Ambros stared at his wife, speechless.
Ouch, thought Briar, finishing his sturgeon. That’s got him where he sits. I wonder if it will make him a little more angry about this precious custom he’s lived with?
Ealaga beckoned to a maid and the footman who had announced Jak, and murmured instructions. The maid hurried from the room; the footman brought a chair from against the wall and set it at the table between Ambros and Daja. “And I’m one of the ones who gets to live with what those few have done.” Jak looked at Ealaga. “You remember, don’t you? My mother’s best friend?”
Briar saw a shadow cross Ealaga’s face. “I certainly do. She killed herself rather than live with the man who stole her.”
Jak looked at Sandry and shrugged. “My mother told me the story all my life. She made me swear never to insult a good woman in such a way, and to protect any women in my care who were trapped in that situation. You’re a lovely girl, Sandry, even if you aren’t exactly broken to bridle—”
Briar choked on a mouthful, thinking, Someone else isn’t falling all over her Clehameness! Sandry glared at him.
“But I won’t break my vow to my mother,” Jak continued, “not for all the fortune in the world. You can’t judge all Namorn by the imperial court, Sandry. I feel like you haven’t given us a chance.”
Sandry looked down at her lap. For a very long moment she said nothing. Finally she replied softly, “Probably I haven’t. But as long as I am who I am, I don’t think your court will give me a chance, either.”
Makes sense, Briar thought. And she’s got a point. They all wanted to be her friend without even knowing who she is.
Daja inched her chair over, leaving room for Jak to take the empty seat as the maid returned with place settings so he could join them for their meal. As the footman filled Jak’s wine glass, the young nobleman looked at Sandry. “This is also me saying good-bye for a while. I’m in disgrace with Her Imperial Majesty, so I’m on my way back to my family’s lands.”
Ealaga gasped. Briar grinned. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised. I bet he was supposed to try grabbing Sandry if she wouldn’t say yes to a normal proposal, he thought. “You’ve been a bad lad?” he asked.
Jak grinned. “Until one of her hunting dogs takes sick again, or one of her old great-aunts descends on the palace for a visit. Then she’ll remember I have my uses.” He winked at Sandry. “I’m very good with crotchety ladies, old and young.”
Sandry sat bolt upright, glaring at him, then seemed to remember where she had left her sense of humor. She began to giggle.
“Oh, good,” said Jak, applying himself with gusto to his veal with caviar. “I was afraid that pinecone you’ve been sitting on so righteously was dug in permanently.”
“Jak!” cried Ealaga, shocked. Ambros and Daja groaned. Tris shook her head over this unexpected side to the nobleman, while Briar cackled wickedly. Glancing at Sandry, he thought to her, Nice to see someone who will say what he thinks straight out.
She made a rude gesture in reply.
You never learned that from the duke, Briar told her. You learned that one from me. “I’ll have to remember that pinecone,” he said to Jak. “Every time she loses it, you think life is safe, and then she finds it again.”
Sandry threw a roll at him and looked at Jak. “You’ve never been like this before,” she accused.
Jak cut another bite of veal. “See, I’m off my leash. I don’t have to worry about pleasing you or the empress.”
“So why don’t you leave?” asked Briar, curious. “If it’s that much of a pain?”
“Because I like being useful,” Jak replied. “Don’t you?”
The evening took a lighter turn after that. They lingered at the table, talking long after the last crumbs of their fruit and cheese were gone. Then they went to the sitting room to play games, tell stories, and nibble on cakes for tea. Even Daja stayed and seemed at least to be happy for something to take her mind off Rizu. At last Jak said good-bye in the front hallway and went on his way.
Sandry sighed as the door closed behind him. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know him better now,” she told the rest of them. “Maybe I would have liked him enough to stay—but I couldn’t. Not and leave Uncle without someone to look after him properly.”
“We’re hardly going to talk you out of that,” Briar said. “We all like the old man. And he doesn’t play games with his people.”
“It sounds wonderful,” Ealaga told them wistfully. “But Her Imperial Majesty really has done so much good for the empire.”
“And she’s done it without me,” Sandry replied. “As soon as I’m gone, she can get back to her real work. She’ll hardly know I’m gone.”
Tris thought that Berenene would remember Sandry for quite some time, but she also thought that another yawn like the one that had just overtaken her might split her jaws apart. “I’m for bed,” she said drowsily. “Good night, everyone.”
She climbed up the staircase, Chime flying in loose circles over her head. It was time for the nightly battle she always fought when she shared sleeping quarters with Chime. Who knew so much space could be taken up by a small glass dragon? she asked herself for the thousandth time. She just sprawls somehow, and manages to fill any bed or bedroll I want to sleep in ....
Just before she reached the top step, Tris felt something, though she could not be sure what it was. A cold pocket of air? she wondered. Slimy cold air, if there’s such a thing?
It was her last coherent thought before her foot slipped.
Tris fought to turn and fall the way her teachers in hand-to-hand combat had taught her, but some other force yanked both of her feet high in the air. She did not simply fall. With Chime’s screams like scraped crystal in her ears, Tris cartwheeled and bounced down the long stair, hitting every hard step with what felt like a different part of her body.
17
While servants ran for the best healer in the district, Sandry requested, and got, a heavy sheet of canvas. She spread it out next to Tris, struggling not to look at her sister’s contorted body. I’ll just cry if I do, and if I cry, I’m no good to anyone, she told herself, smoothing the canvas over and over. She looked around. “Briar?” she asked, her voice still rasping.
“Right here.” He had come to stand on Tris’s other side, knowing without asking what she needed from him. Together, using their power as carefully as they had ever done, Sandry and Briar worked with the hemp cloth, wriggling it very carefully under the unconscious Tris. All of their concentration was on getting the cloth in place without causing her more pain. By the time it was under her, the healer and her two assistants had come. The woman nodded in approval of their work, then stepped back. The assistants let their magic flow out to grip the makeshift stretcher. Gently they raised it and floated Tris upstairs.
Sandry trotted after them. “She’s a mage, she’s a mage with weather, her hair is her mage kit,” she explained breathlessly, frightened for Tris. “Chime, go to Briar, you can’t help her. Chime, I mean it! Don’t make me use magic on you!” When Chime reluctantly changed course and flew back downstairs to Briar, Sandry babbled on: “Please, whatever you do, Viymeses, Viynain, don’t undo Tris’s braids or you’ll release something. I think they’re spelled so only she can untie them—”