* * *
Lyric
* * *
Stevane is up on a horse, which alerts me to just how dire of a situation we may be in. I'm pretty sure that in the ten years I was gone, she never learned to ride. That means someone was stupid enough to put her on a horse. She looks pretty bedraggled, and I feel like shit. Also, my arms are tied behind me, which is a bit of an annoyance. Still, besides the fact that I'm bruised and aching, my hair is unmussed and my clothes seem undamaged. I call the match in favor of myself. Then, I get myself up and see who Stevane seems so concerned about. It's probably the same idiot that put her up on a horse.
My blood chills as my eyes set on Lady Thelea, who I immediately recognize. She's, ah, famous, and she looks just like my former employer. Next to her is a very tall, very Xaillyndesse-in-appearance man who I think I should recognize. It takes a couple moments for me to dreg up memories of descriptions of the Kommissar. We're all taught to recognize him. The Kommissar is one of the sworn enemies of the Akribastes family and all that, so we're taught to stay clear of him. A few assassinations in the family, which Father never really likes to talk about, were enough to make him teach us caution. Thelea herself could also be implicated in those, but it's hard to make that call - she's very subtle in her machinations, and I never paid much attention in history.
They're fiddling with the saddlebags on the horse. There seems to be a lot of burning shrapnel about, which I'm going to blame on Stevane because that's what Daddy would do. Those flaming bits are probably the carriage I seem to recall seeing before I was knocked out. I'm still a little dizzy, but I stand. Stevane was trying to catch my eye about something-or-other. Probably telling me not to get noticed. That's not really something I'm good at, so I decide to do something I am good at. I'm a Poet, right?
I should go with my instincts.
I walk to the two by the horse, and from a respectable distance, I bow. I keep my eyes on them, though. I'm pretty sure that this could get me killed if I'm not careful. Wasn't that the story of my whole life, though?
The Kommissar reaches towards my neck, keeping his eyes on Thelea, waiting for permission. She shakes her head. He withdraws the potential death-grip. Then Thelea speaks. "Yes, servant? You had a concern?"
I take a deep breath. Time for the performance of a lifetime. "I only thought, dear Lady, that you shouldn't be bothered with such an inelegant task while one such as I is traveling with you."
She raises an eyebrow, as does the Kommissar. They sort of do it in unision. I wonder how closely related they are, then try to keep the Xaillyndessen inbreeding jokes out of my head. I don't want to laugh right now. It would shatter my outwardly obedient image.
"Are you volunteering your services?" A question I have heard so many times before, in the same measured tones.
I bow a little deeper, then bob up again. "As far as they are useful to you, my Lady. I served your son happily until I was taken from the Palace by the Armed. If it be your choice, I should like to continue to be useful to the the royal line."
The Kommissar looks dubious, but it's not like he's my type. Thelea, though, bears all the traits of someone who desires proper servitude. I learned long ago not to get sick thinking about that sort of thing. It would conflict with my job skills. "Such a convenience, then, you running straight to us. And just how did that transpire?" She makes a motion to the Kommissar. He then cuts my bonds with a scowl. I stand upright very slowly, shaking my hands and rubbing my wrists. I'm willing to bet Thelea didn't tie those knots. They were inelegant, and spoke of no proper training in bedroom restraint.
Not getting sick. Definitely not getting sick.
I gesture to my convenient sister, who is silent on her horse, confused and obviously trying not to panic. I really feel bad about this, but... "To gain their trust, I permitted them to assign a Poet to watch me. She's aided me in buying my Radian clothing, ensuring my safety, and taking down my account of the recent events at the Aurocan Palace. When she was sent out to search for a missing person, I decided to offer my aid. It seemed, to me, to be a fine occasion to exploit for escape." I shrug my shoulders, spreading my hands as if to reveal that all this was in my plan. "As you can see, my hunch was correct. If you keep her around, I'm sure she'll prove convenient. She has a very good knowledge of the Radian Palace and royalty." Yeah uh, please don't kill off my sister. I've only gotten to see her again for a day, and I don't want that death on my head.
