Kate Elliott - His conquering sword

"An army can meet many obstacles," said the baron cautiously.

Tess smiled and looked up to see him staring straight at her. He lowered his gaze at once, reminding her incongruously of a jaran man, although in his case modesty had nothing to do with it. "Yes," she agreed. "That is why I feel inclined to install your son as head of the Jedan force that will, slowly and cautiously, of course, push our sphere of influence northward, in order to prepare the ground for the advance of the jaran army. Better that they stable their horses in Filis than in Jeds."

He blanched. "My son? But he just turned twenty!"

So there was something he cared about beyond himself and his power. "It is a great honor for your son, Baron, and may he bring your house glory by his exploits. You have a daughter by your first wife as well, a bit older, I believe, than the boy and sadly enough, unwed, is she not?"

This time he went gray. "Yes," he said stiffly. A certain fire sparked in his eyes. The daughter was as old as his second wife, and while not a beauty, neither was she a horror; perhaps sentiment had kept her by her father's side all these years.

"There are few families, Baron, who will have the opportunity of marrying into the princely houses of the jaran. I know you will welcome this chance to marry her to a jaran prince. Certainly, from all I have heard, she is worthy of the honor." She rolled up the map and tied it closed with a thin strip of leather. She did not sit down. "It will mean she must travel north. I will take her with me when I return to the plains."

For a long moment, he said nothing. Juli watched in the background. The windows here looked down on the prince's private garden, a riot of buds and blossoms during the day, now that it was spring. A sliver of moon shone through the windows, and the garden lay dense and shadowed beneath, the gray walls of the farther apartments rising on the other side, locking her in. A sudden pang struck Tess. Gods, how she missed the plains. How she missed Ilya. And Sonia, and the children. The jaran.

"What if I refuse?" asked the baron softly.

"Baron, your daughter will be safe with me as long as you administer Jeds wisely in my name. Your mother was old Prince Casimund's only niece, and by such lineage you were granted the regency. And you have proven your worth to me. I would prefer to keep you as regent. That way your daughter's children may come to govern Jeds in time."

"My daughter's children!"

Even in the coldest fish there lurked surprising heat. She could see that the idea, shocking as it might seem, attracted him. "Your daughter's children, sired by a jaran prince."

He hesitated. But she already had him. "Do you have a prince in mind, your highness?"

"Why, yes," said the Prince of Jeds. "I do. His first wife, ah, died recently. He comes from the eldest house of the jaran."

There was a long silence. It was very quiet here, muted by walls. The wind could not move freely within the palace, and in some ways, that was what she missed the most.

"Even before you arrived," said Baron Santer suddenly, "we heard reports of a great general in the north, leading his hordes against ancient and civilized lands. It seems that every kingdom he has met has fallen before him." He paused and touched the end of the map. "But you and I both know how far away that is."

"Do not forget, Baron," she replied softly, "that a part of that army has already come to Jeds." In deference to the customs of Jeds, she wore now, as she always did in public, a gown, but in the four months since she had arrived, black and red had quickly become the most fashionable colors and the cut of the gowns had altered from a high, loose waist to a lower, more fitted one. Because she also wore her saber. "You are wise enough to make your own judgment."

He bowed. "You flatter me, your highness."

"I don't think so," said the Prince of Jeds. "I feel sure that you understand where your advantage lies." She did not add, as an important and well connected governor in a growing empire or as a minor, and threatened, prince of a small trading city. If he could even usurp the throne. He could bide his time and wait to see what happened. Doubtless he would. But meanwhile, Jeds would remain stable under his-and Niko and Juli's-guiding hands.

"I understand," he said, and bowed in the florid style that was usually reserved for the audience hall.

"Thank you, Baron. You may go. Have your daughter call on me tomorrow."

He met her eyes one last time. He had banked it all down again, concealing himself. "As you command," he replied. Juli showed him out.

"How in hell," said Tess to the air, "did Marco ever make a friend of that?"

"Not bad," said Cara from the balcony, drawing the curtain aside, "though perhaps a little overplayed. Baron Santer was a notorious ladies man when he was young. He and Marco got along famously. You'd never guess it now, but when Marco as the first Prince Charles instituted those odd sumptuary laws that helped reform the horrible brothels, the baron was one of his great supporters. There was even a rumor that his first wife was barren, and that the two children were actually the children of a girl off the streets, a courtesan he fell in love with who was later murdered by his wife."

"Oh, God." Tess walked back to the stairway that led up, behind an arras, to the gallery above. She laughed, just a little. "It's an endless tangled web, isn't it?" Then she stopped stock-still, holding the arras aside with one hand, because there, in the dimness at the top of the steps, stood the ke.

Unveiled.

Tess stared. Then she chuckled. The ke looked like a Chapalii, only its skin was scalier, more alienlike. Had Tess expected a revelation, tike the visitation of an angel? "I am pleased," she said carefully to the ke, "that you trust me."

The ke descended the steps, and Cara followed behind her. Tess backed up to give them room to come through into the salon. The ke examined the chamber for a long while. Tess only watched.

"It is true," said the ke suddenly, "that these humans are quite primitive. Scarcely better than animals."

Tess felt her mouth drop open. She snapped it shut. The ke had addressed her in common Chapalii, without one single honorific.

"I beg your pardon," added the ke, "for addressing you in the che-lin tongue, but surely you cannot know the deeper tongue."

It took Tess a moment to answer because she thought her heart would burst, she was so excited. "I do not know of such a tongue-but what may I call you? And how did you come to realize that I am female?"

"Are you female?" asked the ke. Her voice, like that of the males, was colorless, and because of her skin, Tess could not tell at all what emotions she felt.

"Yes, I am. But then why unveil yourself? I don't understand."

"By your own testimony you are married to one of these humans. Thus you have become a nameless one, just as I am. The Tai-endi is dead, just as the Protocol Office has proclaimed." The ke wandered over to stare at the fire as if the lick and spit of flame engrossed or appalled her. "It is no wonder that the Tai-en has kept you in exile here on this planet."

Tess looked at Cara. Cara shrugged. The ke lifted a hand to the candles and held it close, as if testing their heat. Kept her in exile to spare himself the shame? Or to protect her? Or for some other, alien reason that Tess could not guess? And at the same time, Tess felt an odd exhilaration, as if the extinction of the Tai-endi-in this ke's mind, at least-granted her a sudden, reckless freedom. "You may call me Tess. Is there some-name- some word, that I might call you?"

The ke touched two fingers to the cherubs carved into the mantlepiece and drew her hand along the frieze, studying its heights and valleys. "By decree older than the eldest of the emperor's towers did ten of the first families lose their names because of their rashness and their pride." She turned. Tess walked closer. The ke was tall, as all Chapalii were, but layers of robes disguised her thinness. Her eyes gleamed, golden irises slit vertically by lozenge-shaped pupils. "So they became the nameless ones, and so did other names become extinct as time passed, as years turned back on themselves and followed the same course again, and again. Without a name there is no true existence, and yet, without a name, existence is boundless. So must the prince who becomes emperor lose his name. So must the ke live without names."