Chapter 64: [23.2] A Parting of Friends

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Isla ran through her plan while she prepared for the grand feast. Tran was out for dinner and she had their bedchamber to herself. She opened the tome she had rather cavalierly borrowed from the academy library and found the page she was looking for. The inscriptions were rather complex, but she had practiced them for many weeks, now – sketching them on her notes while she half-listened to lectures.

She drew her kitchen knife and leaned over the window. The chamber felt odd. Bigger. With Phrae due to leave with her newly-confirmed patron, Master Chendra was in no rush to fill the empty space that was once Phrae's bed.

Isla took one last look at the page before etching its inscriptions onto the ledge. The wood chipped smoothly under her blade; it would be easy to break the rune once it was set, but not without triggering it.

She moved on to the door next, this time carving the rune into its frame. Once it was done, she looked over her work and nodded in satisfaction. She had covered all the entrances. It would take much of her strength once she set the runes to work, and she was already dreading her night of restless sleep.

Bells pealed in the distance. Time for the feast.

A celebration of one of the Maha Rama's many sons – or grandsons. Isla had long stopped trying to keep track of all their names and ages. Supposedly this one was one of the Maha Rani's litter.

She discovered later, at the Grand Palace, that it was a great-grandson. Not that it mattered. The great hall was filled to the brim. Countless rows of tables; noble guests to one side, royalborn to the other. A grander table stretched along the dais, all ten seats presently unoccupied.

Sir Edric and Aldir were seated somewhere across the room. Isla avoided both, focusing instead on the delicacies laid upon the tables. Twenty-one wild hogs resting upon spits – each roasted boar commemorating each year of the celebrant's life. It would soon be her own twenty-first namesday, Isla thought. Not that anyone would know.

The side entries slid open, and a stream of girls danced in, snare drummers tapping a beat amongst them. The audience cheered. Some stumbled off their seats and joined them in the centre of the hall. Rinju twirled amongst the dancers, face bright and full of laughter as she skipped to the drums; swooping low, jumping high, ribbons fluttering in her wake.

'Her Highness, the Honourable Consort, Rajini Dhvani,' announced a herald over the music.

The queen consort entered through the screens passage, an entourage of maidens behind her. She was more gaunt than even before, if that were possible. Her hair more white now than it was black. She looked even older than the Maha Rani; a woman twenty years her senior. Grief does not become her, Isla decided. Or is it all my meddling in her head?

A strong odour of cajuput followed as the rajini passed Isla's table to take a seat amongst the royalborn, Arya taking his position at her back. Five heads away from where Isla stood, dutifully pouring drink after drink for the guests before her.

Rajini Chei entered shortly after, announced by both the herald and Huu gliding into the hall in advance. Isla brushed against her mind as the queen consort took her place furthest from the dais. Gently, quietly. Still it swirled with that pulling emptiness. Isla recoiled physically at its pulse, reminded instantly of Eshe's void and its lingering effects.

Strong defence, for an unblooded. Perhaps to compensate for her lack of theurgy at all. It fit though, with the image Isla had built of the rajini. Who better to have a mind of steel, than a woman renown for her intellect and guile?

Isla's thoughts were interrupted by the herald's voice. Kiet's mother was last of the queens consort to enter, leading a stream of rose-draped maidens. All eyes were upon her as she passed, and just as she swept across Rajini Dhvani's table, she stopped.

'My Honourable Consort.' She dipped her head ever so slightly. 'I regret to not have had the opportunity to speak with you afore today. I wish it were under more appropriate a circumstance I could personally express my condolences to you.'

'It matters not.' Rajini Dhvani's voice was a shrill cord to Rajini Amarin's gentle lullaby. 'We are here tonight to celebrate life, and it will not do to lament.'

'My rajini is as gracious as she is strong.' A string of dancers twirled towards Arya. Isla searched for the softest mind amongst them and dug in. 'I could not imagine losing my own son. The thought alone breaks my heart. Tonight, I shall drink to the memory of the late Maharaj Kiaan.'

The dancers were close to Rajini Dhvani's seat, now. Isla saw her chance and stilled her victim's feet. The child stumbled; fell against a serving maid. Wine tumbled and spilt over the rajini's table.

Rajini Dhvani's shield faltered, and Isla was in. She shrunk as small as possible, still aware of the rajini's searching eye, sweeping over the place in a constant state of alert. Isla moved quicker this time, having mapped her mind the first time she had intruded.

The queen consort had swiftly jumped from her seat.

Arya pulled the servant off the floor and looked close to obliterating her with a single glare when Rajini Amarin interceded. 'Clumsy girls! I shall see to it they will never again serve at a large function. If your silver-servant would unhand the inept waif, my maid will take her back to the kitchens where she so evidently belongs.'

Arya looked aside at his mistress, waiting for confirmation. 'This inept waif has damaged my silks beyond repair,' said Rajini Dhvani. She turned to Arya. 'Have them to the whipping boards escorted. Ten lashes apiece.'

Isla paused in her sowing – the rot had flourished nicely.

The rajini's anger and pain had imbued her mind with a lurking beast. It was a place of perpetual darkness. Isla needed to leave before she was detected; but she could spare a moment outside her own ends.

This is not the vengeance you seek. They were only girls. Little more than children. This Isla only needed to remind the rajini, and her host sniffed. 'Never mind. A whipping will recover my silks not. To mine estates have them sent. See upon it that they scrub and polish 'til hands and knees are all beyond reddened and raw.'

