Once Kiem had his grip sorted out, the basics of quarterstaff turned out to be fairly easy to grasp. Form five meant Gairad doing a sort of crouching spin and taking her imaginary opponent out at the knees, while Kiem’s part was simpler—he stepped forward next to her with what Jainan called a disarming strike, which meant hitting out with his staff at wrist height. They tried it a few times against thin air. Eventually, Jainan seemed satisfied with that, and readied his own staff. “All right. Kiem to hit, please.” He stepped in front of them and held up a block.
“Uh.” Kiem said. Gairad nodded and crouched, but Kiem didn’t move. “You want me to … attack you?”
There was a pause. Jainan gave Kiem a quizzical look. “I’m blocking.”
“What if I miss?” Kiem said. Swinging something heavy around had been kind of fun, but now he remembered why he’d never taken well to martial arts.
Jainan lowered the block. “I see. Gairad, why don’t you hit, then. Kiem, you can pull your strike.”
“Right,” Kiem said. Jainan politely hadn’t mentioned that there was no way Kiem could get past his guard, but Kiem still felt obscurely relieved. On Jainan’s snapped, “Five!” Kiem swung halfway. Gairad lashed out, and her staff hit Jainan’s with a violent crack.
“Again,” Jainan said.
They did it a few more times, until Kiem accidentally stepped in front of Gairad as she started her spin. She tripped over his ankle, said, “Shitfuck,” and crashed forward into the ground. Kiem tripped as well, catching himself with his hands as the impact jarred all the way up to his shoulders.
Jainan was there immediately, offering Kiem a hand up. Kiem took it and was about to make a joke before he noticed how strained Jainan’s expression was. “I’m sorry,” Jainan said. “Are you hurt?”
“I’ve got bruises,” Gairad said. She rolled over and knocked snow off her knees. “Legendary, Prince Kiem.”
“Gairad, apologize,” Jainan said as Kiem pulled himself up.
Gairad frowned and opened her mouth, but Kiem forestalled her. “My fault,” he said. “Totally my fault. I think I need to divert my legendary skills into something else. Maybe bull wrestling.” He picked up his dropped quarterstaff and handed it back to Jainan with a rueful grin. “I’ve got an appointment. Let’s try it again another time.”
That seemed to fractionally relax the strain on Jainan’s face. “As you like. Of course.”
Kiem left them to it. He could see them through the windows as he closed the door behind him. The lesson was obviously going a great deal more smoothly without him there. Gairad wasn’t bad, but Jainan had been training longer, and Kiem could tell every time they clashed; however much force she put into her attacks, they glanced off his defenses. Jainan’s face was intent, the same way he looked when he talked about engineering, as if there was nothing you could put in front of him that he couldn’t take apart. Kiem looked away and firmly reminded himself that he had an appointment.
The sunlight today was bright and thin. It was melting sad green patches in the snow, which would last maybe a day before a new fall covered them up. Kiem glanced up through the glass roof of the connecting walkway as he left the Courtyard Residence. The trees were dripping slush.
He met Vaile in the Emperor’s Wing, where she looked entirely at home in her elegant receiving suite. The view from the window showed only the snowy gardens and the nicer palace buildings. She had managed to get one of the prized fourth-floor suites just below the Emperor’s own rooms; Kiem had never quite figured out how Vaile managed things like that.
“Every time I need you, you’re on Rtul,” Kiem said. He threw himself across one of Vaile’s armchairs with his legs over the arm and watched her pour two coffees from an ornate pot. The syrup she added to it smelled of flowers. She was carefully dressed as usual: today’s bracelets were set with Eisafan bluestone and matched the flint-studded gold bands that secured her braids. She might look as if she had nothing better to do than have a chat, but Kiem knew that was an illusion. Her calendar right now said Kiem and her aide had only given him ten minutes.
“Kaan this time, darling,” Vaile said. “Why do you think I’m slipping brandy in my coffee? You never need me these days, anyway. You haven’t gotten yourself arrested for ages.” She ignored Kiem’s protest that he’d never technically been arrested and continued, “You’re taking this better than expected.”
“Which bit of it?” Kiem said. “The bit where Internal Security is investigating my partner? Or the bit where he casually breaks it to me that we’ve stopped him from talking to his family for two years?”
Vaile frowned delicately. “I haven’t kept tabs on Thean affairs at all, but that does seem odd. No, I meant the part where the Emperor married you off to someone three weeks before the Resolution renewal, and Internal Security didn’t tell you he was under investigation. I wonder if they told the Emperor. They’re not known for their frank and open communication.”
“This has been a massive screwup, and it’s all a horrible mistake,” Kiem said. “Jainan just needs some space. What I want you to do is explain to the Emperor that Rakal’s people need to back off and find another way to settle the Auditor.”
Vaile gave a musical laugh, then put her cup down and said, “Oh. You’re serious.”
“You’re on the Advisory Council,” Kiem said. He had very little idea what the Advisory Council actually did. He was starting to realize he had very little idea how any of the Empire’s machinery really worked. It had never been his problem until now.
“Internal Security has never reported to the Advisory Council,” Vaile said. “They’re like the military; they go straight to the top.” She shook her head regretfully. “Kiem. I know you don’t really pay attention, but do you know what’s going on at the moment?”
Kiem thought he had a fair handle on it—we’re about to sign a Galactic treaty and it turns out one of our representatives was murdered—but that, from Vaile, was a loaded question. “Probably not as much as I need to, huh?”
Vaile gave him a sudden assessing look, her head tilted, but it was so quick that Kiem might have imagined it. “You know about the Resolution treaty renewal. Are you aware that, behind the scenes, all the vassal treaties are being frantically renegotiated right now? There are teams of diplomats arguing over commas while we all smile at each other over coffee.”
“I thought we just rubber-stamped the treaties we already have,” Kiem said, somewhat bewildered. “This whole thing is only a ceremony.”
“The renewal ceremony seals them,” Vaile said. “The Resolution wants a sector frozen in amber. You can understand, really; it has thousands of worlds to deal with. So we make terms for each renewal, then everyone is largely stuck with them for the next twenty years, under threat of breaking with the Resolution. Of course the vassals are agitating for better terms. They always do. It’s just that Thea’s flare-up is so recent and the dratted newslogs seized on it, and that makes it so much harder to get any serious negotiations done.”