“It’s got stickers on it, and they sink in the cracks.” Realizing the man had no intention of telling on him, Briar released Zhegorz’s arm. “It’s only a dream.”
Zhegorz sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “So you’ll give me drops for my dreams, but not yours?”
Briar rubbed his aching head. “Just what I need—a daftie that makes sense,” he grumbled. “Besides, your dreams is bleating, and mine is real. Except for some bits. And those might have been real.”
“But Viymese Tris thinks some of mine are real, too,” Zhegorz pointed out in a reasonable tone.
“ Viymese Tris thinks too much, and she yatters about it too much,” Briar grumbled. “You’d best learn that right off.”
“If I learn it, will you take the drops?” asked Zhegorz.
Briar stared at him, baffled and confused, then began to chuckle. “Crazy you may be, but when you get an idea in your head, you stick to it,” he said when Zhegorz raised an eyebrow. “How about I just make us both some sleepy tea instead? We’ll be all right with a cup of that in our bellies.”
The tea sent Zhegorz back to bed, at least. Briar had known it would have no other effect on him than to calm him down. Instead he pulled his chair up to his work desk and put his hands around the base of his shakkan, letting the tree’s centuries of calm banish the last shivers from the dreams that had made him so reluctant to sleep alone anymore. Looking at it, he realized that while he’d been occupied with preparing for court, the shakkan had slyly put out a handful of new buds.
“Nice,” he said with a grim smile. “But you still don’t get to keep them.”
When the maid came to wake them before dawn, she found Briar asleep with his head on his desk, one arm around his shakkan. Tiny clippings from the tree lay next to its tray from its late night trimming.
8
Rizu, Jak, Fin, and Caidlene arrived with the dawn, just as the hostlers were bringing out horses for Sandry and her escorts. They all greeted one another sleepily. No one was inclined to conversation at that hour. Zhegorz, who had shown a tendency to talk rapidly in bursts the night before, huddled silently in the patched coat they had found for him. He rolled his eyes at the sleepy-eyed cob who had been saddled for his use, but once he was on the sturdy gelding’s back, he seemed to do well enough.
Ambros, pulling on his riding gloves, frowned as he looked at their scarecrow. “How shall we explain him?” Sandry’s cousin wanted to know. “You can’t just go around adding strangers to your entourage without questions being asked, Cousin, particularly not when you came to us without a single guardsman or maid.”
Sandry looked crisp in her blossom pink riding tunic and wide-legged breeches, but her brain had yet to catch up. “Ambros, how can you even think of such a thing at this hour?” she demanded, and yawned.
He gazed up at her as she sat on her mare, his blue eyes frosty. “Because there are going to be at least two spies outside the gates, and more on the way,” he added. “Young women in Namorn do not enjoy the license they appear to do in the south, Cousin. There are good reasons for that.”
Jak leaned drowsily on his saddle horn. “Can’t we just let the spies guess and decide when we’re awake?” he asked.
Ambros glared at him, his mouth tight.
“I think we’re probably supposed to be spies, too,” said Caidlene, who had been lively enough the afternoon before. “Which is silly, because we’d have to be awake to be spies.” She sipped from a flask that steamed in the chilly spring air. “Tea, anyone?
“He’s my secretary, all right?” demanded Sandry, out of patience with it all. “I didn’t realize what a complicated social life I should be leading in Namorn, so I had to hire a Namornese secretary, Cousin—will that satisfy you? May we get on with our lives?”
Ambros snorted and mounted his gelding. Zhegorz looked around at his traveling companions and their guards. “Secretary? I don’t even have pens, or ink, or—”
Briar leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll set you up in style,” he reassured Zhegorz. “You’ll be a king of secretaries.”
As a pair of guards opened the gates, their company formed up in pairs to ride through. Leading the way with Ambros, Sandry heard Zhegorz complain, “I’m not sure I even know how to write.”
And here I thought Tris was the one who was always bringing home strays, thought Sandry, shaking her head as they rode onto High Street. Now she’s got Daja and Briar and me doing it, too. She glanced sidelong at Ambros, whose long mouth was tight. She couldn’t help it: Her own lips twitched. I would love to hear Ambros explain how I can have a social secretary who can’t write.
Just as Tris had vaguely warned them the day before, rain began to fall as the servants closed the house gates behind them. Ambros halted their party, looking at Sandry as Rizu moaned and Caidlene sneezed.
Sandry turned in the saddle. “Tris?” she asked.
Tris, who already had a book in one hand, looked up, startled. Sandry indicated that water was falling from the sky—though surely even Tris would notice when her book got wet! she thought.
The redhead glared up at the clouds. Though Sandry saw or felt nothing, the soft rain parted, streaming to either side of their company, just as if they were protected by a glass shield. Tris looked around, making sure that everyone, including their guards and packhorses, was included under her protection. Then she raised her eyebrows to silently ask, All right?
That’s our Tris, thought Sandry, resigned to her sister’s eccentricities. She nodded and turned to Ambros, who stared at Tris, unnerved. Sandry nudged him with a booted foot. Remembering where he was, Ambros set his horse in motion, though his eyes followed the curve of the rain as it rolled away over his head. The others followed, though the guards and the courtiers visibly hesitated.
Sandry caught up to Ambros. I hope he learns to take odd magics in stride, she thought. He’ll be seeing them all summer, and they aren’t all going to be nice, quiet ones like redirecting the rain.
Given the early hour, there was very little traffic on the streets around the palace. They found more as they wound down into the commercial parts of town. There the big wagons that supplied the city came in to unload their burdens of produce, meat, eggs, and cheese. Their party slowed still more approaching the gates, and on the roads that led from them. Once they had traveled some miles from the city, however, the traffic thinned. They made very good time overall. Sandry wondered at the amount of room they were always given on the road, until she realized that anyone who had the time to notice that invisible shield over their heads moved as far from their party as they could while still remaining on the road.
At midmorning they halted at a good-sized inn where Ambros was recognized and given prompt service. The riders dismounted for hot tea and fresh-baked rolls, while the hostlers rubbed the horses down. Once they were back in the saddle, everyone was awake and feeling more cheerful, despite the gloomy weather. Caidlene took Sandry’s place next to Ambros, talking about court news and about Ambros’s four lively children. Jak rode with Sandry, pointing out landmarks. Fin and Briar rode together, talking about horses. With Tris absorbed in her book and Zhegorz inclined to huddle between the packhorses and the rest of their guards, Rizu and Daja soon fell into conversation. Rizu had an endless fund of court stories. It wasn’t long before Daja realized many of the stories were also cautionary tales about different figures at court, particularly the empress. The picture Rizu drew of Berenene was one of a woman who was determined to have her way.