Havemercy (32 page)

The very best wine, Royston said to me in an undertone as we crossed the room, was made by the Ke-Han, and it was dark and red as blood.

I wondered if it been taken as the spoils of battle, for all I’d heard since I’d arrived in the city was how the war was almost certainly over, and how the Dragon Corps had assured us a swift and total victory. I didn’t understand why Royston had been called back at all, if that was the case, but I didn’t want to expose my ignorance to the people of the city so immediately. Surely, if they said the war was close to an end—and if the opinion was shared by a man as great as the Esar—then that was the truth of the matter. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Royston what his opinion was, but I privately cherished the idea that he might not have to go away to war at all, however foolish that was.

Above the floor, at the very center of the ceiling, hung an enormous, three-tiered chandelier—not unlike an upside-down approximation of Thremedon, made all in crystal and spun gold. Its light illuminated the dancers with perfect clarity, and yet left many shadowy places in the corners where a person might hide.

I lost count of how many times I was introduced to complete strangers as we descended the steps halfway to the second-tier balconies, where the noblesse stood together talking, both men and women hiding their laughter elegantly behind lace fans. There were people staring at us, I realized. Or to be more accurate, they were staring at Royston.

“I didn’t think he’d ever come back,” a lady to my right whispered to her keen-eyed companion.

“I didn’t think he’d ever be asked back,” said a man dressed all in blue. He wore a mask over one side of his face.

“Never mind the Margrave,” murmured the lady next to him. “Have you seen who came in after them? It’s Caius Greylace! I’d have sworn up and down that the Esar would have abdicated his throne before he asked him back to court. And without any grand incident, either!”

“Perhaps it’s for our grand victory,” the masked man replied, in a tone that revealed he was delighted to show off his knowledge of the proceedings. “The Esar wants this victory to be decisive. That, and he wants it to be as flamboyant as possible.”

The lady struck him on the shoulder with her fan, and I felt Royston’s hand underneath my elbow, drawing me away from the whispering clutches to make further introductions. I didn’t ask if he’d heard the people gossiping. Surely, if he had, then he had his own reasons for ignoring it. If he hadn’t, then there was no need to upset him by drawing attention to it.

After that, I had little time to think about it, as I became lost among the sea of faces that Royston propelled me through. He introduced me to everyone, as though I belonged there just the same as they did. Amidst the complicated names of the Margraves and the velikaia, my own name seemed to retreat to one of the many small, dark shadows.

I wished very much to be able to follow it.

I knew—despite my valiant efforts to sit still in the elegant, wing-backed chair next to Royston and listen as his friends discussed political matters, the state of the Basquiat, and a great many other subjects I had no way of understanding—that I no more belonged here than did a sheep from the country.

Royston pointed out certain people of note as they entered and were announced, warning me away from some and gossiping about others.

“And those,” he said at last, sitting forward somewhat in his chair, “are the airmen of the Esar’s Dragon Corps.”

I sat up with interest, curious to see the men who had featured so often in the romans I’d read that they were almost like legends themselves.

They were very striking indeed, dressed all in uniform save for a man in green who stood with them at the rear. He had a look of forced calm that I knew meant he was in fact frightfully uncomfortable, and I felt an immediate kinship with him. We were in the same dire straits, and I wished there was some way I could inform him there was at least some company for his suffering.

The airmen filtered through the crowd like royal-blue water, dispersing like rain through the cracks of pavement, though they weren’t any the less noticeable while separated than when they were together. Every now and then I would catch sight of a gold epaulette or a dark blue jacket moving through the crowd—the chandelier light glinting off a silver button—and I knew who it must be before I even turned my head to get a closer look at him.

There was one who was especially striking. He wore his blue-streaked golden hair braided and loose around his face. When the corps split up, the crowd surrounding that particular airman seemed largely female, and the man in green was left standing alone.

“The man in green,” a pale woman murmured to her escort. “Who do you suppose he is?”

“Not one of their escorts, I’m sure,” the man replied, with an expression that made me rather uncomfortable.

“I assume it’s the poor soul the Esar assigned to nanny them,” Royston replied, stifling a yawn with one hand. “Don’t you think? He looks very much like a ’Versity student.”

