Jhesrhi wouldn’t deny it, then, not in so many words. “It does look like mine, Majesty. But so what?”
“The creature sent to watch you was a spinagon. If it threw its quills at someone wearing this garment, they would have left holes with burned edges in the wool.” Tchazzar looked at the dragon priest. “Stick your fingers through so people can see where they are.”
Jhesrhi forced a smile. “If there’s one thing Your Majesty knows about me, it’s that I often conjure fire.”
“But I’ve never seen it burn your clothes.”
“I wasn’t always as good at my craft as I am now.”
“That makes some sense. It would make more if I’d noticed the holes before. Or if the cape hadn’t still been damp when Halonya’s man found it, like you’d recently worn it out in the rain.”
Jhesrhi’s heart was pounding so hard that she feared Tchazzar’s keen draconic ears would hear and that the sound would agitate him further. “Majesty, you’re shrewd enough to understand that the appearance of guilt can be manufactured.”
“That argument is starting to appear as threadbare as the cloak.”
“Majesty, I’m the one who-” She remembered that he didn’t want to be reminded, even obliquely, that he’d twice needed her to save him. “I mean… I know how I’ve ‘disappointed’ you. I’ve disappointed myself too. You can’t imagine how much I wish we were… further along. But still, you know I’ve given you more than I could ever give to any other. You know that if you’ll just be patient, our time will come.”
“Slut!” Halonya shrilled. “When her lying tongue fails, she dangles her body in front of you!”
“Yes,” Tchazzar said, “I’m afraid that is what she’s doing.” Tears started from his slanted, golden eyes and cut channels in the gore on his face. To Jhesrhi, the sudden display of unabashed misery was even more frightening than his naked anger or the smug way in which he’d toyed with her and watched her squirm.
“And how can you deceive and torture me,” Tchazzar continued, “when you know I love you? When I gave you everything! When you were one of the only two people I trusted! I should kill you!” He twisted to glare at Hasos. “And the false knight who vouched for you!” His gaze jumped to Nicos Corynian. “And the treacherous counselor who brought you to Chessenta in the first place.”
Tchazzar sprang up from the throne. “I should clean out this whole corrupt, ungrateful court and start fresh!” he shouted. “Finish the liberation of Chessenta by wiping out the cruel, greedy dastards who oppress it from within! The people will sing me hymns of praise! They’ll laugh and pelt you with stones and dung as you crawl naked and bleeding to the gallows! They’ll-”
“Oh, for the love of all the gods,” Shala said.
Tchazzar gaped at her, for the moment at least, seemingly less furious than dumbfounded that anyone had dared to interrupt.
“And lest there be any doubt,” the former war hero continued, “I was referring to the real gods. I’m willing to stick up for them even if these cowards won’t.” She indicated the high priests with a contemptuous flick of her hand.
“You’ve gone mad,” Tchazzar said.
Shala sneered. “Coming from you, that’s comical. No, Majesty, I’m not insane. I’m just bored with your tantrums. Will it bring this one to an early end if I confess that I killed the spina-whatever-it-was?”
“You couldn’t have!” Halonya said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Shala said. “I’ve killed far more dangerous creatures in my time. You were there for some of it. On this occasion, I was inspecting the battlements. I noticed the fiend wandering around, and it attacked me. So I disposed of it.”
“And then didn’t bother telling anyone?” asked Zan-akar Zeraez.
“To be honest, my lord,” Shala answered, “it didn’t occur to me that the brute was lurking there to watch Lady Jhesrhi’s apartments from above. I thought it was there to spy on me or maybe even kill me. I figured the wyrmkeepers had summoned it on His Majesty’s or Lady Halonya’s orders. So you can see why I didn’t think I could do myself any good by reporting what had happened.”
“But you’re not a sorcerer or a priest!” Halonya snarled. “You couldn’t have seen an invisible devil.”
Shala snorted. “I evidently know more about the supernatural than you do, prophetess, not that that comes as any great surprise. There are talismans that confer magical abilities even on thoroughly mundane people like me. Here, let me show you.”
Moving without any particular haste, Shala opened the pouch on her belt and brought out a ball the size of her fist. The object was so black that it scarcely looked solid or even three dimensional. It was more like a hole punched in the substance of the world. She tossed it into the air, and, floating, it started circling her body in a lazy sort of way. People exclaimed in surprise.
“The Crown Jewel of Chessenta,” she said.
“Then it’s mine,” Tchazzar said.
Shala shrugged. “I admit I was surprised that you never asked me to hand it over. For after all, you’re supposed to be a god. I figured that if that were true, you must know of it, even though it didn’t come into existence until after you disappeared. I assumed you meant for me to keep it as my family always has.”
“You were mistaken,” the dragon said.
Meanwhile, Jhesrhi watched the confrontation in an agony of guilt and indecision.
She understood why Shala was claiming that she’d killed the spined devil. The warrior had decided it was only a matter of time before Tchazzar turned on her in any case, so she was willing to endanger herself to protect the one person at court who could sometimes persuade the dragon to behave sanely and humanely and who was secretly working to forestall the coming war.
Jhesrhi couldn’t refute that bleak logic, but she was loath to let others risk themselves on her behalf. Hasos had gotten away with it, but he hadn’t spoken defiantly or disrespectfully. Shala had, to say the least.
Jhesrhi didn’t know how to intervene, but she meant to try. She took a breath and drew herself up straight. Apparently glimpsing the change in her posture from the corner of her eye, Shala shot her a quick but ferocious glare that froze the half-formed words inside her.
“Well, I think I deserve to keep it,” the warrior replied to Tchazzar. “You ousted me from the throne. You forced me to break Ishual Karanok’s sword. The jewel can be my recompense.”
“Give it to me now,” Tchazzar groweled.
“If you insist,” Shala said. And the black sphere hurtled straight at Tchazzar’s head.
Halonya screamed. Tchazzar leaped aside, and the jewel missed. As it started to turn, presumably to make a second pass at him, he leaped off the dais and charged Shala.
Retreating, she reached into her sleeve and snatched out the throwing knife she’d kept hidden there. Darkness rippled inside the steel, a telltale sign of the death magic that Jhesrhi also felt like a pang of headache. Shala lifted the flat, leaf-shaped blade for a cast.
Tchazzar spat fire. It was a puny flare compared to the mighty blasts he spewed in wyrm form, but it caught Shala in the face and she reeled. The dagger tumbled from her hand. The jewel slowed down, curved away from Tchazzar, and drifted back in her general direction.
The living god closed with Shala and backhanded her across her square, blistered face. Her knees buckled and he caught her by the forearms with red-scaled fingers. His claws pierced her clothing and the flesh beneath. He opened a mouth full of fangs and cocked his head to rip the side of her neck.
“Are you sure?” Jhesrhi called.
Tchazzar looked around. “What?” he snapped.
“I just thought, what you’re about to do would be very quick, wouldn’t it?”
The dragon took a breath. “You have a point.” He flung Shala to the floor, grabbed the black gem out of the air, and stared at it until it stopped trying to float back out of his grip. Then he glowered at the nearest guards. “You! You were apparently asleep when the bitch tried to kill me. Have you awakened sufficiently to take her to the dungeons?”