Harshini

“And Limik?”

“The day after the old man vanished, Limik robbed three houses and a tavern. He claims he can't remember a thing. Threatened to knife me for even suggesting he'd ever confess to any crime, let alone turn away from Dacendaran.”

Damin stared into his wine for a moment. “So, what's your theory?”

“I don't have one, Damin. Strange old men and inexplicable religious experiences are not my line of business. That's what we have a High Arrion for.”

Damin nodded, more than a little concerned. “I'll mention it to Kalan.”

“You might want to mention it to the demon child, too.”

“Why?”

“Because along with reforming thieves and prostitutes, the old man was trying to find someone willing to kill her.”

CHAPTER 13

“Damin!”

Still brooding over Starros' disturbing news, Damin was startled out of his reverie by R'shiel. He turned as she ran the length of the broad hall, skidding on the polished floor as she neared him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I need to see Kalan, and Orleon told me she's in the Solar. As I have no idea what a Solar is or how to find it in this rabbit warren you call a palace, I was hoping you could show me the way.”

“Of course,” he said, offering his arm. She took it lightly and fell into step beside him. Her hair was damp from her bath, but she still wore the Harshini leathers she favoured so much. At least he thought they were made of leather. They never seemed to get dirty the way other, ordinary clothes did.

“So, have you spoken to Adrina?”

“Yes. She's being remarkably cooperative. It has me worried.”

R'shiel laughed. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Damin.”

“You know, the annoying thing is, she's actually very smart underneath that obnoxious attitude of hers. But I still don't trust her.”

“You should. She does love you, you know.”

“Adrina? Don't be absurd. She loves flirting with danger. And power. And herself.”

“She said much the same thing about you.”

Damin looked at R'shiel, shaking his head. “Stop trying to create romance where there is none, R'shiel. You wanted us to marry and we did, but don't think you can ease your own guilt by inventing some relationship between us that doesn't exist.”

She studied him thoughtfully for a moment then shrugged. “As you wish.”

They walked in silence after that, through the long, wide halls of the palace, each of them certain that the other was wrong.

* * *

Kalan greeted them as they stepped into the Solar. “Demon child; Damin.”

“My name is R'shiel.”

“It would be improper of me to address you so informally, Divine One.”

R'shiel sighed. “Whatever.”

The room had been added to the palace by Damin's paternal grandmother and was roofed in clear glass tiles. The far wall was also glassed, and opened out into the palace gardens, which were looking rather forlorn, Damin noted with a frown. The furniture here had been cleverly wrought from iron, brightly coloured cushions relieving its convoluted lines. Damin never used the room much. As children they had avoided it. It was too easy for some passing palace courtier to see inside and discover what mischief they were up to.

“There are a few things I need to ask you,” R'shiel explained.

“Then I'll leave you two in private,” Damin said. Getting caught between the High Arrion and the demon child was not something he relished.

“I think you should stay, Damin,” Kalan suggested. “I imagine this concerns you as much as anyone.”

“I don't think...”

“Stay, Damin,” R'shiel ordered. “There's nothing I need to ask the High Arrion that you don't already know about.”

“Before I answer your questions, Divine One, perhaps you'd like to start by telling me what absurd Harshini plot you've cooked up that required my brother to betray his country by marrying that Fardohnyan harlot.”

“While we're all so busy with explanations, you can tell me what you're doing here with an occupation force,” he retorted. For some reason, Kalan's insistence on referring to Adrina as “that Fardohnyan harlot” was starting to aggravate him.

“Damin, calm down,” R'shiel advised then turned to the High Arrion. “Don't judge Adrina too harshly, Kalan. She has a good head on her shoulders and your brother loves her.”

“Not that I noticed.”

“Then you're not as observant as I thought,” R'shiel shrugged. “Please sit down. This could take a while so we might as well be comfortable.”

“If you're planning to convince me this is a good idea, then we could be here all night,” Kalan remarked as she sat down on the chaise near the fireplace. The clouds moving in front of the sun shadowed the room. It made her expression hard to read.

“There was a time when the Hythrun did not question the Harshini.”

“That time is long past, demon child. The Harshini abandoned us and we learnt to survive on our own. Nothing personal, mind you - the Harshini presence in Greenharbour has been most welcome these past few months - but why should we submit to your people again?”

“Because without the Harshini all Hythria will continue to be is a pack of squabbling Warlords, each trying to kill the others to gain more territory,” Damin said. “Hythria is better than that.”

“That's very noble of you, Damin. You hope to appeal to my patriotism in lieu of my political instincts, is that it?” Kalan smiled, as if the very idea was laughable.

“No, it's your political instincts we're relying on.”

Kalan turned to R'shiel. “What do you mean?”

“I have to destroy Xaphista, Kalan. I'm hoping you can tell me how.”

“You think the Sorcerers' Collective is privy to such secrets?”

“It's hardly something I can ask the Harshini.”

Kalan smiled faintly. “I suppose not, but don't get your hopes up, Divine One. There may be something in the archives that I'm not aware of, but even in ancient times, the gods weren't renowned for documenting the instructions for their own demise and leaving them lying about where a mortal could find them. And even if we have the knowledge you seek, with Hythria on the brink of civil war, I've neither the time nor the inclination to aid you in such an undertaking.”

“On the brink of civil war?” Damin scoffed. “Aren't you exaggerating just a little, Kalan?”

“You don't know the half of it, brother,” she scowled. “You wanted to know what I was doing here? Well, I'll tell you. I'm here because the Warlord of Dregian Province tried to have you declared dead and your province gifted to his younger brother. Krakandar is currently under the protection of the Sorcerers' Collective. I occupied your city because without me, you wouldn't have a city.”

“Cyrus tried to have me removed?” The idea was laughable.