“I can see your point. But now I wonder who I should trust. This might all be true, and it might all be some fabrication of Arese’s.” He stroked his chin. “Find me proof,” the Emperor said. “Real proof. Something the council can’t argue with.”
He leaned against the wall.
“You know, we had a letter from Umbriel, delivered by a… rotting thing… to one of my generals.”
“Really, sire? A letter?”
“Yes-very politely written, supposedly from the very hand of the master of that place, who also calls himself Umbriel. They have besieged every path to the Imperial City in the East, and soon enough they will probably hold the West as well. Yet we are told we are free to leave the city unharmed-with all of our arms and possessions. Umbriel wants this city, not its inhabitants. The offer remains good until Umbriel arrives. Doesn’t that seem peculiar?”
“Didn’t your majesty offer the chance of surrender to any city he besieged?”
“Yes. But according to our reports, Umbriel requires the souls of the living to remain aloft-and no defense has been found by either the College or the Synod to prevent its method of slaughter. Why would they allow the fuel that keeps their engines burning to simply walk away?”
“Obviously, majesty, they want something more than fuel. Something here in the city.”
“Or perhaps Umbriel has no interest in the city, but rather is aiding the ally who summoned it here. If I take my army and leave, what will Hierem do? Take possession of the throne and then send Umbriel to destroy my army and me?”
“From what we know, it seems a possibility,” Colin said.
“But not yet enough of one to risk a civil war if I’m wrong. So find out. And involve no one else, other than Arese.”
Mede reached into his pocket and produced a small metallic key.
“Use this carefully,” he said. “It is a key to Hierem’s ministry and rooms. If he finds it on you, he will know it came from me, and things will go bad very quickly. If he is connected to Umbriel, he may know something of its secrets, who commands it, how to stop it. Find these things out for me, and do it quickly. I am not squeamish about methods-you understand? Our time grows short. If you find nothing, he will have to be questioned, no matter the consequences-before the enemy arrives.”
“I understand, majesty.”
NINE
In her third hour of sleeplessness, Annaig gave up the fight and sat up in bed. Despite her earlier misgivings, she tried the locket, but Attrebus still didn’t answer, and she didn’t really expect him to. She was beginning to think he was dead.
“I’m not sorry for what I did to Slyr,” she muttered, under her breath. “I had to do it.”
But for what? And what now? She could play Toel along for a bit, but soon he would get impatient, and she would have to refuse him outright or comply with his desires.
Would it be that bad?
“Yes,” she told herself. But if it worked, if it moved her nearer to discovering how to rip Umbriel from the sky, then fine. But it wouldn’t work. If she became his mistress she might rise a bit in position, but then he would become bored with her, as he had with Slyr, and she would be worse off than before-or at least no better.
What she had to do was escape him, and that meant moving up on her own merit-without him.
And her best chance at that was coming up all too soon, and it might not come again. If she could cook the perfect meal, draw the attention of those Toel called “lords”-then she would really be in a position to do something.
She had started something and she couldn’t stop now. If she cooked the best meal Lord Rhel had ever eaten-if she could impress him beyond measure-then maybe he would make her a chef, give her her own kitchen.
And so she began to plan, and that calmed her down, and finally she slept, and dreamed of cooking.
She met Glim again, this time by the light of the two moons, high up on one of the massive boughs of the trees. She strained to see something of the land below, but mist and clouds obscured almost everything. Glim was curiously silent.
“Are you listening to the trees?” she asked.
“I’m thinking,” he replied softly. He sounded strange-upset.
“I didn’t want to do it,” she said. “I had to.”
“It’s not about Slyr,” Mere-Glim said. “It’s about this new request of yours.”
“It should be easy,” she replied. “Even if the skraws never get past the pantries, they talk to the workers there-I know they do. A little information is all I ask.”
“No, you’re asking for a lot of information. And the skraws have already given you a lot of information-for which they haven’t been repaid.”
“Is that what it’s come to be between us?” she asked. “Glim, I have to know I can count on you. I have to know you’re my friend.”
“I am your friend,” he said. “Of course I am. And I’ve been doing what you ask, haven’t I? All I am saying is-maybe it’s time you helped me.”
“I’m still in no position to manufacture enough water-breathing serum to make a difference,” she said. “I would if I could.”
“I understand that,” he replied. “What I need right now are weapons.”
“What?”
“The tubes that bring processed waste from the midden to the sump are living things. There is a series of sphincters that pass the waste along or hold it back, as needed. I need something that will paralyze the sphincters and an antidote for that. I need concoctions to taint foods, to make them unpleasant or inedible without rendering them poisonous. I need weapons of sabotage for the skraws to wage their rebellion with. I won’t need large amounts of them-just enough. You know how to make these things.”
“I do,” she said. “Let me think a moment.”
She closed her eyes and felt the pull toward the world below, so close, so impossibly far away. So far, none of her experimentation had given her any hope that she and Glim could leave without fading into nothingness. But there was still some chance she could destroy her prison. Glim was giving her an opportunity to learn how to sabotage Umbriel, and a network to do it with. How could she refuse?
“Okay,” she said finally. “But we have to do this carefully. We have to be smart. The first thing is, Toel’s kitchen has to keep running, at least for now. At the same time, we can’t be seen as immune to these attacks, or we’ll draw attention. I think it’s also best that-at first-no one knows the skraws are doing this.”
“I don’t understand,” Glim said. “We’re trying to pressure the lords into doing something about the vapors. If they don’t know it’s us-”
“I really don’t think you know what you’re dealing with,” Annaig told him. “As soon as they suspect the skraws, the kitchens-or worse, I’m sure, the lords-will come after you. I’ve seen what that means.”
“They can’t kill us all.”
“No, but they can kill you. They can find out who the other leaders are and kill them.”
“Maybe.”
“Try it my way,” she urged. “When everything is completely bollixed up, when they see how vulnerable they are, you step in and set things right, asking only that the vapors be replaced by something more humane.”
“What’s your way?” Glim asked.
“Well-at first we make the kitchens think they’re attacking one another.”
“How is that?”
“The banquet, the one I needed the ninth savor for. Umbriel himself will be in attendance. Four kitchens are competing to win the honor of cooking that meal. Would it be so surprising if they started sabotaging one another?”
“Now I’m starting to see,” Glim said. “And of course, your kitchen would in the end benefit the most from this-competition.”
“Yes.”
Glim scratched his arms. “I don’t hate this idea,” he said. “But why do you want Toel to succeed?”
“Because if he succeeds, I succeed. He might get advanced and take me with him.”
“Why do you care about that?”
“Because the closer I am to the heart of things, the more damage I can do. And the more I can help the skraws.”