Rain Summoner - Pelican Queen

Sadira frowned and scanned the letter again. Her eyes hung on the last words: “We found evidence it was done on her order. Destroy this letter and cover for me until we return.”

She bit her lip.

Red sand trickled from the folds of the paper onto her fingers. She wiped her hands and shook the letter so the remaining sand showered the floor. Akeem hadn’t even made sure his missive was clean before he sent it to her asking for help in such a dangerous matter. Had he endangered himself even in writing it?

Was he safe? Where was he?

He had signed it, “Your Older Brother,” as if to impart a sense of familial duty. If his timing was less disastrous, if he didn’t make a habit of shirking his obligations, his signature might have had its desired effect on her.

As it was, Sadira was only annoyed and left even more distressed than before. Akeem was forever leaving her to bear the brunt of his most irresponsible decisions.

She stood in the hall, scrutinizing the letter in the flickering light of a brazier to see if he had given her any clue as to when he would return. The dim orange glow of the sun setting behind the clouds made it difficult to read, even in a hall with so many windows.

She glanced to the sand she had shaken onto the floor. Had he actually sent that along as a clue?

The desert was some distance from the capitol gates. With any luck, Akeem would arrive after the banquet was over, and she could try talking sense into him then.

The clatter of sandals echoed from around the corner. Sadira quickly held her fingers over the paper and strained to draw out the ink. The words smeared and faded, but the letter remained legible. She was too nervous to concentrate properly.

The footsteps tapped closer on the tiled floor.

Sadira crumpled the letter and stuffed it deep in the brazier.

A round, heavy face overflowing with curiosity peered around the corner. “Was that a letter from Akeem? Did he send us any gifts?”

Sadira relaxed her shoulders. “He only sent more secrets for me to keep for him.”

Their younger sister, Yanna, hurried to Sadira’s side.

Yanna adjusted the book under her arm so the title was obscured by her elbow. “I don’t know why he only trusts you with those things,” she said, squinting at the letter as it wilted into ash. She swung her long brown braid with its woven flowers over her shoulder to keep it from falling into the fire. “You’re so unimaginative when it comes to corresponding discreetly.”

Sadira narrowed her eyes. “If that was all there was to matters of state, you would be in charge.”

Yanna pursed her lips as if to dam a retort before it came tumbling out. She cleared her throat and stood back from the brazier, tucking her hands behind her back. “What secret does Akeem want you to keep this time?”

Had it been another day, another issue, Sadira might have said, but it was difficult enough keeping her own reactions in check. She didn’t want to have to worry about Yanna getting involved, too.

“It’s too serious to involve you,” Sadira said.

Yanna’s chin puckered with irritation. “You're one year my senior. How serious can it be that you’re allowed to know about it, but not me?”

Sadira straightened to her full height and lifted her chin. At fourteen, she had grown tall enough to see over her sister’s head. “It only concerns those of us who are old enough to be invited to the banquet.”

Yanna crossed her arms and mustered as much maturity as she could probably host. “About that,” she said, her tone cool and detached, “I came to let you know the last visitors arrived. You'll have to start getting dressed now, before you shame us all by being late.” She said the last bit with obvious exaggeration, but it was no less true either way.

Sadira’s heart skipped a beat. “Already?”

A tiny grin surfaced on Yanna’s face. “Are you nervous?”

Sadira glared at her. “Who would not be nervous? I’m to sit directly across from her.”

Foreign diplomats from Mardesal, the chilly gray country across the sea, had been loudly occupying the palace grounds for days. Their temperamental queen, Giuliana, was the culprit Akeem claimed to have evidence against in his letter . She was also the person Sadira had been instructed to keep happy above all others.

Yanna's grin disappeared, replaced by genuine sympathy. “If you’re quiet, it won’t be your fault when she gets angry.”

“If I’m too quiet, she’ll think I’m being rude.” Sadira couldn’t voice her deeper fear. If she said too much, or worse, if she let Akeem arrive and make his accusation, it might start a war.

Terrified of committing a faux pas at her very first state dinner, Sadira took the shortest route to her and Yanna’s bedchamber.

She cut through her favorite breezeway as dusk fell bright blue over the tiled masterpiece adorning the floor. She pushed through the heavy doors at the end of the walkway, wishing she had spent more time practicing how to open them with the water locks flowing on either side of the path. It would have saved her some time now.

