“I was able to lure the Concordat agent into an ambush and kill him,” Sothe said, as though this were as simple as going down to the bakery for morning bread. “Afterward, though, I was very weak, and my wound needed tending. I spent several days in the company of a doctor of my acquaintance, fighting off a fever.” She gave a little shudder. “Thank God the wound was too high in the shoulder for him to amputate, or I would certainly have awoken without the arm. By the time I was able to move about, you were in the Vendre.”
Raesinia nodded. “But once Janus let me go. .”
“I must apologize for not coming to you then, Your Majesty. But it would have been difficult while you were surrounded by Vhalnich’s Mierantai. I wanted to keep him unaware of my presence.”
“Marcus met you,” Raesinia said, feeling puzzled. “He may have said something to Janus.”
“If the subject arises, you should tell them I died at Concordat hands that day. It will give me greater freedom of action.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re going to be living here with me, so I can’t very well tell them you’re dead-”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“What?” Raesinia blinked unbidden tears from her eyes. “What are you talking about? I need you.”
“I know. And, someday, I will be able to stay by your side as long as you wish. For the moment, though, I think it would be better if I remained in the shadows.”
“But why?”
“Because I do not trust Janus bet Vhalnich.”
There was a long pause.
“He did save the city from Orlanko,” Raesinia said. “I don’t know if anyone else could have done it. And just afterward. . if he’d declared the deputies dissolved and himself king, I’m not sure anyone would have been able to stop him.” Raesinia had been half hoping he would. She couldn’t let him, of course, not in good conscience, but at that moment she’d been as helpless as the rest. And then I wouldn’t have to worry about “what next?” “He’s done nothing to draw suspicion.”
“On the contrary,” Sothe said. “If he had made some move to take power for himself, or wealth, or even pressured you to increase his holdings or his title, that would make some sense. But he’s asked for nothing, has he?”
Raesinia shook her head. “Not yet, at any rate.”
“And that is suspicious. What is his motive? He saved the city, he saved the deputies, he saved you, but why?”
“You don’t think he simply wishes to serve his country?”
“If he does, I owe him an apology.” Sothe frowned. “He knows something that very few people know-that there is still magic in the world, if you know where to look. He knows about your. . condition. And I have been investigating what he did in Khandar. I think. .”
“What?”
“I can’t say. Not yet. But I don’t think he’s a simple patriot. He wants something, not wealth or even the throne, but something else. I intend to find out what that is.”
There was a long silence.
“I understand,” Raesinia said. “And you’re right. It would be nice to have someone around here that I could really trust, but you’re right.”
“I will make regular reports,” Sothe said.
“Be sure that you do. I’m certain I’ll have other need of your talents, aside from Janus bet Vhalnich.”
Sothe bowed her head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”
She slipped to the doorway, one leading off into a servants’ hall, silent as a shadow. Before she could leave, Raesinia cleared her throat.
“Sothe?”
“Yes, Your Majesty?”
“I’m glad you’re not dead.”
“So am I, Your Majesty.” Her lip curved, just slightly, in what was very nearly a smile. “So am I.”
EPILOGUE
IONKOVO
In the silent corridors of the darkened Royal Palace, a shadow rippled like black ink. Ionkovo stepped out of it, dressed in his working outfit of loose, dark leathers. He had a long knife in one hand, its shine dulled by lampblack.
There would be at least one guard just outside the queen’s room, he was certain, but he’d slipped past the outer perimeter. With the palace practically shut down, it was easy to move about without running into any stray servants.
He eased a door open and slipped into a long corridor, lined with large-paned windows on both sides looking out onto grassy courtyards. The moon was high, throwing a silver light that stippled the floor with shadows. Outside, the wind was picking up, and the manicured flowers along the walkways dipped and nodded.
The pontifex had been specific about what to expect. A simple assassination would be insufficient. Accordingly, there was a leather bag attached to Ionkovo’s belt, big enough to contain the young queen’s head. His instructions were to convey that grisly trophy all the way to Elysium. He wondered if the poor girl would be awake for the whole bumpy journey, and what it would be like to be reduced to a disembodied head.
I don’t suppose it matters. But he couldn’t help feeling a pang of sympathy. After all, she might have been one of us, had things gone differently. If she had kept faith.
Something tinkled gently against the window to his left. He glanced in that direction, but there was nothing but moonlit grass and flowers, whipping back and forth in the violence of the wind. Ionkovo shook his head and continued down the corridor, moving noiselessly over the marble floor.
Tink. Tink, tink, tink-
He spun, backing away. Tiny objects were bouncing off the window, like hailstones wildly out of season. As he watched, a thick cloud descended into the garden, and the impacts multiplied. The sound rose to a roar like the ocean crashing against rocks.
Then the glass started to crack, a spiderweb of thin white lines splaying from one side of the pane to the other. Ionkovo stepped backward, knife raised, a deep shadow underfoot.
The window exploded inward in a spray of glass and-
Sand?
The sand was everywhere, rushing into the corridor from the courtyard like water pouring into a holed ship. When he tried to breathe, Ionkovo got a mouthful of flying grit. The only thing that kept him from diving into a shadow at once was the knowledge that he would have to report this to the pontifex. What in the name of the Savior is going on?
The sand swirled, pulling together into a tall whirlwind. It began to shrink, and through the drifts a human figure became visible. A few moments longer and it solidified completely into a tall, thin man wearing odd, baggy clothing. His skin was a chalky gray that marked him as Khandarai, but his face was invisible behind a steel mask, featureless except for three thin slits.
“You wish to harm the queen,” the apparition said, in accented Vordanai. “I cannot allow this, abh-naathem.”
Ionkovo blinked dust from his eyes. “And who are you?”
“I was Jaffa-dan-Iln.” The steel mask tilted slightly. “You may call me the Steel Ghost.”
“You’re a long way from home,” Ionkovo said. “What is this queen to you?”
The Ghost’s voice was flat. “The enemy of my enemy.”
There was a long pause.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Ionkovo said. “Even the pontifex thought your cult had died out long ago.”
The Ghost only raised a hand. The wind rose to a shriek, filling the corridor and rattling the windows, and a blast of sand stung every bit of Ionkovo’s exposed skin.
He exerted his own power, and the floor rippled underneath him, dropping him neatly into the shadow realm. Safe in the darkness, he considered his options. It would be interesting to test his power against this demon, and that would give him the chance to complete his mission-
But no. More important to report this information to Elysium. That, across the sea, the ancient enemy had survived.
There are still servants of the Beast.