Young Kiryk, who didn’t have a glass to raise because his trusted Sulimer had shattered it, put up a hand to speak. “My father’s name was Lutobor, King of Drin. He was taken from me, and none of my tears have returned him. In his name I swear: if your Asadel lives, we Drinmen will find him for you. And if he only half lives,” Kiryk’s hand fell to his heart, “we will end his misery, friend Sariyah.”
“We will,” said Lenhart.
“We will,” said Jaracz.
Sulimer, oldest of the Drinmen, dragged his axe from the table. “I will,” he swore.
His words chilled me. I knew he meant to die tomorrow and drag a thousand souls to hell. Sulimer had reached his own valley in life, a place few ever reach, where a person has no fear at all. He had his mission of vengeance and needed nothing else. He was why we could win tomorrow, I told myself. He and all the men like him, who had nothing else to lose, could change such terrible odds. Sariyah gave the Drinmen his thanks and sat back down again. One by one the men around the table all returned to their seats. The servants scrambled back into the room, and the chatter rose around the table, about archers and strategy and how it felt to lose one’s soul. I kept myself out of this talk, drinking and watching Anton and Marilius field the questions. Both had done remarkably well. Marilius had become a leader almost overnight, and Anton. .
Well, I still disliked him to be sure, but he was less of a snake than I’d thought.
We went for hours, long into the night, loosening our fears with Anton’s good wines and admiring the curves of his servant girls. The captains gave orders to their underlings to make ready their troops, each a tiny army under my supreme command. We decided our assault would not come at dawn-there was no sense in that, not when sleep would be so precious. The men outside the council chamber would drill and organize and make all the preparations, but the men here, in this bawdy chamber, would drink themselves mad and sleep late enough to regain their senses.
But none of them had my stamina, and one by one the men around the table took their ease, Sariyah first among them. Then came Nalinbaatar, sick from foods he had no taste for, and then the mercenaries. Kiryk and his Drinmen surprised me with bottomless stomachs, but even they succumbed eventually, and left the chamber as a drunken herd. By then Chuluun had moved into Sariyah’s vacant seat. He’d stopped drinking long ago but refused to leave my side. When at last Marilius said his good-nights, there was only Chuluun and myself, and Anton Fallon on the other side of the table, looking tired and oddly content, resplendent in his robes and womanly hair, a silver bowl of some unknown spice at his fingertips that he snuffed up his nose. He offered it out to me from across the table, and when I shook my head he looked at Chuluun.
“What about you, Bogati?” he bade. “Alwani spice. It will give you courage for the battle tomorrow.”
Chuluun smirked at his fellow Zuran. “I am unafraid, Anton Fallon.”
Seeing them together made me realize how different they were, and how vast Zura must be. Where Chuluun was savage, Anton was regal. I could tell they didn’t much like each other, only tolerating each other for my sake. Anton shrugged, pinched up more of the spice and sucked it up his nose. I realized suddenly how he’d managed to stay so awake. I had my sword to keep me vital, and Anton had his spices.
“Chuluun, will you leave us?” asked Anton politely.
“If Lukien wills it,” Chuluun replied.
“Go on, get some sleep,” I told Chuluun. I knew Anton had something to ask me. I even knew what it was. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chuluun gave Anton a courteous bow, then bent down as if to whisper to me. Instead he kissed the top of my head.
“Sleep well,” he said softly. “Dream of victory.”
He staggered out of the chamber, drunk on his feet, watched with surprise by Anton, who seemed almost jealous of the attention. We were just two, now. He had dismissed the servants long ago. For the first time in our long night, I noticed the blood stains still on the chamber’s ceiling. I reached out for my goblet then remembered it was empty. Anton clicked shut his silver spice case. He’d managed to stay awake with me, but his eyes were bloodshot and cried for sleep. Beside him still rested the large, unopened treasure chest.
“Is that the money you owe me?” I joked.
Anton turned his chair, stretching out his legs and resting his feet on the chest. “Did you kill the monster like you were supposed to?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“You told Diriel you’d bring the monster to him. Why’d you tell him that if you didn’t mean to kill it?”
“To buy us time. I needed to tell him something.”
“You’re lying, Lukien. I’ve made my living selling lies so I know one when I hear it. Besides that, you’re no good at it.” Anton’s voice slurred as he spoke. He reached for a dirty, nearly empty glass of wine, tipping drops from it to his outstretched tongue.
“Go easy now,” I warned. “We’ve got a fight tomorrow. Between the wine and that spice of yours you won’t be able to stand.”
“It’s the only thing that gives me courage,” said Anton. “They think I’m a coward, but I’m not. All my men-they think I have a flower in my chest instead of a heart. I’m not like that, you know.”
“I know, Anton,” I said. “I see that now.”
He smiled. “You called me Anton.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t betray me, Lukien,” he sighed. “Don’t give me to Diriel.”
“Is that what you think I’ve planned?”
Anton wiped his mouth. “I dunno. You told Marilius you were going to give Diriel what he wants. I thought that was the monster. But here you are, empty-handed as usual.” He pointed at my face. “Except for that new eye. I like that eye.”
“Anton, you’re drunk. Why don’t you go to sleep now?”
“Can’t. First you have to promise me. Promise me you won’t give me over to Diriel, Lukien. I figured it out. That’s the only way you can save yourself.”
“I don’t want to save myself, Anton. The last thing I want in this bleak world is to save myself.”
“Why?” He got out of his chair and shambled toward me. “Look at you-you’re young again! Beautiful, like me! You made a bargain with that thing inside your sword, didn’t you?”
“Only to have my vengeance. Do you believe me, Anton?”
He sat down on the table with a slump. “I suppose I have to. I’m sorry about the girl. Marilius told me what happened to her. It is right that your heart breaks for her, Lukien. But I did warn you of Diriel’s horrors.”
“You did,” I admitted. “But I never listen, you see. I’m the one who got her killed. Tomorrow I’ll make everything right.”
“All right,” he whispered. “If that’s the best answer I’m going to get. .” He pushed himself from the table, wobbling back to the big chest. He waved me closer. “Come. I have something for you.”
I was curious as I got out of my chair. The room swam a bit around my head, but I straightened and swallowed my nausea. The one thing Malator couldn’t cure was a hangover, it seemed. Anton stepped aside when I reached him, gesturing to the chest. There was no lock on it, just a latch keeping it closed.
“Open it,” he proffered.
I did and had to shut my eyes at the brightness of the contents. Gold, I thought at first, a whole chest of it! But when my sight adjusted and my thinking cleared, I recognized the shining helmet staring back at me, the very perfection of handmade armor. It was my own, bronze and beautiful, better than new, and it blinded me with its glittering. I must have said something, because I remember my mouth falling open in awe.
“You like?”
I touched the helmet, then the gleaming breastplate beneath. I’d last seen it ruined, first by weeks of dusty travel, then by Crezil’s brutal battering. I’d left it in Isowon, dented and forgotten. But here it was again, reborn, more like gold than bronze, a suit of shining precious metal.