The door closed and they waited. Hanara examined the wall decorations, trying to slow his breathing and heartbeat. When the door opened again he jumped and all the calm he’d managed to summon evaporated.
Before he got a look at the room beyond, he was inside it.
“So. You are the ichani Takado’s slave,” a voice echoed.
The man who had spoken sat on one of many bench seats arranged around the walls. His cropped coat glittered with gold and jewels, which matched the room’s elaborately decorated furniture. Hanara threw himself on the floor.
“Get up,” the man said.
Reluctantly, but not so slowly as to anger the emperor, Hanara got to his feet. He kept his eyes on the floor.
“Come here.”
He forced his legs to move, taking him closer but ready to freeze at any moment. The instruction to stop did not come and he found himself standing a mere two or three paces from the seated ruler, not daring to look up, fearing the consequences if his gaze even fell upon the man’s shoes.
“Kneel.”
Hanara dropped to the floor, the rattle of his chains echoing loudly in the room. The impact jolted his spine and bruised his knees, but he quickly forgot the pain as he felt hands press onto either side of his head.
Sure enough, Emperor Vochira combed through Hanara’s mind, skilfully drawing out memories of Takado’s tour through Kyralia, Hanara’s stay in Mandryn, Takado’s return and then every stage of the war, from the wooing of allies to the morning when, having seen the Kyralian army entering Sachaka, Takado and his last two friends had put aside plans to disappear in order to warn Sachaka of the impending invasion, and help repel the invaders.
–
But Takado had never respected the emperor enough to let the ruler veto his grand plan, Hanara knew. His allies had mostly been ichani at first – outcasts who hated the emperor and anyone with a position of power in Sachaka.
–
–
Hanara could not stop a traitorous “no” forming in his mind.
He could not help it. He reached for the feeling and felt it splutter and die. The emptiness that followed was unbearable and drew him deep into despair. It was worse, he realised, than finding out Takado had died. At least then Hanara could have remembered his master with pride. But was Takado dead?
–
–
The emperor paused and Hanara felt a hint of surprise. And was that jealousy, too?
–
“
“Take him away,” Vochira said, his voice hoarse with disgust.
Hanara kept his eyes on the floor as footsteps hurried close behind him. Someone grabbed his arm and drew him away. He did not resist, too caught up in the knowledge that his master had brought about the fall of Sachaka, and the traitorous hope that Takado would escape to retake his homeland from the Kyralians.
The Sachakan estates they passed had reduced in size in the last few days, Jayan noticed. He’d learned to identify the markers that indicated a fence was a boundary as well as containment for stock. However, though the land each estate covered was growing smaller, the buildings were growing rapidly larger.
“I heard a rumour about you last night,” a familiar voice said from behind his shoulder.
Recognising Narvelan’s tones, Jayan resisted turning around to look at the magician.
“What this time?” Dakon asked.
Narvelan laughed. Jayan winced at the sound. Narvelan’s lightheartedness and joviality seemed out of place, and a painful contrast to the rest of the army.
“I overheard some magicians speculating whether you arranged for those two magicians to be poisoned,” Narvelan said. “They wondered if you’d heard the pair criticising you for being too scrupulous to kill slaves.”
“I see,” Dakon said calmly. “Did they see the irony in suspecting someone had done something so unscrupulous because he was accused of being too scrupulous?”
Narvelan chuckled. “I didn’t stop to ask. Have you noticed anyone treating you with increased, ah, respect?”
“No.”
Jayan shook his head. But then he remembered how quiet and obedient the servants had been that morning, as he and Dakon had supervised the preparation of the meal. As a precaution they’d kept a few rassook alive to feed samples to, watching to see if any poison affected the birds. They also mixed supplies from different estates together, in the hope that if one had been tampered with it might be diluted enough to not be lethal.
“Ah,” Narvelan said. “They have finally come out to greet us.”
The magician surged past Jayan, galloping towards the king and Sabin. Looking after him, Jayan realised the