The Will of the Empress

She sighed, and returned the thread circle to its pouch. And how will I do that? I have no notion in the least.

3

The 27th day of Goose Moon, 1043 K. F.

Twelve miles outside Dancruan,

Capital of the Namorn Empire

If Chime had not seen a magpie in the meadow and given chase—she had developed a furious dislike of the vivid black-and-white birds on their way north—the four would have quietly entered Dancruan as part of Third Caravan Saralan. Their arrival would have followed the structure of diplomatic propriety. They would have been introduced to the court as so many others were introduced, as part of the summer flow of guests from abroad. Instead, not long after the caravan emerged from the shelter of Mollyno Forest, the magpie flew at Chime and smacked the glass dragon with its wings, plainly outraged by Chime’s very existence. Chime voiced a scraped-glass shriek of rage and gave chase over a nearby meadow.

“Tris!” yelled Briar. “Do something!”

“She’ll be back,” replied Tris calmly. She turned a page in the book she was reading as she rode.

The sun inched higher in the sky, with no sign of Chime. Sandry finally sighed and found Saralan’s ride leader. “You’d best go on ahead,” she told him. “I know you have ships to meet at the docks today. Business is business.”

“I don’t like it,” said Daja behind her. “It’s not what’s due to your consequence, entering Dancruan with just us for company.”

Sandry giggled. “As if I cared about such things!”

“You should,” the ride leader told her soberly. “You will find they care about it very much at the imperial court.” He raised his staff and galloped to the front of the caravan, voicing the long, trilling cry that was the signal to move out. Everyone who had gotten down from horses or wagons to stretch their legs took their places once more. The caravan rolled on without their four guests: Traders kept their good-byes short, to avoid the appearance of owing anything to those they left behind. Sandry had always liked that philosophy, but then, the nursemaid who had practically raised her had also been a Trader. Now she and her friends waved their farewells to their companions.

As the last wagons and herds left them behind, Sandry felt a weight fall from her slender shoulders. While she had enjoyed riding with the caravan, she was glad to be rid of the witnesses to the squabbles that had continued all the way here. Now, with the Traders out of earshot and the other three silent, she heard actual quiet. Only birdsong and the whiffle of the wind passing over acres of meadow grass met her ears. Mages were accustomed to time alone. That had been scarce on the long trip north.

Enjoy it while it lasts, she told herself, filling her mind with the jingle of bridles and the shush of moving air. Once we get to Dancruan, things are bound to be noisy. Music, politics, gossip. It’s bad enough when Uncle receives his nobles. I hear my cousin’s court is much larger and, unlike Uncle, she holds her court all year round.

She turned her horse in order to look at her brother and sisters, wondering yet again how they would fare—how she would fare—in a sophisticated place like the imperial palace. Briar had unsaddled his horse and flopped onto the meadow grass, his bronze face turned up to the sun. He had even taken his shakkan from its traveling basket and set it on the ground, more like a pet than a plant. All the grass around him was in motion, straining to touch him or the shakkan without blocking the sun that fell on their two new friends.

He isn’t frowning, thought Sandry, amazed. I don’t think I’ve seen him without a hint of a scowl since he came home. When he’s like this, if he weren’t my brother, I’d even find him handsome. Certainly the Trader girls seemed to think so!

When someone blew a horn in the distance, Briar stirred to glare at Tris. “You know where your monster is. Will you kindly get her back here?”

Sandry looked at Tris, who had remained in her saddle to read. The redhead turned a fresh page of her book and did not reply.

Briar sighed his exasperation. “We could be eating midday by now.”

“I was enjoying the quiet,” Sandry remarked mournfully. She looked at Daja. “Weren’t you enjoying the quiet?”

Daja, who had dismounted to practice combat moves with her Trader’s staff, brought the long ebony weapon up to the rest position, exhaled, then looked up at Sandry. “I’m staying out of this one. So should you,” she advised Sandry. “Otherwise, they’ll start a quarrel with us when they get bored of fighting with each other.”

“I’m not quarreling,” Tris said mildly. “I’m reading.”

“Girls,” Briar said with disgust. “Aggrimentatious, argufying—”

“Is it that you learned too many languages, and so you must mangle the ones you have?” Sandry asked, curious.

Tris closed her book with a snap and freed a braid from the coil at the back of her head. “Chime’s coming. She’s being chased by riders,” she said, thrusting her book into her tunic pocket. “Nobles. There are falconers far behind them. I suppose they were hunting.” She scowled. “Right now they’re hunting Chime.”

Daja walked over to stand next to Sandry, leaning on her staff. “The wind’s blowing toward us. Tris could just be hearing them,” she remarked. “Except how would she know about the falconers? I think she’s seeing things on the wind, these days.”

Sandry looked at Tris. The breeze came out of the north, making Tris’s braids stream back from her face. “Don’t be silly,” replied Sandry. “Even her teacher can’t do that, and Niko’s one of the greatest sight mages in the world. Most of the mages who try to see things on the wind go mad.”