“I can’t imagine why he’s been invited,” said another woman at our table. She fanned herself wearily, though I saw her crane her neck to follow the movements of the poor man in green. “He seems rather . . . young, don’t you agree?”

“Well,” said the first woman, “it wasn’t a real punishment, was it?”

Everyone dissolved into laughter, even Royston, who chuckled politely for a moment, then returned to watching the man in green with a keener interest than the rest.

I took my leave to visit the bathroom sometime later on, when various members of the Basquiat and Royston started in on a discussion about the war. No one else seemed to think it strange, their having won so abruptly when as far as I knew the raids had only just begun again. Once or twice Royston frowned, as though he didn’t entirely like the direction the conversation was taking, but since he was quite capable of turning the tides of an entire discussion on his own, I didn’t think he would miss me. I could be brave in the kind of way that got me through a fancy city ball, I thought, and I could be brave in a way that allowed me to accept the eventuality of Royston going away to war—if indeed it lasted that long—but I could not be the two kinds of brave at once.

As soon as I’d resigned myself to this, my newest problem was trying to avoid becoming hopelessly lost once I’d left the ballroom. It was not as difficult as I’d feared, as there seemed to be many servants scattered throughout the halls for specifically this purpose. That they didn’t seem all that keen on speaking to me was only a small detail, but I was nevertheless very grateful when I finally opened the correct door.

“Oh,” said someone, who was quite unexpectedly seated on the marble counter into which the porcelain washing-sink was inlaid.

It was the man in green.

“I’m sorry,” I said as he slid to the floor, smoothing the creases in his trousers. “I didn’t realize there was anyone, ah, using the room.”

“Oh,” he said again, straightening up at once. “Well you see, I’m—I’m not so much using the room as I am hiding. In the room.”

This seemed to me a perfectly reasonable thing to do, as it had been my plan exactly. He was braver than I, however, for being able to reveal his motives freely.

“I think that may also be why I’m here,” I admitted. “I’m glad to see I’ve come to the right place.”

His smile indicated he’d been starved for basic kindness for a very long time, and my heart went out to him immediately. From what little I’d heard about the Dragon Corps—and if he was indeed the ’Versity student who’d been set to the task of rehabilitating them for proper society—then his life couldn’t have been very easy of late. And now he found himself here, in this terrifying place, as foreign as if it weren’t the center of our own Volstov capital. I didn’t envy him his position.

“I haven’t been here long,” he said cautiously, as if he expected to be caught out and ridiculed at any moment. “In fact, I was just leaving—”

“You needn’t, not on my account,” I assured him. “I think it may be much more preferable to hide in the bathroom with someone than by myself. On my own it has a . . . more desperate air. Don’t you agree?”

He laughed hesitantly, but when he’d finished laughing the smile remained in his eyes, lighting up his entire face. “Yes,” he agreed at length. “I suppose it does. Do you mind my asking—it may be presumptuous of me—but your accent seems to indicate—”

“I’m from county Nevers,” I told him. In truth, I was glad to have the secret out. It was so obvious from the moment I opened my mouth that I might as well have been wearing a sign pronouncing my country origins to the entire room.

“I thought so,” the man in green admitted. “There’s a certain—That is, one of my professors was a specialist in the dialects.”

“Was he?” I asked. “What did you study with him?”

“The provinces, mostly, and the regional influences of the old Ramanthe,” the man in green replied, a dreamy expression on his face. “We barely touched upon Nevers—it’s unorthodox teaching to go so far as the river—but in any case, this is probably all overwhelmingly dull for you, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t, and I let him know it in no uncertain terms. “I’ve always wanted to study at the ’Versity,” I added, almost shyly. It wasn’t a dream I shared with many, but the man in green, I felt, would understand this desire. “ I’m too old now, of course, but—Was there really a class like that?”

“Countless classes,” the man in green replied. “Marius—Marius is my thesis advisor—often had to chastise me about spreading myself too thin by signing up for too many of them.”

“Of course you did,” I replied. “Attending the ’Versity is the only chance you’ll get to learn such things.”

“Exactly,” the man in green said. There was a momentary silence between us—not entirely uncomfortable—and then a sudden flush of embarrassment came over him. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Thom. I’m here with the, ah, corps. Their reputation precedes them.”