The dancer's eyes were red with tears, the serving maid pale, but Isla convinced herself they would be fine. She withdrew from her host's mind just as Rajini Amarin withdrew to her own seat.

The song ended. Horns blew from all corners of the chamber, and the curtains behind the dais were lifted.

Out came the Maha Rama, the sovereign queen by his arm, and tailed by eight of what Isla assumed was his most favourite – or important – offspring.

She was not surprised to see Kiet amongst them. He was still second in line to the throne, and one of the extremely few first-rank theurgists amongst the Maha Rama's brood. Isla spent much of the night trying to catch his eye; but she was just another servant amongst hundreds of guests.

Invisible. It never bothered her before. In fact, she sought the invisibility of the servants. Even Rajini Chei and her owl had not yet noticed her. But she needed to speak to Kiet before the night was over, and being invisible did not help.

A slow song emanated from the minstrel's gallery, and finally the maharaji rose from their seats and graced the audience with a dance. Kiet's first partner was a lovely young noble, and when the second song begun, he approached a maiden amongst the royalborn and swept her, too, off her feet.

They glided across the hall whilst Isla poured the Maha Rama's supposed distant relative his sixth cup of wine.

When she looked up, Kiet was just before them, his hands dangerously low against his partner's back. He saw her across the table and Isla held his gaze long enough before nodding towards the balconies above them.

'My carafe has emptied,' she said to a passing servant. 'Take my place while I get another.'

She hurried out of the great hall and up into the galleries, discarding her tray and pitcher on an unsuspecting maid. The music was much louder and certain to thwart even the keenest of eavesdroppers, but she could still see the diners down below, and surely they, too, could see her. I need fresh air, besides.

The wind whipped her cheeks when she stepped out to the balconies; but it was empty and the night hid her face should anyone decide to intrude upon her and the maharaj. The palace gardens stretched out far below. Orbs glowing beneath a thicket of trees signalled the lanterns had been lit. Isla had not heard the tolls, but it must have been well after ten-bells.

'There you are.' She turned at Kiet's voice. He was wrapped in a thick robe, which he had previously discarded for the dance. 'If you wanted a dance, you only had to say so.'

Isla ignored his play. 'I've thought about your offer, and I've made a decision.'

That wiped the smirk off his face. 'Before you set your mind upon anything, allow me to say – I haven't done myself justice. I've made a poor proposal, and perhaps you feel as though working with me would put you at great –'

'I accept,' Isla interrupted. Kiet stopped short of his blabber. 'On one condition.'

'Name it.'

'You asked what I was doing here. I'm looking for my sister, and I need your help.'

'Why have you kept this from me? I would gladly assist, however I can.'

Because I did not trust you. Neither did she trust him completely yet, but she had no other option. 'Even if it means breaking into a rajini's estate?'

Kiet frowned. 'Is she a servant for one of the consorts?'

'No servant,' said Isla, 'but a thrall in another sense of the word.'

'A captive? None of our rajinis keep a single prisoner. I have key access to both the Kathedran and Water Palace dungeons.'

'Not in the dungeons, but in the labyrinths.'

Kiet raised an eyebrow. 'Those labyrinths have not been used to hold prisoners for over a hundred years.'

So everyone keeps telling me. 'If she isn't there, then so be it. But this is the last place she could be kept in, and I need to see for myself.'

'Why would a rajini have your –'

'Will you help me?'

Kiet smiled. 'I don't believe anyone has ever yet dared make demands upon me. What if I refuse? I know now your intentions and can easily have you thrown into the dungeons yourself.'

'You could have had me thrown into the dungeons long before now,' Isla challenged. 'Though I'd be more careful of the person to whom you've insinuated your rebellious plans.'

'Fortunately it is your word against mine.'

'It would still put a damper on any schemes you have brewing up your royal sleeve.'

Kiet edged towards the balustrade, taking in the night air. 'Enough games. You've convinced me enough of your wit. I am not familiar with the labyrinth myself. There is a map, which I will first need to locate. Come to my chambers tomorrow at eve, and I will take you.' Isla nodded and moved past him to withdraw, but Kiet continued, 'I am not finished yet.'

Isla stopped, impatient. It was getting cold and she still needed to find Pepper. 'You will be missed at the feast.'

'There have been many unfortunate fires, of late.' Kiet turned, leaning against the granite balusters to face her. 'This very morning at the infirmary. I'm sure you would have heard – it was your tester's office, after all.'

'No one was harmed.'

'They say it came from his pipe. Though he swore to all the gods and back he left it unlit. And just two days ago, your own bedchamber was afire.'

Of course he would hear of it. 'A friend's bed. She had a hiccup in her sleep.'

'Or she has a friend with a corrupting salamander.'

Isla folded her arms defensively. 'My salamander –'

'– is remarkably old,' said Kiet gently. 'I saw it aboard Tempestorm. It tried to attack me in the Water Palace. That is not typical behaviour for a domesticated element, unless you had instructed it specifically. So which is it?'

'It was just being protective.'

'Aggressively so. More importantly, it is taking initiative. These are not qualities an element exhibits. They are the lowermost caste of daemon-kin, and these are signs that it is advancing.'

He was only confirming things she had already suspected, but still Isla did not want to believe it.

'It cannot advance here, in the human world,' said Kiet. 'And it is destroying your salamander. If you do not retire it to the epperstrom, it will lose any semblance of stability. Soon it will not even be able to recognise you.'

Isla turned to hide her face from him. 'What are you suggesting?'

'I'm sorry, Isla.' Kiet sighed. 'But you'll have to bring your salamander tomorrow, and I'll send it home.'

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