“I thought the sound came from your room, Khirnari. I just wanted to see if you were safe.” Seregil could tell he was nearly within arm’s reach of the man. There was an unhealthy smell in the room; Ulan was sick.
And needs a rhekaro to heal him. It must be something serious for him to take such risks.
“Ah, well then, I’m fine. Go back to the library, Ilar.”
Seregil reached out and grasped the old man’s thin hair. Placing the edge of his knife to Ulan’s throat, he brought their faces close together and hissed, “I have other plans, Khirnari.”
“Seregil?” Ulan sounded less surprised than Seregil would have liked. “So I suppose you’ve killed Ilar and now you mean to kill me?”
At this distance, the sickly sweet smell of his illness was strong—something in the lungs, perhaps.
“I’d rather not,” Seregil replied. “All I want are the books.”
“What do you need with them? You have the rhekaro.”
“You know why, Khirnari.”
“It would be comforting to think you meant to use them as I do, but that isn’t so, is it? You want to destroy them, and all the knowledge they contain.”
Seregil wrinkled his nose at the sickly smell on the man’s breath. “You’re dying.”
“By inches. I don’t have long. Not without the rhekaro’s elixir.”
Elixir? thought Seregil. Does he really know so little about them, even with the books? “I know the books are in here, and I know where. I’m going to ask you to keep very quiet while I take them, otherwise I will slit your throat.”
“It seems I underestimate you, even now,” Ulan whispered.
“Let’s just say I’m here to collect a debt on behalf of my talímenios. One it would not do for your people to hear about, eh?”
“Or yours.”
Seregil wished he could see the man’s face now, not liking his tone.
“You know what would happen if your sister learned of my actions toward you and Alec,” Ulan went on.
“You’re actually willing to risk a war to save your own life?”
“Not my life, my clan! Give me the rhekaro and you can have the books. I swear by Aura, I will never trouble you or your talímenios again.”
“I don’t know what your word is worth these days, old man. Not that it matters. We don’t have the rhekaro anymore.”
For the first time Ulan’s voice betrayed a hint of alarm. “Where is it?”
“Far from your grasp. I swear by Aura, too, so give up any hope of that. How long do you have? A handful of months?”
“Less than that. Weeks perhaps.”
“Do you really think that’s long enough to find someone else to work that filthy magic for you?”
“With the books, I can work it myself. Alchemy isn’t our sort of magic; it’s simply joining the right elements in the right manner.”
“The most important of those elements being Alec’s blood. No, Ulan. Give it up.”
A cold hand closed around Seregil’s wrist. “You may keep the brown and the blue books, and Alec; I’m willing to accept the rhekaro and the red book.”
“No. The rhekaro is a living creature. He feels pain, and Alec told me what Yhakobin did to him. But it’s a moot point anyway. I told you, we don’t have him.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m assuming you’ve had us watched. Did any of your spies see a child with us?”
“You’ve hidden him!” Just then a violent coughing fit seized the old man, and he dug his fingers into Seregil’s wrist until it passed. It was brief, but when he wiped his lips on the edge of the white linen sheet, the cloth came away spotted dark. “I am dying,” Ulan told him, wheezing a little. “And I cannot let that happen. Not while Gedre fai’thast remains an open port, draining away our trade. That was never meant to be part of the bargain. The Skalan queen regularly sends emissaries there, and I have reason to believe that she and the Gedre khirnari mean to renege on the pact and keep the port open to Tír trade even when her war is finished.”
“Surely there’s enough trade for both of you?”
“Now, perhaps, but when the war and their need for Aurënfaie horses and steel is past, what then? No! We were betrayed and I will not die before my clan is made secure and prosperous again. Charis Yhakobin made that rhekaro for me, and I mean to have it, or another in its place. Or you can kill me now to stop me. The choice is yours.”
“I may be an outcast, teth’brimash, but I will not spill a khirnari’s blood,” Seregil told him between clenched teeth. “Not even yours. And do you even know what a rhekaro really is? A distillation of the blood of the Great Dragon that made us, carried in the veins of a chosen few, the ones who call themselves the Hâzadriëlfaie. That is what you sold into the hands of someone like Yhakobin.”
“One does what one must for the clan.”
Resisting the urge to shake the old man, Seregil took out the lightstone and tossed it on the bed, then cut the cords of the bed curtains. Ulan’s bones felt brittle as wheat straw as he bound him.
Ulan’s sharp old gaze never left Seregil’s face as he worked. It was a little unnerving. “You’re a fool, Seregil í Korit. With the rhekaro that is already made, I would have all I need to save my people. No one would have to suffer.”
“Except the rhekaro.” Who knew what was in those books, what it took to make these elixirs? Seregil suppressed a shudder, thinking of all Alec had told him of what had been done to Sebrahn and his predecessor. He thought of Sebrahn playing with the dragons, fidgeting off his shoes, climbing into his lap like a real child …
“A small price to pay!” hissed Ulan.
“You have it backwards, old man. You should be spending these last days grooming your successor, not torturing those weaker than yourself. Everyone dies.”
And Alec? Seregil pushed that thought away. That had been Sebrahn’s doing, not his.
“You will never leave these shores, Seregil. Not alive.”
Seregil gave him a crooked grin as he gagged him with a blood-spotted handkerchief. “I’m not a man you want to gamble against, Khirnari.” Once Ulan was secured, Seregil went to work finding the books, aware every moment of Ulan’s hate-filled gaze upon him, and his ineffectual pulling at his bonds.
The bed was built of polished casework, and there were three panels in the headboard. It took only a moment to find the secret latch in the narrow space between two of them and lift it with the point of the knife. The center panel came loose, revealing three books stacked neatly in the dusty space behind. They were large and heavy, and strained the sides of the bag Seregil had brought with him; he had been expecting only one.
Taking up his lightstone again, he looked down at Ulan for a moment, almost reveling in the fury of the glare directed back at him. “I don’t expect this to be the end of things between us, Khirnari. But I won’t be so merciful next time, if you come after us.”
Tucking the lightstone back in his tool roll, he went to the door and listened for a moment. “Good-bye, Ulan í Sathil. Pray to Aura our paths never cross again.”
Alec heaved an inward sign of relief when he saw a dark form slide down the rope. Leaving Micum in the shadows, he stole out to meet Seregil.
Found it? he signed, noting the heavy bag swinging against Seregil’s side.
Seregil nodded and held up three fingers, then signed back, Go, hurry!
He followed them up the street to the alley where Rieser waited for them with the horses.
“Success?” asked Micum, also noting the bag.
“Yes. Ulan saw me and it probably won’t be long before we have company.”
“We should leave the horses and steal more when we can,” said Rieser. “That is what I would do. Horses will be too loud and noticeable this time of the night.”
“So they will,” said Seregil, heading for the narrow passageway at the far end of the alley.