Every inch of the crumbling great hall and the inner bailey had received attention by gardeners. In pockets between stones Briar found tiny, ground-hugging flowers with spiky white petals, rockroses, and pinks. Trickles of water ran over mossy stones, or formed small waterfalls that dropped into pools set in what must have been the dungeon level of the castle. Small willows and dwarf maple trees grew on the grounds, shading ponds and benches. Everything fit the ruins but did not obscure them.
It’s a pity Berenene loves orchids so, Briar thought, trailing loving fingers over the happiest jasmine vine he’d ever met. She could create the perfect shakkan garden.
“Do you like it?” Berenene asked, coming up next to him. “This was the garden I had as a girl—the only thing my father would let me tend. I lived in the gatekeeper’s lodge and studied with the Sisterhood of Qunoc in the temple on the shore, until my older brother died and I became the heir. I built on this place for years. Now I have gardeners to tend it, but any changes are done to my request.”
“I think you’re wasted as an empress,” Briar said without thinking. He winced, then grinned at her when her only reaction was laughter.
“Spoken like my gardeners,” she said. “I’m honored. And if you see anything that requires attention, please let me know. I’ll be in your debt.”
Briar, who knew what privilege she had just given him, bowed low. I’ll make her a shakkan garden for the palace, he thought. A miniature of this one. It will take work, but she’s worth it.
Looking at him from beneath lowered lashes, Berenene asked, “Could you do better, with your potions and spells?”
Briar gaped at her, genuinely shocked. He quickly recovered and asked, “Why would I want to tamper with perfection? All this is yours, with your shaping on it. I’d no more change it than I would change you.”
Berenene looked down. Finally she said softly, “A mage who does not think magic betters everything. I am not certain I can bear the shock.” She took his hand and ran a finger along the lines in his palm. “I could make you the greatest gardener in the world, you know. I could place the resources of the empire at your disposal.” She placed her finger against his lips. “Don’t say anything now. I don’t want an answer now. But think about it—think what being my chief gardener could mean. I will ask again this summer, I assure you.” She stepped away. “I’ll see you at midday, Briar.”
Dazed, Briar watched her as she made her way back to Sandry, who was taking a drink of water from a well. Today Berenene was dressed for spring in a leaf green undergown and a cream-colored overgown embroidered with gold flowers. She’s the most beautiful thing in this garden, he thought wistfully. But she’s not for the likes of me. I know what the girls think—that I’d bed her if I could. But she’s too grand. Too glorious. I would rather leave her be than get all disillusioned when I find out she’s human.
A sharp elbow caught him in the ribs. He turned. Caidy glared at him, her hazel eyes fiery. “I’m away one night and you forget all about me?” she asked dangerously, roses of temper blooming on her ivory cheeks. “You’re setting up to storm the palace when the castle was half-won.”
“I got discouraged,” he told her, trying to look penitent. “You defend your castle so well. Besides, aren’t you used to everyone being in love with her?”
“Everyone better not be thinking of kissing me, then,” she warned. “Because I’m fresh out of kisses. I’ll go see if Jak has any.”
She marched away, chin in the air.
Briar grinned. I do like a girl with some thorns to her.
Better still, a real girl, one I can kiss instead of worship. Worship’s all well and good, but it doesn’t keep a fellow warm when the night turns cold. I’ll have to think of something to make Caidy happy again.
Thinking about what he might create to draw a smile from her, he carefully descended the stairs that led through the long-vanished floors down to the water pools.
After the tour of the garden, the company broke up into various groups. To Daja’s surprise, Berenene went off to confer with secretaries at midmorning. It seemed that the empress’s secretaries followed her everywhere and conducted business from horseback, if necessary. Fortunately for them, she thought, they don’t have to work in the saddle while there’s a lodgekeeper’s house on the grounds.
Ambros, Ealaga, and some of the older nobles had gone off to sun themselves on a ruined terrace circled by lilacs and bitter orange bushes in full bloom. Up on the rim of the same terrace, Daja could see Tris and Ishabal in animated conversation.
Probably about something that comes only in words of ten syllables, Daja thought with amusement. It looks like that kind of talk.
Daja herself stood on the edge of a cropped grass circle. All around its rim lazed younger nobles on drop cloths. At the circle’s heart were Rizu and some other young ladies who played a ball-tossing game. Daja was happy just to watch, leaning on her Trader staff. She had brought it to make her way over uneven ground, to poke under stones to ensure that no early rising snakes lurked in wait, and to show to Rizu. When she had discovered that each marking on a Trader’s staff stood for part of the person’s life, Rizu had made Daja promise to tell some of the stories about her markings. Now Daja watched her catch the ball gracefully and toss it high, enjoying her new friend’s joy in the beauty of the day and the setting.
Movement drew her eye past the ring of laughing noblewomen. Three men had turned to listen to a fourth. Something about that fourth man’s excitement, the way he spoke with one hand raised to cover the movements of his mouth, and the slyly eager looks exchanged by his companions, told Daja there was trouble afoot. When they all ran off around the ruins of a wall, she was certain of it. As a Trader and as a mage she knew the look of overgrown boys up to wickedness.
As Berenene had led the tour, she had kept Briar at her side. Some of the courtiers—including three of the ones who had just left—had been displeased by the attention the empress gave Briar. Many of those courtiers had also grumbled when Berenene took Briar into her greenhouses, where they were forbidden to go. Traders were taught from the cradle to notice who complained and when: Often those were the people who led the attacks on Traders. Now the empress was occupied, and Briar was nowhere within view.
Briar? Daja called down the withered thread that remained of their old bond. She heard and felt nothing. You’d think you want people to know you were all right, she added tartly. There was still no reply.
Daja sent a pulse of magic along their connection to see where the bond led. Walking slowly, sending magic along the tie in waves, she followed it into the garden. She didn’t realize it, but she was twirling her staff in a circle, hand over hand, loosening her muscles in preparation for a fight.
She had to climb over four walls, apologizing to flowers as she stepped on them. I hope the empress doesn’t learn this was me, she thought as she fluffed a patch of moss she had crushed. I’ll have Briar fix these when I find him.
Down two sets of ruined stairs she went, then along an open inner gallery now used as a rose trellis. The thread led her up another set of stairs, or rather, it went through the stairs; Daja had to climb them and jump down from a six-foot wall. She walked among some trees into a clearing by a stream. Young noblemen stood there in a half circle. They watched Briar, who faced one of the men who so often watched the empress.
Olfeon fer ... something, Daja remembered. Master of the Armory. The one who gets the cream from Namorn’s armorers when it’s time to buy weapons for the imperial guards. Is he one of the empress’s ex-lovers, the jealous sort Rizu mentioned?