“What is pain to a dead man? Of course he is alive.”
She drew back and watched Dinar use his knife to clean dried blood from under his fingernails. “Only by stripping away the flesh do we find the spirit of a man.”
She wondered if it were possible for Mesema to go behind her back, to obtain pika seeds in secret. As she had gone behind Beyon’s back. “No,” she said, “love can be stripped away. Trust. That, too.”
“Yes.” Something in his face told her that he preferred to do it with a knife. “When all is stripped away, one shines with the dark of Herzu.” He turned to her, smiling like a cat, his knife gleaming where the blood did not cling to it. “Now you understand.”
Nessaket held the canister to her chest. “I do.” Herzu demanded all, or nothing-war, or peace-with Daveed making up the balance. She backed away, out into the dark corridor. Dinar had forgotten her; he occupied himself with his sacrifice. Images flashed in her mind as she walked to where her guards waited; black thread through a bloody lip; bloody rib bones; Dinar’s smile. The god grew impatient. The pouch filled with pika seeds felt heavy in the palm of her hand. Something terrible would have to happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hagga came into the Ways, calling across the blackness, her voice accompanied by the tempting smells of bread and apple. “Come along, child,” she said, “You can’t hide in here forever.”
Rushes pressed herself against the wall, though she knew Hagga couldn’t see her. She’d found this little platform in the Ways when she was still with the Many. Stairs rose from the commonly used paths and led to a narrow ledge just big enough for her to sit with her legs drawn up. Perhaps a door had once graced this landing, but no longer.
“I’ll leave this food here,” Hagga said at last, turning away. Her door to the Ways opened and shut, a bright flash of yellow lantern-light, and then darkness.
A trap. Rushes didn’t move, though the flesh of that apple filled her mind. She listened for Gorgen first. He would be waiting nearby, still and quiet like herself, angrier than ever. At long last she let her feet down to dangle over the edge. Far below in the chasm lay bones upon bones, the new fallen among the ancient. Some of the Many had walked across that floor, picking their way between rib cages. Gold gathered there too, some coins so old that the faces stamped upon them were no more than legends. The Many had not been interested in coins. They had always let them fall, turning away, looking for something more useful.
She rolled to her feet, one hand on the wall. The stairs were just five paces away, and her shoes were soft. If Gorgen was out there, he might not hear. His silence frightened. He was one to shout and bluster, not wait in the darkness. Whatever punishment he had planned must be worth some patience. In all the whole day and night she had been hiding she had not heard him, not seen him, once.
A scattering sounded below her. A rat, maybe, running between the bones and the money. Or a person. She remembered the emperor in the dungeons, remembered his wild, bright eyes. That too had been a dark, lonely place. She scooted down the stairs, eyes scanning the darkness. The apple was closer now, just over the bridge. She could smell it, a smell of freedom, of trees and open air, but the bridge scared her, so narrow as it was and with a drop to either side. She fell to her hands and knees and began to crawl.
And heard a rustle, an unmistakable sound of fabric against fabric. Gorgen! Rushes froze, but whoever shared the Ways with her moved off, up another set of stairs, on his own business. A coincidence. Not Gorgen. The rustle sounded again, this time accompanied by heavy breathing, and then a voice.
“Do you have the seeds?” A man, or so she thought. His tone was high, but commanding.
A woman answered. “Yes.”
The two carried no lights and spoke so quietly that Rushes had to creep forward, listening hard.
“What did you tell the priest?”
The woman spoke with an accent, hard on the consonants, similar to Marke Kavic’s way of speaking. “That the empress sent me. As you told me.”
“Good,” he said, as if someone had just put a tray before him, and he was eager to eat. “All eyes will fall upon her when we use them. But first our slithering friend. The brother dies before anyone.”
“It won’t be easy. I can’t get near-”
“He will be bitten. A charm has been set. The snake will find him.”
“And then Sarmin the Mad.” She spoke as if she looked forward to it, as if the emperor had done her some harm.
“What did you say?” Rushes heard the cold reproval in his voice. The woman had overstepped, but she continued without realizing it, her voice deepening with stolen authority.
“He told me himself he is not the emperor. That Beyon’s son-”
Rushes flinched when she heard a slap. “I told you that if you spoke of that again I would hurt you. Take care of the boy. Now go back before they notice you’re gone.”
Rushes held her breath. If this man noticed her, found her hiding here and listening to his words, he kick her into the abyss without a second thought. Zell or Gorgen would beat her, anger guiding their words and their fists. But this man had no anger and no kindness either. She could feel it in him, an emptiness.
The woman was not afraid of him, though. She did not see what he was. “And then you’ll send me to Gehinni province, as you said?”
“With a bagful of gold, just as I promised.” Rushes did not believe him. It came out of his mouth with too much ease, practised and smooth. “Just remember your training in the desert. Stick to the ways you’ve been taught.”
The door Hagga had used swung wide and in the light of the corridor Rushes saw the silhouette of a large man, more wide than tall, and a flash of his scarlet robes. Then he was gone, and their corner of the Ways fell dark once more. As for the woman, she was moving up the steps, signalled by a soft shuffling and the whisper of silk.
Rushes reached Hagga’s plate and stuffed the fruit into her pocket before following in the wake of her unknown companion. They moved upwards, the other person hurrying through the dark with sure feet, hopping easily over the missing stairs and the cracks in the narrow walkways. At the entrance to the women’s wing Rushes ducked into a shadow, but there was no need. The iron door that should have required a key swung open in her direction, blocking her from the other person’s sight.
She thought on their words. The most important thing right now was the slithering friend. Someone had brought a snake into the women’s wing, and they meant to kill the emperor’s brother.
The Many were gone; the eyes that might have followed the mysterious woman through those gleaming halls did not exist. Rushes had to brave it herself, though they would surely send her to Gorgen after she found Empire Mother Nessaket. But Prince Daveed might be hurt if she didn’t warn them. She tried to grab the edge of the door before it closed. Heavy, it slipped from her grasp, but something else stopped it-a piece of stone tile, placed near the bottom. Rushes waited, exploring the width of the crack with her fingers, testing the strength of her hands as she waited for the corridor to clear.
She took a bite of the round, firm apple Hagga had left for her. The sweet and sour taste brought a tear to her eye. With the Many one did not taste, feel, or smell, not with her own body. Perhaps if Demah had taken an apple with her that morning, she would have remembered that. Perhaps she would have felt that sweetness on her tongue, the juice tickling her gums, and thought that it was worth being alone.
The corridor in the women’s wing had fallen silent. It took all of Rushes’ strength to pulled open the door and step through, and by that time the hall was not empty. Three concubines saw her and began to shout.
“Filthy slave! What are you doing, spreading dirt in our halls?”
She looked at her dress and her shoes. Dirt and moist stone had turned them grey.
“You need a whipping!” But they passed by, and did not call the guards. Things were not as they were downstairs. Rushes moved down the corridor, her dirty shoes sinking into the rich carpet, until she saw Nessaket leaving her room, accompanied by six guards. Rushes slipped into a niche that held a seat with cushions, keeping