An echoing snore greeted her when she emerged into the vast reflection hall on the other side of the doors.

For a moment, she was affronted with the idea one of those disrespectful diplomats had wandered into one of the few spaces off-limits to them.

The deep snore bounced off jade pillars, its owner hiding somewhere at the back. Water gurgled in the twin channels lining the walkway, masking the intruder's location.

Sadira tiptoed towards the lacquered door at the other end of the hall. Once through there, it would be a short climb up the stairs to her chambers.

A languid voice called out to her when she was halfway to the door. “What secret business is keeping Akeem from joining us this year?” the voice asked.

Sadira stopped in her tracks as a wiry spotted tail flipped back and forth over the path. She followed the tail with her eyes until she found her cousin, Raul, reclining against the massive jaguar he kept as a pet.

Lean and sharp, Raul was Akeem's age - nearly a decade ahead of her – and he never failed to goad Sadira into saying things she later came to regret.

Instead of answering him, Sadira pointed to the sleeping cat. “Why have you brought that animal into my hall?” she asked. “Do you mean to threaten me?”

Raul shook his head at her as though disappointed in a pupil. His many earrings glittered in the lamplight. Always fashionable, he was lounging in his finest attire, already dressed for the banquet. Emerald and fuchsia damask echoed the foliage of his home in the mountainous rainforests far West of Niloufar.

He patted the jaguar on the side. “Beetle needed a respite from all the noise. Surely, you don’t begrudge him that.”

She couldn’t. “That doesn’t explain what you were doing eavesdropping on my conversation.”

Raul flashed his teeth and raised a goblet to his lips with a graceful copper hand. “I did no such thing.”

Sadira stood over him, glowering. “Then how did you hear about Akeem?”

“It was only a guess that you confirmed.” He set down his Mardesalian ale and reached across the satin cushions to retrieve a small diary. He opened it and balanced it on his knee. In his hand, a quill made from a peacock feather hung poised at the ready. He even had an inkwell sitting at his side. “You might as well tell me what he’s done.”

Raul must have lie in wait there precisely to ambush her with questions when she returned.

Sadira had the perfect excuse to avoid his interrogations. “I don’t have time to play your games with you,” she said. She stepped over Beetle's tail and slipped through the lacquered door. “I’ll be late to dinner.”

Sadira paused on her way to the banquet hall. The chatter of guests pulsed in the rooms beyond her, allowing her only this final quiet spot in the breezeway to collect her thoughts.

Gohar’s footsteps stopped behind her.

He stood as he always did, silently surveying the paths nearby, staring momentarily at shadowy spots where an ambusher might crouch unseen.

Threats like that were surely preposterous at an event like a state dinner, when security was at its highest. What Sadira feared more were assassination attempts committed by those in plain sight.

She turned to look at Gohar, whose stern expression belied unease in wearing dress uniform rather than scaled armor. His face seemed narrower than usual in the low light, and she wondered if he had been too anxious to eat well during the visitors’ stay.

Sadira knew not his precise age, but the silver threads in his dark beard and the permanent creases between his brows made it apparent he’d been witness to events of the last few decades.

Someone who had lived that long, and in the service of world leaders, could surely read the outcome of any current turmoil.

“Is it true,” she started, feeling more ridiculous with every word, “that we would lose a war with Mardesal?”

Gohar’s heavy eyebrows came together. “If it came to that, I don’t think there could be any victors,” he said, his voice hard. “You know what happens in a war, don’t you? You have good marks in your history lessons.”

Sadira was no scholar. Her grades were passable, not remarkable like Yanna’s.

But she did know what war did to people.

Shame crept over her face in a burning tide. She stared at the grooves in the tiled path.

Gohar offered no reprimand. “What has you so worried about conflict of that scale? These meetings are often tense, but your mother and our other delegates always work things out with the parties from overseas.”

Sadira’s gaze remained on the tiles. “Nothing. I’m nervous, as you suspect. That’s all.”

He was wise to her, as usual. He lowered his voice to a range only she could hear. “Was there troubling news in the letter your brother sent you?”

If she was honest, what would happen? A personal guard wasn’t likely to run off and spread the news. But suppose he did. Suppose he reacted unexpectedly, or told her to return to her room, and she wouldn’t be there to stop Akeem from speaking out when he arrived.

