Page 44 of The Ragpicker King
The massive ship stopped short of the dock. Uncertain muttering whipped up among the Arrow Squadron. Kel stood, feeling like an ass, as the Kutani boat drifted just offshore.
After some moments, a smalldowboat was released into the water. It oared smoothly to the dock, where a single man—of medium height, with a smoothly shaven head and lean, handsome features—disembarked. His tunic and trousers were white linen; over them he wore an open robe the color of sumac, threaded through with gold. The deep color set off his dark-brown skin.
The sunlight glinted off his gold spectacles as he bowed to Kel, as was Kutani custom; Kel bowed in return. “I am Kurame Iruvai,” the man said. “This dock is too small.”
“You are Anjelica’s brother?” Kel realized, belatedly, the import of the purple-red robe, the gold bracelets at his wrists, studded with scarlet bloodstones. And Kurame’s familiarity: Of course he resembled his sister. “Then you are of the Bloodguard.”
Kurame inclined his head. “I am. But this dock remains too small. My sister cannot disembark here.”
“Can’t she?” Kel was frankly amazed. “She seemed ordinary-sized, from her portrait. Not a giantess of any sort.”
A smile touched the corner of Kurame’s mouth. “You will see what I mean, if the problem can be rectified. If not,” he added thoughtfully, “perhaps we must return to Kutani?”
Kel turned to face the Arrow Squadron and summoned his best version of Conor’s imperious tone. “We need to move the dock. Now.”
There were some muttered protests, but the dock had been designed to be mobile. Kel retreated to the shore as the Arrow Squadron waded into the water, muttering furiously as the lapping tide splashed up to ruin their scarlet-and-gold trousers. With a great deal of heaving on ropes, the dock was towed aside, leaving a clear path from the water to the land.
Kurame, meanwhile, had returned to thedowboat, where he seemed to be reading a book. Benaset, who had remained on horseback, glared. Kurame ignored this with a truly magnificent indifference. Kel, who was beginning to sweat in his heavy clothes, considered whether Kurame might be his personal hero.
When the dock had been relocated, the boat drew near. A massive gangplank was lowered, the Arrow Squadron staring up in frank amazement at the shining expanse of wood. Two long columns of Kutani courtiers lined up along either side of the walkway. Each carried a branch bearing the scarlet flowers of the flame tree. The women wore simple shift dresses of gorgeously printed cotton with rich decorative borders of gold and silver thread; the men wore white linen, with bands of more colorful fabric at their wrists and ankles.
Kurame’s small boat had come to shore; he climbed out and made his way to where Kel was standing. Two more of the Bloodguard—both handsome young men with a family resemblance to Kurame—marched down the walkway, heads high, swords glimmering at their waists. Like their brother, they wore the gold bracelets of their rank. As they reached the foot of the gangplank, they bowed to Kel and stepped aside, one to the right and the other to the left. They reminded Kel, somehow, of a double line of Lutan’s priests moving aside to allow the common folk to view the holy flame of the Temple.
He craned his neck back as movement stirred at the top of the gangplank. Something moved into view—something so massive that for a moment, it blocked the sun. Making its way down the wooden gangway was an elephant—massive and gray, with huge dark eyes lashed like a girl’s. Saddle-cloth of amber brocade draped its sides; its tusks were painted silver, and strands of tinkling silver bells wreathed its head and ankles.
Kel’s mouth fell open. He heard Kurame laugh delightedly. “I told you,” he said.
As the beast came nearer, Kel saw that lashed to its back was a basket-seat, woven from strips of mangrove wood. Inside the basket sat Princess Anjelica, her back as straight as an arrow.
She, too, wore a sheathed dress, but hers was of gold brocade, and over her slim shoulders hung a translucent cloak of gold and scarlet Marakandisef,creating the effect of dragonfly wings. Hercloud of black curling hair was bound in a shining net. She glanced down at Kel from her perch, and he caught the fleeting glance of her dark eyes.
He drew in his breath; he could not help it. She was beautiful in a way that was like a blow. Kel had seen portraits of her, of course, and had heard all the tales of her loveliness. She was famous for it—and rightly so, it seemed.
But Kel had always thought of beauty as something to admire and enjoy. He had not realized there was a kind of beauty that was painful to look upon. That brought an ache to the back of the throat, as if he were listening to music that was profoundly sweet and sad.
And she looks sad,he thought.No, she looks anxious.She was looking around the harbor, half expectantly. He could see her tension.She, too, is expecting an attack from this spurned suitor of hers.But there were no ships on the horizon, no sign of any craft between here and Tyndaris bigger than a fishing vessel.
She rose to her feet and bowed—not to Kel, but to the people of Castellane who had gathered to see her. A great cry rose up. Cheering, they hurled their flowers into the air—a plumed cloud of saffron.
Then she called out—a sharp single word, clearly a command—and the elephant began to kneel. It sank down gracefully before Kel, extending one foreleg, bent slightly. “She wishes you to join her,” said Kurame, a hand on Kel’s shoulder. “Climb up.”
Here goes nothing,Kel thought, and clambered up onto the elephant’s sturdy leg.
Lin read for several hours in the Black Mansion before it was necessary for her to leave and go on rounds. She only had a few patients to see today, but given the crowds that would be clogging up the roads in the city, she was anxious about getting to them on time.
To her surprise, she found Andreyen waiting for her on the front step of the Black Mansion. He was leaning on his cane, gazingout at the Scarlet Square and the city beyond. His expression was especially opaque today—not that it was ever easy to tell what the Ragpicker King was thinking.
“You are worried,” he said. “Is this because Benjudah has arrived in the city?”
She gave him a curious look. Fewmalbushimeven knew that the Ashkar had a leader, and if they did, like Conor, they called him the Exilarch. Then again, Andreyen had known about the forbidden books in the Shulamat. His pursuit of knowledge about magic had taken him closer to her people than most.
“Yes,” she said. It was something of a relief to state the plain truth. “It is his task to test me. To see if I am the Goddess I claim to be. When he discovers I am not—”
“I have a suggestion for you,” Andreyen said, still gazing out across the city. “I imagine you are trying to learn all you can before you, as you predict, inevitably fail at whatever challenge he sets you.” He turned to her. “You can lay your hand on magic, Lin. Concentrate not on faking your way through these tests, or on the time you imagine is growing ever shorter before you. Concentrate onpassingthe test. I believe you can.”
Lin was too astonished to say anything in reply, and indeed he did not seem to expect one, but went back into the Black Mansion, closing the door behind him.
She had been right about the difficulty of traversing the city. It was nearly midday, and the crowds were out in full force; all of Castellane had heard of the beauty of the foreign Princess and were eager to celebrate her arrival. (Save those young girls mourning that the Crown Prince would soon be married and unavailable to them; they wandered the streets disconsolate, wearing red ribbons pinned to their chests to symbolize broken hearts. Lin thought they were ridiculous.)
