promises. But he used to carry sadness in his eyes, and speak with kindness. That was gone. She wiped a tear away. Perhaps those parts of him were already in heaven. She remembered his gray skin, the blood pooling in his lap, the pattern around him shining like light through a window that pierced the world. Perhaps those parts would forgive her for her role in his death.
She waited so long for the emperor to return that she began to doze herself, and forgot to be frightened. When Nessaket finally entered, her face twisted in anger, Rushes remembered enough to cringe. She had seen that look so many times and knew what came after, the crack of flesh on flesh, the feel of fists against soft places, but the empire mother stopped an arm’s length away and allowed Rushes time to fall into her obeisance.
After a minute in a tight voice Nessaket said, “Rise.” Rushes stood and the empire mother paced the small floor, hands clasped tightly behind her back. “My son the emperor boasted of his kill,” she said. “And he said you found the snake and rescued my son. Some would say that if you found it, then you are the one who put it there.”
“I would never do it, Your Majesty!”
“Do what, Rushes? You must say it.”
“Bring the snake, or hurt anyone, Your Majesty! Please, I am just a slave!”
Nessaket stopped pacing and stared into her eyes for a long moment. Rushes was reminded of the emperor in the dungeon, but this time, her secrets were not laid bare. It was just the two of them, face to face, and finally, Nessaket turned away and hit the high wooden screen. “You are telling the truth-I can tell.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Rushes did not allow herself to feel relief just yet, not when the empire mother seemed so angry.
“If it wasn’t you, then the snake-bearer has not been caught,” said Nessaket, pacing. “There are so many who want Daveed dead, it is difficult to sort who might have done this.” Nessaket walked back and forth, muttering to herself, a frown marring her forehead. Finally she stopped before the mirror. “First pika seeds, and now a snake,” she said, more to her reflection than to Rushes, and so Rushes kept her silence. As important as her information might be, she could not speak unbidden. Nessaket took in Rushes’ filthy clothes, her soiled shoes. “I know who you are. You’re the girl I sent to listen. Now they say your master was killed, and you were seen running away. Should I send you back?”
“I did run from the Little Kitchen, Your Majesty, and I know it was wrong, but please don’t send me back there. It’s beatings, and worse. I’d rather go to the dungeon, as dark and cold as it is.” Then she sucked in her breath, trying in vain to bring all those words back to her mouth.
Nessaket frowned. “I don’t care what you’d rather! But if you can show that you listened, as I have asked you, I will keep you here-for now.”
Rushes cleared her throat and curled her fingers around the luck-stone in her pocket, wondering where to begin. “Your Majesty,” she said. “I heard them talking about the snake in the Ways. A man, and a woman.” She didn’t know their names, or what it all meant, but she could remember their words, and their voices.
“Tell me,” said Nessaket, “and you will become mine.”
Rushes began.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Someone had tried to kill Daveed, and it would happen again. They had not waited long after Pelar’s birth to make their move, and they would not stop until he was dead.
Nessaket sat with the pouch of pika seeds. One for sleep. Two to make sure there’s no waking. Five to kill. She had killled Lapella with five. She had not relished it. Yes, she had hidden in the shadows of a wall-niche and watched Demah deliver the candied dates, but not out of pleasure. It had been her plan and her responsibility. Eyul had said something to her once, long ago, when Beyon was just a boy. Killing becomes too easy if you don’t look. And so she had looked, all the while until it was over, letting herself into the woman’s room and standing over her as she died. Eyul had been right-killing had not become easy.
Dinar had stated the price of Daveed’s safety. Kavic’s death. Could she do it again?
The mirror showed Rushes hovering over Daveed. Could she ask Rushes to deliver the poison? Perhaps Marke Kavic would trust her, see her as a fellow Fryth, and eat whatever she brought him. They could make desert candies. Pika seeds were bitter, best hidden in honey.
Or perhaps she should save them for the concubine from the Ways, the one who had brought the snake to her balcony. The one who had obtained pika seeds, and meant to use them. She did not doubt the specifics of Rushes’ account. The girl had a good memory. Nessaket had tested her.
But which concubine, and who was her master? Rushes had described him only as cold. But just as the concubine was that man’s instrument, he might in turn be obeying the orders of someone more powerful. If she chose to protect Daveed in that way Nessaket might never be finished killing.
But she could stop the concubine using other methods. Exposure. Blackmail. Threats.
“Let Dreshka tend to the boy,” she said to the girl, “You should be in the Great Room, listening to the women. Find the one you heard talking in the Ways.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Rushes did a quick curtsey and left her alone with Daveed. Nessaket looked at the cradle, so very small, the child within it even smaller. So vulnerable. If she should die…
Could I do it again? She imagined the palace in thirty years’ time, with her grandson Pelar on the throne and Daveed at his side, wearing priests’ robes. She tried to imagine her son in other ways, as a trusted advisor, or perhaps a general-but she could not see him alive in those positions. Not in thirty years, and not in twenty. A priest was the best role for him, the safest role. She poured the seeds out into her hand. Five shiny, red crescents. Just enough for one death, with no room for error. If she killed Marke Kavic, it would secure Daveed’s place with Herzu.
Nessaket wished she had given birth to girls instead of boys. Her life would have followed a different path, and all her children would still be alive. She would not be counting pika seeds. She would be combing hair, giving advice, living in a softer world.
Had she never counted Mesema as a daughter? Over time she had come to find the horsegirl tolerable, but Mesema was too hard around the edges, too clever and wilful. On her first day in Nooria she had walked into the temple of Herzu, bold as a lion, and laid a hand upon the god-statue. She’d enraptured Beyon before Nessaket had even had a chance to speak with her or guide her; she remembered he came into the women’s wing, nearly frantic that he couldn’t find her.
She’d enraptured Beyon. Why had Nessaket never considered that before? Mesema had been with Beyon in the desert. Had they made love there, out on the sands?
It was possible-more than possible. And if Pelar was Beyon’s son, then he, not Sarmin, was the emperor.
The shock of it put Nessaket on her feet. If it were true, then Mesema needed only to tell someone-Govnan, Azeem, Dinar-and the emperor Sarmin and his young brother would both be dead. Mesema would become the empire mother, and in controlling Pelar control the world.
And yet she took no advantage. Was she biding her time, waiting for some signal from her people or their Hidden God? It was difficult to know what to make of Mesema; she played by inscrutable rules, born in high grass, drawn from the wind with sky-washed eyes.
Nessaket replaced the seeds in the pouch. Whatever Mesema’s intentions, she had been faithful to their alliance thus far. She deserved a warning about this concubine.
Nessaket checked Daveed’s blankets. Lately she had become afraid that scorpions or fire-dust hid in the folds. There were many ways to kill a child and Nessaket could imagine all of them. She checked the balcony where the dead snake had earlier been laid out, and where a guard remained as proof against further attacks, and glanced to the roof, where Siri’s garden lay dead. The concubine traitor would have dropped the snake from there, a violation to her old friend’s memory, but also a mistake. If the woman had stood there, looking down at this balcony, there might be witnesses, or a clue. Once Nessaket knew who the traitor was then she would decide what
