concealed archers.
"She sent the message through me. That provides a witness. It isn't the
sort of thing I would do if I intended to kill you," Balasar said.
"Still, if you go, take a guard."
Otah felt the weight of the note in his sleeve, feather-light and yet
enough to command all his attention. He had almost decided to ignore it
when, as the trumpets blared the first of the entertainments to the
floor, he noticed that Danat had also gone. He slipped down from the
back of the dais, chose two of the guards that he recognized, and made
his way out to the third palace.
The moon garden had been built as a theater; great half-circles of
carved stone set into a slope were covered with moss and snow ivy. At
the deepest recess, three old wooden doors led to hallways where players
or musicians could crouch, awaiting their entrance. The gardens were
dark when he arrived, not even a lantern glowing to mark the paths.
Behind him, the guards were as silent as shadows.
"Otah-cha," a woman whispered. "Here. Quickly."
Issandra huddled in the darkness under an ivy-choked willow. Otah walked
forward, his hands in a pose of query. Issandra didn't reply, her eyes
on the guards at his back. Her expression went from disapproval to
acceptance barely seen in the dim light. She motioned all of them close
to her.
"What is this?" Otah asked as he crouched in the darkness.
"Hush," Issandra said. "They should almost be here. There now. Be quiet,
all of you."
One of the wooden doors at the base of the garden was opening, the light
of a lantern spilling out onto the green of the grass, the black of the
soil. Otah squinted. Ana Dasin stepped out. She wore a rough cloak over
what appeared to be simple peasant robes, but her face and hair would
have proclaimed her in the darkest teahouse. She looked like a girl who
wanted to travel unnoticed but didn't know the trick of it. As Otah
watched, she raised her lantern, scanning the wide stone curve, and then
sat down.
"What is-" he whispered.
Issandra pressed her hand to his mouth. One of the guards shifted, but
Otah gestured him back. It wasn't everyone who could gag the Emperor of
the Khaiem, but he was too curious to disrupt things over a point of
etiquette. Besides which, he didn't truly care.
Another of the doors shifted and creaked open. Danat stepped out. Being
discovered crouched in the ivy, eavesdropping on their own children
might be the least dignified thing possible, so Otah tried to be very,
very still. When Danat spoke, the sound carried perfectly.
"I received your message. I'm here."
"And I received your poem," Ana said.
It was too dark to actually see how deeply Danat blushed, but Otah
recognized the discomfort in his son's body.
"Ah. That," he said.
Otah tapped Issandra on the shoulder and mouthed the word poem? Issandra
pointed back down to their children.