“You…stupid…bitch…” he snarled between choking gasps.
“To you seeking Blade that Soars’s path,” the girl quoted, “take that which came from Five Great Heroes long past and distill into a heart of silver to shine anew. I have need of your heartsglass, Usij. Black heartsglass was silver once, and lightsglass has purifying effects. And the rub? I do not require your permission. Khalad, do it.”
The Heartforger was quick; he grabbed at the Faceless’s heartsglass, which rippled violently. With one hand, he forced the first of the five urvan into its center, the lightning-shaped glass disappearing into its depths.
Usij howled and tried one last time to break free, but Lord Kalen held the Faceless’s arms and Lord Khalad forced the second and then the third urvan in. Usij’s face swiveled to stare into mine, and I froze. It was like the face of a desperate animal, willing to do anything to free itself. The zivar I wore shone, but nothing else happened.
Kill them.
Feeling bemused, I rose to my feet. There was a small table by the side of the door, with the remains of our last meal. I took one of the larger knives there, examining it closely to gauge its sharpness. Quickly! The thought ran through my head.
I ran toward Lord Khalad’s unprotected back, knife raised and ready—and stopped as a new presence bored into my mind. The zivar burned again, so hot that I could feel it scalding into my skin, could imagine the sizzling of flesh there. I screamed aloud. The knife clattered to the floor.
“Desperation brings out strength,” the bone witch said. “Warded as you are, weakened as we made you—and yet able to reach out and control the bard still. You are a dangerous man, Usij. The land shall be glad to be rid of you.”
The Heartforger forced the last of the urvan into the black heartsglass and the room filled with unexpected light. The Faceless’s heart was no longer black like the Dark asha’s but instead a magnificent array of silvers. The girl ripped the heartsglass free from Usij and held it aloft in her hand.
“Leave,” she ordered, and a terrible languidness came over me. My feet moved independently of the rest of me, shuffling toward the room next door, even as a part of me struggled and screamed at the aeshma that now lumbered forward with horrifying eagerness.
“Tea!” the Heartforger pleaded. “Don’t do this. Kill him if you must, but let it be quick.”
The bone witch trembled. With what remaining access she had to my mind, I could sense her thirst for the darkrot, her yearning to be cruel.
“Tea,” Lord Kalen said, adding his supplication to his cousin’s. “Please.”
After a moment, the aeshma sniffed, retreating. I was already out the door and into the corridor, and what else happened in that throne room afterward, I knew not. My mind was peaceful and deprived of thought, and for that I was glad.
27
Emperor Shifang had not quite fully recovered from his ordeal. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed over as he looked out into his city and saw the remains of the carnage that stretched out before him, from the bodies of the Daanorian soldiers that had not survived the battle to the two hulking daeva out in the field.
He was no longer the perfectly manicured and well-dressed emperor who had greeted us with spears and threats when we first entered his throne room. But for all his faults, his formidable arrogance and assurance of his gods-given right to rule remained very much in evidence, even as he defied Tansoong’s orders to set out and see the daeva for himself, despite all reasonable arguments against his doing so.
The savul was still alive, still breathing despite its mortal injuries as the litter carrying the emperor arrived. With them was everyone else: Zoya and Shadi, Likh and Khalad, and the elder Heartforger. The old man was stooped and exhausted, though the fire was back in his eyes. Khalad supported him, with Likh on the other side. Zoya and Shadi looked just as tired. Princess Inessa walked beside Fox instead of behind the emperor, as should have been customary of all noble Daanorian wives. The silver fox pin she wore on her collar glinted in the morning light. Fox said little, though the pain from his proximity to the savul had not faded.
We had borne away the dead and the dying. The Odalian army had not recovered from the sinkhole Kalen had opened beneath them, and from their stunned expressions and their incredulity, I surmised that most of them had fallen victim to compulsion, though which Faceless was responsible still remained a mystery. The Odalian army was, in fact, not quite the Odalian army after all.
“Hired stooges,” Kalen muttered angrily. “I wondered why I saw no familiar faces among them, why their uniforms were out of order. Bandits and thieves, for the most part. Their leaders were paid handsomely to wave the Odalian flag and march in beat, but no one can tell me their purchaser. We are still hunting for Baoyi and the others.”
“A quick scry into their minds tells me nothing, though I would say Usij is the likely culprit. Holsrath would have sent the army itself.” I still had one last task to accomplish. The Faceless’s body had still been warm to the touch when it had been carted away to be thrown into a nearby ditch for the crows to feast on.
I had drawn out my knife but paused. The logical part of me knew that the savul should die. And yet…
“Do you want me to do it?” Kalen asked quietly.
I shook my head and turned to Fox, still watching me with that same unshakable gaze. “Here’s your revenge,” I told him.
He shook his head. “You avenged me the instant Usij died. This is just another one of his victims.” His eyes searched mine. You don’t want to kill it. But you must, Tea.
Had this been Kion, I might have found another way. But this was Daanorian territory, and the kingdom bayed for blood.
After a moment, I took Kalen’s sword and presented it wordlessly to Shifang. He understood well enough. It was not every day that an emperor could claim a daeva kill, even on a technicality. But he dismissed my paltry weapon and summoned an underling to bring him the sword he so favored, littered with ornate jewels but with no sharpness to speak of. The savul would not die quickly from its blow.
The emperor raised his hand, his sword glittering in the light, while I quietly wove my Raising. “Die,” I whispered softly as Shifang struck, and the savul complied before his blade landed. A faint cheer rose among the soldiers.
“Take this carcass and dispose of it,” the emperor ordered. Tansoong scuttled forward, issuing more commands of his own, and the soldiers converged around the fallen beast, uncertain where to start.
The deed done, the smile faded from the emperor’s face, and he turned toward his wife. Inessa remained standing apart from him, as regal as any queen could be, and I could see the Empress Alyx in her stern face.
“You have brought many things to my kingdom,” the emperor added soberly. “The good and the terrible.”
Inessa inclined her head. “Perhaps our marriage has been looked on with disfavor from the gods.”
“Perhaps that is so.” But yearning lingered in the man’s voice. “Perhaps…perhaps it is still possible—”
Inessa shook her head. “You knew long before today that we are not compatible.”
The emperor’s gaze strayed toward Fox, contempt and anger now evident. “I can make things difficult for the people of Kion,” he said, falling back on threats when honeyed words would no longer work.