From what I’d learned of the Ke-Han court, it was appropriate to hide one’s laughter behind a sleeve or a fan, whichever one happened to have on hand at the time. However, survival instincts bid me ignore that particular rule, so that I was set to laughing quite openly in the center of the room, in a way I didn’t normally make a habit of. It was a most unseemly display, but for a very special occasion.
Alcibiades swore, and kicked at one of his crescent-shaped chairs that had fallen over in all the commotion.
“‘Wear your socks!’” I shrieked. Tears were beginning to roll down my face. This was better than a holiday, better than ten birthdays, and I found that I didn’t care at all that my face might have been as red as Alcibiades’ by that point. “‘Otherwise’! ‘Your feet get cold’!”
“It’s summer,” Alcibiades groused. “And humid as fuck here anyway. There isn’t any cold to be found. Give the damn thing back.”
He still had that murderous gleam in his eyes, but he was losing steam. That was the problem with men his size, they tired themselves out too quickly stomping about and making a dreadful ruckus. I darted up to the dais from which Alcibiades had moved his sleeping mat and collapsed there, out of breath and out of laughter.
“‘Take very seriously this mission of diplomacy. Take very seriously your health, or else you will sprout mushrooms from your ears and become like a mossy stone that has no rolling left to do.’”
Alcibiades sat down on the floor, clearly plotting my demise for a future date. It was almost sweet really. He was so earnest about it. Perhaps he’d realized that I’d nearly finished the letter anyway, and there was no point in trying to keep me from reading the rest.
There was an enormous black inkblot on the far wall. If I squinted, it looked something like a butterfly.
“‘Listen to your Yana, and you will always be happy, healthy, and fat. Yana Berger.’”
I sighed, feeling utterly emptied of everything and tremendously satisfied with myself. I would have to find a comb very shortly, and I would have to go over my clothing very carefully to make sure no errant drops of ink had landed on the silk, but all in all, it had been a very successful venture. I rolled my head to face Alcibiades, peering at him over the rumpled paper of the letter.
“Who’s Yana?” I asked, in the tones of someone about to break open a terrible scandal.
“No one,” Alcibiades grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest like a sullen child.
“Oh, come now.” I sat up. There was a faint freckle of ink on my right sleeve, but I’d already decided it was worth the sacrifice. This outfit was a new one, and not entirely as flattering as it might have been. I was going to call the Ke-Han tailors soon, in any case. Now that everyone bent over backward to make sure that Alcibiades, the diplomat with the stolen horse, had everything his heart desired, I would tell them Alcibiades had sent for them, and they were sure to come more expeditiously and do a better job, at that. “You’re telling me that this kindly soul, whoever she is—who took the time to write you this very… unique letter full of heartfelt sentiment and best wishes for your health—is no one? This lovely dame, who counsels you so very wisely to hold your temper because it is—so true, so true—like ants? Can this delicate flower be no one?”
“All right,” Alcibiades said in an exasperated tone. His cheeks were still bright red, though whether it was from exertion or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell. He was a fascinating creature. I was beginning to think of him less and less like the dog I’d once owned; although he’d just set to ruining a room like a misbehaved animal, he was far more difficult to train. “Just don’t talk about her, all right? I didn’t mean she’s no one. Just that she’s no one you’d know.”
“I can’t tell whether that’s a jab at my station or an outright lie.” I tapped my chin to order my thoughts where they’d got loose from me in all the excitement. My robes were creased—another mark against them. “I’ll take it as a lie, I suppose. Perhaps you are… embarrassed to speak of her? Your dear, sweet Yana, who cautions you to wear your socks? How heartbroken she would be to learn