If she couldn’t hold onto the secret for more than an hour, how could she trust herself to keep quiet about it at the table?

“He said he would arrive late, nothing more.”

Sadira clenched her teeth and stepped through the archway to join the other guests as they awaited entrance to the banquet.

Warm light spilled from the lanterns swinging from the ceiling. The humid mist of evening made the garden feel stifling.

On occasions like this, she knew to wait for her presence to be announced before wandering into the room. There was an order to these things, and she went over the rules in her mind as she took her place in the queue.

As high ranking as she was, she was among the last to be admitted. It was a long while before her name was called.

“Rain Summoner Sadira, Lady of Niloufar, First Daughter of Amardad.”

Akeem’s name would follow soon after, or it would if he had been there. He still had yet to arrive. People would ask after his whereabouts with thinly veiled disapproval, wondering if he were slighting the guests by not making an appearance.

What could she say to them when the truth was even more serious?

Sadira heard her name and titles repeated through the fog of anxiety clouding her ears.

She stood a few paces from the door, breathing deep to steady her nerves. It didn’t work. In fact, she felt more light-headed than before.

A firm but gentle voice spoke behind her. “Go ahead,” said Gohar. “It will be worse if you keep everyone waiting.”

Sadira steeled her wobbling knees as she stepped over the threshold.

Only a few people turned to look at her when she entered; most everyone present was preoccupied by their ongoing conversations with old acquaintances.

She moved mechanically to stand at her place at the table.

Fanfare blazed to life at the far end of the hall, and all talking ceased. The brassy sound of the horns rattled in her ears as the guests of highest honor arrived.

It was difficult to hear the usher making their announcement after all the noise. Even so, there was hardly cause to introduce the woman marching solemnly through the arched doorway; not a soul was present who might fail to recognize her.

Queen Giuliana was nothing if not theatrically morose. For decades, she had worn her grief in silk gauze and taffetas of various shades of gray. Tonight was no exception. With her ladies in waiting close at her heels, all of them together looking like a raincloud, she took each step to the table as slowly as if she were leading a funeral procession.

Sadira waited quietly and withheld the exasperated sigh gathering in her chest. If everyone else could pardon Giuliana’s intentionally somber entrance to what was supposed to be a friendly gathering, so could Sadira. What troubled her more was the chainmail circlet draped over the Queen’s thin brows.

Many guests from Dalach and Mardesal wore decorative armor somewhere on their person. Much like the delicate beads of salt jewelry, the iron was said to be a celebration of their natural resources and history. But Sadira couldn’t stop the nervous sweat prickling under her sleeves any time she noticed iron rings peeking beneath a diplomat’s doublet. These small touches of armor made them seem ready to go to battle at a moment’s notice.

At last, Giuliana sank onto the cushions lain for her at the long table. The wide berth of her skirts rose around her like a heavy cloud, forcing her ladies in waiting to take their seats several paces away. Sadira was sure this was the intended function of such a wide gown; it must have been structured to force others away from the Mardesalian Queen, so she remained an island.

Sadira took the seat across from her, silently displeased the ladies in waiting hadn’t waited for her to take her seat first. She couldn’t shake the feeling their lack of respect was deliberate. But this was her first chance to display what sort of diplomat she would be. She didn’t dare cause a scene.

Giuliana surveyed the room with a look as if everything and everyone in it made her weary.

Sadira studied the Queen in turn with quick glances, aiming to look polite if not friendly.

Through the gauze of her mourning veil, her powdered face looked as smooth and pale as the rose quartz pendant hanging at her throat.

Giuliana laid her cold eyes on Sadira. “Princess,” she said in harshly accented Niloufarian. To use the host's language in conversation was at least one courtesy not forgotten. “Do you admire my necklace?”

Sadira loosened her clenched teeth and made an effort to lift the corners of her mouth in a courteous smile. “It’s a lovely color,” she said, certain it was the only safe thing to say.

It was the only article on the Queen’s person that was not some shade of silver or gray, but to say it drew the eye would be a lie. It was oddly plain for such an ostentatious queen, whose curtains of lace and jewelry each shouted of expert craftsmanship. The quartz was simply that: a rock someone had rounded and fixed to a ribbon.

