Date: 1-4-165

  The palace is a crown perched atop the island’s highest point, one side facing the sprawl so that it can always be seen wherever you are in the city, and the looking other out over a sheer cliff facing the sea—from where it watches the continent, or so I’m told. It is perhaps only as broad as a lesser lord’s fortress back home, but its shining white walls and aquamarine tiles stretch up to the sky, higher even than the imperial castle. The sight of its looming towers arrests the mind as you draw near, for surely no building made of stone should be able to reach such heights without collapsing under its own weight.

  I asked Nadine about this as our carriage approached the gate to the palace grounds, and she brushed my curiosity aside with an answer of “Magic.” She had other things on her mind, naturally. In all honesty, there were other things I should have been thinking about, too.

  Today was the day that we finally had our audience with Lord Governor Valia.

  We were let out in a garden courtyard large enough to fit the entirety of the Seaborne Estate. Thick white walls enclosed the garden, towers jutting from the corners, and yet the planting was oddly subdued: simple shrubs and fruit trees of all varieties, humble vegetable gardens, and only the occasional flowering bush. It was pleasant, to be certain, but it lacked the ostentatious displays one sees in the greater houses of Guntao. Is this a cultural difference between our people or a quirk of House Valia, I wonder?

  Four guards met us as we emerged from the carriage. I had seen armor such as theirs in town: parallel rows of steel slats that protected the torso and limbs, rounded pauldrons, closed featureless helmets. They carried no obvious weapons, though each wore a bulging pouch at either hip—perhaps a magical weapon of some sort? Unlike the watchmen in town, their armor had a sapphire filigree that resembled the ocean’s waves. With a stiff salute, they conducted Nadine and me into the palace proper.

  Room after high-ceilinged room, the palace seemed to have no end. There was no unifying aesthetic to the place, the coloring of the stonework varying wildly from chamber to chamber. Where a manse of Guntao might have statues and wall scrolls, or paintings and earthenware, this palace had glowing images of people and landscapes emblazoned on the wall and, occasionally, floating in the air. More than once, Nadine nudged me, begging me with her eyes not to gawk so openly.

  We approached a great hall with a throne and rows of tables, which I assumed was our destination as soon as I glimpsed it through an open door. Instead, the guards took us into a small, faintly smoky room, where—sitting at a large round table—awaited Lord Governor Dominiq Valia.

  Though I’d never seen him before, I instantly knew who he was. Even sitting, the man was massive—I’m certain my head would only come up to his chest. His hair, which fell to his shoulders in regal waves, was a platinum color unlike any I’d seen during my time in Panzea, and his eyes were the gray of a stormy sky. With a face composed entirely of sharp angles, cadaverously pale skin, and faintly blue lips, he seemed to belong to yet another world, wholly apart from Panzea.

  One might almost believe the claim that the Great Houses are the descendants of the gods.

  A wizened woman sitting a few seats away from him cleared her voice. Her skin was dark amber and her hair was a tangled mess of gray, but she had the same angular features and stormy eyes as Governor Valia. She held a silver pipe between two fingers, the source of the acrid odor that lingered about the room.

  “Typically, this is when most people introduce themselves to us,” she said, watching us with evident disinterest.

  Remembering herself, Nadine curtsied—a silly gesture in which one folds one leg under the other and bows one’s head—and I followed suit, just as we’d practiced.

  “Forgive me. I am Doctor Nadine Seaborne, and this is my apprentice, Miss Why Shollin.”

  (I will note here that Panzean makes little distinction between how one speaks to one’s peers and how one speaks to one’s betters. I have tried to represent that in my journal here, though you will no doubt find the effect rather shocking. It is simply another aspect of Panzean life that one must grow accustomed to.)

  Nadine continued: “I have come to petition for the role of house physician.” She addressed her words to the Lord Governor, though she glanced now and then at the elderly lady.

  “Sit,” Governor Valia said, his voice low and smooth. He fussed with his coat—shimmering aquamarine over a white tunic, it was lavish by Guntao standards, though not so uncommon here in Panzea. Once we were seated opposite him at the table, he continued. “They say you’ve been performing miracles in the city below. Show me.”

  Nadine blinked. “I’m sorry, my lord?”

  “Perform a miracle.”

  Do you recall the play we saw in Sheqie, featuring the bumbling lord as its central character? This man, this astonishing giant who was at least as old as my father, brought this play to my mind.

  “I’m not sure I—” Nadine paused. “What kind of miracle would you like to see?”

  “I don’t know, something good.” He waved a hand vaguely in the air, then yawned without covering his mouth.

  “What my son cleverly meant to ask,” the elderly woman said, cutting in, “is what makes you qualified to work as the physician of a Great House?”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Nadine directed her attention to the governor’s mother. “Well, my lady, I like to think that my work speaks for itself. The standard of care my practice provides is unmatched in Valia’s Watch. Maybe it’s going a little too far to call what I do ‘miraculous,’ but… Well, that is what they say.”

  “It is, eh?” The lady stared at Nadine as smoke rose from her pipe, filling the air between them. “They say I control the weather, yet this damned humidity still turns my hair to [shit].”

  Nadine swallowed loudly at that, her eyes wide, though I wasn’t precisely sure why. “Ehm—”

  “So how do I know you’re really out there performing miracles, and not some grifter trying to snatch a piece of the House Valia fortune?”

  Nadine sat, frozen under the gaze of this woman. Of course, in Guntao, Truthbinding magic makes it trivial to ensure the good intentions of anyone entering into a position of trust. Perhaps I could have used such magic to smooth things over. Of course, using Truthbinding without consent would be highly unethical, and you know I would never do such a thing. Even if I had thought to use it, I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a suitable spell formulation in the moment, given the pressure of the interview and my poor understanding of Panzean culture and politics.

