It was quiet.
Talea’s eyes opened, although to be fair, it would be more correct to say Talon’s eyes opened. Part of the inn was on fire. People panicked, screaming, but all that mattered to Talon was the sickly sweet scent of burning flesh.
Talon ran over to where Ola lay on the ground, electrocuted.
Thurvishar hadn’t meant to hit Ola, but his blind random strike had done the job all the same. The wizard had held on for far longer than Talon had expected—the drug slower to act with him than any of the others.? Talon had to fight down the urge to murder him, the blood-borne desire to make him pay for killing Ola, but she knew she couldn’t.
Instead, Talon wept over Ola’s body. “You won’t die,” she murmured to her former lover. “We’ll live together forever, you and I. Surdyeh has missed you. We’ll be together. You’ll see. I have one thing I need to do first. One little thing.”
Talon returned to Kihrin’s side, changing as she went. Until when she stood above him, she looked like Kihrin’s old enemy Faris, hand missing and scowl attached. It would be better this way. Witnesses would remember Faris, and Faris was the sort it would be easy to claim had fought too hard to bring back alive—assuming he was ever found at all.
He wouldn’t be.?
Talon reached down to touch Kihrin’s face. “Ducky, your father Surdyeh and I have been talking,” she told him, although she knew he couldn’t hear her. “You know, he’s the one who started this all. Giving you to Ola. Making sure you learned certain skills. He wasn’t behind the job at Kazivar House where you first saw Darzin—if I had to put metal on it, I’d blame the Goddess of Luck for that. But he works for Emperor Sandus, and he’s brought me around to his way of thinking. We’ve decided that this is for the best. I know it won’t be pleasant, but sending one’s child away to school never is. Trust us: it will hurt us a lot more than it hurts you.” She paused. “Although to be fair, it’ll hurt you rather a lot.”
She patted down Kihrin’s body until she came away with an intaglio ruby ring. Talon smiled at it. “The gryphon must fly,” she quoted in a fond tone, as she threaded the ring onto a chain and fastened the chain around her neck.*
Then she tossed Kihrin over her shoulder and set out from the bar, heading for the docks, and the slave ships.
77: GADRITH’S WAY
(Kihrin’s story)
I suppose it’s just my turn now, isn’t it, Talon?
So be it. Let’s end this.
* * *
A large iron padlock locked the door to my old room. A padlock to make a Key from the Lower Circle pale, mutter under his breath, and warn any and all to find an easier target. I probably would have needed twenty minutes or more to pick open the damn thing.
Fortunately, I had the key.
The room inside had changed little from what I remembered. It seemed odd to think we were both four years older. I crossed over to the bed on silent feet, not wanting to disturb the occupant, not sure if my magical stealth would be enough to hide me. I held a thin spike of metal in one hand, and my sword in the other.
The bed was empty. Talon was gone. I reached down to touch the sheets and cursed. The fabric was still warm. I’d missed her by minutes.
“Kihrin?”
I turned back to see Galen standing in the doorway, mouth open in astonishment.
I still had the Veil slipped from my eyes. I examined Galen. I hoped that mimics couldn’t hide their tenyé.* Under that assumption, I decided that Galen was himself and not a shape-changed Talon, tucked the spike into my belt, and put a finger to my lips. I walked back to the bronze door, closed it behind me, and replaced the lock.
I clasped my hands on my brother’s—well, I suppose my nephew’s—shoulders. “Galen!”
He looked older now, well past his majority. His hair showed some of his mother’s redness, but he also resembled his father a great deal. Galen dressed in what I assumed was the latest fashion—a blue misha dyed to fade to black at sleeves and hem, worn over dark kef that faded back to blue at the boots. He had a sword at his hips and the embroidered hawk and sunburst design of House D’Mon over his breast.
He continued to look at me in stunned amazement, and then he hugged me back. “Kihrin! It really is you … I thought you were a ghost for a minute there.”
“I’ve thought the same more times than I care to count and have escaped by thinner margins than I care to remember. But still alive so far,” I said, laughing.
The laughter didn’t quite echo in Galen’s eyes, and his arms fell back. “Sounds like you’ve had some wonderful adventures.” He didn’t hide the bitterness in his voice.
“It’s not like that,” I told him.
“Is it not?” Galen asked. “Isn’t it like you promised that we’d leave together and yet you abandoned me? Because that looks like how it is.”
I inhaled, sharp and shallow, and it took everything in me to keep from raising my voice. “Would you like to hear how the slave masters whipped me raw? How I wore manacles on my ankles for so long they cut into my flesh? Abandoned you? You know that’s not what happened.”
The Galen I knew would have flinched, backed up, backed down, but this Galen had grown harder. His nostrils flared and his blue eyes narrowed. “Should I feel sorry for you? Shall we compare injuries?”
“It’s not a contest,” I snapped at him.
“Everything is a contest,” he said. “I learned that lesson late, but I learned.”
My chest felt heavy as I regarded him with a lifted chin. “I’m sorry, Galen. I didn’t mean to leave you.”
“You say you’re sorry like it will fix something.”
I sighed. “I’m not here to try to—”
And I paused as a scream echoed down the hallway.
We both paused.
Screams weren’t out of place in the Blue Palace. Slaves were whipped and sometimes people were tortured, for either information or amusement. And even more mundanely, physickers often treated patients here—any of which might be a rational cause for screams.
But another scream followed that first, and then another. Galen and I both rushed to one window at the far end of the corridor. We looked out on the Court of Princes to see several servants in the blue livery of the House being run down and ripped apart by soldiers. But these were House D’Mon’s own soldiers. The men-at-arms ambled, moving with an odd stuttering gait, but their sword swings hit true.
“What—?” Galen’s reaction was one of shock.
Hollow dread filled me. “No,” I said, “this is too soon. This is way too soon. How did he get here so soon?”
It had only been a matter of minutes since I’d seen Darzin. I had thought—we’d all thought—we’d have more time. Gadrith had kept such a low profile the entire time I’d been in the Upper Circle before. He was patient and cautious and always, always kept to the shadows.
I focused on the ruby ring.