Tamora Pierce - Emperor Mage

‘It ain’t just birds, Prince,’ the captain remarked. ‘Lookit the docks.’

Kaddar spied dogs and cats, under apparent truce, on every inch of space available. Not all were scruffy alley mongrels or mangy harbour cats. He saw the flash of bright ribbons, even gold- and gem-encrusted collars. Cur or alley cat, noble pet or working rat catcher, they sat without a sound, eyes on the harbour. Looking down, Kaddar found something else: the pilings under the docks swarmed with rats. Everywhere – warehouse, wharf, ship – human movement had stopped. No one cared to disturb that silent, attentive gathering of beasts. Hands shaking, the prince returned the glass and made the Sign against evil on his own chest.

‘You know what it is?’ asked the captain.

‘I’ve never seen – wait. Could it be—?’ Kaddar frowned. ‘There’s a girl, coming with the Tortallans. It’s said she has a magic bond with animals, that she can even take on animal shape.’

‘That’s nothin’ new,’ remarked the captain. ‘There’s mages that do it all the time.’

‘Not like this one, apparently. And she heals animals. They heard my uncle’s birds are ill—’

‘The world knows them birds are ill,’ muttered the captain. ‘He can lose a battalion of soldiers in the Yamani Isles and never twitch, but the gods help us if one of his precious birds is off its feed.’

Kaddar grimaced. ‘True. Anyway, as a goodwill gesture, King Jonathan has sent this girl to heal Uncle’s birds, if she can. And the university folk want to meet her dragon.’

‘Dragon! How old is this lass anyway?’

‘Fifteen. That’s why I’m out here broiling, instead of my uncle’s ministers. He wants me to squire her about when she isn’t healing birds or talking to scholars. She’ll probably want to visit all the tourist places and gawp at the sights. And Mithros only knows what her table manners are like. She’s some commoner from the far north, it’s said. I’ll be lucky if she knows which fork to use.’

‘Oh, that won’t be a problem,’ said the captain, straight-faced. ‘I understand these northerners eat with their hands.’

‘So nice to have friends aboard,’ replied the prince tartly.

The captain surveyed the docks through his glass. ‘A power over animals, and a dragon … If I was you, Highness, I’d dust off my map of the tourist places and let her eat any way she wants.’

At that moment the girl they discussed inched over as far on the bunk as she could, to give the man beside her a bit more room. The dragon in her lap squeaked in protest, but wound her small body into a tighter ball.

The man they were making room for, the mage known as Numair Salmalín, saw their efforts and smiled. ‘Thank you, Daine. And you, Kitten.’

‘It’s only for a bit,’ the girl, Daine, said encouragingly.

‘If we don’t wrap this up soon, I will be only a “bit’’,’ com-plained the redheaded woman on Numair’s other side. Alanna the Lioness, the King’s Champion, was used to larger meeting places.

At last every member of the Tortallan delegation was crammed into the small shipboard cabin. Magical fire, a sign of shields meant to keep anything said in that room from being overheard, filled the corners and framed the door and portholes.

‘No one can listen to us, magically or physically?’ asked Duke Gareth of Naxen, head of the delegation. A tall, thin, older man, he sat on the room’s only chair, hands crossed over his cane.

The mages there nodded. ‘It’s as safe as our power can make it, Your Grace,’ replied Numair.

Duke Gareth smiled. ‘Then we are safe indeed.’ Looking in turn at everyone, from his son, Gareth the Younger, to Lord Martin of Meron, and from Daine to the clerks, he said, ‘Let me remind all of you one last time: be very careful regarding your actions while we are here. Do nothing to jeopardize our mission. The emperor is willing to make peace, but that peace is in no manner secure. If negotiations fall through due to an error on our parts, the other Eastern Lands will not support us. We will be on our own, and Carthak will be on us.

‘We need this peace. We cannot match the imperial armies and navy, any more than we can match imperial wealth. In a fight on Tortallan soil, we might prevail, but war of any kind would be long and costly, in terms of lives and in terms of resources.’

Alanna frowned. ‘Do we have to bow and scrape and tug our forelocks then, sir? We don’t want to seem weak to these southerners, do we?’

The duke shook his head. ‘No, but neither should we take risks – particularly not you.’

The Champion, whose temper was famous, blushed crimson and held her tongue.

To the others Duke Gareth said, ‘Go nowhere we are forbidden to go. Do not speak of freedom to the slaves. However we may dislike the practice, it would be unwise to show that dislike publicly. Accept no gifts, boxes, or paper from anyone unless they come with the knowledge of the emperor. Offer no gifts or pieces of paper to anyone. I understand it is the custom of the palace mages to scatter listening-spells through the buildings and grounds. Watch what you say. If a problem arises, let my son, or Lord Martin, or Master Numair know at once.’

‘Kitten will be able to detect listening-spells,’ remarked Numair. ‘I’m not saying she can’t be magicked, but most of the common sorceries won’t fool her.’

Kitten straightened herself on Daine’s lap and chirped. She always knew what was being said around her. A slim creature, she was two feet long from nose to hip, with a twelve-inch tail she used for balance and as an extra limb. Her large eyes were amber, set in a long and slender muzzle. Immature wings that would someday carry her in flight lay flat on her back. Silver claws marked her as an immortal, one of the many creatures from the Realms of the Gods.

Looking at the dragon, the duke smiled. When his eyes moved on to Daine, the smile was replaced with concern. ‘Daine, be careful. You’ll be on your own more than the rest of us, though it’s my hope that if you can help his birds, the emperor will let you be. Those birds are his only weakness, I think.’

‘You understand the rules?’ That was Lord Martin. He leaned around the duke to get a better look at Daine. ‘No childish pranks. Mind your manners, and do as you’re told.’

Kitten squawked, blue-gold scales bristling at the man’s tone.

‘Daine understands these things quite well.’ Numair rested a gentle hand on Kitten’s muzzle and slid his thumb under her chin, so she was unable to voice whistles of outrage. ‘I trust her judgement, and have done so on far more dangerous missions than this.’

‘We would not have brought her if we believed otherwise,’ said Duke Gareth. ‘Remember, Master Numair, you, too, must be careful. The emperor was extraordinarily gracious to grant a pardon to you, and to allow you to meet with scholars at the palace. Don’t forget the conditions of that pardon. If he catches you in wrongdoing, he will be able to arrest, try, even execute you, and we will be helpless to stop him.’

Numair smiled crookedly, long lashes veiling his brown eyes. ‘Believe me, Your Grace, I don’t plan to give Ozorne any excuse to rescind my pardon. I was in his dungeons once and see no reason to repeat the experience.’

The duke nodded. ‘Now, my friends – it is time we prepared to dock. I hope that Mithros will bless our company with the light of wisdom, and that the Goddess will grant us patience.’

‘So mote it be,’ murmured the others.

Daine waited for those closest to the door to file out, fiddling with the heavy silver claw that hung on a chain at her neck. Once the way outside was clear, she ran to the tiny room below decks that had been granted to her. Kitten stayed topside, fascinated by the docking preparations.