Naeen led the way, through the winding streets of Rema. The city was overwhelming, but it was similar in size to Bellasa. It seemed to have begun as a small town between two sharp foothills, rocky points that jutted up out of the earth. Now the city had filled the valley, and surrounded the slopes too.
“It’s just this way,” Naeen said. She led the way down a side street, and the Iron Palace came into view once more.
“How long has it been there?” Aralim asked. It was probably his tenth question on the subject, and their new friend sighed in annoyance.
Hayan answered that one. “At least two hundred years,” he said. “Though the Emperor has been in charge of this land for many years before that.” Miresh and he walked side by side behind Aralim.
They left the side street and strode across a busy city square. The people of Rema were more wealthy and their styles more vibrant than even the culture of Maykren. Some men and women were almost completely naked, while others wore elaborate dresses made out of silk or linen or wood or metal. They passed a man with a red gown that began under his armpits and trailed behind him on the ground. He was accompanied by two guards and three servants. Another group of scholars let the man pass, before they began to force their own way through the crowd. They wore white tunics and wrinkled grey trousers; in their hands were clutches scrolls and books and folders.
“There,” Naeen said, calling back. “The Chapel of Peace.”
It was not a grand palace or cathedral, like the dozens that dotted the cityscape. The Chapel of Peace was just a rickety little wooden structure, with a tall post at the top of its square roof. On top of the post was a triangle with its point up, a symbol of tranquility and order, according to Naeen.
They were greeted inside by the Chapel’s only priest, a short man with a full head of hair and handsome features. His skin was white, like Aralim’s, but he spoke and moved like he had grown up in Rema. “Welcome. All faiths and all people are welcome here. If you need food, they will be serving dinner in two hours. If you need beds, there are bunks downstairs.”
“Thank you,” Aralim said. “What about baths? We are going to the Iron Palace tomorrow.”
“There is an inn down the street, expensive to stay at,” the priest said. “But they will allow you to bathe there for a nominal fee.”
Aralim thanked him, and they went to look around the chapel. That was all that their evening consisted of. Hayan and Aralim bathed first, and cleaned their clothes with water. They wrung them out, and wore them until they dried, while Naeen and Miresh bathed. Once they left the inn, the warm air dried them out quickly, despite the humidity in this rainforest.
They sat around the bunks in the Chapel of Peace for a long while before lying down to sleep. Naeen had seemed up tight on the ship, but she spoke confidently now. Now that they weren’t discussing anything serious. “I’ve been to Rema many times,” she told them suavely. “You?”
“Twice,” Hayan said. “I know a few people in the city, but mostly by reputation. Our theatre company had dealings with a few different people in town.”
“How do we meet the Emperor?” Miresh asked.
Hayan and Naeen looked at each other and a small laugh passed between them. “Well, getting here was only half of your journey,” Naeen said. “The Three Courts of Rema are almost a censoring system so that the Eternal Emperor need only deal with the most important issues. First, we’ll need to get through the Third Court.”
“How do we do that?” Aralim asked.
Hayan shrugged. “Make an impression. The Court consists of twenty Selected. You need only one patron to earn you admission to the Second Court. But they are a lazy and devious bunch. They won’t even look at you unless they hear something they like.”
“A child magician?” Miresh asked.
Naeen nodded. “It might be enough. But we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Aralim did not want to have travelled across the world to not even receive a look from a lowly lord. If that was the way the Path led, then so be it. But progress along the Path rewarded power, power to change one’s circumstances. “How do we get their attention? Noise? Hayan, you must know something from your stage experience.”
Hayan paused, and scratched his shoulder. “Perhaps…” he said. “Let me think.”
“Is tricking them a good idea?” Miresh asked.
Naeen nodded emphatically. “It is. No one will hold it against you if the trick fails either. Politics in Rema is a sport, and entertainment is as valued as gold.”
“We could amplify your voice,” Hayan said. “A magic trick, you might say. We use it on stage sometimes, but it’s pricey to purchase. A type of metal mined from the Expanse, it attracts sound from one spot. A sound magnet.”
“A sound magnet?” Aralim asked. He had never heard of such a thing. “So my voice will be louder?”
“Exactly,” Hayan said.
Naeen nodded. “It might work. You could say you used magic to accomplish it. Only the magicians in the Selected would know otherwise.”
“There are other magicians there?” Miresh asked. She grinned.
They slept comfortably that night, though Aralim and his young friend slept the least. Aralim knew from her smile that she was as excited as he. They were pursuing the Path and they could feel it, a sensation that only came once or twice. They were exactly where they needed to be.