The Palace was more what Rudiger would have called a castle. In fact, Ninifin only had one word for both types of structures, so he supposed castle was correct, but the very first time they’d passed through the city, Zandrue had insisted palace was the correct translation.

It was all the stone. Like the Grand Temple and the other pyramids, the Palace was constructed mostly from stone, unlike the homes most Ninifins lived in. Rudiger associated stone with castles rather than palaces. However, beyond construction materials, he had to admit it didn’t bear a lot of resemblance to Arnorin castles. It was wider and more open, with three courtyards at various levels, each connected by stone staircases. There were several buildings, most only a single storey, and none more than two storeys as best Rudiger could tell. The Palace had height, but only because those single- and two-storey buildings were elevated by the hill the Palace was built on. Even so, the Grand Temple beside it still towered much higher. There was a wall around the entire Palace, but unlike the wall around an Arnorin castle, it was a low one and not wide enough to have soldiers patrolling on top of it.

Instead, a couple dozen Ninifin warriors stood along the perimeter of the first courtyard level where Rudiger now stood with Borisin to his left and Ses-Izel on the opposite side of the horse. Behind them were Ses-Izel’s wagon and the rest of her group. The warriors, all armed with spears decorated with red and black feathers, had been there in formation when they’d arrived.

This was the area of the Palace that was open to the public and was the intended marketplace for the City. Despite that, the warriors present did not look as if they would let anyone go any farther. The wagon couldn’t go any farther anyway, due to the stairs.

They didn’t design this place for horses, did they? Borisin said.

“Yeah, they really like their narrow stairs,” Rudiger said.

I can tell I’m not going to like it here.

“You say that about everywhere.” Rudiger looked around to see if there were any other options for entering or leaving the Palace. “I know your wagon isn’t coming up with us,” he said to Ses-Izel, “but they must have to bring wagons in sometimes for deliveries and things. How do they get in?”

“There’s a side entrance by the Grand Temple for wagons and livestock,” she answered.

“Makes sense. How long are we supposed to stand here anyway?”

They had been waiting at least a quarter hour now and had spoken to no one, and there was no sign of anyone else other than the guards and a small, but growing group of people from the City who had gathered at the open gate to see what was happening.

“They know we’re here,” Ses-Izel said. “They’ll come when they’re ready.”

They waited several more minutes before a group of figures appeared at the edge of the highest courtyard and began to descend the first staircase.

“Here we go,” Ses-Izel said.

Rudiger adjusted the white tunic he’d been given to wear, and felt something tear in the back. It was much too small for him, but it was the best Ses-Izel’s people were able to find for him. “You Foliths grow to such absurd sizes,” she’d said when he’d first tried it on.

Ses-Izel also wore a white tunic, as did everyone in her crew. Even the horses pulling the wagon had white feathers in their manes. Borisin’s mane, on the other hand, was adorned with black and red feathers. “Befits his status as a warhorse,” Fra-Tepeu had said. “It should make him seem a more prestigious gift.”

At the centre of those approaching was a short woman wearing white robes along with necklaces and bracelets of colourful stones, and a feathered headdress. A priest of Frana. At least he was remembering some of Fra-Mecatl’s teachings.

Surrounding the priest were four warriors, one in front, one behind, and one to each side. Unlike the warriors on the ground, who were mostly men with a few women, these four were all women. And while the warriors on the ground had the red and black feathers on their spears, these women’s jerkins were also dyed dark red, and they wore short, black leather skirts. They carried shields as well as spears and the shields were ringed with black feathers. All four had numerous tattoos.

When the group reached the bottom courtyard, the warrior at the front moved farther ahead of the others, directly towards Rudiger, Borisin, and Ses-Izel.

“Ses-Zeltzin,” Ses-Izel whispered. “Be careful of her. Leave initial platitudes to me.” She stepped forward and knelt before the approaching warrior.

Rudiger tried to go over in his head what he could remember of who Ses-Zeltzin was. He’d been studying Fra-Mecatl’s list all the way here, but there were so many names and the honorifics made a lot of them seem very similar. But if he remembered right, she was head of the Queen’s Guard, but he had no idea why she wouldn’t be with the Queen at this moment.

Ses-Zeltzin stopped right in front of Ses-Izel and looked down at her with lowered eyes, but not lowering her head. “I never expected to see you in a situation like this.”

“I am simply a messenger,” Ses-Izel said, not looking up, “bearing a gift for her Holiness from a foreign lord.” She held up the forged letter, laying it flat in her outstretched palms.

