Flux

the slave market the pathway twisted, becoming wider and much grander. The houses were two or three stories with wide, shaded balconies and pillars of carved and painted wood. Trees had been planted along the pavement and pruned into decorative shapes, while bright flowers grew everywhere. There weren’t many people to be seen and most appeared to be servants running errands; but there were a few women strolling in bright skirts, one of whom was clutching a tiny dog with bows in its hair and another holding the hand of a small, solemn child.
    As the road became steeper, the houses became larger and more ornate. And then the houses stopped altogether, replaced by swaths of carefully-groomed greenery and little corners with burbling fountains or fancy pavilions. It was by far the poshest place Miner had ever been, and even Ennek seemed impressed.
    The gates to the palace were tall and wide, full of ironworked scrolls and flourishes. They were flanked by several members of the guard, looking more alert than those at the city’s entrance and with fancier uniforms. Needless to say, they would not simply permit Ennek and Miner to pass. But Ennek marched up to them, as self-assured as if he lived there. He had no problem discerning which was the guard in charge—the short one with the imperious air and the skinny mustache.
    A brief conversation ensued, during which Ennek kept his back very straight and his manner very much like a Chief’s son dealing with a slightly thick inferior who was going to get in trouble if he didn’t obey. The guard had a stubborn set to his jaw. But then Ennek pulled Akilina’s pendant out from under his shirt. The guard went slightly pale and took a hurried step back. He barked commands to his men and then he and one other soldier led Ennek and Miner through the gates, across a wide, flat area paved with small round pebbles, and around the side of the palace. They climbed a broad set of stairs and entered the building.

    ***
    Miner had never imagined he’d one day walk through a palace. Of course, many things he’d never imagined had happened to him of late, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. But still he couldn’t help but gape a bit at the fine tapestries and beautifully gilded vases, the rich paintings and the carvings of animals and the marble floors. The palace was nothing like the austere Keep, which aside from a few decorated halls, was much more about practicality than splendor. Even the art in the Keep was mostly utilitarian: portraits of Ennek’s ancestors and big wooden chests that stored various goods. Not only was this palace beautiful, but where the Keep was dark and close, this place was light and airy, with high ceilings and many windows with views of Donghe or of the sea.
    The guards took them through long, twisting corridors where their footsteps were by far the loudest sounds. The few people they passed—servants, probably—barely spared them a glance as they glided by. One of the servants was carrying a tray laden with delicious-looking pastries and fruits, and Miner’s stomach growled so vigorously that Ennek shot him an amused look. It had been a long time since their cold, lumpy porridge.
    After what felt like miles of walking, they climbed a set of stairs and entered a small antechamber with four spindly chairs and a window overlooking a courtyard. Neither of them sat. The guards gave them a stern glare and then left, shutting the door as they did. Miner was certain that one of them stayed in the corridor outside. Miner and Ennek didn’t speak to one another—they didn’t know who was listening and who might understand them—but Ennek gave Miner a small smile and Miner hurried over to his side and placed a small, gentle kiss on his cheek, then stepped away.
    Perhaps a half hour later, the inner doors opened and another guard ushered them into a larger room. This one was lined with bookcases and full of men hurrying about with scrolls and pens and pieces of paper. One man was bent over a tall table, peering at what looked to be a ledger. He stood up straight when he saw them enter and gestured impatiently at them to approach. He was in his early sixties perhaps, and his hair was gray with only a few streaks of black. He had a long, thin face with a prominent chin and a pair of elegant eyebrows. Although he wore the same clothing as most other people—simple, loose trousers and a long tunic—his were very finely made, with black embroidery