"Look, how about this? Let's pretend we've had the row and I've won. See? It saves a lot of effort." -- Terry Pratchett, Mort
The Palace of Serenity was not nearly as peaceful as its name suggested. One would think that it would have become much more serene since both Abihira and Kiriyuki had left it. After all, one was the biggest troublemaker Seroyawa had seen since Hiyori Nanairo kou Amatsukaze[1] while the other was the Crown Princess and constantly involved in some political drama or other. One would think wrong. Mirio had never seen the palace in such an uproar. Diplomats, politicians and scribes sent and received letters from Saoridhlém every few hours. Everyone was trying their best to pretend Kiriyuki hadn't run away but had simply made an unexpected visit. To keep up the pretence they were hastily cobbling together a list of places for her to go before her return.
The whole charade was invented for the benefit of the tabloids. A princess disappearing was the sort of scandal a certain type of journalist thrived on. Unfortunately they weren't fooled. On his most recent trip into the city Mirio had seen a shop full of gossip rags discussing Kiriyuki. And not just Kiriyuki. The anonymous authors already moved on to speculating on what the emperor's other children were doing behind closed doors. The mildest of those speculations could have landed the author in jail for libel. The strangest piece of gossip said Kiriyuki had run away as part of a plot to frame someone for murdering her.
When his idiotic sister finally deigned to come home Mirio didn't know how he'd resist the temptation to throw her into the fishpond.
For the sake of his sanity he avoided the rest of his family as much as possible. On the rare occasions Mirio did meet them he saw they were as unhappy as he was. His father was constantly growling imprecations under his breath. His step-mother was beginning to look mildly strained, which meant she was near breaking point and would decapitate the next person to give her any reason to worry. Nozomi took up the duties Kiriyuki had abandoned -- in addition to his own duties -- and spent most of his time visiting one or other of the charities Kiriyuki funded. Seitomu was seized with a sudden bout of familial affection and went to stay with Aunt Sumire. Azurin gained a newfound enthusiasm for her studies and rarely left the library.
Mirio had no friends and few acquaintances. For over five hundred years his closest friends had been Kiriyuki and Abihira, both of whom were now on the other side of the ocean. He didn't even have someone he could go to for advice or a friendly chat -- unless you counted his mother, who in accordance with protocol he should only visit once a month.
Seroyawan emperors traditionally had only one official wife but as many concubines as they wanted. The previous emperor had sixteen concubines and two children by each of them. The royal court knew how to deal with a situation like that. There was protocol, precedent, and a strict hierarchy among the wives and child. But then there was the current emperor. By his ancestors' standards Mirio's father was practically a bachelor. He had only one concubine, and one who he had married for political reasons rather than through any wish of his own. There was no precedent for a situation like this. Nor could there be a strict hierarchy when the empress's children insisted on treating the concubine's son as their full brother.
No one knew what to do in a situation like this. Hence the icy politeness the rest of the court showed to Mirio and his mother, the sort of politeness that kept them at arm's length. So while his half-siblings found various ways to occupy their time, Mirio was left alone without anyone to talk to and nothing to do. It was the sort of situation that would grate on anyone.
If he had been less bored he might not have jumped at the chance to visit his maternal uncle. And if he hadn't agreed to that visit, everything that followed could perhaps have been avoided.
It began with his mother specifically requesting him to visit her. That was a rarity of the kind that usually happened only once a century. Mirio went to the Western Palace expecting to hear yet another lecture on how he was partly to blame for Kiriyuki's stupidity. Instead he found his mother had already prepared tea and was reading a letter as she waited for his arrival. That was unusual on its own. Lady Yuriya rarely received letters. She wasn't important enough or famous enough for people to send her information about matters they wanted her to raise with the emperor.
Mirio went through the required greeting ceremony and accepted the cup of tea. He didn't ask about the letter. Either his mother would tell him what it was or she wouldn't, and if she didn't then it was none of his business. It wasn't a good idea to be too curious about anything.
At first they talked about inconsequential things, like Lady Yuriya's troubles with her garden and the fashion of Mirio's new coat. Finally Lady Yuriya turned to the reason she'd requested this visit.
"My brother sent me a letter." Her brother was the Emperor of Gengxin and was not in the habit of writing to her. He remembered she existed only during family crises, like the deaths of their parents. He remembered Mirio's existence at most once every other century, usually when he was annoyed with one of his own children. "He would like you to come and stay with him for a while."
I wonder which cousin is in disgrace this time, Mirio thought.
"His oldest son -- you remember poor Zi Xiao, don't you? -- has died of plague."
Mirio did remember Zi Xiao. "Poor" was not an adjective he would ever have applied to his oldest cousin. As for the plague, it was more likely he'd died of the pox. No wonder Uncle Shi Zheng wanted Mirio to visit. The death of the Crown Prince would always cause a power struggle. His cousins might, just might, behave themselves better if a foreigner was present.
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"Your uncle thinks your presence would be a comfort to everyone."
Mirio could think of at least eight people who would not be at all comforted by his presence. All of them were his cousins and all of them would want him to go home so they could return to backstabbing each other in peace.
"I'll get ready right away," he said.
