Picnic Lunch

— Jaida —

When Jaida left her house it was always under guard. Political rivals, jealous wives, and ransom-seeking kidnappers were an ever-present danger. Zaid had complained to her, many times, about her running errands herself, but she enjoyed her trips into the city. Besides, she had to maintain relationships with merchants and craftsmen who could get her the things she wanted.

She always took a handmaiden into town to consult with, to carry things, and whose company she could enjoy. She took Vivian with her on the day after Zaid's first visit. She was well-mannered, having picked up Kashmar's way of doing things almost effortlessly. Any mistakes by the new handmaiden could be put down to her foreign (and therefore exotic) origins. They were dressed to be seen in public today, with Vivian in a bright ribboned dress and closely braided hair, with her silver ear cuff winking its tiny orange jewels at everyone. She shone, but not enough to overshadow her mistress. Jaida had red fur to clothe her, accentuated with shimmering gold cloth that covered the necessary parts, set off by tiny blue stones woven into the fabric. Wives got the best houses. Concubines got daring fashions.

It was a relief to have a proper companion. The girls she sheltered were lovely, but they could be noisy when Zaid wasn't around. Their parents paid Jaida to take them in and teach them what a pleasure wife should know. It was a common arrangement, but Jaida liked to think she was a better teacher than most. She started them with cleaning chores, not because they were expected to clean their own houses but because they needed to do the work themselves to understand how it should be done, how hard the work was, and how properly to correct their staff. There was no need to scream or insult, just a few stern words should do. If someone couldn't learn, they could be dismissed. Jaida set an example for them by being clear in her instruction, tolerating innocent mistakes, and dismissing girls who failed to apply themselves.

As they progressed, the girls learned how to cook, dress for best effect, comport themselves with grace, set a table, dance, flatter a man without seeming to, be diverting without compromising themselves, and much else besides. Their parents' money didn't go to Jaida or her household, she had a generous allowance from Zaid for that, but paid for tutors, clothes, and the odd piece of jewelry. Jaida hosted and attended parties among the lower-ranked princes and wealthy freemen, always with a selection of her handmaidens as chaperones. Those events introduced her nearly-finished students to prospective husbands and their families. Girls could not stay maidens forever, and the young women she saw out into the world became part of her support network.

Zaid never saw any of that, nor did he fully understand the relationship between Jaida and her girls. That was the Art of it. He only saw demure handmaidens in simple clothes, without adornment, and never heard them speak. He wasn't curious about them because his anticipation and attention were all for Jaida. He never saw the labor that delivered his passionate afternoons because it would distract from the illusion of effortless peace. He might vaguely understand the atmosphere was a product of effort and skill, but only if he stopped to think about it. Jaida ensured he would never need to.

The concubine and her companion for the day strolled arm-in-arm along the wide sidewalk of Kashmar's finest shopping district, trailed by two discretely armed men with thick skin and a good length of fang. Her carriage loitered down the street, close enough to summon at a moment's notice to hand off packages. The women entered several establishments where they retrieved previous purchases and were shown the plethora of exotic luxuries Kashmar had to offer. Zaid's promotion to Princeps was sending merchants into a thinly concealed frenzy, and Jaida had to restrain them by gentle remonstration. She would not improve anything in her house until Taraneh had her turn. It would be improper to outshine the extravagant first wife, not to mention dangerous. Jaida knew her place in Kashmar's order and the price of striving higher than her station.

When the merchants and tradesmen had all been met, goods loaded into the carriage, and the theater declined (for today's play was another retelling of the Founders' Works, and who wanted to sit through three hours of that?) Jaida directed her carriage to the foothills.

Princes' Park was just a little plot with a gorgeous view set aside for princes and their families. It was seldom visited anymore due to its small size and outdoor gatherings being out of fashion. It was fenced and gated, which gave the guards peace of mind: they could sweep the grounds and guard the gate, then let their charges take their lunch by the noisy fountain in relative privacy and safety.

Vivian set out the blanket and delightful dishes prepared by Cook that morning, with the fountain between them and the guards. From there, they could overlook the beds sporting a thousand flowers and beyond, where the land fell down into Kashmar, the Citadel Mount, and Tyrants' Bay. The canopy of trees just outside the park were dressed in their first fall colors. Soon they'd be dropping leaves by the thousands.

The fence and guards ensured they would not be disturbed. The fountain's spray obscured them, and its noise covered their conversation. A sign from Vivian said they were as private as they were likely to get.

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"Enclave promised twenty thousand mercenaries from Hykos and gave him an ancient message box so he can send them orders," Jaida told her, followed by all the information gathered the day before. It wasn't necessary to ask Zaid for details: she just had to look astounded that such a thing existed, hold that expression long enough, and he told her everything he knew about it. He trusted her as implicitly as she had once trusted him.

