Crossing Over - Anna Kendall [64]
Then the entertainment was over. The savages left the palace. Courtiers, ladies, advisors retired, and the servants began to clean the debris from the feast. Green guards admitted me to the queen’s outer chamber, where I still slept on the hearth. I crept cautiously through the dark room, holding my candle aloft. But a sliver of light came also from the privy chamber beyond. The door was open a crack, and within Lord Robert was shouting.
“—bad enough that you promised him the princess for his barbaric son, but to also—”
“That is not your business.”
“—promise the ships and their captains, and—”
“I am doing what is best for The Queendom!”
“You are selling him The Queendom! Do you really think you can control him, after he defeats the Blues? We’ll be left with nothing but his army of savages, which he controls! Those damn guns—”
It was a strange word; I had never heard it before. But I had heard the queen’s tone before, and I knew that Lord Robert ignored it at his own peril.
“I will not let anyone else control my queendom, Lord Robert.”
“And how do you think you can stop him? By taking him to your bed?”
“How dare you!”
“You were sniffing at him like a bitch after hound spoor! ”
The sharp crack of hand on flesh; she must have slapped him. Appalled, I crept quietly back toward the far door, extinguishing my lantern. In the dark I deliberately overturned a stool, cursing loudly.
“Who’s there?” Lord Robert called. He flung open the privy-chamber door and peered, backlit, into the outer chamber.
“It’s Roger the fool, my lord! I tripped while coming in. ...”
The queen called, “Come, Roger!”
I groped my way across the room and into the privy chamber, rubbing my shin and looking as foolish and unknowing as I could. Lord Robert glared at me. The queen looked composed, all her fury hidden. She said coldly, “You are dismissed, Lord Robert.”
He had mastered himself, or her slap had mastered him. But he was not the actress she was, and the color was high in his face as he made his bow and left. The queen smiled.
“What did you hear? Don’t lie, Roger. Not to me.”
“I heard angry voices, but no words. And then I tripped over the stool.”
She studied me, and I could not tell if she believed me, or if she were just stowing away my lie for her own use in her own time. But all she said was, “I have work for you now.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
From the table she picked up small jeweled scissors, an elegant trifle for snipping thread. “You will cross over and find one of the savage warriors dead from today’s battle with the Blues. Only two were killed, both slain with lucky arrows from Blue archers before the Blues fled. From one of them you will find out two things. First, you will say, ‘Solek mechel-ah nafyn ga?’ And they will answer either ‘ven’ or ‘ka.’ Listen while I say it again, and then say it back to me.”
Eammons must have taught her the words. How many words? Had the exchange of language with Solek at dinner been no more than pretty feminine play? It might be that she already understood much of what he said. Or not. We went over and over the words until the queen was sure I had them correct.
“Good, Roger. Second—”
“Your Grace, whatever those words mean . . . common soldiers ...”
“Common soldiers know everything,” she said calmly. “Just as kitchen maids do.”
Was that a reference to Maggie—even a threat? I couldn’t tell. With the queen, I could never tell. But I did not forget that this woman had poisoned her mother.
“Second,