Work Text:
Kamet was still dozing when the guards came for him. He pulled on a robe and opened the door, somewhat bleary-eyed.
“Kamet Kingnamer!” said the first guard, saluting. “Baron Orutus would like a word.”
Kamet was chilled. How many people had heard those words and blenched, realising they had been found out in crime, skulduggery, even treason? He shook his head. Don’t be ridiculous, he told himself. He doubted that the guard customarily saluted those about to be arrested. And he himself had worked with Orutus on occasion, advising on the internal politics of the Mede empire, translating captured documents (Kamet was fluent in five languages), and assisting in the less interesting work of negotiating the ransom of prisoners of war.
“Now?” He rubbed his eyes, realising the morning was well advanced. “I’m sorry. I overslept.”
“The Baron would be grateful for your presence in the small audience hall an hour before noon, if you please.” The guard smiled. “Just time for breakfast.”
Kamet smiled bravely in return and nodded. He turned away, and the man pulled the door to. Kamet could hear the characteristic sounds of the men taking up guard positions outside.
That was what was wrong, of course. The Baron had sent guards. Not a messenger or an attendant. Guards. Who were going to be outside his door until it was time to escort him to the audience hall. However politely phrased, this was an official summons.
*****
The guards left him in the centre of the hall, standing before the queen’s chair, trying not to look around nervously. There was a rattle of military equipment and more guards delivered the king’s youngest attendant to stand next to him, with rather the same air of kindly professionalism. Kamet was struck again by how tall her majesty’s guards all seemed to be. Perhaps it was a requirement.
Pheris stared ahead, stone faced. It was impossible to tell what he thought.
Feisty, thought Kamet, standing a little straighter himself.
Baron Orutus was already there, fussing with papers on the table in front of him. Then the queen arrived with her attendants and yet more guards. A surprising number of people had now insinuated themselves into the audience hall; courtiers and others who might want the queen’s ear as well as guards, attendants, officials and the merely inquisitive.
Orutus rose to speak.
“Your Majesty. As you are aware, my agents keep an eye on correspondence emanating from the palace or directed to its residents. It’s part of the routine business of the department.”
The queen nodded, impatient, though one or two people around the room were looking a little disconcerted, not to say embarrassed.
“Kamet,” said the Baron, “I understand you correspond with the magus of Sounis.”
Kamel was surprised. “Yes, Baron. Since I first came to the palace here. Relius suggested it,” he added, remembering too late that Relius had never been a favourite of the Baron’s. “The magus is a noted scholar.”
“Indeed,” said the Baron, “He’s actually rather a popular correspondent of the Attolian court.”
He turned to Pheris. “Baron Erondites,” he said with a hint of sarcasm on the name. “You are another of the magus’ correspondents, I believe.”
Pheris nodded.
“So, Baron, do you also write on scholarly topics?”
Pheris wrote painstakingly on his slate.
Orutus looked. He raised his eyebrows.
“The Magus of Sounis is teaching you mathematics?” he said in disbelieving tones.
Yes.
There was murmuring and laughter around the room. Orutus appeared unmoved, apart from a slightly heightened colour.
“And what about this? And this?” Orutus flourished several pages covered with arcane writing.
It is for practice. Mathematical cipher.
The slate was slow. Seeing the queen begin to tap her foot Kamet took a breath. “Your Majesty, perhaps I might explain?”
“I would very much appreciate it, Kamet.” The queen spoke sharply and Kamet winced.
“The magus and I had talked about cipher in the past. If you read our earlier correspondence, Baron, I’m sure you would have seen our discussion. It’s not something that’s well known in the Little Peninsula, and he was curious. I knew he and Pheris corresponded. I thought it might be interesting for Pheris, given his enthusiasm for mathematics.”
Orutus stuck to his guns. “Nevertheless, Kamet, it appears you have been conducting a secret three-way conversation with the chief adviser of a foreign monarch and the newly-created baron of the most troublesome barony in Attolia. Surely you must see how it looks.” He turned to the queen for confirmation.
She sighed. “The Baron is correct. As he has reminded me, he would be remiss in his duty if he did not point out these obvious concerns. Though I think this could have been dealt with in a less formal manner, Baron.” She held out a hand for the papers. “What are these, Kamet?”
“Each page has a list with numerical and alphabetical characters followed by prescriptive text. There are various different encipherments. They are actually all from the same source, your majesty.”
He smiled, a little hesitantly. “It’s a recipe, in fact.”
The queen merely looked slightly puzzled.
“A recipe?”
“The magus told me the king of Sounis had requested it, and I was pleased to be able to help. It’s quite short, and the standardised format seemed appropriate for a practice text.”
“A Medean recipe?”
“No, your majesty. An Attolian treat which apparently the king of Sounis has enjoyed on his visits here. Spiced almonds from the palace kitchen.”
There was a collective intake of breath around the room. Pheris was grinning wickedly.
“Spiced almonds?” said the queen in horror. “Kamet, how did you get this recipe?”
Kamet was startled by her intensity. “Your head cook, your majesty. I asked, and she kindly dictated the recipe for me.” He added, nervously, “I do understand that she prefers her recipes to be kept private, your majesty. That’s why I thought of using it, in fact.”
The queen shook her head. “It’s not that, Kamet.” She turned to an attendant.
“Chloe, please ask Brinna if she would kindly attend me here.”
No-one else moved, though it was some time before the attendant returned with the cook. Everyone was agog to hear what would happen.
The cook sailed majestically into the room, regal as a visiting monarch.
The queen apologised for taking her from her work. “I will not keep you long.”
“Oh, they’ll manage all right, your majesty,” said the cook comfortably. “Lunch is all but ready.” She began to reel off a menu which reminded everyone how hungry they were. The queen held up a hand to stop her.
“Brinna, I understand you gave Kamet a certain recipe.”
The cook smiled across at Kamet. “Why yes, your majesty. Kamet’s a favourite in the kitchens.”
“You know he gave it to Pheris – to Baron Erondites - to send as a secret message to the magus of Sounis?”
“Yes. He explained how it would keep the recipe safe from prying eyes.”
“Is Pheris also well known in the kitchens, then?”
“Well, your majesty, you just have to look at him to see how he’s improved since he’s had a bit of good feeding! Now he’s just like all the youngsters, in and out of my kitchens every chance he can get.” She laughed. “Sometimes even on the king’s business!”
“Brinna,” the queen leant forward in her chair, speaking intently. “The king must never know.”
Famously, the king and the cook had long been at war. The king’s attempts to get the particular dish he desired had frequently been thwarted by the cook’s determination not to give in to his importuning. Finally, spiced almonds had formed the basis of a memorable midnight battle which had resulted in a reasonably effective détente.
But the queen shuddered to think of the king’s reaction when he heard that the recipe which had been the source of so much trouble had been freely supplied to Sounis and Eddis. The possibility of all-out war with the kitchens seemed only too real.
Brinna smiled. She knew her own value. She also knew the king could dismiss her at any time if he truly wished. “Don’t worry, your majesty. I told him I’d done it, and about the secret code too. He was quite interested. I think he might be having a word with these two before very long.”
Attolia nodded and sat back, sighing in relief. “Very well.” She turned to Orutus. “This is obviously a simple case of slightly misguided enthusiasm, Baron. Kamet, Pheris, please consider your correspondence more carefully in future. And if the king wishes to learn cipher, you will be the ones to teach him.”
Kamet and Pheris bowed as she swept out. As perhaps the only two people in the palace who would actually enjoy teaching Eugenides anything of the kind, they were hard put to it to avoid smiling.
*****