Tris clenched and unclenched her hands on the reins.
Heat bloomed under her breastbone as her face turned red in fury over the rebuke. She did not see the guards on her far side or the people who rode behind her check and move away as sparks raced over her coiled braids. Sandry got even angrier. Now they know we’re quarreling! she thought. Why can’t Tris ever keep her feelings to herself? Why does the world always have to know when she’s vexed?
Chime wasn’t afraid of lightning. It was the blood through which her magic flowed. She glided up to Tris from her seat on Daja’s saddle and landed on Tris’s head. Slowly, gently, the glass dragon sank her claws into Tris’s scalp.
“Ow!” Tris winced: Her concentration broke, and the lightning began to die. With no more new sparks being spawned, Chime began to lick up those that remained.
“No, I’m not noble,” Tris finally told Sandry in a voice that trembled. “And given that you’re turning into one just like the rest of those at court, I’m glad I’m not.” She turned her mount and rode back to Zhegorz, Gudruny, and her children, who rode in a luggage cart behind the others.
“Is something wrong?” Ealaga asked Sandry after Tris rode out of earshot.
Sandry shook her head, keeping it down so no one could see the tears of anger that sparkled in her eyes. Tris doesn’t know what being a noble means! Sandry thought. You can’t go about ignoring your family’s long history or the things all your ancestors did to build your name and your lands. It’s like telling them they never counted, if I lose my holdings as a Landreg, or worse, if I give them up. If I let Berenene take them for some reason. I owe my parents—my ancestors—the continuation of our line, and our name. Mama didn’t surrender the title when she married Papa. What excuse do I have?
Once they started to pass other people on the highway, Briar kept an eye on Zhegorz. It took some effort to do it without laughing, at least at first. Zhegorz was a sight, perched atop one of Sandry’s traveling trunks, a well-dressed scarecrow in a good clerk’s sensible gray coat and breeches, wearing what looked like shiny amber spectacles on his eyes. Sandry had even tied his hair back in a horsetail with a ribbon that was the same color as his spectacles. At first passersby got no chance to appreciate his new eyewear. As they came within view, Zhegorz pulled his broad-brimmed hat low over his face and bent down, trying to hide in plain sight. Later, he got more bold as parties overtook and passed them, or parties rode by. He flinched less and watched more.
Finally Briar could no longer bear the suspense. He rode over to the cart. “Zhegorz! The ear things, and the spectacles. Are they working?”
Zhegorz beamed. “I hear only our people’s talk, and only from close by. I see only what is in front of my nose. No flying pictures, no conversations popping into my ears! It’s wonderful—I’m cured! I don’t need the lessons anymore. I’m sane, sane as a bird, sane as a sheep, sane as a—ow!”
While he had been babbling, Tris had ridden up on his other side. She had leaned over and flicked him on the ear with her finger, producing his cry of pain. When he turned to glare at her, Tris asked drily, “And if you lose the spectacles?”
“Or if the ear beads fall out?” Briar wanted to know. “The magic’s still there, old man.” To Gudruny’s children, who had listened to this exchange with open mouths, he explained, “The magic’s always still there.”
“The lessons continue,” said Tris. “Take out one of the beads, and practice managing what you hear in just one ear.”
Zhegorz sighed; his shoulders drooped. He looked at Gudruny and shrugged. “It was lovely to dream about, anyway.”
“Dream all you like,” Briar suggested cheerfully. “Just keep practicing.”
The roads were drier than they had been the first time the four mages had come that way. With better footing they made better time, reaching the Landreg town house by midafternoon. That night was spent settling Ambros and his family in for the palace social season, and introducing Gudruny’s children and Zhegorz to Wenoura.
They woke the next morning to learn that the imperial party had arrived at the same time they did and was still settling in. Sandry declared that they couldn’t interrupt the court while it unpacked. Instead, she went out to confer with an advocate and to shop with Gudruny. Briar, too, went shopping, for shakkans and potting soil, placing an order for a very large pottery dish made specifically for several shakkans. It was part of the gift he had planned for the empress. Tris remained to work with Zhegorz on meditation and on limiting the number of things he heard and saw. Daja thought to shop as well. When she realized that the only things she wished to buy were expensive gifts for Rizu, who was not related to her in any way, she returned home to do whatever metalwork was in the house.
The next day the four and Gudruny moved to the imperial palace. Footmen raced ahead of them to let the palace staff know they had arrived. More footmen took charge of their horses and their belongings, vanishing down a side road with them. Briar was prepared to fight over the handling of his own shakkan and the ones he’d bought for the empress, but when two of the footmen showed themselves adept at handling both plants and crockery, he had let them take over.
A very superior footman led them to the first story in the northwest wing. He bowed Sandry into one suite near the intersection with the palace’s north wing, and Tris into the other. With a sugary smile he led Daja to a suite halfway down the same hall. Briar he showed to rooms at the very end that looked out over the formal flower gardens.
Tris, Daja, and Briar soon discovered they had also been assigned maids to look after them. “At least they don’t sleep in our rooms,” Tris grumbled when they met at mid-hall to compare situations.
“You don’t have to worry about her snooping in your mage kit, unless you want her to brush your hair,” retorted Briar.
Tris grimaced. “Please! I can brush my own hair, thank you all the same!” She smiled. “And it would be a fatal exercise if anyone else tried,” she admitted slyly. “I need special brushes and combs to manage it, myself.”
“I just told mine that she’d best tell me know where her family is, so if she meddles with my kit, I know where to send the body,” remarked Daja. “She squeaked. I think my kit’s safe.”
Sandry would have argued at the imposition of two more maids and two footmen to wait upon her, but Gudruny gently urged her young mistress to see the dresses she’d laid out for the welcoming party that night. Once Sandry was in the bedroom inspecting the clothes, Gudruny closed the door.
“Please, my lady, they’re already sneering at me and saying I can’t be very good, if I haven’t taught you what’s due to your station,” she explained. “With more servants to direct, I grow more important in the servants’ areas. Then they’ll all serve us as they should. It may sound like little things to you, but one of those little things is your bath water. We’d both like it to be hot when it gets here. Servants are far more snobbish than nobles.”