Chapter 26
By the time I returned to public life, a newly chastened woman, even a stable boy would have been politically savvy enough to sense the charged atmosphere.
Though I doubted the entire truth of my trial by griffins had gone public, I found a chill cast over my life in the palace as suddenly as morning frost. Conversation were curt or nonexistent—my ready supply of translators drying up.
Mitanni and the councilors treated me with open hostility when I approached, and Lab had greeted my polite bow that first morning at court with a dismissive smile and banishment to the back seats.
The only one who hadn’t abandoned me in the face of shifting favor was Orinth—she was still eager to have me peruse the Chamber of Mysteries and I was eager to keep doing so, as much for the spindle’s sake as for the rare friendly face.
Even if I had a new “partner” in my work.
Raksh tossed a pair of carved bones onto the table between us. “This task is causing me physical agony.”
I glanced at the bones: they appeared to be human femurs, carved with a dizzying array of foreign glyphs, and it was all I could do not to shudder—I was spending as much of my nights exploring the tunnels beneath the palace as I dared and the sight of skeletal remains was starting to drive me mad.
“Why?” I asked, drawing back. “Are those some sort of magical symbols? Are they dangerous?”
“No, because I am bored, Amina. I am a creature of chaos. I was not meant to spend my days in libraries,” he said with unveiled distaste.
“Then go follow Dalila around. Or ingratiate yourself with the nobles.” This I had urged Raksh to do several times, hoping his charisma might loosen the lips of the queen’s allies that my coarseness pursed tight; I was desperate to learn any weakness of Lab.
“I would have imagined palace intrigue to be among your lures. Is there not opportunity for chaos and ambition amid politicians?”
Raksh seemed to consider the question with that same delay I’d seen him display numerous times since he’d arrived, as though he needed to search his own memories.
It was unsettling; Raksh enjoyed the good life, but he was still always cunning, always scheming even as he laughed and dined and sighed with pleasure.
Who was this oddly placid creature, his very wits scattered?
I would have thought him eager to peruse a chamber of unknown inventions, tools crafted by the most ambitious of humans, his favorite meal.
“Not among these politicians,” he finally replied. “Everyone in Khatti Ugal is content except you.”
Orinth rejoined us, emerging from her office. “How goes things?” she asked with a cheerful smile.
Raksh answered rudely, “This is a terribly dull task.”
The scholar didn’t seem offended, chuckling as I winced. “No, don’t apologize on his behalf,” she replied as I opened my mouth to do so. “I find him refreshing. And his is not an unpopular opinion, trust me.”
But I was tired of him. Half as a test, I leaned across the table, trailing my fingers down Raksh’s wrist. “You know what I’d really like?”
His eyes sparked with interest. “What?” he asked, his voice husky.
“A romantic picnic under the stars. Just the two of us. Maybe someplace quiet overlooking the sea?” I asked hopefully. “Do you think you could arrange that?”
Raksh straightened up at the challenge, a knight granted honor. “I will endeavor to try.” With an undeniably gallant bow, he was gone the next moment.
What the hells has Lab done to you? I wondered for the umpteenth time as I watched him depart. Raksh wouldn’t know romance if it struck him across the face with a hammer and he was typically far more suspicious—and rightfully so—of my motives.
I wasn’t the only one watching Raksh go.
Orinth had slid into Raksh’s chair, her gaze pinned on his posterior. “That’s a breathtaking man, Captain. If you don’t mind me saying so.”
“And if you were my enemy, I would offer him to you.”
She laughed. “I suppose that explains why you were traveling on separate ships. Still, it is extraordinarily fortunate, no? That he survived as well.”
“Raksh and ‘extraordinarily fortunate’ are a more common pairing than you know.”
Mercifully, Orinth changed the subject, nodding at the chaos of unidentified instruments, pottery shards, and broken steles inscribed with lost writing covering the table between us. “What are you working on?”
I glanced at the twisted hunk of brass in front of me, holding it up to the light. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “I’ve been trying to work out if the markings might be letters, but it’s badly tarnished.” I tried and failed to stifle a yawn; my nights of exploring were taking a toll.
“Why don’t you take a break?” Orinth touched my wrist, her green eyes kind. “It’s not a race. It may feel that way, but there is no harm in taking your time.” She gestured to the wall of mysterious artifacts behind her. “Some of these have been here for generations. They’re not going anywhere.”