All in all, I think that story is pretty smooth. The Kommissar looks like he might even swallow it.
Thelea snorts, holding herself up in a haughty posture. "And just what can you offer me, if you have such a limited knowledge of Radian affairs that you needed a Poet to aid you?"
I beam. "I am sure I can be even more useful to you than I was to your son. Under his employ, I was successfully training an animism. Even the King was impressed with my skills."
She takes a moment to consider this, inspecting my appearance and my bearing. She scrutinizes my face quite thoroughly, but if the Peacock King couldn't find my Father in it, I doubt she will. The Kommissar is, meanwhile, looking a little too closely at my neck. "Very well. You might show promise, after you show me a reason to trust you. You may come with us to the Palace unbound. Now stow our wine bottles and prepare yourself for a ride."
I bow once more, with a proper flourish this time. So much easier with my hands unbound. "Of course, my Lady. Such a pleasure to serve one so lovely as yourself." I attend to stowing the bottles in her saddlebags. Goodness, she had the straps arranged all wrong. Perhaps Ebrellin-i does have an edge on her when it comes to restraints. Oh dear, I was really trying not to think about that.
During all this time, the Kommissar has remained silent. He waits for me to finish my task, then waits and watches as Thelea mounts the horse. She gestures for me to ride pillion. I do so, situating myself behind her. The Kommissar gives me one final look, his face unreadable, before walking to my sister's horse. Well, I guess that's his horse, he was just stupid enough to put my sister on it. He mounts it, keeping my sister in front of him. I suppress a growl. I don't like seeing that man with his arms around my sister, but there's nothing I can do now, and I'm pretty sure she can take care of herself.
Thelea leans back ever so slightly. She really is quite tall, though not as tall as her son. Her black eyes look upon me, one elegant eyebrow raised in inquiry. "And can you ride, boy?"
"Your son seemed to think so," is my quip in response.
Her mouth crooks into a saucy smirk. I try not to think about the turn my stomach just made. "Then hold tight. My hand is much rougher than his." I put a hand on each side of her wasp-thin waist, noting the ridges of boning in her corset. It's just in time, too, for the next thing Thelea does is flick the reins and cry out, kicking the horse straight into a gallop. I barely hear the Kommissar curse behind me. Then, everything is a blur as scenery whips by me. I never knew a horse could run so fast.
* * *
Stevane
* * *
A readiness comes over me, a feeling which doesn't seem to be my own. I hear the barest whisper of --don't set him on fire just yet, girl-- before Xen looks up at me. His eyes are calculating, and a cold tingle runs up my spine as I feel myself measured. Then, without a moment's pause, he hauls himself up onto his horse, sitting behind me.
I make a little 'urp'. I feel sick again. He is way too big and my oh-shit handle is way too small. Also, I can't hit him with it because it's attached to the saddle. The voice in my head is quiet now, so I've only got myself to keep myself calm. Think about business. Lyric was obviously doing that. Hell, he got ahold of his wits so well that he contrived to ride on the back of the horse. I have mixed feelings on that, but overall I'd say I'd rather hold onto Xen than deal with him holding onto me. He slips one hand around my waist. He is probably holding the reins with the other. Forgive me but I am paying a lot more attention to the hand that's on me.
He makes one of those clicky sounds that, for people who aren't named Stevane, makes horsies go clop-clop. The horsie dutifully does so, but not in that way that makes him take off like lightning the way Thelea's horse did. (Even with the tenseness of the situation, when that happened I did kind of giggle - Lyric's head whipped back and his eyes were all wide.) Instead it just sort of ambles along like we're going on a nice country ride.
"Allow me to have a word with you, Jhe Akribastes, while we're alone." Xen's voice is smooth, measured, and gives away nothing. It's even pleasant.
