Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(98)

I couldn’t get near the disembarkation, but Sir Maurizio had a few quiet words with his Porphyrian captors, and then a sailor ushered me through the curious crowd. Maurizio, who looked exhausted up close, shook my hand and clapped me on the shoulder. “Is Prince Lucian still here? It would be just our luck to have passed him in transit, like two ships—” He paused, his tawny eyes unfocused. “Exactly like two ships.”

“The prince is here,” I assured him, uncertain what he knew of the ongoing negotiations.

“Good,” said Maurizio, scratching his scruffy chin. “Take me to him, and to breakfast of any kind.”

It wasn’t up to me, however. The naval officers who’d brought Maurizio ashore were adamant that he be taken to the Vasilikon, before the Assembly of Agogoi. I was only allowed to come along because Sir Maurizio clamped his hand on my arm and wouldn’t let go.

“She’s my translator,” he kept insisting, in perfectly serviceable Porphyrian.

“Kiggs and I were coming to you next,” I said quietly to the young knight as we set off up the hill toward the Zokalaa. “Has something happened to Fort Oversea?”

Sir Maurizio sniffed and shook his head wearily. “Only the bloody Samsamese, breaking their promise to Goredd and Ninys. We were supposed to be training together for the defense of the united Southlands, but their new Regent has other ideas.”

I went cold. Had Jannoula persuaded Josef to move against the knights and dracomachists? Was this on her list of things to accomplish when she wasn’t fighting Abdo in his head? Maurizio seemed disinclined to go into more detail just now, surrounded by Porphyrians; I hoped I’d be allowed to hear his report to the prince.

I had seen the facade of the Vasilikon many times but had never crossed the threshold. Beyond the columned pronaia—an imposing sort of porch—we passed through heavy bronze doors into an airy foyer with windows set high in the walls. A mural on the ceiling depicted Justice, Commerce, and Philosophy having an allegorical picnic of metaphorical sardines.

At a second set of doors, a guard droned an oath at us and would not let us pass until we repeated it: I hereby consign my lips to secrecy and my soul to Dread Necessity.

We entered a domed chamber containing a great amphitheater. It was only partially full; all Agogoi were members of the Assembly by virtue of birth, but most had businesses and industries to run or scholarship to pursue. Only the old, the indolent, and the heads of great houses attended every day, unless some juicy controversy merited serious businesspeople skipping work.

The heads of houses were sequestered in negotiations with Comonot and Kiggs; the naval officers who’d accompanied us into the great chamber spoke quietly to an assemblywoman at the top of the room, and she dispatched a messenger into the depths of the Vasilikon.

Maurizio and I watched the Assembly while we waited for the messenger to return. They were voting on petitions from farmers up the Omiga. Each member approached the center of the amphitheater and dropped a pebble into a squat urn of Porphyrian purple marble. An old man sat upon a bench behind the urn, holding a heavy staff with what looked like a pinecone at the end; when the votes had all been cast, he upended the urn in his lap, separated white stones from red, and tallied the result in a large folio.

The messenger returned with a note dismissing the naval officers, who seemed relieved to go. The assemblywoman led us around the amphitheater and out. We followed her down vaulted corridors to a bossed door, where she left us with a guard. He administered the oath again, then opened the door for us. We emerged, blinking, into an octagonal courtyard, sunny and paved with flagstones.

The heads of great houses, eighteen matrons and patrons with gold circlets and flowing silk draperies, sat in a circle on bronze tripod stools. Many held folding fans. Speaker Melaye sat nearest the door, clutching the pinecone staff of office, and I recognized Camba’s mother, Amalia Perdixis Lita. Kiggs and Comonot sat on the far side, and with them, to my surprise, was Eskar.

Speaker Melaye directed Maurizio to the center of the circle, where he stood and sweated. For a moment I wondered whether I should leave; I hadn’t been sent for, and there was no stool for me. Eskar caught my eye, however, and waved me over. I skirted the perimeter to stand behind her. She turned in her seat, her sharp black eyes scanning my face, and said, “Have you recovered from your shock?”

“Yes, thank you,” I whispered back, not wanting to discuss it in front of strangers. It was kind of her to ask, but also deeply odd. Had she been worried?

“Your uncle—” she began, but just then Speaker Melaye banged her staff on the flagstones for silence, her protuberant eyes fierce.

“We will hear this knight’s report,” Melaye announced in Goreddi, establishing the meeting’s language. Around the circle, the Agogoi fanned themselves and nodded.

Sir Maurizio bowed to Melaye, his back to us. “I need to talk to Prince Lucian Kiggs and Ardmagar Comonot alone, Your Ladyship, not speak in front of—”

“Denied,” she snapped. “Your ship has entered our harbor and damaged our man-of-war. We are the city; we will hear you.”

I stood behind my friends and couldn’t see if Kiggs was frowning, but his tense shoulders bespoke his irritation. “It’s all right, Maurizio,” he said.

Maurizio turned in a confused circle, as if he feared insulting everyone by turning his back on them; he finally settled on facing Kiggs. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and exhaled slowly. “Right. Well. Josef Apsig, Regent of Samsam, has seized the knights and dracomachists at Fort Oversea. A single shipload of us escaped; me, Sir Cuthberte, Sir Joshua, maybe three and a half dracomachia units. We were pursued here, and there are more ships coming—you may count on it.”