Kinwiinik, as guests in your city we would be most grateful.”
“It would be nothing. A matter, as I say, of justice.”
“As you say.” He toyed with a writing brush on the desk. “But in our country, a guest who is received with courtesy must show courtesy in return.”
The duchess’s eyes widened. “As if I would allow you to do anything in return!” Chuleb cocked his head, waiting. She took another sip of chocolate. “Yes,” she said; “this drink is truly remarkable. But perhaps I was wrong about serving it at a party. I think few of my fellow nobles would appreciate this particular blend as I do.”
“With all respect,” Chuleb said, “I think you may be right.”
Kaab kept her eyes on a mural celebrating the exploits of Kinwiinik heroines in the service. This was a game between two very skillful politicians. She must not betray herself.
“You come from far,” the duchess said, “and have seen much of the world. I myself have never left these shores. Your knowledge of the ways of many peoples is much greater than mine. Tell me: How do folk in your country respond to gifts there?”
“That would depend on who the giver was. From a mother, a kiss! From a patron . . . good service.”
“And from a friend?”
“Why, friendship in return. And a promise to share all other gifts equally, as good friends should.”
“Ah.” The duchess nodded. “I see your people, too, have a fine sense of justice. No wonder there is sympathy between us.”
Chuleb leaned forward. “You honor me. I rejoice in it, and will speak of it tonight to my evening star, Ixsaabim.”
“Oh?” A faint note of surprise suffused the duchess’s voice.
“My wife.” Chuleb was altogether too pleased with himself, Kaab thought. Love did strange things even to businessmen. “She is the second daughter of a first daughter of the Balam. I am but a minor noble in my own right, who had the fortune to marry into the first Trading family of the Kinwiinik. Ixsaabim is a woman well-traveled, who knows the customs of many lands, and the value of friendship.”
“She sounds delightful. I must take chocolate with her someday, your . . . evening star? What a poetic name. You must have many such endearments in your tongue. I’m sure our poor language cannot compare. Doubtless we could learn much from you.”
Not a muscle in Kaab’s face moved. But this was a slip. By one who could not possibly be given to slips. The duchess was very, very worried. About what, Kaab could not guess. Yet.
“Perhaps my lady will honor us with another visit someday?”
“I will await your invitation, Master Balam, and that of your people.” To her credit, she drank the last of her fiery chocolate. Then, in a flurry of silk fine as a flower’s petal, Duchess Tremontaine stood, setting the Kinwiinik cup down on the table beside her.
Uncle Chuleb rose with her. “It has been a very great honor to have you in my home, Madam Duchess.”
“The honor has been mine. Few in the City have been so privileged as to taste chocolate of this singular quality.”
Chuleb inclined his head, just like a Local. “To our great friends, we serve none but the finest of cacao.”
“Then I hope,” the duchess said, “that our friendship may long continue to prosper.”
She looked around the room, her gaze passing over Kaab just as it passed over the furniture and the cotton feathered-serpent wall hangings. “It has been a delightful visit, Master Balam. Thank you for the invitation.”
Kaab seized her opportunity, having no particular interest in being subjected to Chuleb’s opinions of her subterfuge. “I show you door, mistress,” she said.
“No,” said her uncle. “Dzan has certainly returned from his errand by now. He will escort the duchess to the door. I wish to speak with you on another matter.”
Kaab bowed again as the duchess walked through the door. Then she and Chuleb stood very still, looking at each other. The murmur of voices in the hallway, the opening and closing of the front door. How angry would he be? Silence. Stillness. This was becoming unbearable, but Kaab knew better than to move too soon. Ten more breaths. Ten more.
And then Chuleb exploded.
“What in the name of the gods and their parents were you thinking?” he shouted. “That woman is as subtle as a jaguar in the night! I invited her to come tomorrow, and she arrived today to catch me off guard. I have no idea what she really wants, but you can be certain that she would happily slit every Kinwiinik throat in the City if it suited her purpose.”
“Which is why,” Kaab countered, her chin high, “it was better that I be here.”
“I have half a mind to expel you from the service and make you chief nursemaid to all the children for the rest of your life. If you’ve imperiled our trade here—”
This was not a serious threat. She knew it, and she knew that he knew she knew it. “Don’t be ridiculous. If she saw me at all, she saw a barbarian servant. When it comes to dealing with her, you’ll be better off with my help than without it. You appear, for example, not to have caught her mistake.”
This brought him up short. “Which was?” he said after a pause.
“When you told her you would have to ask Auntie Saabim about her proposal, she began to chatter. She had not thought Kinwiinik women to have authority in our houses. And if she didn’t bother to learn before she came that the Balam are nobility, then she believes us unimportant and more easily dealt with than is the case. She may be a jaguar, but she is not the jaguar you think she is.”
Chuleb said nothing; he only stood, fuming.
“Fine,” he snapped finally. “But if you’re going to impersonate a servant then you can do so for the rest of the day. This office is a disaster. I want it as spotless by dinner as if Chaacmul had washed it with the sea.”
It would not do to show her glee. She schooled her face until she resembled a statue guarding the royal tomb. “As you wish.”
• • •
Micah was exhausted.
People kept getting angry at her. Sometimes it was when she told them why they were wrong. Sometimes it was when she asked them questions, sometimes it was when she didn’t ask them questions. Sometimes it was when she answered their questions. Sometimes it was when she did what they’d told her to do. She wasn’t acting any differently, but for some reason things that seemed to be fine on the farm were not fine here, and she often wanted to squeeze herself into a tiny ball in the corner and disappear.
But the exhaustion and the tension were worth it, because when they weren’t getting mad at her for doing or saying the wrong thing, the people here were talking about numbers and calculations and shapes and patterns and all the incredible ideas that her family seemed not to care about at all—not just talking about them but loving them, respecting them, understanding how beautiful they were. And it turned out that those ideas, the things she spent all her time thinking
