A nap was tempting. The least prudent thing she could do was push herself into a state of exhaustion before starting a patrol to look for Spore.

“Do that, and my thanks. The intendant has granted me a token for a bath and provisions from the caravanserai.”

“Why not the Residence baths and kitchen?” An edge in his tone caught her attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is the intendant snubbing you?”

“Oh! No, no, not at all. The prince went north, thinking the road is open. They need every pair of hands to make ready for when he returns, probably late this afternoon, at the speed those carriages go.”

“I see what you mean. Do you think the prince will be mad?”

“I think the prince will be furious. And I think the prince will blame the intendant instead of the rival prince who probably sent him this way on purpose to make trouble. That’s the intendant’s theory, anyway. The thing is, the intendant is an easier target, less powerful, and right in front of the prince’s handsome nose. But I might be wrong. We can hope. Anyway, I’ll go over to the baths. You can sort everything here and bring it to me. I’ll take a nap there. I promise.”

“I’ll give you four hours.” He indicated the cabinet clock set on the mantelpiece. “Will that be enough?”

“Make it two.”

“Three,” he bargained. “What if there’s more Spore and you’re too tired to notice?”

“All right. Three.”

“I’ll brush your jacket clean, and wipe and polish your boots.”

“And I’ll let you!” She swatted his shoulder affectionately and left him to it. He knew exactly what went in her courier pack, as well as what had gone into his mother’s midwifery chest. From the earliest age, he had wanted to help them make ready to go on their rounds. It gave him a sense he was doing his part.

Outside, she waved at Deputy Courier Gage’s voluptuous spouse, Baima, who blew Elen a kiss from her doorway. Not that they’d ever done it a second time, after that one stormy, lonely night, but it was their little secret and they remained good friends. Like pilfering a slice of festival cake from an imperial shrine, something you could never admit you’d taken but whose sweet taste you would never forget. She grinned, enjoying both memories. Not that she’d ever filched a festival cake a second time either, but the chance she’d taken had been worth every mouthful. She refused to regret moments of sweetness stolen from a harsh world that would as soon kill her as cradle her.

14 ORDER CREATES TRANQUILITY

ORDER CREATES TRANQUILITY.

Therefore, the Tranquil Empire is built on order so all may know and act within their declared place in the empire and there shall be no confusion.