  At least, I assume that’s what would have happened. Had I thought to try anything of the sort. Which I certainly did not.

  “O-Of course, I never—” Nadine blurted out, but the lady silenced her with a raised finger.

  “My people spoke with several of your patients, of course. They seem to think the miracles are real. Hell, one woman even called you the second coming of Illithia.”

  The corner of her mouth curled into a mischievous half-grin, the first indication she had given that she was actually invested in the interview. “There is one other thing we learned, though. Sounds like the whole miracle business started when your, ahem, ‘apprentice’…” She pointed to me. “…came into the picture.”

  I froze. I never grew used to the Panzean custom of pointing at people, but when the Lady Valia did so, she did it with such intensity that I felt I might be pierced by the focus of her attention.

  Governor Valia startled, having taken a proper look at me for the first time. “Egads, what’s wrong with her face?”

  There is a certain sensation that I have sometimes felt since coming to this strange land. This stomach-churning feeling when I can feel the scrutiny of everyone around me as they stare—gawk, rather—having never seen anyone like us before. This sense of being an outsider, a grotesque beast that belongs in the imperial menagerie, a curiosity.

  Never had this sentiment been stated more bluntly than it had by Governor Valia in that smoky little room.

  The lady struck the back of her son’s head with a bony hand.

  She settled back into her chair—she’d practically had to stand on it to reach her son’s head—and then continued as if nothing had happened. “You studied Theramancy at Brent for eight years,” she said to Nadine. “It’s a good school. I had friends there, back during the war.”

  “That was a little before my time, my lady,” Nadine answered in a small voice.

  “Call me Kailenne. I never could stand all that ‘my lady’ shit.” She fixed me once again with her gaze. “And what about you? Where did you study, hm?”

  “She—”

  Lady Kailenne shushed Nadine. “Your apprentice can speak for herself.”

  I did rehearse for this moment, for what little good it had done. I like to think that I’m accustomed to the company of the great and powerful. But the truth is that I’ve rarely been the one to speak in these meetings, and in the moment, I couldn’t keep straight my Guntao etiquette from my Panzean.

  I started to rise, causing my chair to scrape harshly against the stone floor, then thought better of it and sat back down—causing more scraping. I bowed low, sat up straight, and realized I’d forgotten what I wanted to say.

  “If it pleases you—” I started. “That is, it is an honor—” I started again. “I should like to begin by—”

  I am perhaps the most absurd creature on the face of two worlds! Lady Kailenne reminded me of the sort of lord who wields attention like a bludgeon, able to unbalance you with a single glance. I’d encountered such individuals before, but never while their attention was focused so clearly on me. Nevertheless, I steeled myself to try a fourth time, and—

  “On second thought,” Lady Kailenne said, “go ahead, doctor.”

  A deep flush came to my face as Nadine spoke for me.

  “Miss Why doesn’t have formal training,” Nadine said, speaking slowly. At least she was being careful not to say anything too damning about me. “My husband—he’s a captain in the matron-watch fleet—but of course you know that—found her at sea. We don’t know how she got there, and she won’t… That is, she doesn’t remember…”

  “Amnesia?” Lady Kailenne did not sound impressed.

  Nadine looked between Lady Kailenne and me helplessly.

  “One of your colleagues, Benjam, had some strange ideas about Why—Miss Why—damn if that isn’t an annoying name. Interesting fellow, Benjam.” She fixed her gaze upon me again. “It’s a shame he went mad.”

  I tried to maintain a stoic composure, but I’d already been shaken terribly by this unexpected interrogation. Was I expected to make an accounting of myself? Explain what happened the night of my abduction? It was foolish to assume that this wouldn’t return to haunt me. Thinking quickly, I said, “Doct—”

  Lady Kailenne thrust her finger at Nadine, and suddenly the atmosphere of the room shifted once again. “Suzet Colvar offered you a queen’s ransom to work for her. You turned her down. Explain.”

  “Oh—!” Nadine practically jumped at the question, phrased as it was like an accusation. “Well! Yes, it was a lot of money! But, there is a lot of, you know… It would be an honor to serve House Valia, my l—Kailenne.”

  “You’re an idiot, then?” Lady Kailenne squinted at Nadine and me, her lips curling upward into a slight snarl. “I’ve known plenty of scholars with shit for brains, but that doesn’t seem like you. And if you are a grifter, you’re passing up a much bigger target in Suzet. Unless you’re after the Diamond Heart of House Valia?”

  “N-No, ma’am! I have no interest in the Diamond Heart!”

  “I suppose not. I did just make it up, after all. A little joke, you see.” There wasn’t much amusement in Lady Kailenne’s voice. “Dominiq, do you have any more questions for the good doctor and her apprentice?”

  Governor Valia, who had dozed off at some point, jerked to wakefulness. “Hm, yes, quite. When it comes to ointments, is it better to scent them with lavender or berries, and why?”

  ***

  Lady Kailenne sat and stared at me in silence as her son asked Nadine that and a dozen more inane questions. After perhaps half an hour of this, he abruptly ended the meeting with a perfunctory “We’ll be in touch” and sent us on our way.

  The whole ride back, Nadine clenched at the fabric pooled in her lap. As the carriage came to a stop at the Seaborne Estate’s front gate, she looked at me and humorlessly rasped, “I think that went well.”

  In the morning I shall go over our options and start planning next steps. It didn’t go well. It didn’t go well at all. We could always try Kinesiomancy, as Olrick suggested, though his tone suggested it might be challenging. For tonight, my love, there’s little more that I can say beyond…

  We tried.