The small orchestra at the end of the room played loudly and enthusiastically. Those not currently dancing talked and laughed. Lord Coving commanded enough space around them to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard.
“How can you?”
To his credit, and right now that and getting his son out might be the only thing to his credit, Coving didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “We give him this and, for the most part, he lets us run the empire.”
“For the most part?” The wine that had been nearly too much at dinner suddenly wasn’t nearly enough.
Again, the approximation of a smile. “For the most part.”
“Would one of his parts be declaring an entire people abomination?”
Lord Coving nodded genially, as though they weren’t talking about genocide. “He has the right as the head of the church to appoint a new Prelate more sympathetic to his beliefs.”
“And attacking Aydori?”
“No, the Prelate had…”
“Was attacking Aydori another of his parts?”
“Yes. And it would have been significantly more cost-effective to have placed an army on their border and made treaties for the contents of their mines and their forests rather than spend the silver to kill enough of them to allow us to take the country. Of course, you and I both know the attack was as much to cover the Soothsayers’ requirements and your activities as it was to attempt to acquire resources, but we don’t spread that information around. Still, the Prelate and Aydori aside, for the most part, His Majesty doesn’t interfere and things get done. Trade is negotiated. Borders are secured. Roads are built. Children are educated. There are hospitals and poor laws. You could travel from Karis to the border in only three days should you need to. Well, it might take slightly longer now that the border has shifted, but life in the empire is good and every day we work at making it better. And safer. It’s a small price to pay.”
Fingernails pressed into his palms again, Reiter growled, “You’re not paying the price.”
“They’re not like us.”
He remembered gray eyes and a wide mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line. He remembered a stubborn glare. Blood. Bruises. Tears. A boy who cried out for his brother. A woman who gave her strength to a starving…man. To a starving man. He stepped forward enough that he could turn and see Lord Coving’s face. “When he’s done with them, what differences will he want to study next?”
The orchestra started a new piece, and the emperor laughed as he led the ambassador’s wife out onto the floor.
“I don’t…” There were shadows under the old man’s eyes. In his eyes. “He won’t be done with them for a long time.”
Coving had agreed to ignore the emperor’s insanity in order to be one of those few who ran the empire. To Reiter, that seemed unnecessarily complicated. “Why can’t you run things without him?”
“Don’t be naive, Captain. Someone has to be at the top. If not him, who? His Imperial Highness? Then who guides the prince until he’s old enough to take the throne? And who chooses who guides the prince? No, the emperor is essential to the smooth running of the empire.” Before Reiter could speak again, Lord Coving caught the attention of a woman about his age who sat wrapped in at least three layers of brilliantly colored shawls, tapping her foot to the music. “Lady Clarin, have you met Captain Reiter? He served with my son and we were just catching up. The captain is on the emperor’s staff now and a trusted confidant.”
And that was the end of the conversation. Reiter had been told in no uncertain terms that the north wing was part of how it was in the empire and he would just have to accept that.
Finally dismissed at nearly midnight, he returned to his room and stripped. Walked to the wet room through empty halls, past rooms of sleeping soldiers who didn’t know how it was in the empire, and stood under the shower until the water ran cold. Then he lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, water from his hair soaking into his pillow. When he finally slept, he dreamed of white tiles and red blood.
And screaming.
Danika lay curled on the floor, face pressed to the crack under the door, layering Kirstin’s story onto the air. She didn’t know if the others would hear or if it would just circle their prison endlessly, but she didn’t stop talking until her voice had gone rough and hoarse.
There was no second meal.
No chance to see, to touch, to know that the others were alive.
No chance to find out how much more time Stina needed to destroy her door.
They could see the lights of Karis painting the night sky even though they were still some distance away. The contrast was distinct enough that even Mirian could make out the yellow glow against the black.
Tomas paced, finally settling close enough she could feel the air warming between them. “Do we sleep or do we keep moving?”
“The sensible thing to do would be to sleep. If we keep going, we’ll be tired and careless when we arrive. We’ll still have to find where the Mage-pack are being held, and we don’t have a lot of luck with cities.”
“We should definitely avoid markets,” he muttered. Then, a little louder, “So I should find us a safe place to sleep.”
“No.”
“But you said the sensible thing…”
“I know.” Mirian pushed one bare foot forward, feeling the path to Karis. “I don’t think we have time to be sensible. You’ll have to be my eyes tonight.” Air currents shifted and without looking, she put her hand down to stroke the fur between Tomas’ ears. “I can feel when I go off the path, but I can’t see to stay on it.”
She slipped the belt he wore in skin out of the bedroll then shortened up the ropes so the roll pressed snug against her back, too tight to bounce when she ran. The belt was made of braided straw and as she buckled it around Tomas’ neck, she thought of the collar they’d lost in Abyek, suddenly wanting the more formal touch of leather, but not really sure why. “I’m trusting you not to run me through puddles or gorse bushes.”
He gave a soft woof, and she shoved at him with her leg.
“Oh, sure, you say that now.” She could tell him she trusted him, but he knew that so all she said was, “Jake was right.” She closed her fingers around the loose loop of belt, then closed her eyes so as not to be distracted by things she couldn’t quite see. “We need to hurry.”
The emperor beckoned Reiter up to walk beside him as they made their way to…actually Reiter had paid no attention at Tavert’s morning briefing and had no idea where they were going. He only knew that wherever it was—north wing, west wing—he didn’t want to be there.
He particularly didn’t want to be alone with the emperor, but Tavert and the rest had been instructed to fall back, so clearly it didn’t matter what he wanted.
“The mage who escaped from you,” the emperor murmured, grinning broadly, “my sixth mage. I have word that she’s on her way to Karis.”
It took Reiter a moment to find his voice and at that he only managed a neutral, “Majesty?”
“Half of Lower Tardford was put to sleep by a nondescript young woman of about twenty with brown hair, accompanied by a young man of about the same age with black hair. They were wearing country clothing. Sound familiar?”