“I’m Hal,” I replied. “It’s rather a relief to meet you.”

“You’re here with Mar—The Margrave,” Thom said quickly. There was a new blush on his cheeks, but I had to confess I was at a loss as to why. “Margrave . . .Royston. Yes, Margrave Royston. I saw you at his table.”

It was my turn to blush. “Yes,” I said. “He—You know, I’m sure, the—”

“The circumstances for his sojourn in the countryside?” Thom supplied for me kindly.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Well. I was to be the tutor at Castle Nevers.”

“And now you’re not.”

“Yes,” I said. “Exactly that.”

Thom leaned back against the marble wall, toying idly with his collar. It made me feel much better about the stiffness at my own throat, and I took this as my chance to loosen the clasp there somewhat and breathe deeply and properly for the first time in what felt like years. “It’s been a dramatic year,” Thom said at last. “Hasn’t it?”

“It seems it has,” I replied. “I’m not entirely . . . up on my Thremedon gossip, however.”

“My friend,” Thom informed me, “I believe you are in the midst of that about which everyone is gossiping.”

“I’m not sure that’s preferable,” I confided.

“No,” he agreed. “Nor am I.”

“Are you the instructor to the Dragon Corps?” I began.

Thom nodded. “I have some manner or other of a title, at this point,” he said. “But all it means is that I’m supposed to teach the Dragon Corps to be respectful of others and to refrain from harassing every woman they meet, whether she’s a common Nellie or a diplomat’s wife. I admit that it’s a thankless job.”

I couldn’t help myself, and asked impulsively, “But have you seen them? The dragons?”

Something strange and unrecognizable passed over Thom’s face; it made him look rather more mysterious, darkening his eyes to the color of twin bruises. Rather than intimating some divine secret about the Dragon Corps, however, he simply said, “Yes. Once. Not very close, though.”

“Ah,” I said. “That was . . . rude of me, wasn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m from Nevers, and—”

“Bastion,” Thom swore wearily. “Goodness, please don’t apologize. You’re the first person who’s actually talked to me—I mean really talked to me, rather than cursed at me or told me I had a giant blue handprint on my face or beetles still in my hair—in months. It seems more like years, to be honest with you. I’m grateful for it.”

I paused for a moment to consider this, and found I had to loosen my high, tight collar a second time. “Is it really that awful?” I asked companionably. “I’m sorry. I’d no idea it could be that bad. After all, I’ve only ever read about the Dragon Corps. Naturally,” I added, blushing again, “since I’ve been in Thremedon no more than two days.”

“It’s an experience,” Thom said dryly. “One I’m sure I’ll be grateful to have had one day in the very, very distant future, once I have fully recovered from all this experiencing.”

We laughed together for a moment, a more friendly sound than the sparkling, tittering noises the noblesse made behind their lacy fans.

“Surely it isn’t all bad,” I said presumptuously. “I even thought perhaps—But, no, that’s rather stupid of me. And silly.”

“What?” Thom inquired, suddenly curious.

“Never mind,” I insisted. “It really is unfounded. I don’t know what I could possibly have been thinking to bring it up.”

“Come,” Thom encouraged, “let’s try to be honest with each other, shall we? I’m in need of some honesty. What was it you were going to say?”

I struggled for a moment with the right way to phrase what I had in mind. At last, I formed my tentative words with the utmost care, certain that this was presuming too much familiarity. “I only thought—from the way he was looking at you—the man in blue, with the braids—I only thought you might have been particular friends—”

Thom’s expression closed itself off to me at once, and I knew I’d committed a fatal blunder in our tentative acquaintanceship. “Why,” he said, voice a little too hard; I thought for a moment he might even have been on the verge of laughter, but it was a dreadful laugh that stifled itself in his throat, and one which made my stomach feel ice-cold. “Why would you even think that?”

I felt awful. I didn’t know what it was that I’d said that had so offended him. If I’d known which way to turn once I made my escape, I would have fled the bathroom then and there, but it was necessary I right my own wrong and patch up the damage as best as I could. “I’m so sorry,” I assured him. “Perhaps I was mistaken? I only thought I saw . . . but of course I didn’t. Do you have . . . particular trouble with him? Was that why he was watching you?”