Page 77 of The Ragpicker King
Twilight was falling—the kind of twilight in which the heat of the day seemed trapped under the oncoming shadow of night. The grass of the Palace lawns was dry and crisp under Kel’s boots as he made his way to the place he’d agreed to meet Anjelica and Kurame.
The West Gate of the Palace was a postern gate, rarely used, meant to be hidden in the castle’s fortifications. Anjelica’s gray carriage was already there, inside the walls, when Kel arrived. Only one guard seemed to be on duty: Benaset, who was leaning against the castle wall and greeted Kel with interest. “Her Highness of Kutani is waiting for you,” he said, jerking his chin toward the carriage. “Said something about wanting to see the city at night—the Broken Market and such. Is the Prince meant to be joining you?”
Kel smiled easily at Benaset. To be able to smile past his nerves was one of the first things he’d learned in the Palace; now he bent the talent toward reassuring Benaset that there was nothing interesting going on here. “Conor has obligations, alas,” he said. “Her Highness needed a guide, and he asked me to step in for him.” He pitched his voice low, confidential. “He’s been too busy lately—he’s worried she’ll be bored.”
Benaset grinned. “Woman like that probably gets bored easily,”he said, and pushed the gate open. Kel hurried over to the carriage, where Kurame was perched in the driver’s seat. The fading sun winked off a pair of jeweled spectacles as he greeted Kel with a nod.
The carriage door swung open; Kel stepped inside, sitting down across from Anjelica. A moment later, the carriage started to move, bumping over several large potholes as they rolled through the gate and outside onto the Hill.
“You had no trouble getting away, then?” Anjelica said. She was dressed as plainly as Kel had ever seen her, in severe black, her hair braided close to her head. She wore no jewelry save a silver band on her right hand, set with a scarlet stone. “And you know where we’re going? The meeting is on Castle Street—”
She’s nervous,Kel thought. Oddly, the thought eased some of his own tension. Anjelica always seemed so poised, it had not occurred to him she couldbenervous. It meant that she was more desperate than she had let on, and Kel understood being desperate—far more than she could guess.
Kel glanced out the window. They were making their way down the Hill, and the city was spread out before them, its edges softened by twilight. Heat seemed to rise from it, a shimmer in the air.
“I know Castle Street,” he said. “And yes, I had no trouble getting away. I have done things without the permission of the Palace before, you know.”
“I expect you have.” She twisted the ring on her hand. “But I did nearly blackmail you into this.”
“I question your use of the wordnearly,” Kel said, but he smiled a little, to take the sting from it. “That’s a pretty ring.”
She stopped twisting it, looking a little surprised. “It was a gift from Conor. I told him that he need not give me gifts, but he clearly does what he likes. He has given me a fine pair of gloves, though gloves are something I have never needed or worn before. Also a golden headdress for Sedai, and jeweled spectacles for Kurame, as well as for Kito and Isam, although they don’t wear spectacles.”
“This is the first time someone has complained to me about Conor doing too many kind and thoughtful things for them.”
They had reached the city and were wending their way through the narrow streets below the Hill. “You say that,” Anjelica said slowly, “but I find Conor is not at all the way he was painted. I was told he was a wastrel, that he lived his life for pleasure, for drinking and gambling, for bedding anyone who caught his fancy. That he was irresponsible and up to his ears in debt. Instead I find him almost grimly responsible. He is almost always in the library or closeted with his advisers or his father. And when I catch a glimpse of him, when he thinks no one is looking, he seems so...sad.”
Kel, too, had seen that sadness, for all that Conor explained it away as weariness or frustration. How strange that Anjelica saw it, too—though he took a moment to thank the Gods that she did not seem to suspect anything unusual about the King.
Kel said, “He has changed since the Shining Gallery. And there are reasons for it.”
“I did not realize how responsible he holds himself for the death of the little Princess.”
They had turned off the Ruta Magna, down Castle Street, so named for the view of Marivent from its winding path. Castle Street resembled a byway in the Maze—narrow and ancient, with plaster-fronted buildings leaning tipsily together. It was not a wealthy area, but those who lived there clearly cared for their homes and shops. It was spotless and neat, with colorful signs hung above lively public houses and restaurants.
Kel opened the carriage door, and he and Anjelica climbed out into the street. This was the neighborhood where immigrants from Kutani had settled, and like Yulan Road, it carried the scents and color of a land far away. Mixed with the smell of the nearby harbor was the tangy scent of spices: warm cumin and cardamom, hot pepper and roasting cinnamon.
The address she had given Kel turned out to be a plaster-fronted teahouse painted a cheerful shade of turquoise. The sign hangingabove it proclaimed itNaali Canaali,which Kel was fairly certain meant “The Golden Light.”
Kurame waited with the carriage while Kel and Anjelica approached; Anjelica had covered her head with a white shawl that partially hid her distinctive face. Inside the teahouse, a young woman in the traditional black-and-whitegeyaof Spice Town greeted Anjelica and Kel, then led them through a room scented withpatounwhere Kutani sailors, missing home, crowded around tables loaded with pots of tea and plates of buttery, flaky flatbread. Most seemed happy to be there, save for a pale man with a viciously scarred face, who sat alone, glaring at his tea as if it had insulted him.
Anjelica kept her head down, but no one really took note of either her or Kel. Kel wished he had told her: Half of disguise was expectation. No one here expected to see the Princess, no one was looking for her here, and so no one would see her.
The young woman led them outside, into a small walled garden with a flame tree growing in its center. It was empty except for a circular stone table at which a tea service for three people had already been laid; clearly Kel had not been expected—in more ways than one, for the two people at the table were the Ragpicker King and Ji-An.
Kel stood frozen in place. He was vaguely aware that the young woman who had brought them to the garden had returned to the teahouse; he was even more aware that Ji-An was staring at him, her eyes wide. Andreyen, of course, was expressionless, his long pale hands folded atop his cane as usual. His eerie green gaze swept over Kel with studied indifference.
Through the rushing in his ears, Kel saw Anjelica step forward, drawing off her shawl. Her long braids fell down around her shoulders as she said, “Greetings,namimi keyami.I am Anjelica Iruvai. With me is my guard, Kel Anjuman of Marakand.”
Ji-An looked as if she desperately wanted to say something, but Andreyen was stepping on her foot. Smoothly, he replied, “Welcome,Ayakemi.And Kel Anjuman. The Prince’s cousin. I haveheard of you.” He gestured to two empty seats at the table. “Come. Join us.”
As Kel and Anjelica took their seats, the young woman in the black-and-whitegeyareturned, carrying a tray with a samovar. Kel was grateful for the small ritual of the tea service, as it gave him a chance to catch his breath.
Anjelica clearly had no idea he knew the Ragpicker King; otherwise she would never have asked him to accompany her here. The spies of Kutani had not been as thorough as that. And Anjelica had no reason to be loyal to Kel particularly; if she discovered he knew Andreyen, and knew him well, she might see it as a betrayal of Conor. She might even tell Conor—though she would be revealing her own secret if she did.
Still. It was clear Andreyen wished to preserve the fiction that they had never met. Kel could only silently agree that, of all the courses of action open to them at the moment, this seemed the wisest.
Having served the tea in dark-blue glasses, the young woman left them alone again in the courtyard. The last light had washed out of the sky and the stars were beginning to appear overhead. Kel picked up a glass of tea, welcoming the burn of heat against his hand. It was something to concentrate on outside his own agitation.