“So we heard,” Ses-Zeltzin said, taking the letter, but barely glancing at it. “Another one. He sent one just a couple months ago. This foreign lord never gives up. Now he risks insulting her Holiness with his ever-increasing frequency.”

Ses-Izel winced before quickly regaining her composure. They had not been aware of any other gifts. “As I said, I am simply a messenger. I was paid to do a task. I know nothing of any other gifts.”

“At least he saw fit to send it with an actual Ninifin this time, even if it is you—though I suppose he didn’t have much choice—so maybe he’s learning. Rise.”

Ses-Izel stood up. The two women stood with only an inch or so space between them, Ses-Izel about an inch shorter than the other. They stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds until the corner of Ses-Zeltzin’s mouth curled into a half-smile.

“You will come with us to make the presentation to her Holiness,” Ses-Zeltzin said. “Your wagon stays here.” She pressed the letter against Ses-Izel’s chest. “I will be watching you, Izel.”

I don’t think they like each other very much, Borisin said.

She didn’t use Ses-Izel’s honorific, Rudiger replied. In general, only close friends and family received the right to address someone without their honorific. These two did not seem friends, but he could not remember there being any mention on his list of anyone being Ses-Izel’s family.

Ses-Izel nodded, took the letter back, and stepped back beside Borisin.

Ses-Zeltzin walked up in front of Borisin. “You present this animal as a warrior, Izel? What a joke. It would not last a minute against my warriors.” She reached a hand out to Borisin’s snout, but Borisin snapped at her. She pulled back.

Careful, Rudiger warned.

Made her jump.

“Keep it under control,” Ses-Zeltzin said, “or I might feed it to Bahlam.”

“Surely that would be her Holiness’s decision,” Ses-Izel said.

“Her Holiness knows when to take my advice.” Ses-Zeltzin stepped up to Rudiger, standing as close to him as she had to Ses-Izel. However, this time, she turned her head to look up at him. “And who is this? Do Foliths do nothing but grow? I had heard they could grow tall, but this is ridiculous.” She was a muscular woman with several small scars on her cheeks and bare shoulders, though Rudiger would never have noticed the ones on her shoulders if she weren’t so close. A red and black tattoo looking something like a necklace of feathers circled over her shoulders just below her neck and around the top of her chest and back. A tattoo of a serpent stretched across her forehead, while her arms bore tattoos of glaring, abstract faces. She also wore several nose rings. “Well?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Rudiger knelt, going over in his head what Fra-Mecatl had told him to do and say. He produced the letter from Fra-Tepeu and held it up just as Ses-Izel had held out hers. “My name is Rudiger Fonivan. I come at the bequest of Fra-Tepeu, brother of her Reverence Fra-Mecatl, to offer my services to her Holiness Queen Nin-Xoco as a groom for her gift. I have worked for Fra-Tepeu for—”

“Yes, enough,” Ses-Zeltzin said. “Save it for her Holiness.” She turned and walked away from him without even looking at the seal on the letter.

Rudiger was a bit unsure whether he could stand, but the hard ground was bothering his knees, so he decided to risk it.

I don’t think she likes you, either, Borisin said.

And you passed up your opportunity to win her over, Rudiger replied.

I don’t win people over. I don’t even like people. She’s got an unusual smell on her though.

What do you mean by unusual?

It’s not her smell. Something she’s in regular contact with, though. An animal I don’t recognise.

“Pay attention,” Ses-Izel hissed.

Ahead of them, Ses-Zeltzin was calling out orders to the warriors, who were moving to form a circle around Rudiger, Ses-Izel, and Borisin. The woman in the white robes of Frana walked up to Rudiger and Ses-Izel, followed by the other three warriors who had come with her and Ses-Zeltzin. She was very short, not even five feet, with long, black hair that reached halfway down her back. Her face had no tattoos, which surprised Rudiger. Tattoos were a religious expression so it was rare for priests or warriors not to have any. Of course, her robes hid any other tattoos she might have, so she might just have chosen to keep her face bare.

“I am Fra-Atl,” the priest said. Rudiger tried to remember that name. He was pretty sure it was on his list, but he couldn’t remember any of the details. “Her Holiness Queen Nin-Xoco is prepared to meet you in the highest courtyard. We will escort you to her. There may be a wait when we get there. These three women with me serve on her Holiness’s personal Guard under the command of Ses-Zeltzin, whom you have already met. They are here to watch that you do not make any untoward moves against her Holiness or her Holiness’s devoted servants. Do you understand?”

Rudiger and Ses-Izel both bowed their heads. “We do, Reverence,” Ses-Izel said.

