“Come?” he said, his brows arching, grin growing. He took her hand and tugged it. “I’ve someplace to show you.”
“I bet you do,” she said. “Is it dark?”
“Possibly.”
“Private?”
“Probably.”
She laughed. “I think you’ve taken me there before.”
“No, not this one. Come.”
“But…” Moria motioned toward the two serving girls, now on a bench, one subtly watching.
He leaned in and whispered loudly. “They aren’t looking. Now come. Quickly.”
They scampered off, whispering and laughing, as the spies headed back to the palace with their report. Tyrus took her past the Chancery for Medicines, and then into the Grove of Pines. He led her through to the palace wall at the far side.
“Can you climb?” he asked, pointing to a generously branched pine.
She nodded.
While she easily scaled the tree, he had a little more trouble. There were situations in which having a long blade hanging at your side was problematic. She remembered in the Wastes, when she’d broken into a run upon seeing Fairview ahead, and she’d laughed at —
Moria banished the memory. She’d not recall any that included him. The point was that a warrior’s blade could hinder running or climbing, yet as long as a warrior remained upright, his weapons stayed at his side or in his hand. There were no other choices.
Once up the tree, Tyrus pointed to the wall and said, “Can you jump?”
“Into the palace yard?”
He nodded.
“I can but —”
“Then follow me. Tell Daigo to wait.”
He jumped onto the wall and then swung down. By the time she’d spoken to her wildcat, Tyrus had disappeared. She jumped to the base of the wall and looked about.
“Over here,” he whispered, peeking from behind a building. When she caught up, he said, “Keep following. Quietly. Don’t sneak, though. There’s no reason I can’t bring you to my quarters, but I’d prefer not to take the ruse that far, for the sake of your reputation. Just follow quietly and take note of the route. You’ll want to use it again. Soon.”
Like the court, the palace itself was a complex of buildings. The emperor’s residence was in the middle – or so she’d heard, having not been here before. His first and second wives also had homes in the compound, as did his concubines, including Tyrus’s mother. Tyrus himself lived here, like all the emperor’s children, except the daughters who’d married and left.
When Moria once asked how many children the emperor had, Tyrus estimated fourteen – four legitimate sons, two legitimate daughters, and the rest by his official concubines, though he allowed he may have forgotten one or two. The legitimate offspring were all older than Tyrus. Two of the bastard daughters were older and married, living elsewhere. The remainder were at least three summers younger, meaning Tyrus was the only one who posed a threat, and thus garnered all his brothers’ interest.
Given the size of the imperial family, the palace compound was not small. It may even have been larger than the court. Besides the residences, it included a number of other buildings, for guests and entertainment. Those were along the wall adjoining the court, and that’s where Tyrus led her. They stopped outside a window shuttered against the late-day heat. Inside, she caught the bustle of serving staff preparing for a meal.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Tyrus whispered, leaning in so close his breath warmed her ear.
She could pick up nothing of import. Just someone asking a steward about the menu, someone else being chastised for poorly arranging flowers. When she said as much to Tyrus, he nodded.
“I only wanted to know if you could hear them. The window ought to be open tonight, but if there’s a sharp breeze, they’ll close it.”
“Why would I —?”
He waved for her to follow. When she caught up, he whispered, “You’ll need to return to the court a different way. I’ll show you.”
He took her almost to the rear corner. One of the palace buildings came close enough to the wall that they could climb onto it. They emerged in a quiet pocket behind the armory. There was a bench there, with a small koi pond. They’d barely sat when Daigo appeared and settled silently at Moria’s feet.
“When I was growing up, my father loved to tell me tales of dragons,” Tyrus said. “I swear he didn’t know a story that didn’t have at least one.” He rubbed his thumb over the red dragon on his forearm. “They were as important to him as our actual ancestors. One of his favorite tales was of a sand dragon. I presume I’d be wasting breath if I asked whether you know your types.”
“Sand, snow, rock, timber. Corresponding to the four major parts of the empire – the southern desert, the frozen north, the western mountains, and the eastern forest. There are also corpse dragons, but they aren’t the same.”
“This story is about a sand dragon, which lives alone, for very good reason.”
“Because they guard treasure.”
“Exactly. The problem with having treasure is that everyone wants it. No matter how far away the dragon hides, eventually men will come. Being in the desert, though, the dragon can see approaching armies from afar. So this one waited, and when the men arrived, he did not meet them with fire and death, but with kind words and hospitality. He was very pleased to see them, having been alone for so long, and if they would share his company for a time, he would happily share his fortune in return. Of course, the men suspected a trick. The first dinner they attended with hidden blades and anxious hearts, but the dragon was as pleasant a host as one could wish. The second night, some left their blades behind, but most were still mistrusting and prepared for battle. Yet the dragon was even more hospitable, the banquet bigger, the entertainment grander, and at the end, he gave them all a bag. Those who left their blades behind had received gold coins, enough to feed a family for many seasons. Those who’d brought their weapons found their bags filled with sand. They knew their host had detected their duplicity, and they were shamed. So on the third night, no one carried a blade to the banquet, and the dragon was in his best mood ever, the food and the entertainment beyond anything imaginable. At the end, he invited them into his treasure room, to take all they could carry, and once they were there, he barred the door and left them to die.”