The Ruling Sea by Robert V S Redick Read Free Book Online Page B

pebble-strewn path, around a trellis of scarlet flowers, and disappear toward a far corner of the garden.
    To his surprise, Pazel felt a sudden, irrepressible desire to know what they were up to. Leaving Neeps protesting by the gate, he darted after Hercól and the youth. The rosebushes were tall and thick, and the guests were many, and it was several minutes before he spotted the pair—through the sun-dappled spray of the fountain, as it chanced.
    Hercól was standing beside a pair of tall, fair women, wearing sky-blue gowns and circlets of silver in their hair. They were twin duchesses from Hercól’s country; he had pointed them out to the tarboys just an hour before. The three were chatting quietly, sipping cups of hyacinth nectar. The Simjan youth was nowhere to be seen.
    Pazel felt rather a fool—Hercól was making pleasantries, like everyone else. But when the sisters took their leave Hercól did not start back to the gate. Instead he turned very casually to face the juniper bushes. Pazel followed his gaze. And to his great surprise, he saw a face.
    The junipers, he realized now, were arranged to hide a section of the iron fence around the gardens. The gaps were few and narrow. But framed in the largest, just beyond the fence, were the head and shoulders of an old but striking woman. She was tall and stern, gray eyes under a gray mane of hair, a face not so much wrinkled as creased with long thought. A royal face, Pazel thought, for he had been looking at royalty all morning; and yet there was something about this face that was like no other he had ever seen.
    Her eyes met the Tholjassan’s. Hercól kept very still, but it was like the stillness of a hunting hound tensed to spring. Then the woman drew a hood over her face and turned away. Pazel saw a pair of large, hard-faced men beside her, gripping her arms in the manner of bodyguards. An instant later she was gone.
    “What in the Pits?” muttered Pazel.
    A hand touched his elbow. It was Neeps, looking rather flustered. “Where’ve you been?” he demanded. “Thasha will be here any minute, and Pacu’s throwing a first-class fit.”
    “You won’t believe what I just saw.”
    “Try me,” said Neeps.
    Before Pazel could say more, a voice cried shrilly: “Here she comes now! Boys! Boys!”
    Neeps sighed. “Come on, before she calls out the marines.”
    They hurried back to the gate. The fact that they were Thasha’s best friends did not matter a fig to Pacu Lapadolma. To her they were just tarboys, born to serve their betters, and nothing short of marrying royalty themselves could change that.
    She snapped her fingers at them. “Get in position! You”—she pointed at Pazel—“must straighten your coat, and your hat, and keep your hair out of sight if possible. And there is a rose petal stuck to your shoe.”
    Pazel raked uselessly at his hair. They had already thought of a dozen choice insults for the general’s daughter. Neeps for his part was only awaiting the end of the crisis to deliver them.
    “Do you have the Blessing-Band?”
    Pazel tapped his vest pocket, where the silk ribbon lay coiled. “Nothing’s happened to it since the last time you asked.”
    The young woman might have snapped a retort had Thasha not appeared just then at the gate.
    “Darling!” said Pacu, seizing her arm.
    Thasha firmly detached the hand. “The last person who called me darling was poisoning my father, Pacu.”
    “What a dreadful comparison, you heartless thing! Syrarys never meant the word, and I love you like a sister. But you’re simply gorgeous, Thasha Isiq! Yes, a sister, that’s the exact sensation in my heart!”
    “You’re an only child.”
    Pacu rescued an orchid that was sliding free of Thasha’s love-knot. She gave an inquisitive sniff, and her eyes widened. “Have you put on some new perfume? Or is it your father’s cologne?”
    “Never mind that,” said Thasha quickly. “Be an angel, Pacu. Fetch me a glass of water.”
    When she had