Read Online The Will of the Empress by Tamora Pierce - Free Book Online

crest in the ground and the party of riders who surged over it. She was quick to note that their hunting clothes and horses’ tack alike were edged in gold and silver embroidery, the work of countless hands. They were accompanied by guardsmen, business-likewarriors in leather jerkins sewn with metal plates, worn over full-sleeved red shirts and baggy pants. The guards wore round armor caps and held crossbows on their laps.
    “Is this your witch-thing, peasants?” demanded a big, handsome young man as the hunting party came within shouting distance. “It ruined our sport! Drove off every grouse and wood pigeon for miles!”
    Daja asked her friends, “Did he say ‘peasants’?”
    Briar looked over his shoulder at her. “He definitely said ‘peasants.’”
    “Someone needs spectacles.” Tris pushed her own spectacles higher on her nose.
    Sandry crossed mental fingers. For the first time since they had reunited, they sounded as they once had at Discipline cottage.
    A woman rode forward, past the man who had shouted at them. Four of the guards and another richly dressed man who glinted a magical silver trotted their horses to catch up with her. Briar whistled in soft admiration for the woman. Sandry couldn’t blame him. The lady was a splendid creature who wore her russet hair curled, coiled, and pinned under a bronze velvet cap in an artless tumble. It framed an ivory-skinned face, large brown eyes, an intriguing mouth over a square and stubborn chin, and a small, slight slip of a nose. Her clothing hugged a very shapely figure.
    Eyeing the lady’s bronze velvet high-necked coat and wide breeches, Sandry felt a pinch in the place where shekept her pride in the clothes she made and wore. Lark warned me I’d get a dreadful case of style envy at the Namornese court, she told herself with the tiniest of sighs. There’s just something to this lady’s garments that gives them the, the sauciest look. And what I wouldn’t give for a nice, close look at those lapel and seam embroideries! I can see a few magical signs to ward off injury and enemies, but I think there are others, ones I don’t recognize.
    Remembering her manners, Sandry met the lady’s amused eyes once more. This time she realized there was something familiar about that beautiful face. Among her family heirlooms Sandry had portraits, including those of her mother’s parents. This woman looked very much like Sandry’s grandmother. Belatedly the young woman realized who she must be. Blushing deeply, Sandry dismounted to curtsy deeply to her cousin Berenene dor Ocmore, empress of Namorn. Briar was next to dismount, followed by Tris and Daja. As Tris curtsied, Briar and Daja bowed, as befitted a young man in breeches and a Trader in leggings.
    Berenene rode forward until her mount stood a yard from Sandry. “Look at me, child,” she said in a voice like warm music.
    Sandry obeyed. From the way the empress’s horse shifted, the woman was startled, though that beautiful face showed not one drop of surprise. “Qunoc bless us,” Berenene whispered, naming the west Namornese goddess of crops.“Lady Sandrilene fa Toren? You are the image of your mother.”
    Sandry would have argued—her mother had not possessed a button of a nose—but arguing and empresses did not mix. “I’m honored, Your Imperial Majesty.”
    The empress looked their company over. A slight crease appeared between her perfectly arched brows; the tucked corners of her mouth deepened. “But where is your entourage? Your guardsmen, your ladies-in-waiting? Do not tell me you came all the way from Emelan with just these few persons.” She looked at Tris and Daja. “Unless these young women are your ladies?” Her tone made it clear she believed they were nothing of the sort.
    “These are my foster-sisters, Your Imperial Majesty,” Sandry replied, still deep in her curtsy. Tris’s was beginning to wobble. “And Briar is my foster-brother. We traveled with Third Caravan