note he intended. “Go on,” he said.
“The king said he wanted something grand that showed unity among the queens.”
Hiram raised an eyebrow. He knelt down and tucked the rolled sheaf into a canister hanging around the shinhound’s neck.
“I don’t know where the fire came from,” said Marta.
Hiram whispered something into the hound’s ear and sent it running toward the coliseum gate.
When he returned to his feet, he was no longer interested in anything Marta had to say. “You two. Soldiers, attend.”
The broken-nosed and earless soldiers scrabbled forward and struck sloppy salutes.
“What’ve you got to say?” said Hiram.
The soldiers remained silent. Rage coiled in Hiram’s brow. Were these men refusing to speak? Declan’s army was always hunting for new insults to throw at Hiram behind his back. He could sense the cleaning crew, pretending to work as they watched his every action. “Very well,” he said, ready to dismiss them both. “Latrine duty, now.”
“WHAT’S THAT, SIR?” shouted the earless soldier.
Hiram stepped in front of the soldier and peered down his nose. “Could you hear me the first time?”
“SORRY, SIR. WAR WOUND AND ALL THAT.” The soldier pointed to one of his missing ears. Hiram couldn’t tell if this was a jab at his own war record. He glanced at the broken-nosed soldier, who was still staring into the distance.
“And what about him? Why didn’t he answer me?”
“HE’S A LOWLANDER, SIR, BEGGIN’ YER PARDON. HE DON’T EVEN SPEAK DOG.”
“Does he know what a latrine is?” said Hiram.
“YESSIR,” said Earless, “BUT IN THE LOWLANDS I THINK THEY CALL ’EM HOME SWEET HOME.”
The broken-nosed soldier betrayed himself with a knowing smile. Hiram caught a glimpse of it before the soldier could go back to pretending he didn’t speak the language. Hiram didn’t have the time to wrestle respect out of two lowly footmen.
“Latrine duty, both of you, go.”
Both soldiers knocked their heels, turned, and marched off to dig out the coliseum cesspits in time for the Revels.
Hiram sighed. He’d have to speak to the girls.
He entered their loose circle and cleared his throat. “Your highness queens, tell me, what—” Hiram stopped himself. He refused to shout over the din of a wailing child.
Cadis knelt beside Suki and tried to console her with a story. “Suki, hey, Susu. Listen. Wanna hear about Miss Rusila? I’ll tell you a story if you stop crying.” Suki usually begged for Cadis’s tales of Rusila, the Maid Marauder—one of the great pirate legends of Findain. This time she shook her head and wailed even louder.
Rhea stood with her arms crossed, exasperated.
She was suddenly plagued by sisters and felt as pleased by it as a dog with drill-nose ticks.
Iren observed, as she always did, as if the other girls were behind a museum glass.
Hiram Kinmegistus waved Cadis away with a reassuring nod and lowered himself to be eye-to-eye with the five-year-old Suki. The three older girls backed away. Aside from Rhea, none of them had ever spoken with the magister. And even Rhea had always been in her father’s court, where the palace guards made her feel safe.
When he had enough space to whisper something that only Suki could hear, Hiram said, “Now, little one, tell me why you’re crying.”
Suki had already swallowed her louder sobs. She trembled.
“Did you hurt yourself in the crash?”
Suki shook her head, her chin tucked into her chest.
“No? Well, that’s good. It’s good, isn’t it?”
Suki nodded. She even smiled a little at the man’s obvious question.
Hiram looked around, then caught Suki’s eye again. This time, he spoke in Tasanese, a language Suki hadn’t heard since the day her parents sent her away. It filled her with such comfort, as if she’d caught the scent of her own mother.
“Do you remember those two soldiers I sent away? The one with missing ears and the one with the broken nose?”
Suki nodded again.
“What if I told you I’m a misfit, too? Look.” The magister opened his mouth wide and poked a finger back to a space where the last tooth should have been on either side.
Suki giggled at the absurdity of the king’s man shoving his giant hand into his own mouth. Hiram pretended to gag, and Suki laughed even harder. He had a warm smile. “And what if I told you,” he said, “that I was starting a collection of misfits, and now I need a little girl, hopefully with swollen cheeks from crying all the time?”
Suki’s eyes went wide.
“And that all the misfits get latrine duty or my job, and you’d probably rather the latrines?”
Suki thought