I paused in the midst of drinking my tea. “He’s watching what I do?”
“He watches all his heirs, Lady Yeine. Very little else entertains him these days.”
I thought of the magic orb I’d been given, through which I had contacted my nations the night before. I wondered how difficult it would be to create an orb that would not alert the person being observed.
“Have you secrets to hide already?” Viraine raised his eyebrows at my silence, amused. “Visitors in the night, secret trysts, conspiracies afoot?”
I have never possessed the innate talent for lying. Fortunately, when my mother realized this, she taught me alternative tactics. “That would seem to be the order of business here,” I said. “Though I haven’t tried to kill anyone yet. I haven’t turned the future of our civilization into a contest for my amusement.”
“If those small things trouble you, Lady, you won’t last long here,” Viraine said. He moved to sit in a chair across from me, steepling his fingers. “Would you like some advice? From someone who was once a newcomer here himself?”
“I welcome your counsel, Scrivener Viraine.”
“Don’t get involved with the Enefadeh.”
I considered whether to stare at him or feign ignorance and ask what he meant. I chose to stare.
“Sieh seems to have taken a liking to you,” he said. “He does that sometimes, like a child. And like a child, he’s affectionate; he amuses and exasperates; he’s very easy to love. Don’t.”
“I’m aware that he’s not truly a child.”
“Are you aware that he’s killed as many people over the years as Nahadoth?”
I could not help flinching. Viraine smiled.
“He is a child, mind you—not in age, but in nature. He acts on impulse. He has a child’s creativity… a child’s cruelty. And he is Nahadoth’s, blood and soul. Just think about that, Lady. The Nightlord, living embodiment of all that we who serve the Bright fear and despise. Sieh is his firstborn son.”
I did think about it. But strangely, the image that came most clearly to mind was Sieh’s utter contentment when I’d put an arm around him that first night. Later I would understand that I had already begun to love Sieh, possibly in that very moment. Some part of me agreed with Viraine: to love such a creature was beyond foolish, edging into suicidal. Yet I did.
Viraine saw me shudder. With perfect solicitousness he came over and touched my shoulder. “You aren’t entirely surrounded by enemies,” he said gently, and so discomfited was I that for a moment I actually took comfort from his words. “T’vril seems to like you, too—though that isn’t surprising, given his history. And you have me, Yeine. I was your mother’s friend before she left Sky; I can be yours as well.”
If he had not spoken those last words, I might have indeed considered him a friend.
“Thank you, Scrivener Viraine,” I said. For once, thank the gods, my Darre nature did not assert itself. I tried to sound sincere. Tried not to show my instant dislike and suspicion. Judging by his pleased look, I succeeded.
He left, and I sat silent in his wake for a long time, thinking.
It would occur to me shortly thereafter that Viraine had warned me off only Sieh, not Nahadoth.
I needed to know more about my mother.
Viraine had said he was her friend. Everything I knew of my mother said this was a lie. Viraine’s strange mix of solicitousness and nonchalance, his callous help and false comfort—no. My mother had always valued people who were straightforward in their dealings with others. I could not imagine her being friendly toward, much less close to, someone like Viraine.
But I had no idea where to begin learning more about my mother. The obvious source for information was Dekarta, though I had no desire to ask him for the intimate details of my mother’s past in front of the entire Salon. A private meeting, though… yes. That would suffice.
Not yet, though. Not until I understood better why he had brought me to Sky in the first place.
That left other members of the Central Family, some of whom were more than old enough to have remembered the days when my mother was heir. But T’vril’s warning lingered in my mind; any of the Central Family who truly had been friends to my mother were off doing family business, no doubt to keep themselves apart and safe from the viper pit that was life in Sky. No one who remained would speak honestly to me. They were Dekarta’s people—or Scimina’s, or Relad’s.
Ah, but there was an idea. Relad.
He had refused my request for a meeting. Protocol dictated that I not try again—but protocol was a guideline, not an absolute, and among family protocol took whatever form its members permitted. Perhaps a man used to dealing with someone like Scimina would value a direct approach. I went in search of T’vril.
I found him in a spacious, neat little office on one of the palace’s lower levels. The walls glowed down here, even though it was a bright day outside. This was because the lower levels of the palace were underneath the broadest part of its bulk and cast into perpetual shadow as a result. I could not help noticing that I saw only servants on these levels, most of them wearing the blood sigil that looked like a simple black bar. Distant relatives, I knew now, thanks to Viraine’s explanations. Six generations or more removed from the Central Family.
T’vril was giving instructions to a group of his staff when I arrived. I stopped just beyond the open door, listening idly but not interrupting or making my presence known, as he told a young woman, “No. There won’t be another warning. When the signal comes, you’ll have one chance. If you’re still near the shaft when it comes…” He said nothing more.
The grim silence that fell in the wake of his words was what finally caught my attention. This sounded like more than the usual instructions to clean rooms or deliver food more quickly. I stepped closer to the doorway to listen, and that was when one of T’vril’s people spotted me. He must have made some sort of signal to T’vril, because T’vril immediately looked my way. He stared at me for half a breath, then told his people, “Thank you; that’s all.”
I stood aside to let the servants disperse through the doorway, which they did with a brisk efficiency and lack of chatter that I found unsurprising. T’vril had struck me as the type to run a tight ship. When the room was clear, T’vril bowed me inside and shut the door behind us in deference to my rank.
“How may I help you, Cousin?” he asked.
I wanted to ask him about the shaft, whatever that was, and the signal, whatever that was, and why his staff looked as though he had just announced an execution. It was obvious, though, that he preferred not to speak of it. His movements were ever so slightly forced as he beckoned me to a seat in front of his desk and offered me wine. I saw his hand tremble as he poured it, until he noticed me watching and set the carafe down.
He had saved my life; for that I owed him courtesy. So I said only, “Where do you think Lord Relad might be about now?”
He opened his mouth to reply, then paused, frowning. I saw him consider attempting to dissuade me, then decide against it. He closed his mouth, then said, “The solarium, most likely. He spends most of his idle time there.”
T’vril had shown me this the day before, during my tour of the palace. Sky’s uppermost levels culminated in a number of platforms and airy spires, most of which contained the apartments and entertainments of the fullbloods. The solarium was one of the entertainments: a vast glass-ceilinged chamber of tropical plants, artfully made couches and grottoes, and pools for bathing or… other things. T’vril had not led me far inside during our tour, but I’d caught a glimpse of movement through the fronds and heard a cry of unmistakable ardor. I had not pressed T’vril for a further look, but now it seemed I would have no choice.