“For the longest time, I hated myself. You can hate someone and still wait for them, but I didn’t want you to wait. I left because it meant I would live, that you would live. But even that is not enough. I cannot give you half a life, Fox. Neither you nor Inessa deserve that. So I took the daeva and made my plans without you because I knew you would stop me. I swear on Kalen’s grave. I swear.”
The man watched her with eyes so like her own. It was as if he could delve into her soul with one look and discern her lies from her truths. “And what are those plans?” he asked quietly.
“I do not want a fight with either Odalia or Kion. My war is with the elders and with Drycht. I will remain in Daanoris a few days more, and I will leave the city unscathed. As a sign of good faith, I will do nothing against the other asha. When I am done with King Aadil, they will no longer matter. Command your armies to return home, Inessa. They give the dead nothing but stomachaches.”
“Come back with us, Tea,” the man insisted. “We can talk to Empress Alyx. Mykaela will understand.”
“Empress Alyx and Lady Mykaela do not make up the whole of Kion, Fox. Not anymore. They will put me on trial for my crimes, and I will be publicly executed for the world to see. I have gone too far, Fox. There will be no other judgment, no matter what Mykaela or Zoya or anyone else claims.” Beside him, Inessa froze, her fear thick enough to touch. “And when I die, so will you.”
“If you declare war against Drycht and die in battle, then so will I. What difference will it make?”
“Because my odds there are better.” The bone witch rose, a knife in her hand. She cut her finger, drops of blood welling up. “Should I find what I seek in their mountains, then you will survive this, Fox. Or did you forget that there was once a spell in Aenah’s book you forbade me to use?”
She leaned forward, placing her injured finger against her stunned brother’s cheek. I watched as the small wounds on his face and arms healed, disappearing as his flesh knitted back together. “And I will use it, Fox. You will live. Regardless of how I die.”
23
“You want me to compel them to sleep?”
“It’s the fastest way.”
After that initial stab of disappointment at Kalen’s nonchalance, like nothing significant had happened between us, I swore not to let it show. “People without heartsglass are harder to control.”
“There’re only two of them.”
“You know, for someone with decided views about compulsion, you’re pretty open when it comes to compelling someone else.”
“So I’m no different to you than some palace guards?” Kalen asked.
I looked at him, but he was already directing his next question at Khalad. “You sure you can find him?”
The boy adjusted his spectacles. “I’m positive. If the forger is anywhere in the city, I will locate him.”
Shadi spoke up. “Zoya and I are going to stay behind and snoop for a bit.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Likh asked, concerned.
“I doubt we’d look suspicious,” the doe-eyed asha said with a smile, “but I can defend myself if I have to. And I’ll have Zoya with me.”
“Where’s the princess?” Fox asked.
Zoya cleared her throat. “Since the savul expedition, she’s been under heavier guard. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to come with us, especially since Emperor Shifang has been taking up much of her time.”
Jealousy slithered through his mind like a serpent. “Fox, stay at the palace,” I ordered. “I don’t think anyone should be leaving the princess alone with people we don’t trust, her fiancé most of all. She told him you were her guard. What guard leaves the palace without his charge?”
Fox looked torn. And besides, I added, you both have issues that need resolving.
“I’m not going to let you go without me watching your back.”
“I’ll protect her,” Kalen volunteered quietly.
Both men looked at each other. Some unspoken understanding passed between them, and Fox nodded reluctantly. “Not one hair on her head,” he warned.
“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I complained.
“If you say so,” Kalen replied.
Walking into the city was an unexpected, blessed relief. There were still wards there, preventing me from establishing contact with the azi, and when Kalen tried out a few of his own runes, they were still less than half the strength they should’ve been, as Zoya had found out the day we first arrived in Santiang. Still, it was better than nothing, and I drew Compulsion for a few seconds, just to savor the feeling.
Compelling someone without a heartsglass was like walking underwater with the current against you, and the lesser potency of the runes here made it even harder. I hesitated—the half rune I’d traced lingered in the air, struggling to retain its shape.
“Tea?” Likh whispered when it became apparent that the guards accompanying us were still walking of their own volition. I hesitated again.
“What’s wrong?” Kalen asked quietly.
“I don’t—” My eyes moved from the guards back to him. “I don’t…maybe I shouldn’t—”
The Deathseeker’s face cleared, understanding. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll do it some other way.”
“No.” I forced myself to finish the rune, and the guards froze, their eyes blank.
“Are you sure?” His voice was low. “You’re right. Not after—it’s not fair to ask you to do this.”
“It boils down to necessity, I guess.” At my silent command, the men began to move. Just to be sure we were unwatched, I explored the surroundings carefully with my mind and found no spies. “And you’re right. You’re different from those guards.”
Kalen looked at me, moved to speak, then thought better of it.
I goaded the soldiers into a nearby inn, made them pay for rooms, and soon they were fast asleep on their beds. Before we returned, I would coax them into waking, with none of them the wiser.
Santiang was a city both strange and familiar. I could see the same influences in their architecture that defined the homes and temples of Ankyo, from their arched slopes to their slanting roofs. But while Ankyons had a preference for bungalows and residences no more than two or three landings high, Santiang houses were tower spires that reached as high into the sky as they dared, with different families occupying every floor. The roads were narrower than Odalia’s, save for the one leading from the palace out to the city gates.
Khalad walked like he knew the way, pausing every now and then to get his bearings. “I can sense Master’s workshop,” he explained. “The memories and half-finished heartsglass there burn as bright as a beacon.”
The people of Santiang were noisier than their Kion counterparts. Tiny stalls crowded every conceivable corner, selling dried fish and pickled vegetables next to fishing rods and rat repellent. The people spoke with loud, raucous voices whether they were arguing, bargaining, or telling jokes.
Children played on the street with paper balls and spinning tops, running to one side and giggling when heavy wagons came creaking past. Teashop owners and tavern proprietors—in many instances one and the same—wheeled out tables and chairs along sections of road to accommodate more customers. Everyone we passed wore plain robes of muted colors, and it was difficult to distinguish the successful merchant with a flourishing business from the average bricklayer.
Khalad led us through busy intersections where long lines of carts and horses were at a standstill, through roads so full of people and merchandise it was a wonder we could pass, and finally to smaller alleys that stank of beer and vomit, as the crowds thinned out and the voices faded, until we were standing before a small shack, not unlike the Heartforger’s hut in Kion.
Abandoned lots lined either side of it, and an open canal overflowing with rotten fish and garbage appeared to be the reason why.
“We traveled half a continent only to reach the same place again,” Likh said, staring.
I reached for Fox without thinking, then remembered he wasn’t with us. I sought him out with my mind instead and saw him at the courtyard with the princess. There was a marked improvement to Princess Inessa’s swordsmanship, and I wondered how many other sessions they had finished.
We found the forger’s hut, I whispered.
Another hut?