Jaida first saw the Princeps when he was newly reduced to last place for putting Vanush to the sword. She was very young and wore the demure clothes of a handmaiden under the tutelage of his wife, Negin, and was very afraid of him. She didn't understand at first, but the expression that so frightened her was a mask he wore when his duty was to dirty his hands. It took months to understand there was more to him than bloody-minded punishment. However callous he was to serfs and bandits, he was kind to his family. Jaida was surprised when Negin selected her to be a concubine — there are advantages to selecting your husband's concubine for him — but Jaida was willing to take on that role largely because of how reasonable he was at home.

She used to believe Zaid would protect their little Donis from the Line's cruel dictates, if necessary, by spiriting the boy away to a lesser family. How many times had he sworn to her that nobody could hurt her or their children without consequences? Instead, he came home with empty hands, wearing the same expression he'd worn after Vanush.

"That's my show of good faith," Jaida concluded. "If you want more, you have to prove you can get my children and me out of Kashmar."

"That's easily arranged. Nexus has a disciple in Kashmar."

"Those are just words. I need proof. I have children to think about."

"Children you'd do anything for," said a new voice. Jaida's head jerked to where it was coming from and saw a man had joined them. He had walked right up to them and sat down without anyone noticing. Even Vivian looked shocked. "I won't let the princes take you or your children."

He was of middle age and didn't look like a disciple. He was more like one of those lucky freemen who gained a little wealth for themselves but never fit in with their new peers, slightly uncomfortable in his middling-merchant attire and the garish makeup favored by that class.

"How?" Jaida was done trusting people, especially shady men in cheap eyeliner. She wanted details.

"The same way I got here, by using Overlook. You're hidden right now. If you don't believe me, try to get your guards' attention. But don't move from this spot. I'm keeping the prayer small."

Jaida waved and shouted at her men by the gate, but none of them noticed anything. It was as if she wasn't there at all. She stood, jumped up and down, and made faces, but the guards went on with their standing lunch, unaware of her existence. When Jaida gave up on them she sat down with new hope her smooth-skinned children would live beyond their fifth birthdays.

"Getting you out of the city is easy," Vivian said, "but the timing has to be right. It must be after the battle is decided but before competition begins for all the empty seats in the Assembly."

"Empty seats?"

"Over thirty princes are marching with the army," the disciple reminded her.

Vivian added, "When news breaks about the army's defeat, there will be a rush to fill all the empty spaces."

Every Hadith of unranked ambition would try to take a seat in the Assembly of Princes. Historically, it was a setup for generous bloodletting up and down the Line. Jaida's children were too young to be contenders, but jealous Taraneh might use the chaos to hide a few extra murders. Nobody would seek justice for Jaida and her children while all of Kashmar was busy realigning.

"I'll help you, but I have a condition. I want him to know. When Zaid loses the war, his rank, his army, his pride … he promised consequences for anyone who touched my children. He killed our Donis, and these are the consequences."

"Phillip will do it," said the disciple.

Vivian gave the disciple a sour look. "I don't know you, but I know you can't make promises for him."

"It's more of a prediction. Think about who he is. If there's a chance, at the end, to deliver that message, do you think he would pass it up?"

Vivian closed her eyes in consternation. The whole ridiculous notion smacked of dramatic justice, something out of a play. It sounded exactly like Taylor. They were talking about the same youth who accepted twenty-three challenges to duel and fought the entire group simultaneously in front of an audience of two thousand people. If his purposes could be served dramatically, then he was not one to hold back.

"The guards are coming. My name is Harrence, and I'll be watching over you." The disciple stood and moved away, and he was suddenly gone. He didn't exactly disappear. There was no puff of stage smoke or flash of fire. Jaida blinked her eyes and, in the fractionary moment they were closed, she lost track of him.

"Lady Jaida!" Both guards rounded the fountain and stopped short, surprised to see the two women sitting peaceably amidst the remains of lunch. "We thought … "

"You thought …," she prompted.

"… You were missing?"

Vivian stifled a giggle, one tuned to embarrass a man without shaming him.

Jaida sushed her companion as if she were being naughty. "A trick of the water, perhaps. As you can see, we haven't moved from this spot. Return to your posts, and we'll be along when we're done." The men obediently returned to what they were doing, loitering by the gate and playing dice with the driver while pretending to look for intruders.

She turned to Vivian, her spying masseuse. "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know Zaid." Vivian glanced at where the disciple had gone as if she had more to say to him. "The information you gave earlier is excellent, but understanding Zaid is paramount."

"Then you have the right woman." She drank fruit juice from a copper cup, thinking.

"Start anywhere," Vivian prodded.

"Well, maybe the first thing to know about Zaid is he never failed at anything except once, in Vanush, when he killed too many people."

In the final weeks leading up to the campaign, Jaida told Vivian everything she knew.