Arrival
Two Months Later (September, 451 H.E.)
"And it's gone, now?" Numair asked. "Why couldn't you have told me earlier?" He sighed. "What, exactly, did the badger say to you? Both times."
"He told me I should go home, first. Me and the entire delegation. This was when we were just arriving. And he said that the Great Gods… He said it was dangerous to be in Carthak, and it had something to do with them. And then he got strange, at the end, and breathed on me. And I told you already what came of that. It made… dead things… alive." She winced slightly. "And then the night we left, he came again. He said it was… no longer necessary, that things had changed, and he… just took it back, I suppose. There was a silver light, and then it went away. So it's gone now, thank the gods, and I don't have any idea what the whole thing was about. Nothing did happen in Carthak, much, while we were there."
"What does he mean, that things have changed?" Numair asked, drumming his fingers on the table impatiently. But Daine didn't have an answer for him.
March, 452 H.E.
It seemed that she could feel every small wave that made contact with the ship, and she wasn't sure at all how she'd managed to get to sleep. But she was asleep, although she was not sure how she knew, and the waves still pounded and rocked, almost rhythmically but not quite. And then she remembered that the voyage was over, now, and opened her eyes and gazed at the ceiling and wished that it wasn't.
In the book, the girl had cried when she had left her parents. The girl had been twelve, two years older then Kally (soon to be only one), but she hadn't, after all, been a royal princess. Kally hadn't cried for want of her parents. She had not even, not yet, cried for want of Roald, who spent more time with her than they did. Not that she blamed them for it, but it was hard for her to miss them. Roald, on the other hand… She wondered, and decided that it hadn't really sunk in yet, that she was alone, and far from home. In the book, the girl had cried herself to sleep. In the book, the girl had been homesick. In the book… A wave of guilt swept over Kalasin, almost as painful as the homesickness she didn't quite feel. She clung suddenly to the thin blanket as if afraid that she would fall of the bed.
"Does her Highness wish to sleep longer?" a quiet voiced asked. "This unworthy one will leave and clean her Highness' rooms later, if her Highness wishes." The woman was old--not so old, really, not much older than her parents—and dressed as a slave. Kally wasn't sure when she'd come into the room, but she must have been very quiet, to be unnoticed for so long. Kally noted that several of the things she'd gotten out last night were now put neatly away, that curtains on the window had been pulled back. She sat up in bed, shaking her head to the slave woman's question.
"Where am I s'posed to go now?" she asked through a yawn, wondering what time it was. She missed the hourly bells of the palace, as much as they were hardly meant to determine the time of the royal princess' awakening. She'd had months to prepare
"This unworthy one does not know, Nobility," the slave said, bowing very low. "This unworthy one is very sorry."
Kalasin blinked at her and said, "Oh." And lay down again and pretended to go to sleep, because she wasn't sure what to do and she felt awkward moving about her room while the slave woman was there. And hoped that the rest of her life would not be like this.
Early April, 452 H.E.
Kaddar blinked the sweat from his eyes and watched his friends argue. He couldn't, truthfully, remember what the argument was about at this point, but that was just as well, since he wasn't participating. He was thinking of other things Kalasin. Lindhall had quite correctly declared that he was using every excuse possible to avoid her. He felt bad enough about the marriage in the first place, and now there was the added guilt of refusing to talk with her. But… she was ten, by all the gods. Ten years old, and supposed to be his wife some time soon. What did he have to talk about with a ten-year-old? He'd never been very good with children… Gods, he'd barely ever even been around children. But he felt terrible about avoiding her.
There was a brief wind, pleasant and cooling, but it smelled of dust. The drought was getting worse. And there was plague in the city: the sweating sickness, although it had not reached the palace. Had not yet reached the palace. More thoughts that, if he put them together, bordered on treason. But as conditions grew worse, so did rumors, and they were everywhere now: in the palace, among nobility and servants alike, in the city, possibly even among the slaves… All very, very quiet of course, but they were good at that, in this place, under this Emperor. The gods are angry with Carthak, with the Emperor. The gods demand… Sometimes it was simply the Emperor's resignation, others it was his execution. Some said they called for Kaddar on the throne, others that a full-scale revolution was necessary. All very quietly. If the Emperor knew, they did not give him an excuse to blame them…
He wondered: which was more worrisome, the situation with the Emperor or the situation with the Tortallan princess?
April, 452 H.E.
Kaddar had asked, "Can you make sure that she's happy? Can you make sure that she's feeling at home, at least?" She didn't want to, but Kaddar was the heir apparent, and she was simply…Varice. Not much more than a servant, really, for all the titles and fine clothes and parties. The Tortallan princess reminded her of Arram-who-was-Numair. Anything Tortallan reminded her of Arram, which was silly… he wasn't even from Tortall after all, he was Tyran, and also… Also it wasn't good, to be so preoccupied with a single person. A person who, after all, did not have the Emperor's favor, and a person she was not likely to ever see again, so what was the point of even thinking about him at all? Except that she couldn't help it, and now she was supposed to make the Tortallan princess feel 'at home,' and she would be reminded of him constantly.
"What would you like to wear today, Kalasin?" she asked, pulling herself away from her complaints with one last thought about how caring for a child had hardly anything to do with housekeeping and less to do with her Gift.
The girl said, "Kally. I don't want to be called Kalasin." And then, apparently realizing that she had been asked a question, she pointed to a heavy violet gown.
"It's too warm, for a thing like that, really."
"It isn't too warm. I wore it before I left, and I wasn't warm at all."
"The weather is warmer in Carthak, dear… Please choose something else…" Varice tried to keep her voice pleasant. Let her broil, if she wanted to. She could… Sighing, she tried to regain control of her temper. She didn't mind children, normally, for all their childish ways, but today… She was not in a mood, today, to be calm and gentle. She didn't want to be calm and gentle. She wanted, rather, to hit something.
"I don't care. I won't be too warm. I'm never too warm."
Varice swallowed. Gods give me strength. "Perhaps… perhaps you can wear it in the evening. There's going to a wonderful party this evening, and you wouldn't want to soil that lovely dress before you make your appearance, would you?" And it was cooler in the evening, and Kalasin would look acceptable, then, where she wouldn't in the middle of the day, wearing something as heavy as that.
"Fine. I'll wear it in the evening, then."
Varice attempted to hold back a sigh of relief. She succeeded partly, and turned it into a yawn. "What would you like to wear now, then?"
Kalasin help up something silky and trailing and green. "But… it doesn't match… Your eyes dear, really…" Varice stopped, realizing that by doing so she made life easier for the girl as well as for herself. It wouldn't look truly terrible, after all.
Notes: That was fun to write, although I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with it as a chapter. To the two people who offered to beta for me—thank you, first of all, and the reason I'm posting this now without contacting either of you is because it's been so long I really have no idea if you're still reading. Also, I'm slightly scared of e-mail.
There will be individual responses to reviewers sometime… later, but for now, thank you all very much. Again, constructive criticism is welcome.