Sarra left the workers, carefully considering her next move, how she would use her newly acquired knowledge against Saad. Deep in thought, she retraced the path she traveled with the three priests, moving more quickly now. She was no longer afraid of the Soleri, their guards, or their ghosts. She had not yet seen the throne room, but she would soon, and she guessed it was as empty as the passages she had just explored.
She made her way out of the Hollows, eager to find Ott. But when she closed the door to the underground passage she did not find him waiting outside for her as she had expected. A girl Sarra did not quite recognize greeted her at the door.
“Who are you?” Sarra asked. “I’ve seen you before.”
“I’m Ott’s scribe, Kara,” the girl said, her voice trembling, her eyes red and swollen.
“What is it—where is Ott? I was expecting him.”
The girl peered nervously at the Mother Priestess, as if she were afraid to speak.
“Go on,” said Sarra. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Still the girl would not speak, something had clearly rattled her.
“Get on with it,” Sarra said.
“Ott’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Earlier this morning on the temple steps, while you were in the Hollows, soldiers in bronze mail confronted Ott. They led him away.”
“Where?”
“To the tower, he is with the Protector’s men.”
She did not trust herself to react to this news. She pressed her back to the door, running a hand through her red tresses, thinking. Saad was testing her again, but this time he had taken someone of value. A jolt of fear struck her, but it quickly faded. Ott knew the secret of the dead Soleri, but that did not mean her secret was lost. The Protector would not ask if there was a Tolemy, just as he would not ask if there was a sun in the sky. Saad would likely concern himself with the secrets of the priesthood. He would ask about Sarra’s intentions in Solus, her plans to confront Saad, and her weaknesses. In these matters, Sarra felt secure. She had shared her plans with no one—not even Ott. She had revealed bits and pieces, but only as needed.
The girl interrupted, “Mother Priestess, what should we do?”
“About what?”
“Ott,” the girl said. Perhaps she was close to Ott; Sarra didn’t know. She didn’t care. Ott was more important to the Mother Priestess than to anyone else, yet Sarra could not waver from the course she had chosen. If she wanted to see the boy again, she needed to stick to her plan. She would use her knowledge of the Soleri against Arko and Saad, manipulating the two like marionettes on a string.
“Nothing,” she said. “At the moment, there’s nothing we can do for him. We must be patient. For now, I need you to find a messenger. Tell him to arrange a congress between the Mother and the Father. Go now—leave me.”
When she was gone, Sarra faced the door that led into the Hollows. Her eyes were stinging and she didn’t want anyone to see her. Over the years she had lost much: a husband, her daughters. Ott saved my life on the last day of the year, but can I save his? She could not bear to lose anyone else. I need to end this conflict and I need to do it now.
Saad was forcing her to act and Sarra would do so. She was ready; she had found the door to the throne room. She could access the empty chamber without using the formal entry and the Hall of Histories. Now she just needed to lead Saad into that room. He would go if she gave him the right reason, the right incentive.
He would come alone, without his swords and his soldiers. After all, no man may enter the Empyreal Domain with a weapon—unless they found a back door.
47
There is no emperor.
Her father’s message burning within her, Merit lifted the hem of her dress and climbed the sandy cliff till her eyes crept above the canyon’s shadow. It was late in the day, but the sun was still bright and hot; she winced and made a visor of her hand, scanning the sun-drenched canyons, searching the horizon for the Dromus. She caught sight of its curving line, traced the distant barrier until the canyon’s edge eclipsed her view. In Sola, the sun did not set upon the horizon; it dipped each night below the Dromus and rose from its far edge the next day. The wall was Sola’s horizon. Walls within walls—who would have thought that their center was empty, that the throne was unoccupied? Her father’s message was simple: The throne room sits in ruins, the Amber Throne smashed.
This changes everything. If there was no emperor, her children were no longer subject to the Priory, and she was no longer bound by the marriage Tolemy had arranged. There was no Tolemy. Merit was free. This news had the power to unmake the empire, and she alone held it. Arko had sent his messenger to her instead of Kepi or Ren. The emptiness at the heart of the empire was too important, too dangerous, to share with anyone but the ruler of Harkana, and for now, at least, the ruler of Harkana was still Merit. Her father was alive and he trusted her. The man who for so many years had shielded her from the burdens of power had now placed the empire’s greatest secret in her hands. She held a truth that could cripple Solus, words that could remake her kingdom. He had denied her power for so long that Merit feared she would never have it, but now it was here and it was hers. He loved her. It sounded silly, but Merit had often felt cheated of her father’s affections. She had thought the king of Harkana had no love for anyone but Kepi and his absent son. He certainly had no love for his wife, the one who left him, the woman Merit had so often imitated when she was young. Now all of that was in the past. Merit was his daughter, loved, and more important, trusted.
The sound of sand grinding against stone drifted into her ear. Where did that come from? She caught a terrible stench, the smell of ash-soaked sweat.
“Sevin!” Too late, she called out to her soldiers as she caught sight of the spear. The outlander crept between the stones, clutching the blackwood, feet lifting silently, his eyes narrow and focused.
“What do you want?” she asked as she settled her shoulders against the tall rocks.
The outlander raised his sharpened stave, his fingers tensing on the shaft, but he made no move to attack. His eyes seemed transfixed by the deep blue of her dress.
“I have coin,” she said, “and jewelry—gold.” She raised her bangled arm.
The outlander lowered the spear.
“Is that what you want?” she asked as she slipped the gold from her wrist.
He held out a hand to Merit, palm facing up, fingers extended, his face a mask of white chalk, impossible to read. He shook his hand to urge Merit forward.
I have to stall, if only for a moment, she thought. I can’t die. Not now, when the whole world has just opened up to me. She cursed herself for being foolish enough to wander off alone when their situation was still so perilous.