Oh, shit. "Yes, just us and the horsie." It's brilliant exchanges like that which prompted Jhe h'Lete to make me retake Diplomacy three times, with the ever-looming threat of a fourth. I now know forty different ways to bow to a King, but heck if I can ever catch myself before smarting off.
He chuckles. The hand holding the reins draws back towards my shoulder, and then I feel a tug on my hair as Xen's finger traces through a curl. "You have your Father's hair, but perhaps you have your Mother's eyes."
"Um." I blink, and try to think of a proper response to that. "People can never tell," I say, though Jhe h'Lete seems to have a knack for the eye thing. Or at least for when I'm stirring up my Mother's sort of trouble. Wait, how does this cretin know who my Mother is?
"I would daresay your brother has inherited more of his Uncle's looks, though. It's in the jawline, and the hair." He continues to trace that curl. I'm almost glad that what he said froze my blood right in its veins. I might try to slap his hand away otherwise, and that would turn diplomatic relations rather bad right now, I imagine. At my silence, he prods the horse to trot a little faster. How long can we linger here, anyway? Why won't someone find us? "What would you say, Jhe Stevane?" He leans forward, whispering it right next to my ear. Everything feels deadly silent. I'm numb. There's only my heartbeat, and Xen's question.
How did he know? Another question immediately chases that one: what if he doesn't? What if he's bluffing? But my Mother, too? If he knows that much, then Lyric's relation to me isn't that much of a leap. Why's he playing this game, then? What does he want?
Let him think you're playing along. Pretend you're putting your cards all in view. It will draw his attention away from the cards you have out of sight.
But... what if I'm selling out my brother?
What can really happen to him that hasn't already? Your brother is strong. But are you?
"Father says he looks more like his mother. But my Uncle's proud of the resemblance." I bite my lip, then go for it. "What do you want, in exchange for not telling Thelea?"
"Hah!" Xen spurs the horse to run a little faster. I get a little bit dizzier. "You're quick to catch on. The Queen Mother may think you're too much trouble to keep, Jhe Akribastes, but I find that the ability to think on one's feet to be quite useful. Especially when diverted to more productive ends. It's all a matter of managing resources, if you may imagine."
He still hasn't answered my damn question. Perhaps he picks up on that closely-guarded thought, or maybe I'm not schooling my face well, because he drops the banter.
"All I want is your cooperation, Jhe Stevane." He traces a line down my cheek with his gloved fingertip. I watch it unblinking, as if it's about to burn me. I remind myself not to bite it. That would go over quite poorly. He withdraws the hand then, and I wonder how clear my intentions were just now. "Your complete cooperation. With that, your dear pretty brother can go on playing Court with my Queen just as long as he wants without her knowing his lineage."
"How did you know?" Avoiding an answer. Thinking very fast. Wondering if I could jump off this horse even with him holding me, and without me getting killed. Probably not.
"Do I have your cooperation?" There's tempered steel in his voice now, and his grip around my waist tightens.
"Of course," I say, as if the decision's nothing. For all I know, Thelea secretly knows our lineages too. Is it really that much of a secret, what the Kommissar knows? Was he bluffing all along? He's in charge of intelligence, though, and they have spies. There's a whole world to this that I don't know, and can only guess at.
"I keep the dossiers. Thelea only concerns herself with the Cruxradia line, the other Radian lines by her reckoning being as thin as commoner blood. I only share with her what she concerns herself with. She is, after all, a busy woman." He whips the reins, grunting, and the horse goes full-tilt, or whatever horsie top speed is. At least, I hope this is top speed, because I don't want to go any faster. Already I'm getting pressed back against the Kommissar's chest. It should be louder, shouldn't it? At this speed? I shouldn't have to listen to him anymore. "I find myself busier with my own matters, however. Do cooperate when the time comes. Even an Akribastes such as yourself should understand how to follow a lead when the binding terms are so very simple."
I try to let my thoughts become the blur that the landscape around us has become. It works, somehow, maybe because of the collar's effects. For the ride, I no longer have to think about just what we're riding into, or what calamity must be going on at home.