Giuliana touched her fingers to the humble pendant. “It was the late princess' last gift to me. A mother should always take pride in such a treasure.”

Sadira’s words caught in her throat as if she had swallowed a gust of sand. Giuliana’s grief was such a heavy thing; in moments like these, it was easy to understand why she carried on as if still attending a funeral.

What could Sadira say? Loss had barely touched her life. “I'm sure she’s proud to see you wear it.”

The guests seated nearest them fell silent.

A wrinkle formed at the crown of Giuliana’s nose. “She has not been able to see for more than twenty years.”

“Forgive me,” Sadira said. She took a sip from her goblet to excuse herself from saying anything else.

The horns blazed again and everyone grew quiet as Sadira’s mother arrived to the banquet. Bedecked in gold and azure brocade, she smiled courteously to her guests as she made her way to the table.

“Oh my,” she said, drawing a fan from her sleeve and sinking onto her seat. The embroidered veil framing her face billowed in the breeze as she cooled herself with the fan. “What sober affair have I interrupted? Please, everyone, continue talking amongst yourselves while we await the food. We’re all too hungry, I’m sure, to continue waiting in silence.”

Conversation trickled slowly back to life around the dining hall as dish-bearers arrived with the first course.

“This is my favorite dish from Mardesal,” said an aging man seated to Sadira’s right. He looked a bit older than Gohar, with faint lines deepening the creases in a face once pale, but now bronzed from years traveling in the sun.

Sadira turned to him with sheepish gratitude.

He wore an ambassador’s ring, and his kind smile seemed genuine. She had seen him milling about the Palace once in a while with petitions tucked under his arm. He must have been from the Mardesalian embassy in Niloufar.

Sadira saw the roast lamb approaching the table and fought the grimace forming on her face. She would have much preferred the lamb been served as something like safed maas, but she took the ambassador’s kindness for what it was. “Mine as well,” she said.

The Ambassador laughed congenially. Extra wrinkles formed around his eyes, and his silk cap tipped sideways. “Your tone gives you away,” he said, righting the cap with a calm hand. “Youths have a habit of being honest, even when they don’t mean to be. But the others here are even more forthcoming,” he added with a sly glance to Giuliana.

The Queen did not notice, but Sadira grinned. “I’m more anxious for dessert,” she admitted.

The Ambassador shook his head fondly, as if remembering something lost long ago. “I had more of a sweet-tooth as a child. In fact, I ate so many tarts that my sweet-tooth had to be pulled.” He laughed and touched a hand to his jaw. “Now, the thought of dessert makes my mouth ache.”

Sadira smiled. “Was it a terrible misstep I made earlier?” she asked quietly, hoping it was not the end of Giuliana’s patience.

“Hardly, my dear. And perhaps you’re not aware, but we veterans of diplomacy continue to make missteps from time to time; the only thing that changes is our ability to move on with grace.”

Sadira took heart in that.

“There are some, however,” the Ambassador said with another careful look toward Giuliana, “who play the game gracelessly. Their aim is to remain on the offensive, so others have no choice but to play by their rules. A newcomer to the field can hardly be blamed for stumbling on a stone their opponent placed there.”

Sadira picked at her food. “I didn’t expect an ambassador to refer to their own Queen as a poor sport.”

“I have my oath to consider.” He placed a hand over his heart with a dutiful smile. The engraved script on his gold ring caught the light as he spoke. “Until death, I’ll have no home. And once departed, may my ashes be split between the shores.”

Sadira regarded him thoughtfully. “A ship captain once told me oaths are just formalities these days.”

A frown passed over his long face. “They are to some. We ambassadors tend to take them seriously. I have family on both sides of the ocean. What would become of them if war broke out?” He bent his head for a moment, perhaps in prayer his fear did not come to fruition.

Sadira bit her tongue.

His reference to family members on either coast heightened her assumption he was both Niloufarian and Mardesalian in heritage.

“Lucas!” hissed an ambassador to his other side.

He turned to acknowledge his colleague.

The second ambassador watched him sternly. “Don’t speak with the little princess the whole dinner; the Mardesalian envoy already say you play favorites.”

The political talk began in earnest when plates from the first course left the table. Dish-bearers swept in with an array of palate-cleansing fruit grown in the South of Mardesal, a rare treat in recent years.

