And Isyllt woke gasping in the dark, the smell of smoke and charred flesh thick in her nose. She raised a hand to her face; her cheek was smooth, unburnt, damp.
Trees rustled outside her window, rippled moonlight and shadow across the floor. She sat huddled in the dark, weeping silently until sleep stole over her again.
She rose early the next day and joined the others for a hasty, silent meal before the trek to the Kurun Tam. No one looked like they’d slept well-Vasilios moved as though all his bones ached and dark circles branded Zhirin’s eyes.
Wind blew sharp and salty off the bay, ruffling the canals and swirling dust and leaves. Everywhere they passed people hung colored lanterns and garlands, erected awnings along the streets. The rains were coming soon.
And everywhere they went Isyllt saw green-clad guards and soldiers red as poppies patrolling the streets and watching the ferry crossings. An uneasy hush hung over the city.
Thin white clouds veiled the sun but couldn’t stop the heat, and the humidity was worse than ever. By the time they neared the Kurun Tam, Isyllt dripped sweat and the backs of her hands were baked pink. She sighed happily as they stepped into the spell-cooled walls of the hall and stopped to rinse the dirt off her face. In the courtyard, Zhirin helped Vasilios down from the carriage. Isyllt watched the old man lean on his apprentice’s arm and swallowed the taste of dust. There but for the whims of fate…
A shadow fell across the stones at her feet and she turned to see Asheris.
“Good morning,” he said with a bow. He wore riding clothes today, shades of rust and ocher that would hide dust. “I hope you slept well.”
“Hello, Lord al Seth.” Her smile felt too sharp and she tried to school her expression. “I’d thought the investigation might keep you in the city today.”
“I had a previous engagement, but I have good people keeping their eyes on things. I’m glad you’re here,” he went on. “We’re going to the mountain. You must join us-this may be the last chance before the rains come.”
“Thank you, but I intended to study with Vasilios today.”
“Bah.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Study tomorrow. I promise the mountain is far lovelier than the library.” He turned to Vasilios as the older mage entered the courtyard. “You’ll forgive me, won’t you, if I steal your companion for the day?”
Vasilios snorted, leaning on his walking stick. “I know I can’t compete with your charms, Asheris. Just don’t expect my bones to endure such a trek.” Behind him, Zhirin stiffened but kept her face pleasantly blank.
Asheris turned back to Isyllt and his smile was beautiful and implacable. “Come, Lady.”
“As you wish.” She shot Zhirin a quick glance, praying the girl understood, and that she could contact Jabbor. It would take at least an hour to reach the mountain-who knew how long the meeting would be delayed.
A crowd assembled in the courtyard, including a great many soldiers. At Asheris’s word, a stablehand brought Isyllt a fresh horse. Her thighs ached just looking at the saddle.
“Let me introduce you to our companions on this expedition.” Asheris took her elbow and steered her toward the center of the knot of horses, where a mounted woman and young girl spoke to a man on the ground.
“This is Faraj al Ghassan, Viceroy of Symir. His wife, the Vicereine Shamina, and their daughter, Murai. Your Excellency, this is Isyllt Iskaldur, of Erisin, who was gracious enough to assist with my investigation last night.”
Isyllt dropped a low curtsy, awkward though it was in trousers. “Your Excellency.” A short man, with golden-brown skin and a hooked nose too large for his face. His wife was a tiny Sivahri woman, for all her Imperial name and dress.
Faraj smiled. “Well met, Lady. Asheris tells me you did us a valuable service. The Empire appreciates your efforts. But we must speak again later-I have business in the hall, and my daughter is impatient to see the mountain.” He nodded politely and touched his wife’s hand in farewell before turning toward the hall.
Adam caught her as Isyllt set her foot in the stirrup. “Do you want me to come?” he asked in Selafain.
“If he decides to murder me on the mountain, I doubt you could save me.”
His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the smoking mountain. “I don’t trust that thing. I don’t trust anything here.”
“Good. Don’t start.”
His mouth twisted. “I’m doing a lot of waiting for you.”
She gave him an arch smile. “But you do it so well.” Feeling Asheris’s eyes on her, she swung into the saddle before he could reply.
The ride up the mountain was an easy one, despite Isyllt’s aching back. The road was cleared wide and paved, the horses sure-footed. The same ward-posts lined the way. She caught sight of other buildings scattered behind the hall that she hadn’t visited on her first tour-lapidaries’ offices, and servants’ quarters.
No matter how sure-footed, horses couldn’t climb the steep upper slopes. They dismounted at a way station a third of the way up and began the rest of the climb on foot.
Soldiers led the procession, with the Viceroy’s family just behind. Murai, whom Isyllt guessed to be near twelve, skipped up the road, tireless and nimble as a goat. Isyllt walked beside Asheris, the rest of the guards trailing a polite distance behind.
The path was broad and smooth, but stable footing didn’t lessen the unnerving whistle and tug of the wind around the rocks, or the sight of dust and pebbles rolling away into nothingness. The wooden railing seemed far too fragile for the fall beneath it.
The forest stretched below them, draped like velvet across the hills. The Mir glittered as it rolled to the sea and the bay shimmered with gray-green iridescence, shot with blue and gold where sunlight fell. Across the river lay the green slopes of Mount Ashaya, a jewel-bright lake nestled in her cauldron. Unlike her sibling, Ashaya slept, her fires cold and dead.
Isyllt glanced down and frowned. They must make a lovely target, strung like beads against the mountainside. Would rebel arrows reach so high? Sweat trickled across her scalp and stuck strands of hair to her face.
“How is it that a member of the royal house came here?” she asked Asheris, to distract herself from calculating assassinations.
“Barely a relation. But the bonds between us were enough that the Emperor trusted me to oversee things here.” His voice was a shade too bland as he wiped his brow. He wore no hat-which seemed unwise despite the color of his skin-and moisture glistened across the curve of his skull and darkened his collar. “Sivahra is a valuable asset to him.”
“Are attacks like yesterday’s common? We hear only rumors in the north.”
“They become more common, though yesterday’s was worse than usual. This Hand of Freedom grows bolder, or madder. They kill their own with every such strike.”
“Have you made any arrests?”
He glanced up at the sun, amber eyes narrowing against the glare. “I suspect that’s being taken care of even as we speak.” His smile was hard and cold, and Isyllt turned her gaze back to the path in front of her.
Xinai woke to sunlight dappling through a window, memories and dreams so tangled she couldn’t tell where she was.
But not truly, though the room with its clay walls and woven mats was nearly twin to the room she’d slept in as a child. She swallowed, the taste of last night’s spiced beer sour now on her tongue. Outside, the familiar sounds of daily work drifted in the air.
The door creaked softly and her hand neared her knife hilt. Riuh Xian ducked his head into the room.
“Good, you’re awake.” He’d washed the ashes from his hair and replaited his beaded braids. In better light he was younger than she’d thought, not far past twenty.
“What time is it?”
“Nearly noon. You missed breakfast.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought; last night’s feast still sat heavy in her stomach.
He tossed a folded bundle to her. “Grandmother says I’m to take you to Cay Lin, if you wish.”