I stared at the unidentified ancient salvage. Doing so never stopped feeling like gazing upon the stars, a feeling of both wonder and infinite smallness. All these forgotten objects created by forgotten cultures, carried by forgotten mariners—of whom I was only the latest.
I will not be forgotten, I tried to tell myself. Nor will I be here forever. “I haven’t made much progress today,” I said instead. “The queen will not be pleased and I’m sure she has you report my development.”
Orinth’s face fell, confirming my suspicions. Though the queen had yet to speak to me since our confrontation, I knew she and Mitanni were watching. They wanted me to be useful, and I dared not slip.
“Her Resplendency is understanding.” She lowered her voice, a bit more conspiratorial. “And perhaps I shall be creative with that report.” She plucked the instrument from my hands. “Enough. Surely your eyes will be fresher tomorrow.”
I tried to protest. “I wouldn’t wish you to get into trouble on my behalf.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that. Come. It is a lovely day for a walk. Unless it would be too taxing? I know you were recently ill.”
“A walk would be most welcome,” I said. “I am feeling much recovered from my . . . illness.” Well, as recovered as one could be healing from the infected wounds inflicted by a half-dozen man-eating beasts while simultaneously battling a supposedly uncurable poison.
Meaning, I still woke in agony most mornings, but by this time of day could move around more or less as normal.
The visions and headaches persisted, as did the joint pain, but the symptoms were manageable.
Dalila and I still weren’t speaking—she’d apparently taken my order to get out to heart and by the time my fever had broken, her belongings were vanished from the apartment—but she continued to brew her tonic, leaving it in a cup outside my door that I reliably drained and returned, our silent way of keeping tabs on each other.
The scholar smiled. “That is good to hear. You’re fortunate to have such a dedicated healer as a close friend. People say she is quite brilliant.”
The words seemed sincere, with the lightest touch of knowing. I’d spent enough time with Orinth to learn that she had a gossipy side. I didn’t mind it; she reminded me of my mother, who somehow always knew everyone’s business while disdaining the petty act of chattiness.
“It pleases me to see Dalila settling into Khatti Ugal so well,” I lied as Orinth led me along a meandering path bordered by bristling shrubs of saber-like fronds and spiky crimson berries.
“The sea calls me too strongly to stay, but I suspect there are greater opportunities for the medical sciences here. After all, your plants are so different,” I said, pressing my nose against what appeared to be a rose of pure silver.
“Those are my favorites as well,” Orinth remarked. “’Tis a pity they only bloom for but a few days in the spring.”
“Is it spring?” I frowned, trying to make sense of that. We had departed Sarilaglag in the summer, had we not? And yet, we hadn’t traveled nor been in Khatti Ugal for such a long time.
“Yes, indeed.”
Perhaps they mark the passage of seasons differently, I told myself, trying to shake off a feeling of disturbance. If I started contemplating again how much time would pass before I saw my family, the grief would overwhelm me.
Because I was increasingly uncertain that I would live to see such an encounter.
However, it was a lovely day, the air crisp yet warm, the sky cloudless. Here and there, we passed other Khatti Ugalans: a gardener hard at work pulling weeds, two scribes chatting upon a stone bench. It was all so peaceful and ideal that one might have thought me mad to want to leave.
Until a second look at the gardener revealed nothing but weeds and a dirty cloak.
I shut my eyes against the sight and followed Orinth over an elegant wooden bridge that seemed to grow from the sprawling roots of two trees over a small burbling creek.
We paused halfway across the span, and I could not help but admire the view.
The picturesque creek ambled through mossy emerald banks and below trees weeping stunning purple and pink blossoms. A pair of swans drifted together, their elegant necks entwined.
I took a deep breath of fresh air and had to admit that Raksh had a point about wanting to escape the dust of the Chamber of Mysteries.
“It is very beautiful here,” I remarked.
“Oh, yes,” Orinth agreed. “It is among the loveliest spots in Khatti Ugal.” She hesitated. “It is being whispered that the queen has brought your doctor here more than once.”
It was the second time she had mentioned Dalila and there was no playful gossip in her voice now; Orinth sounded worried, uncertain. A touch afraid.
I cleared my throat. “Is that so?”