“Very good.” Fra-Atl turned and called out to Ses-Zeltzin. “We are ready!”

Ses-Zeltzin snapped to attention, then raised her spear above her head and slapped it down against her shield. The warriors at the front began to move. Ses-Izel nodded to Rudiger and they began to move too, Borisin still between them. It wasn’t a long trip, just up two flights of stairs, which Borisin grumbled about—they were narrow even for two-legged creatures—but managed without much difficulty.

The top courtyard was the smallest, with several small buildings flanking it and the main Palace building at the far side. On arrival, the warriors took up positions along the perimeter similar to where they had stood in the lowest courtyard. The Queen’s four personal guards stood with the priest a couple yards in front of Rudiger and Ses-Izel, facing and watching them. Then they waited again.

Rudiger stepped closer to Borisin and looked over the horse’s neck at Ses-Izel. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“You don’t even know—”

“I have a pretty good idea.”

“Okay, sorry.” He didn’t want to risk getting her angry at him again. So far today, she was being civil with him, and he didn’t want to ruin that. She had raged and screamed at him for ages last night after Acat, Kianto, and Ses-Patli had left. Even though the three of them had accepted that Jorvan wasn’t an evil demon, she had gone on about how much of a risk it had been and that he had better not try anything so insanely stupid while in the Queen’s employ.

She sighed. “Oh, you’ll probably find out anyway. I’m sure she’ll delight in telling you at some point. Zeltzin is my sister.”

“There was nothing about that in anything Fra-Mecatl told me.”

“She doesn’t know. Neither does Fra-Tepeu or anyone in the Resistance. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around.”

“I won’t say a word.”

“Thank you. Will you tell me something now?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Where’s your friend Zandrue? And don’t give me any bullshit about meditating in the wilderness. That’s a pretty transparent lie.”

Rudiger stroked Borisin’s neck. He’d been doing pretty well the last couple days not thinking about Zandrue. Now the feelings flooded back. “Don’t know. She took off without explanation.”

“You were lovers?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I keep hoping she’ll come back. I mean, she had to have a reason for what she did. There had to be a purpose to it, but all she’d say was it was for my protection, and everyone else’s. I don’t get it.”

Ses-Izel was silent after that while they waited

After a few minutes, the priest came over to him. Rudiger had already forgotten her name. He wanted to pull his list back out and start studying it again, but that would have to wait until there was no one else around.

“You worked for Fra-Tepeu?” the priest asked.

“Yes, Reverence,” he answered.

“His sister has long been a good friend of mine. How is Mecatl doing these days? It has been a long time since she was last in the City.”

“She is doing well, I think,” Rudiger said. “She doesn’t make many trips into the City anymore because it is hard on her legs. So she says.”

“She could ride. We would send her a wagon if she asked for it.”

“With respect, Reverence, it would not be my place to make such a suggestion. Fra-Mecatl does not take advice she did not ask for.”

The priest chuckled. “That is very true. We elderly clergy get stuck in our ways.”

“I would not have considered you old, Reverence.”

She smirked. “You flatter me, but I am. Though I will admit, Mecatl has me beat by a couple of decades. Tell me about this horse. I know little of the creatures.”

“His name is Borisin,” Rudiger began. This was also something he had practised. In order for his cover story to work, he had to pretend that the first time he had ever seen Borisin was just a couple days ago. “I’ve learnt a little of him in that time, though. For one, he’s stubborn and difficult to control, which is typical of stallions.”

Hey! I am not stubborn. I just don’t let up when I’m right, and I’m right most of the time.

Rudiger paid Borisin no mind and continued to tell the priest about stallions and horses.

“Thank you for the illuminating discussion,” she said sometime later.

“My pleasure, Reverence,” Rudiger said.

“If you will excuse me, I must confer with Ses-Zeltzin. It shouldn’t be long now before her Holiness arrives.”

“Of course, Reverence.”

“You handled that well,” Ses-Izel said after the priest had moved away. “I’m actually impressed.”

Rudiger breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t remember her name. I was terrified I would have to use it at some point.”

“Fra-Atl,” Ses-Izel said.

“Right. I can’t keep track of the names. I don’t know how I’m supposed to remember them all.”

“First, don’t worry about it. It’s more believable if you don’t know everyone’s names perfectly.”

“Do you think Fra-Atl was testing me in some way there?”

“Probably. From this point on until you leave or die, whichever comes first—and it’ll probably be death if you’re not turned away immediately—it’s probably safest to assume everything anyone says to you is a test.”

Rudiger normally wouldn’t have considered that very comforting, but given it was coming from Ses-Izel, it actually seemed optimistic.