Ambassador Lucas slid a bowl of grapes down the table to Sadira’s mother. “This dinner should be fruitful for all involved. I hope to make great progress this year.”

The Queen of Niloufar smiled patiently and carefully plucked a branch of grapes onto her plate. “We’ve looked forward to this meeting, as well.” She batted her eyes at Giuliana. “What says the Queen of Mardesal?”

Giuliana dropped her gaze to a glass of chilled wine. Her tone remained flat and serious. “We have a great need to work closely this year. There is trouble just over our Dalachite border, and I fear it approaches fast.”

Sadira’s mother laughed, earning a sharp look from many.

Giuliana's glare smoldered under the veil. “I'm pleased you manage to find some good humor in this news.”

“Certainly not,” Sadira’s mother said, sobering. She fixed the stone-faced queen with a wry smile. “It's only that I didn’t expect our needs to be so similar. You see, we've had a great deal of trouble with our ships reaching port with all their cargo intact. In fact, quite a few of them have sunk just out of your waters.”

A second ambassador from Mardesal raised his gloved hand. “Forgive me, your Majesty. One issue at a time, if you will; we will sort through everything with much more haste this way.”

Ambassador Lucas cleared his throat. “I would remind everyone this issue is one Queen Amardad has raised on several occasions in previous years. She and the delegates from Niloufar have been most patient, and it would do us all well to address the matter seriously this year. The problem has gotten quite out of hand.”

The second ambassador sighed. “We will address the issue with the ships again, of course.”

“Naturally,” Giuliana interjected. “All of us suffer when traders fail to reach port.”

Sadira pinched her lips together to stop the outburst from exploding out of her. One of the noblemen from Dalach gave her an odd look, as if he wasn’t sure what to make of her expression.

Afraid of looking uncooperative and childish, she grabbed a plum from her plate and sank her teeth into it to disguise her anger. She flinched when she bit straight through the flesh of the fruit to her tongue.

The nobleman from Dalach accepted a fresh glass of wine, but he didn’t drink it. “But this trouble Giuliana speaks of is most urgent,” he began, his omission of titles clearly to the ire of the second ambassador.

Sadira’s mother raised her eyebrows. “You don’t mean to announce a return of our old friend, do you?”

“Once-King Olstryn? We're not yet sure if the work is his.”

“Surely not. He would be nearing a hundred years now, wouldn’t he? The way you speak, you'd have us disturb the rest of our other friend, Niall, and ask him to lend his aid one last time.”

Ambassador Lucas raised his hand. “The possibility remains. But it would be foolhardy to dismiss the threat of these attacks based on identity. Clearly, the region is still feeling the effects of his previous invasion.”

Down the table, Raul tilted another glass of ale to his lips. “I would be able to offer better assistance if my city was not hosting so many refugees fleeing shortages. As it is, I’m not confident any reinforcements I send will reach Mardesal.”

Giuliana's mouth twitched at the corner. “You speak of shortages as if we in Mardesal did not suffer them for nearly two decades. Are we all not forced to act with what few resources remain to us?”

Under the table, Sadira squeezed the plum until pulp slid down her wrist. The damning contents of Akeem’s letter kept resurfacing in her mind.

Constant bickering between attendants continued throughout the rest of the meal. The second course lay neglected on most everyone’s plates when a single horn sounded at the end of the dining hall.

Sadira couldn’t hear the usher reading a title afterward, but she didn’t need confirmation. The tension gathering in her neck said enough.

Two figures swept into the banquet hall without bowing to the diners. The shadow of war hung around them like a pair of wings spreading wide.

Akeem raised his eyebrows at Sadira as if asking her a question. ‘Did you say anything?’ he must have meant.

Sadira immediately broke into a nervous sweat. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head with as much subtlety as she could. She hoped he could read her discouragement.

Beside him stood his betrothed, Samar, an elegant council member from the Red Desert. Bedecked in an exquisitely embroidered hood and robe, Samar towered over nearly everyone else in the banquet hall. “Good evening,” they said in a smooth, rich voice.

“Good evening,” returned Ambassador Lucas. He was the only one who seemed to know what to say.

A fleck of guilt traveled across Akeem’s face as he returned the ambassador’s smile. “I thank you, Ambassador Lucas. I hope you’ve enjoyed the feast so far.”

Chapter One