me, then, and stand up straight!”

The gates of Roth House, near the Landreg estates, were closing behind Shan and his companions when he saw Quen Shieldsman. Shan reined up next to his rival, certain this meeting was no accident. “What do you want?” he demanded, his fair skin flushed with rage. “If you’re here to bring me back to heel, I have mages of my own.” He signalled a man and a woman who rode with his men-at-arms. They came forward, watching Quen anxiously.

“And very effective, too, I’m sure,” Quen said easily, leaning on his saddlehorn. “Vrohain’s witness, Shan, you may as well put candles against those three young people. Did you think they wear medallions because they like the effect? No offense,” he said to Shan’s mages. “They got their medallions at thirteen.”

“We may not be great mages, but that does not mean we will fail,” the woman retorted. “We lesser mages often work under the sight of you powerful ones. The powerful mages do not know of their danger until mages like us trap them.”

“That would sound better if you weren’t sweating, Viymese,” retorted Quen. “Shan, you mule, I’ve come to help. She doesn’t know I’m here.” There could be only one “she” when these two men spoke: the empress. “I found you in my scrying-glass.”

“You’re here to help me wed the richest marriage-prize in memory?” Shan asked, frowning. Then his face brightened. “I see it now. If I snag Sandry, I’ll be in disgrace with her imperial majesty. Since she’s still fond of you…”

“Exactly,” replied Quen. “I hope you know side roads, if we are to get ahead of the clehame.”

“I’ve left nothing to chance,” Shan said grimly. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. If Berenene hadn’t put Sandry’s back up—”

Quen interrupted with a raised hand. “Spare me the tale of woe,” he said, reining his horse in next to Shan’s. “I’m not interested.”

“So sure in your magic,” Shan said with a glare. “Whatever else, you’ll never be poor like me. You’ll never sleep with holes in your sheets…”

Quen sent out a spark that stung Shan’s mount on the rump. She broke into a gallop. By the time Shan got the mare under control, he’d lost all interest in talk. He led them on, up through the hills and fields that paralleled the Southern Imperial Highway, where Sandry and her companions would ride. With less traffic on the side roads than on the main route, they made good time. Experienced at long rides, Shan was careful to see that they paced their horses and switched to their remounts, resting often. Rather than deal with inns, they bought space in farmers’ barns on the way.

“The trick,” Shan explained to Quen over their fourth night’s supper, “is to catch her when she believes no one is going to give chase. She’s looking for an ambush near Dancruan, or the border. She’ll be ready. But in the middle of the journey, between the two? They’ll figure they’re safe enough. They’ll be relaxed. That’s when I’ll take her. I have spelled charms to distract her, if you can hold Briar and Daja. My people can handle the servants and the men-at-arms.”

“Of course,” Quen replied, his face unreadable. The firelight made his face look like a mask. “I did come prepared.”

“They may not even be that much of a problem.” Shan cut pieces from a sausage and ate them from his knife. “Plant magic and metal magic—they’re not much good in a fight, are they? And we are talking about child mages, pretty much. They’re young to be wearing medallions.” There was a wicked glint in his eyes. “That must scrape your paint, to know they got them before you did. Perhaps Sandry bought the medallions for them, so they’d feel accomplished.”