Seasons of War

garden of the third palace at the beginning of the entertainments that you would be pleased to see. Consider claiming a moment’s necessity and joining me.
    It was signed with Issandra Dasin’s chop.
    Balasar was considering him silently. Otah slipped the paper into his sleeve. It was less than half a hand before the acrobats and dancers, trained dogs and fire-eaters were to take to the floor. It wasn’t much time.
    ‘I don’t like this,’ Otah said, leaning toward Balasar so that no one could overhear.
    ‘You think it’s a plot to assassinate you,’ Balasar said.
    ‘Might it be?’
    Balasar smiled out into the hall, his eyes flickering as if looking for concealed archers.
    ‘She sent the message through me. That provides a witness. It isn’t the sort of thing I would do if I intended to kill you,’ Balasar said. ‘Still, if you go, take a guard.’
    Otah felt the weight of the note in his sleeve, feather-light and yet enough to command all his attention. He had almost decided to ignore it when, as the trumpets blared the first of the entertainments to the floor, he noticed that Danat had also gone. He slipped down from the back of the dais, chose two of the guards that he recognized, and made his way out to the third palace.
    The moon garden had been built as a theater; great half-circles of carved stone set into a slope were covered with moss and snow ivy. At the deepest recess, three old wooden doors led to hallways where players or musicians could crouch, awaiting their entrance. The gardens were dark when he arrived, not even a lantern glowing to mark the paths. Behind him, the guards were as silent as shadows.
    ‘Otah-cha,’ a woman whispered. ‘Here. Quickly.’
    Issandra huddled in the darkness under an ivy-choked willow. Otah walked forward, his hands in a pose of query. Issandra didn’t reply, her eyes on the guards at his back. Her expression went from disapproval to acceptance barely seen in the dim light. She motioned all of them close to her.
    ‘What is this?’ Otah asked as he crouched in the darkness.
    ‘Hush,’ Issandra said. ‘They should almost be here. There now. Be quiet, all of you.’
    One of the wooden doors at the base of the garden was opening, the light of a lantern spilling out onto the green of the grass, the black of the soil. Otah squinted. Ana Dasin stepped out. She wore a rough cloak over what appeared to be simple peasant robes, but her face and hair would have proclaimed her in the darkest teahouse. She looked like a girl who wanted to travel unnoticed but didn’t know the trick of it. As Otah watched, she raised her lantern, scanning the wide stone curve, and then sat down.
    ‘What is—’ he whispered.
    Issandra pressed her hand to his mouth. One of the guards shifted, but Otah gestured him back. It wasn’t everyone who could gag the Emperor of the Khaiem, but he was too curious to disrupt things over a point of etiquette. Besides which, he didn’t truly care.
    Another of the doors shifted and creaked open. Danat stepped out. Being discovered crouched in the ivy, eavesdropping on their own children might be the least dignified thing possible, so Otah tried to be very, very still. When Danat spoke, the sound carried perfectly.
    ‘I received your message. I’m here.’
    ‘And I received your poem,’ Ana said.
    It was too dark to actually see how deeply Danat blushed, but Otah recognized the discomfort in his son’s body.
    ‘Ah. That,’ he said.
    Otah tapped Issandra on the shoulder and mouthed the word poem ? Issandra pointed back down to their children.
    ‘I am not a toy,’ Ana said. ‘If this is another scheme of your father’s or my mother’s, you can carry word back to them that it didn’t work. I know better than to trust you.’
    ‘You think I’ve lied?’ Danat said. ‘What have I said to you that wasn’t true?’
    ‘As if you’d let yourself be caught out,’ Ana said.
    Danat sat, one leg tucked under him, the other bent. He looked up at her like a player in some ancient epic. In the dim light, his expression seemed bemused.
    ‘Ask anything,’ he said. ‘Do it now. I won’t lie to you.’
    Ana crossed her arms, looking down on Danat like a low-town judge. Her brows were furrowed.
    ‘Are you trying to seduce me?’
    ‘Yes,’ Danat said. His voice was calm and solid as stone.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because I think you are worth seducing,’ Danat said.
    ‘Only that? Not to please your father or my mother?’
    Danat chuckled. One