Half the World (Shattered Sea #2)(65)
For a moment Brand thought it some elaborate joke. Then he saw Father Yarvi drop to one knee, and everyone else in the yard just afterward, and any hint of laughter quickly died.
“Gods,” he whispered, getting his own knee to the paving so fast it hurt.
“Sorry,” croaked Thorn, hastily doing the same.
The empress stepped forward. “Don’t be. It was a most instructive display.” She spoke the Tongue with a heavy accent, but her voice was rich and full of confidence.
“Your radiance—” said Yarvi.
“Do I seem all that radiant to you?” The empress laughed. An open, friendly laugh that echoed about the courtyard. “I would rather we speak plainly. I get very little plain speaking at the palace. Except from Sumael, of course.”
“I find Sumael’s speaking just a little too plain at times.” Father Yarvi brushed off his knees as he stood. “We are truly honored by your visit.”
“It is I who should be honored. You have traveled across half the world to speak with me, after all. I would hate to be the sort of person who would not walk half a mile from my palace gate to speak with you.”
“I will try not to waste your time, then, empress.” The minister took a step toward her. “Do you understand the politics of the Shattered Sea?”
“I know a little. Sumael has told me more.”
Yarvi took another step. “I fear Mother War will soon spread her bloody wings across its every shore.”
“And you seek my help. Even though we pray to different gods? Even though my aunt made an alliance with the High King?”
“Her alliance, not yours.”
The empress folded her arms and stepped sideways. She and the minister began to circle each other warily, very much as Thorn and Skifr had done a few moments before. “Why should I forge a new one with Gettland?”
“Because you wish to favor the winning side.”
Vialine smiled. “You are too bold, Father Yarvi.”
“King Uthil would say there is no such thing as too bold.”
“Gettland is a small nation, surrounded by enemies—”
“Gettland is a rich nation surrounded by paupers. Queen Laithlin has made sure of it.”
“The Golden Queen,” murmured Vialine. “Her fame as a merchant has spread even this far. Is it true she has found a way to catch gold and silver in paper?”
“She has. One of many wonders, the secrets of which she would happily share with her allies.”
“You offer me gold and silver, then?”
“The High King offers nothing but prayers.”
“Is gold and silver everything to you, Father Yarvi?”
“Gold and silver is everything to everyone. Some of us have enough of it to pretend otherwise.”
The empress gave a little gasp at that.
“You asked for honesty.” Yarvi snapped his fingers toward Thorn and she stood up. “But as it happens my mother has sent something made of neither gold nor silver. A gift, brought the long, hard road down the Divine and the Denied from the darkest corners of the Shattered Sea.” And he slid the black box from inside his coat and handed it to Thorn.
“An elf-relic?” said the empress, scared and curious at once.
The frowning man moved closer to her, frowning even deeper.
Thorn held the box out awkwardly. They might have been of an age, but Vialine looked like a child next to her. Her head barely came to Thorn’s chest, let alone her shoulder. As though realizing how strange a pair they made, Thorn dropped to one knee so she could hold the gift at a more fitting angle, the elf-letters etched on the lid glinting as they caught the light. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wish I was tall.” Vialine pushed back the lid of the box, and that pale light flooded out, and her eyes went wide. Brand felt Rulf stiffen beside him, heard Koll give a gasp of amazement, Fror murmuring a breathless prayer. He’d seen the light before and still he strained forward, longing to see what made it. The lid of the box was in the way, though.
“It is beautiful,” breathed the empress, reaching out. She gasped as she touched whatever was inside, the light on her face shifting from white to pink and back as she jerked her hand away. “Great God! It still turns?”
“It does,” said Skifr. “It senses you, Empress, and shifts to match your mood. It was brought from the elf-ruins of Strokom, where no man has trodden since the Breaking of God. There may not be another like it in the world.”
“Is it … safe?”
“No truly wonderful thing can be entirely safe. But it is safe enough.”
Vialine stared into the box, her wide eyes reflecting its glow. “It is too grand a gift for me.”
“How could any gift be too grand for the Empress of the South?” asked Yarvi, taking a gentle step toward her. “With this upon your arm, you will seem radiant indeed.”
“It is beautiful beyond words. But I cannot take it.”
“It is a gift freely given—”
Vialine looked up at him through her lashes. “I asked you to speak honestly, Father Yarvi.” And she snapped the box shut, and put the light out with it. “I cannot help you. My aunt Theofora made promises I cannot break.” She lifted her small fist high. “I am the most powerful person in the world!” Then she laughed, and let it fall. “And there is nothing I can do. Nothing I can do about anything. My uncle has an understanding with Mother Scaer.”