“Was it distinctive?”
“Gods, no. I’ve seen two dozen just like it in the city. The horses were, though. Big blocky things. Couldn’t see the breed—might have been Galecians from Carrock, or . . . Well, really any of the other Lausanian draft breeds.”
“At least we’ve narrowed it down to acontinent,” Evemer said. Gratifyingly, Melek laughed, apparently able to read in his tone or expression that he’d meant it as a dry joke—Kadou’s influence on him again, undoubtedly.
It took him and another kahya to help Melek down the stairs, and then two more for safety after a bad moment when Melek’s knee gave out and they all nearly fell and broke their necks.
Kadou’s face when they exited the manor was a thing of beauty. He flung himself out of Wing’s saddle and ran up to Melek, the gold threads woven through the skirts of his kaftan glittering brilliantly in the sun. “Oh, thank thegods.” He took stock of Melek’s injuries, asked anxiously several times whether çe was well, whether çe was sure . . . “We’re taking you to the nearest doctor,” Kadou said firmly. “And then we’ll send a carriage to come get you. You can’t possibly ride in this condition.”
“My lord,” Evemer said urgently. “They packed in a hurry and left. Melek saw their horses.”
“Did they leave the city?” Kadou asked, turning again to Melek. “Do you know which gate?”
“No, nothing.”
“Damn.” Kadou pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. All right. Make up two groups of four or five and send them to the North and South gates, give them descriptions of the horses and the carriages, see if we can find out if anyone noticed them leaving.” He swung up into Wing’s saddle with absolutely enchanting grace and gathered up her reins. “Have them report back to the palace as soon as they hear anything. We’ll send people after them when we know which road they took. Melek, are you well enough to ride pillion? Just as far as the doctor’s, unless we can find a sedan chair to carry you.”
Evemer burned with pride as Kadou gave Melek a hand up into the saddle and called for a couple of the nearby kahyalar to accompany him. How had Evemer ever thought him careless, flighty, negligent? The words seemed starkly foreign now.
Kadou was dazzling in the light, his hair tumbling loose and shining down his back, and quite without permission Evemer’s feet stumbled to a stop as he gazed after them, a glow building in his chest until it was as warm as the sun on his back.
It was late afternoon by the time they got back to the palace. Tenzin had made great progress—the mood in the Copper Court was already easing, and the Silver Court was beginning to come awake too. As they rode through, Kadou felt all the knots of tension in his soul easing with each familiar face he spotted. Entering the Gold Court, they found almost a festival atmosphere. It was lively with kahyalar, all of them greeting each other joyfully, clapping each other on the back, rushing up to help them with the horses when they dismounted, and talking over each other to tell Kadou the news—Zeliha wanted to see him when he got back, and the commander and the princess and Tadek had been brought back to the palace, and, “Oi, Evemer, we met your mom!”
“I hope you were civil,” Evemer said flatly. Kadou stifled a laugh and led him off to Zeliha’s chambers.
He didn’t have an instant to stop and think for the rest of the afternoon—Zeliha was in a furiously productive mood. She listened intently to everything they told her and immediately sent orders for Sergeant Gülfem—the head of the fringe-guard and Eozena’s acting-deputy—to assemble a flying squad to be ready to ride out the very instant that they heard news from the city gates.
That done, she said, “What’s next?” and dove on the next issue like a stooping falcon, barely pausing long enough for Kadou to offer any comments. “I’ve ordered a dinner for tonight—Silver Court, officers, foreign ambassadors—and I expect you to be there. Formal but not high-formal, we just need to show them that House Mahisti is happy and healthy and strong. We also need to besureto rebuild relations with the kahyalar corps in the next few weeks, Kadou. This situation can’t have been comfortable for them. You’re the one who’s best at that sort of thing, so think of something. Next, we also need to be thinking of the Midsummer festival next week. The news of all this is going to be hitting the city, oh, probably tonight, so we’d better have a parade or something—can I leave that with you as well? You know I’m no good at that waving-and-throwing-silver part. You’ll need to call for the tailorright nowif you want to have something new to wear in time for that—oh, do you need to write all this down?”
So off they went to Kadou’s new residence, sending for the tailor and for Tadek along the way, only to discover that Tadek was already there, patiently waiting with a pair of crutches leaning against his chair, a lap desk, his handmade notebook, and some very intelligent guesses about the sort of schedule Kadou was being dropped into the middle of.
“Help,” Kadou said desperately the moment he clapped eyes on him.
“Dictate,” Tadek said, snatching up his pen. “Tell me everything we need to do.”
What followed might as well have been Vintish for all Evemer understood of it. While Kadou and Tadek shouted at each other about parade routes and budgetary allocations and public relations, Evemer quietly manhandled Kadou so that the tailor and her assistant could take his measurements, and then pulled her aside and narrowed the fabric samples down to a selection of seven. These he threw down like a gauntlet between Kadou and Tadek for them to fight over while he firmly led the tailors out of the residence and informed them that the decision would be made before sunset.
After an hour or two of this, Kadou was looking pale and was showing evidence that he was coming to the limit of his ability to make decisions about inconsequential details. Evemer bundled Tadek out of the room with an earful of instructions, sent for tea, made Kadou drink it, put him in the care of the currently assigned secondary, and ordered them both off to the bathhouse.
Yasemin, the secondary, returned with Kadou scrubbed and shaved and his hair already dressed, and Evemer decided that he approved of her. They poured Kadou, unresisting, into his dinner clothes, draped him with jewels, smudged his eyes with kohl—not that they needed it, with eyelashes like that—and then Evemer sent Yasemin out of the room, shut the door, pushed Kadou against it, and kissed him.
Kadou went liquid and boneless instantly, and Evemer stepped back smartly before Kadou could get himself together enough to grab at him. “Don’t wrinkle your clothes.”
“What,” Kadou said, wide-eyed and flushed.
“You need to go to dinner now.”
“I don’t want to go to dinner.”
“Go to dinner, my lord.”
“But I don’twantto,” Kadou said again, plaintive. “Why’d you do that if you were only going to send me off?”
“You looked like you needed it.”
“I mean,yes. Yes, I did need it. I think I need more of—” Kadou stopped. Breathed. “Right,” he said, more quietly. “Dinner.”
“Dinner.”