Tigana by Guy Kay (novel24 txt) 📕

years ago. Yet not so many, a blink of an eye or the moment it took an autumn leaf to fall, as this creature would measure time.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. And: ‘I understand.’

And she stood very still, not flinching at all, as the riselka rose up on tiptoe and kissed her, soft as the wing of a butterfly, upon the lips. There was no hint of desire this time, in the giving or receiving. This was the aftermath, the consummation had come and gone. The riselka’s mouth tasted of salt. The salt, Dianora knew, of her own tears. She no longer felt any fear at all; only a quiet sadness like a smooth stone in the heart.

She heard a ripple of sound and turned back to the pool. The cypresses were reflected again, their images ruffled and broken now by the movement of the water in the wind.

When she looked away again, pushing her hair back from her face, she saw that she was alone.

WHEN SHE CAME BACK out to the open space before the palace doors d’Eymon was waiting for her, dressed formally in grey, his Seal of Office about his neck. He was sitting on one of the stone benches, his staff resting beside him. Scelto hovered by the doors, and Dianora saw the flash of relief he could not hide when she came out from among the trees.

She stopped and looked at the Chancellor allowing a slight smile to show on her face. It was artifice of course, but an act she could do unconsciously by now. In d’Eymon’s normally inscrutable expression she read edginess and anger, and other signs of what had happened yesterday. He would probably be spoiling for a fight, she guessed. It was difficult, amazingly difficult, to switch back to the manners and affairs of state. It was also something that had to be done.

‘You were late,’ she said mildly, walking towards him. He had risen, with perfect courtesy, as she approached. ‘I went walking in the garden. There are anemones beginning already.’

‘I was precisely on time,’ d’Eymon said.

She might once have been intimidated, but not now. He would be wearing the Seal as an attempt to reinforce his authority, but she knew how badly yesterday would have unsettled him. She was fairly certain he would have offered to kill himself last night; he was a man for whom the old traditions mattered. In any case, she was armoured against him: she had seen a riselka this morning.

‘Then I must have been early,’ she said carelessly. ‘Forgive me. It is good to see you looking so well after yesterday’s confusions. Have you been waiting long?’

‘Long enough. You wanted to talk about yesterday, I gather. What is it?’

Dianora didn’t think she had ever heard an inconsequential remark from d’Eymon, let alone a pleasantry. Refusing to be rushed she sat down on the bench he had just vacated and brushed her brown robe smooth over her knees. She clasped her fingers in her lap and looked up, letting her expression grow suddenly as cold as his own.

‘He almost died yesterday,’ she said flatly, deciding only in that moment what her tack would be. ‘He would have died. Do you know why, Chancellor?’ She didn’t wait for his answer. ‘The King almost died because your people were too complacent or too slovenly to bother searching a party of Ygrathens. What did you think? That danger could only come from the Palm? I expect yesterday’s guards to be dealt with, d’Eymon. And soon.’

The use of his name and not his title was deliberate. He opened his mouth and closed it, visibly biting back a swift retort. She was pushing things, Triad knew how hard she was pushing with this, but if ever there was going to be a chance for her to do so, this would be it. D’Eymon’s face was white with anger and shock. He took a deep breath to control himself.

‘They have been dealt with already,’ he said. ‘They are dead.’

She hadn’t expected that. She managed, with an effort, to keep her discomfiture out of her eyes. ‘There is more,’ she went on pressing her advantage. ‘I want to know why Camena di Chiara was not watched when he went to Ygrath last year.’

‘He was watched. What would you have had us do? You know who was behind yesterday’s attack. You heard.’

‘We all heard. Why did you not know about Isolla and the Queen?’ This time the bite she put into the words was real, not merely tactical.

For the first time she saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. He fingered his Seal, then seemed to become aware that he was doing so and dropped his hand to his side. There was a brief silence.

‘I did know,’ he said finally. His eyes met her own, a question in them like an angry challenge.

‘I see,’ said Dianora a moment later, and looked away. The sun was higher now, slanting across most of the clearing. If she moved a little along the bench its warmth would fall upon her. The harsh, unspoken question in d’Eymon’s eyes hung in the air: Would you have told the King, knowing these things about his Queen?

Dianora was silent, tracking implications to their endings. With this admission, she realized, d’Eymon was hers, if he hadn’t already been so after his failure yesterday and what she had done to save the King. She was also, she thought, in fairly immediate danger as a consequence. The Chancellor was not a man to be treated lightly, ever. Most of the saishan had their suspicions as to how Chloese di Chiara had died ten years ago, and why.

She looked up, and let her rising anger keep the anxiety from showing. ‘Wonderful,’ she said acidly. ‘Such efficient security. And now, of course, because of what I was forced to do, your pet courtier Neso simply has to receive the posting in Asoli, doesn’t he. With a wound of