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If Irímé was asked to decide what sort of animal he'd like to be stuck in the form of, he probably would have chosen a dog or bird. Not a dragon. Of course, if given the choice he would much rather not be stuck in any form. But if he had to be, a small one would be better. Much easier to avoid notice that way. It was impossible to avoid notice when you were a dragon.
On the bright side, he'd made a new friend. Snakes and dragons were apparently closer than anyone realised. Irímé could understand Shizuki's hisses, and Shizuki could understand Irímé's growls. On the much less bright side, he'd just become the biggest tourist attraction in Eldrin.
Irímé stared at the gathered crowd in dismay. The placement of his eyes on either side of his skull made it difficult to look at anything directly in front of him, but he could tell there were at least a hundred of the sightseers. They came and went in ways that suggested distinct groups coming to see him for a specific length of time then leaving to make room for the next group. It was mortifying.
Abi was no help at all. There was a strange dark cloud hanging over her ever since she'd walked out of the front door, something that hadn't been there when she went into that room. Or maybe it was just a trick of Irímé's eyesight. But whether it was really there or not, it hadn't given her any more common sense than she usually had.
"Why don't you just fly away?"
Irímé could not speak in this form. He did his best to convey how stupid he thought she was through his eyes alone.
Dragons haven't been seen in Eldrin for over twenty thousand years, he thought very loudly in her general direction. People might notice one if it flew overhead. Anyway, I don't know how to fly.
Abi gave no sign of having heard. She looked up at Irímé expectantly, still waiting for an answer. He groaned and buried his head in his hands -- or paws, or whatever they were called now.
Only you could manage to make a mess of turning into a dragon, a little voice in his head whispered. It sounded disturbingly like his mother.
Irímé ignored it and began wishing very hard to turn back into an immortal -- or else to become invisible.
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News spread like wildfire. In shops, houses, schools and offices the same words were repeated.
"Have you heard? There's a dragon in the city!"
Kiriyuki, still half-asleep and somewhat woozy after drinking so much, heard it from another patron at the hotel's bar. It sobered her up at once. "A dragon? Where?"
The other woman shrugged. "I don't know where exactly. Somewhere around the palace, I think. I heard it from my nephew's secretary who heard it from the postman who said a palace guard told him about it himself."
There was usually only one person to blame when something like this happened. If she had actually summoned a dragon then Abi had really surpassed herself this time. Kiriyuki set off for the palace with a grim frown, unsure what she'd find but certain of who to blame for it.
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"Have you heard? There's a dragon outside Gihimayel Palace!"
Raivíth had been in the middle of embroidering flowers on a blanket for her latest great-granddaughter. Only years of experience hearing similarly shocking news prevented her from accidentally stabbing her finger. She set down the fabric and looked up at her husband.
"There's a what outside where?"
Ninuath nodded. "That was my reaction too. No one can give me any more information yet. I've heard some wild rumours about assassins and venomous snakes and gods know what else. But the dragon does exist. I went up to the tower and saw it in the garden."
"It's not attacking anyone, is it?" Raivíth asked, just to make sure. She didn't think so -- Ninuath would have been more upset if it was -- but even so, dragons were not the sort of thing you liked to have in your garden.
"No. It's just lying there and letting people stare at it."
Raivíth wrapped up the blanket and put it back in her sewing drawer. "We'd better go and see what's happening." The memory of Abihira's antics made her add, "I have a suspicion about who's responsible."
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Irímé knew something new was happening when all the sight-seers began to be herded away. He waited resignedly for whatever would happen next. In hindsight he should have expected the empress to come and investigate personally. All the same, it was a shock to see her step out of the carriage that had just pulled up.
Shizuki slithered off Irímé's neck and down onto the grass. He turned back into a boy as easily as breathing. Irímé watched him enviously. How did he do that?
"Hello," Shizuki chirped, bowing to the empress as she approached. "Abihira's inside."
"I'm not here to see her," Raivíth said. She stared very hard at Irímé. He redoubled his efforts to become invisible through sheer force of will. "Would someone please explain what's going on here?"
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All the excitement in the last few hours alone was enough to make anyone long for a quiet life. To her own astonishment Abi found the thought of going anywhere or doing anything was too much for her to bear. She wished for nothing more than to go to sleep for a hundred years. When she finished talking to Irímé she went back into the palace, collapsed into an armchair, and did her best to make that wish a reality.
It didn't work. Every few minutes she would almost drop off to sleep. Every few minutes she would abruptly be yanked back to full awakeness by nothing in particular. She stared blankly at the wallpaper, dimly aware there was something odd about this but too tired to investigate further.
Knowledge of what was happening around her occasionally forced its way through her sleepiness and made her take note of it. Siarvin was fussing over Ilaran like a mother hen worrying about a very stupid chick. Koyuki was examining the bite-mark on Ilaran's neck with an alarmed expression. Ilaran was snapping at both of them to leave him alone and to stop acting like he was about to drop dead again.
Something nagged at the back of her mind. It was something very small but very insistent. The trouble was, she couldn't imagine what it was.
Voices outside drifted through the boarded-up window. She paid no attention to what they were saying. Then there was a series of shocked exclamations, the sound of a door opening, and a clamour of several people talking. Abi listened without understanding anything she heard.
At last a very familiar voice jolted her from her half-sleep half-daze. It was her grandmother's.
"Abihira Hartannasvóeln, what in the name of all the gods have you done now?"