The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,38

with her and some of Berenene's other ladies-in-waiting. Sandry, unwatched for a moment, stepped back under a shady tree. She looked on as Jak, Finlach, and other men who had eyed Berenene as they hovered around Sandry formed a clump of watchers. Their eyes were fixed on the greenhouses as they muttered to one another.

"Silly amdain," a man said near her right shoulder.

Sandry glanced back and up. She had seen him in the crowd, the hunter who had been so angry with Chime. He was a tall man even not on horseback, with glossy dark blond hair, direct brown eyes, and a clever mouth. It was a face that was made for smiling, which he was doing at that very moment. "Why do you say that?" she asked, knowing amdain meant 'fool' in Namornese.

"Her Imperial Majesty sets her pretty boys to courting you, and the moment she isn't here to make them hop, they start sulking about her and ignoring you. In their shoes, I wouldn't grumble about her walking off with your friend." He stood loosely, his green coat open, his hands in the pockets of his baggy black trousers. "I'd be making certain you remembered my name when you went home tonight."

Sandry raised her chin. "If you were present earlier, you'd know I don't care for flattery."

He grinned down at her. "What flattery? I'm talking common sense. Here you are, all the way from Emelan. You have to be more interesting than most of my friends, who know nothing but the roads between their lands and the imperial palaces."

Sandry covered a giggle. He wasn't as obviously handsome as redheaded Finlach or swarthy Jak, but he was good-looking in a friendly, approachable way. I wonder if his nose got that flat bit in the middle when someone hit it? she asked herself. "Forgive me," she said with a smile of her own. "You must think I'm dreadfully conceited."

"No, but you must feel like bait at the moment," he told her. He offered her a large hand. "I'm Pershan fer Roth. Shan."

Sandry let him take her hand. "Sandrilene fa Toren. Sandry." His grip was warm, strong, and nicely brief, after so many men had already tried to make a romance of a handclasp. "Let's see," she murmured, looking at him. "Are you a cleham? Bidis? Saghad? Giath?" The last title was equal to that of duke.

"No, no, no, and no. My father's the giath, my older brother the heir. I'm just Shan," he said with a scapegrace grin. "I'm Master of the Hunt. In other words, I tell the servants what to do, and they make all the arrangements."

"It doesn't sound as if you enjoy the post," Sandry remarked.

"It beats crop management for my father and brother. Here I've little to do except inspect the hunting gear and animals from time to time, scout new places to hunt, flirt with pretty girls, distract their mothers and chaperones for my friends, and make Her Imperial Majesty laugh. The life of a younger son at the empress's personal court."

"Are there many of you here?" asked Sandry. "I would think most couldn't afford the life."

"Oh, Her Imperial Majesty gives us posts with salaries that help us survive," Shan replied with a casual shrug. "She likes handsome men, and she'd be the first to tell you those of us who depend on her for a living are very devoted to her interests. We had better be."

"What did you mean before, she set her pretty boys on me?" Sandry asked. She had figured it out, but she wondered what this outspoken man would say.

Shan dug his hands in his pockets. "You're not very good at playing the empty-headed noble," he informed her. "Of course you know our mistress would prefer that you and your fortune be confined strictly to Namorn from now on."

Sundry had suspected as much, and hoped he would report her answer to her cousin. "That's not up to her, or to Jak or Fin or anybody. I make my own choices."

Shan grinned at her. "Very fiery," he said with approval. "She's had people oppose her before, you know. It never quite worked out as they wished it to. The will of the empress is not easily ignored."

She sniffed in disdain. Then something made her add, "Besides, I'd never marry any man who's so obviously in love with someone else, like they are. Isn't my cousin a bit old for them?"

"Being imperial inspires a great deal of passion," her companion replied. "Money inspires