Eona - Alison Goodman [39]
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
He led me along the tree line, a good distance past the sleeping forms of Vida and Solly.
“This will do.”
He sat on the ground, and painfully, I lowered myself beside him, tucking my skirt and undershift around my legs. The cloth was sour with horse sweat and dried blood. I should have taken the time to wash before I slept.
“Do you know what my father said about you?” His voice had dropped into the mix of whisper and murmur used for private conversations at court. If I had not been leaning close, I would not have heard him beneath the constant chirr of insects and the rush of water.
Holding my astonishment close, I matched his low tone. “No, Your Majesty.”
“He was most impressed with you in the Pavilion of Earthly Enlightenment. He said you had the ability to see both sides of an argument—that, although you were unschooled, you were a natural strategist.”
I flushed. A natural strategist? I turned the compliment over in my mind, studying it like a precious stone. If worrying out the motivations of others could be called strategy, then perhaps the Heavenly Master had been right.
“He did not know the half of it, did he?” the emperor added dryly. “I wonder what he would have said of a female Dragoneye.”
I flushed again. “He did say that a hidden nature is not necessarily an evil nature.”
“Yes, I remember,” the emperor said. “From the teachings of Xsu-Ree, the Master of War. ‘All generals have a hidden nature. Whether that nature be strong or weak, good or evil, it must be studied if victory is to be yours.’”
“Know your enemy,” I murmured.
He started. “How do you know the teachings of Xsu-Ree? Only kings and generals are permitted to study his treatise.”
“Even the lowest servant knows that maxim,” I said. “How else would he predict the mood of his master, or outwit the servant above him?”
“Then tell me, what do you know about our enemy?” the emperor asked after a moment. “What do you know about my uncle?”
I’d seen High Lord Sethon only once, at the victory procession held in his honor—the same procession where my poor master had died, poisoned by Lord Ido. I pushed away the gruesome image of my master’s convulsing body, and concentrated on picturing Sethon. He had looked very much like his halfbrother, the old emperor. They’d both had the same broad forehead and chin and mouth. Sethon, however, had been marked by battle—his nose broken and set flat, and his cheek puckered by a heavy crescent scar. Yet it was his voice that made the sharpest memory: a cold monotone that held no emotion.
“Not much,” I said. “A High Lord and successful general. The leader of all the armies.”
“And the first son of a concubine, like me,” the emperor said. “We have the same birth rank.”
“But he was not adopted by the empress as true first son, as you were,” I pointed out. “You are an acknowledged first son whereas Sethon has always only been a second harem son.”
“My father was borne by an empress. I was not. There are those who would argue that Sethon has as much claim to the throne as I have.”
“One of those being Sethon.” I tried to imagine what it was like to be Sethon; always second harem son, and now second to a nephew who had, more or less, the same birth rank. “You think Sethon truly believes his claim is equal to yours? That it is not only ambition that fuels his ruthlessness, but a sense of entitlement?”
“My father was right, you are sharp-witted,” the emperor said. “Xsu-Ree says that we must find the key to our enemy. His weakness. I think this arrogance is the key to my uncle. What do you think?”
“‘When a man lifts his chin in pride, he cannot see the chasm at his feet,’” I said, quoting the great poet Cho. I frowned, teasing out the idea of Sethon as a man weakened by arrogance. It did not feel right. “High Lord Sethon has waged many battles and not been tripped up by pride,” I said. “It might even be the core of his success.”
The emperor smiled. “You have not disappointed me, Lady Eona.”
I sat back, wary at his amused tone. He touched my arm and drew me close again.
“Lady, you have