"I can read it myself," Tsem rumbled. Ghan did not look as surprised as he might.
Ghan turned back to Zeq'. "This is Perkar, an outlander," he explained, though his cousin's suspicious stare made it plain that he had already ascertained that much. "I will pay his passage, too. His sword may prove useful if trouble comes."
Zeq' nodded at Perkar, doubt plain on his face.
"What of you, Master Ghan?" Tsem asked. "It will go badly for you if your part in this is discovered."
Ghan lifted his frail shoulders. "If all goes well, my part will never be known."
"Unless the priests question you. They can make you speak, you know."
"I do know."
"Then they will know where Hezhi has fled to."
"No," Ghan said. "Because the priests will never actually question me. Trust me about that."
Tsem regarded him thoughtfully. "Without you, my mistress has no chance at all. I will trust you." Tsem then turned his rugged features on Perkar. "Know this," he said softly. "Hezhi is the most precious thing that lives. If harm comes to her through you, nothing will stop me from snapping your neck. Not that sword or a hundred. Do you understand me?"
"I understand," Perkar said, holding his gaze steady on the Giant's own. Both of these men clearly loved this girl, were willing to give their lives for her. Could Perkar make the same commitment to a person in no way related to him, a person he had never met? The Giant didn't believe so, that was evident. And the Giant, of course, was right. Things were not as clear as he had hoped they would be; perhaps when he met the girl he would know for sure. In the meantime, how could he reassure the Giant without lying? For he did not want to lie to this strange, huge man, so like Ngangata.
"I have never met your princess," Perkar said softly. "But many good people—friends of mine—died because of me. I can never be redeemed for that, my friend. I have no love for this River; it hurts someone I love, it took my life from me. You imply that your girl—this Hezhi—has somehow turned the River against herself. I believe that she intends to steal from him, rob him. I once swore to kill the Changeling Rivergod, Giant. That was stupid, and it led to all of the deaths I spoke of just now. But if she and I can steal from him—especially if it is her life we steal—then I will feel that I have taken at least that much revenge against him. I have been willing to die for less noble things than saving the life of a princess." Or killing one, if need be, he finished silently, though he felt a sudden, surprising guilt for the thought. But if what these men told him was true—if in saving this girl he was thwarting the River—then he would not betray his words. Only if he had been lied to would he have lied.
Tsem listened carefully, with narrowed eyes.
"I love her," he said at last. "Remember that, along with all of your other pretty words."
Ghan took Tsem's massive elbow. "Tsem, this is the time. You go back into the palace and get her. Dress her in those worker's clothes you told me about; cut her hair. Bring her down to the boat here, and Zeq' will do the rest."
"And me?" Perkar asked.
"I don't know why she brought you here," Ghan said, "if it was indeed she. It may be that the River did send you, at the behest of the priesthood or the emperor. I doubt that; it isn't their way to act in such a circuitous manner. Your presence here is so bizarre, so unlikely, that I trust it. As to what you are supposed to do, I rather think that will become obvious in the moments and days ahead. In the meantime, should anyone try to hinder your escape, kill them."
Ghan and Tsem turned and walked back into the city, Tsem with a smoldering backward glance.
"Well," Perkar told Harka. "Kill. That's something we can do, isn't it?"
"Just so long as you don't forget," Harka said. "Some things even we cannot kill."
Just inside the gate, Tsem and Ghan parted ways. It was late enough in the day that Hezhi was probably back in her apartments, so Tsem steered himself toward that wing of the palace.
When he heard Qey weeping, he knew something was wrong. Suddenly frantic, he burst into the courtyard; Qey was there, and two of the priests.
"What?" Tsem demanded, despite the fact that they were priests, despite what they could have done to him for impertinence.
"Your charge ran away," one of the two informed him— darkly, though his voice was sweet. "Where were you?"
"Ran? Where?" But he knew, knew with a terrible sinking feeling in his gut.
"I don't know," the priest snapped impatiently. "Two priests followed her, but she has not returned."
Tsem nodded, blood pounding in his ears. The first priest never had the opportunity to cry out; Tsem's fist slammed into his temple with the force and effect of a sledgehammer. The second had time for a terrified squeal before Tsem lifted him up with both hands and snapped his neck like a chicken's. Then, ignoring Qey's sudden, rejuvenated hysteria, he ran as fast as his huge feet could carry him.
X
A Gift of Slaughter
Swaying at the edge, Hezhi heard her name shouted. Not in the high, clear voice of a priest, but in Tsem's bass roar. She gasped, stepped back from her doom, and turned to see where the call came from.
Tsem was loping across the rooftop. As she watched, he caught the struggling priest by the hair. The priest yelped, and then Tsem broke his neck. The second priest, also looking back, screamed shrilly and continued screaming until Tsem caught him. Hezhi closed her eyes, unwilling to watch. When she opened them, the hapless priest had fetched up motionless against the parapet of an adjoining roof.
"Hezhi," Tsem bellowed again.
Trembling, she watched him approach, and without a backward glance at the long fall, she climbed back onto the slope and, sitting on her behind, began a controlled slide back to the roofbeam. Tsem caught her at the bottom, folded her into his huge arms.
"Did they hurt you, Princess?" he cooed.
"No, Tsem. No, they never touched me. I was ahead of them."
She tried not to look at the dead men and their bulging, surprised expressions when she and Tsem retraced their steps. Instead, she gave her attention to what Tsem was telling her, though it was difficult, with the relief and confusion that swam about in her skull.
"Ghan has arranged passage out of the city," he informed her. "It is all planned, you have no need to worry."
"There are probably more priests in the apartment…"
"Not anymore," Tsem growled. "Their ghosts, perhaps."
"Oh. Tsem, you shouldn't have done it. If they catch you now…"
"They won't, and if they do, they'll be very sorry. Now come."
They dropped back down into the courtyard with its familiar cottonwood, and there Hezhi's swirling head spilled weakness down into her knees and she nearly collapsed. Tsem scooped her up and started down the stairs.
The apartments were a nightmare. Qey was bawling and there were two more dead priests, one leaking blood from his mouth and the other with his face crushed unrecognizably. The thick scent of incense still hung in the air.
"Qey! Qey," Tsem roared, shaking her. "Cut her hair! Cut it off!"
The old woman, shaken almost out of her senses, looked vaguely at the two of them. "Her hair…" she repeated.
"Arr!" Tsem rushed into her room. "Where did you hide your work clothes? The ones I got for you?"