All that was left was to have an audience with the Emperor.
“Not on your life,” Alcibiades told me. “I’ve had about enough Ke-Han Emperors for one lifetime, thank you very much.”
“It’s only polite,” I pleaded, trying, however futilely, to fix his tie. Would he never learn how to do it up? “We simply cannot leave without exchanging a few pleasantries. For diplomacy’s sake, Alcibiades—”
“Then stop talking about it and get it over with!” Alcibiades snarled.
He was excited too, poor darling, only he didn’t know how to admit it. Just think of all the stories we could tell when we returned, triumphantly, to court! No one there would have seen the new Emperor face-to-face. And Alcibiades would have to carry a stick with him at all times to fend off the gossips.
When we entered the council room, the Emperor was sitting a long way away from us, across the narrow room, on a raised dais. Beside him stood his loyal friend, a man whom I admired not the least for the way he held himself. His warrior braids were drawn back off his face; when next to him, the Emperor looked less like a rabbit and more like a bear cub protected by his fearsome mother. If only I could have commissioned a portrait artist to capture that moment—but there was no time.
“It is my honor to meet with you,” the Emperor said.
“Oh, no,” I told him, bowing low. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t that so, Alcibiades?”
“Yeah,” Alcibiades managed, clearing his throat. “Right. Thank you.”
It was hardly the beautiful speech I’d imagined—next time, I’d have to prepare one for him beforehand so he wouldn’t spoil the moment—but the prince seemed happy enough with the informality, and who could blame him? Even I, who reveled in the lush formality of it all, was ready to depart for a breath of fresh air. If I were the young Emperor, I thought privately, I would have preferred to stay in the mountains.
At least until my shoes got dirty.
I’d mentioned to Alcibiades that I had one last bit of business to accomplish, quite small but terribly important, and because of curiosity or boredom or both, he’d agreed to accompany me.
Of course, I’d always known I’d get him to see reason in the end. One just had to have the proper constitution for cultivating a friendship, and I very fortunately numbered myself among those lucky few.
“It’s just this way, my dear,” I told him, taking his arm as we turned down a mirrored corner. There were a great many things I would not miss about our sojourn in the Ke-Han palace, but I couldn’t help but think I’d picked up one or two terribly clever ideas while there. I would have to see about getting mirrors installed in my own estate. If nothing else, they would keep me remarkably well coiffed at all times.
“I hope you’re leaving us enough time to pack,” Alcibiades said. “Not that I need as much time as some. Knowing you, you’ve probably got more clothes leaving than you did coming here.”
I waved my hand to dismiss the idea, then reached out to open the door that led down into the stables.
“It just seems that way because the fabrics are so voluminous,” I pointed out. “I’ll be the first to wear such fashions in Thremedon. I predict they’ll become a trend soon enough.”
“Yeah,” said Alcibiades, scuffing some hay aside with his boot. “Sure. I can’t believe you’re going back to all… to all that.”
“Whatever do you mean?” I asked.
Alcibiades blinked down at me. “You’re going back to Thremedon, I take it,” he said. “City of pleasures and vices alike. Well, not me. I’m not even stopping there. I’m going straight to the farm, and I guess that’s where we’ll be saying good-bye.”
I guided him through the bank of stalls that housed the mounts for the Ke-Han nobility. There was one at the end that held a horse much larger than normal, more like a farmer’s draft horse than one meant for a diplomat.
“Oh, my dear,” I said, releasing his arm as we drew up to the stall, “you have it all wrong. Do you think I would ever give up the opportunity to meet the famous Yana Berger?”
Alcibiades went still at my side. I glanced up at him, quite delighted with myself, only to find his expression changed. He looked quite serious all of a sudden.
I opened my mouth to apologize—or perhaps to express my shock at finally having provoked some emotion out of the general at last.
“It’s Petunia,” he said before I could speak, and the next thing I knew he was hefting himself up over the stable wall to put himself into the stall with his horse.
I sighed and plucked a stray piece of straw from my sleeve. I was going to have to have a whole new wardrobe made up for the countryside.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
JAIDA JONES is a graduate of Barnard College, where she wrote her thesis on monsters in Japanese literature and film. A poet and native New Yorker, she had her first collection of poetry, Cinquefoil, published by New Babel Books in 2006. She also writes the Shoebox Project—a Harry Potter fan website with over 5,000 subscribed members.
DANIELLE BENNETT is an ex-Starbucks barista from Victoria, British Columbia, where she studied English literature at Camosun College. She has finally seen her first firefly in New York City. Havemercy was her first publication.
Shadow Magic is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.