The bird made a sound very much like a whine.
“Forgive me, lovely,” Cosmas told her, “but the princess was firm on the subject about ‘pets at a royal occasion.’ You may take dinner with some of my fellow masters and me. If you are very good, we will allow you to have some of the mead you like.”
“Mead!” Arram cried, shocked. “You’ve been giving her mead?!”
“It does her no harm,” Cosmas replied with dignity. “Lindhall approved, and it stops her from crying for you when you work at night in the infirmary. None of us would do anything to harm our Preet, would we, my dear?”
Preet ran her beak under Cosmas’s beard and chirred in content.
“Now, the instructions for how you are to travel are in your invitations,” Cosmas told them. “I know you will do us credit. Don’t forget the fifth chapter in your texts for tomorrow.”
As if the university clocks were set inside his head, the bells for the change of class began to ring. Once Preet had flown back to Arram’s shoulder, Cosmas linked his hands over his round belly and closed his eyes for his morning nap.
Arram waited until they were outside before he cried, “A party with the princess!”
Varice slung her arm around his waist. “Please don’t panic yet,” she begged. “I’ll let you know when to panic.”
—
When they arrived at the Water Pavilion, the princess greeted them with far more enthusiasm than they had ever seen her demonstrate. She even rose from her chair and walked over to them, smiling. “No formalities!” she said as she raised Arram from his bow and Varice from her curtsy. “My beloved son’s guard told me how you rescued him from that Sirajit dog’s insult!” She gripped Arram by the shoulders. “You in particular, dear boy.” She kissed him on both cheeks. “I know his household will be stronger with both of you there.” She took Varice’s hand in one of hers as she kept one on Arram’s shoulder. To Varice she said, “Those restoring soups and perfumes you make have done wonders for my health, my dear. Where would he be without both of you?”
“Where would I be, indeed?” Ozorne murmured in Arram’s ear as he came up beside him.
“But Your Highness, truly the man wasn’t—” Arram began.
Varice stepped lightly on his foot. Ozorne gripped his wrist, saying “Don’t” in his ear. In any event, the princess had not heard Arram’s attempt to say the peddler had not meant any insult. She was asking Varice if she knew any perfumes to protect the wearer from poisons.
“Anything that gets her to believe we shouldn’t be parted is a good thing,” Ozorne murmured when he was certain his mother wasn’t listening. “Otherwise she’ll try to bind me to a pair of fashionable stiff-necks who will always report to her. And we’re not sure that lout wasn’t going for me. Now, you and Varice sit here, on my left, until we go to supper. You both look very fine.”
“Varice looks very fine,” Arram said. “I look presentable.”
Their friend was lovely in a Northern-style pink silk gown embroidered down the front in silver Carthaki designs. A sheer pink silk veil was fixed to her hair with pins capped with tiny silver rosebuds, and she wore silver slippers. Compared to her, Arram was more somber in a dark gray tunic, and a dark blue coat and hose. Only when he turned under the lamps did onlookers see glints of silver woven into the garments, reminding him, at least, of a late-night sky.
Ozorne outshone them both, of course, in a bronze tunic and silver hose. The beads in his dark hair were silver and gold; his nails were gold; his bracelets were jeweled gold and silver; and his toe rings were gold and silver. Since he had become the second heir, his allowance had increased, which meant his wardrobe had grown more outrageous. Only his eye makeup was not gold or silver: instead he had put blacking on both sets of lids, so the orbs shone out of darkness.
“You look…nice,” Arram ventured. He couldn’t think of any better remark.
“Oh, it’s fun to play,” Ozorne said, regarding the other guests. “They’ve come to see if I’ll make trouble for Mikrom, you know. None of these people understand how a fellow would rather be a mage than lounge on a throne and scheme.”
“Just tell them,” Arram suggested.
Ozorne chuckled. “It doesn’t work that way. Chioké taught me—if you say something, they’re certain it’s the opposite. They can take the most innocent event and turn it into conspiracy.” He glanced at his mother, who was introducing Varice to a young nobleman. “She is in her element—Mother, not Varice,” he added hurriedly. “Ah! There’s Chioké. Excuse me for a moment?”
Arram watched Ozorne go to his mentor, nodding and smiling to guests who bowed or curtsied as he passed. Complain about court society as he might, Arram suspected that Ozorne had a wonderful time at events like these. He might be an outsider at the university, a peculiar student who took too many classes with masters, but here he was a master of sorts.
Arram was talking to Varice shortly afterward when she glanced over his shoulder and said, “Ah.” She gave her skirts a quick shake.
Arram looked to see what had attracted her interest. One of the household, a man in the long tunic of an imperial official, stood at the doorway. He took a deep breath and announced, “His Imperial Majesty, Mesaraz Avevin Tasikhe, Bright Sun of the Carthaki Empire, God-King of Amar and Apal…”
Frantic, Arram looked for a place to fade away. Chioké, who had appeared suddenly, gripped his arm. “Do not hide from the emperor, boy. Stay where you are and smile, understand?”
Arram nodded. His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest. Why did Ozorne and Varice have to like this sort of thing? Why couldn’t they enjoy quiet evenings in the libraries or tending the animals?
Chioké talked to him about this and that, but Arram barely heard what the older man said. He watched the emperor walk through the room, stopping to talk to this noble or that mage, but always setting a course for the platform where the tall chairs waited for him, the princess, and Ozorne. Behind him came his mage, a tall white man with the coloring of a Scanran. He was said to be fearsome when it came to protective magics, with the ability to turn an attacker to ash with a flick of the hand. His pale gray eyes were expressionless as they took in the faces around the room. There were also several guards in imperial colors, and a handful of slaves.
Now the emperor was talking to Ozorne, who drew Varice forward. Mesaraz smiled at her as she curtsied. When she straightened, he put his fingers under her chin and raised her face as he asked her something. She gave him her sparkliest smile and replied.
“There are advantages to being a pretty girl,” Chioké murmured.
“Disadvantages, too,” Arram replied softly. “People think she’s stupid because she’s pretty.”
“And she is not stupid.” Something about the way Chioké said it made Arram bristle.