“How much money do we have left?” she asked, trying to undo her shirt buttons one-handed and mourning all the clean clothes she’d abandoned in the Khas. She could sell the silver chains in her kit if she had to, but she carried nothing else of value.
“Enough for a few days here or a cheap passage home. Sleeping-on-deck cheap. I hope you don’t need anyone bribed.”
“At this point it’d be easier to kill people.” Her fingers slipped off a button for the third time and she swore.
Adam’s smile was a ghost in the deepening gloom. “It usually is.”
“They’ll have someone watching the embassy by tomorrow. At least the supply ship is already on its way.” She cursed foreign assignments and buttons silently. “I have to get my ring back.”
“Are you sure that’s smart?”
“Losing it in the first place was stupid enough. I’m not leaving without it.” She fumbled another button and snarled.
“Need help?” Adam asked, nearly smiling.
Pride fought pragmatism and lost soundly. “Yes, damn it.”
She watched his nimble calloused fingers and swallowed a laugh. He caught her expression and his lips quirked as he undid the last button and helped her slip the remnants of the sleeve off her left arm. Her linen undershirt was stiff with dried blood and sweat-it itched, but not so badly that she’d rather be naked.
Adam turned toward the door an instant before someone knocked. He eased the latch up, double-checking before he opened it wide enough for Vienh to slip in. She carried bamboo cartons of food and-saints bless her-a change of clothes. Isyllt’s stomach clenched at the smell of curry.
Dusk bells tolled slow and sonorous as they ate, and Vienh lit the room’s single lamp. Isyllt was halfway through a carton of rice and lentils when Adam tensed again. A heartbeat later someone else knocked. Isyllt swallowed a mouthful and glanced at Vienh-the smuggler shook her head sharply.
“I wasn’t followed, I swear,” she whisper-hissed when Adam glared at her.
He stood, easing a dagger from his boot as he edged toward the door; the quarters were too close for swords. Isyllt thought of her knife safely packed across the city and swore under her breath even as she edged out of the door’s line of sight.
“Please let me in,” a familiar voice asked softly. “I’ll attract more attention standing out here.”
Vienh drew her knife and moved behind the door. Adam glanced at Isyllt. “Only one,” he mouthed. She nodded slowly, and he reached for the latch.
Siddir slipped in-cautiously, when he saw Adam’s blade. The mercenary checked the hall quickly and shut the door. Siddir pulled a scarf away from his tousled curls. Isyllt tensed, waiting for soldiers’ footsteps, for the brush of hot magic, but none came.
Siddir smiled at her expression and bowed, stopping when Adam’s knife drew closer to his throat.
“They’ll charge more if you make a mess in the room, you know,” he said.
Isyllt started to cross her arms, but thought better of it. “How did you find me?”
Siddir cocked an eyebrow. “I am a spy, after all. I wanted to talk to you without the whole Khas looking on.”
She gestured toward the hard wooden chair. “So sit and talk.”
His gaze slid along her bandaged arms. “Did that happen at the execution?”
“Yes. You were there?”
“I was, but I didn’t feel the need to be in the thick of things. Luckily for me.”
“What happened? Is the Khas looking for me?”
“The Khas is a bit preoccupied at the moment. Nineteen people are dead, not counting the Dai Tranh-three councillors, the rest bureaucrats, servants, and soldiers. And it turns out the attack may have only been a distraction.”
Isyllt retrieved her food, nodding for him to continue.
“While all the shooting and dying was happening, more rebels kidnapped the Viceroy’s daughter. Lady Shamina was injured in the fight. Faraj is…distraught. I’m afraid recovering you won’t be the first thing on his mind.”
Isyllt swallowed and blinked. The man fleeing with a child-Murai. “Have they made demands for her return?”
“We’ve heard nothing.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “We?”
Siddir smiled. “A figure of speech. As I told you, my loyalty is not to the Khas.”
“Where is it, exactly?”
“To the Empire.” His smile stretched at her expression. “To the Empire, but not to Rahal.”
She set the curry down again. The pressure in her head had become a stabbing pain above one eye. She rubbed her temple, wincing as the movement tugged stitches.
“Would you please just tell me what the hell is going on?”
One brown cheek dimpled as he nodded. “The Emperor’s dreams of expansion are no secret in Ta’ashlan, but not all the Senate supports him. The Senate has consistently refused to increase taxes for military spending. But that doesn’t seem to be stopping Rahal. The money keeps coming in-never fast enough to be conspicuous, but enough that some senators have become suspicious.”
Isyllt reached for her cup of ginger beer and wished it were something stronger. “And they think it’s coming from Symir.”
“I’m almost certain of it. But we’re not sure where. At first we thought he was skimming from the tithes, but the Khas’s records balance-far too neatly, for a known hive of graft and corruption. Something’s happening off the books, but I don’t know what.”
It was Isyllt’s turn to smile. “I do. But,” she continued as Siddir cocked his head, “how will this be of any use to me? Giving the Empire a legitimate source of wealth will do nothing to keep Assari armies away from Selafain shores.”
“Expansion is not the will of the people in Assar. Rahal has supporters amongst the generals and the arms- makers, of course, but too many families still mourn those who died in the Ninayan campaign, or in Iseth, or here. Assar is large enough-there are things we want from Selafai, but another vassal country isn’t one of them.”
“And you think proof of this embezzlement would be enough to stop the Emperor?”
“Yes. Some of the senators are…willing to take steps.”
She pressed her tongue against her teeth, tasted ginger-sweet and treason. If he was lying, she couldn’t tell.
“Sivahra has a diamond mine. The Viceroy is smuggling the stones out in private ships.”
Across the room Vienh stiffened, lips parting. She subsided without speaking, though.
Siddir blinked. “Well. I’ve been underestimating Faraj, it seems, if he’s kept something like that a secret. I wonder where Rahal is selling them.” He shrugged the question aside. “We need proof.”
“I think I know where to look. I’ll need to speak to my contacts.”
He nodded. “I encourage haste. If the situation here continues to deteriorate, the Emperor will send troops, and everything will become more complicated.”
“I have another question for you, my lord, while we’re being so forthcoming. How well do you know Asheris al Seth?”
He didn’t blink, quite, but he stilled for a heartbeat. “Ah. Yes. Once, I knew him well. We went to the university together. We were friends.” The word came out too quickly, too blandly. “He had no designs to be an Imperial agent in those days. He was a middling mage at best-a lot of talent, but little dedication, more interested in carousing than serious study. His connection to the throne was too remote to concern anyone, and mostly he was left to his own devices.”
“But?”
“Seven years ago, something changed.” He frowned, smoothed his face again. “I still don’t know what it was. He joined an expedition into the desert-a spirit cataloging trip, very ordinary. Al Najid was with them as well. When they returned, no one heard from Asheris for several months, and when he finally emerged he was…different. More focused, more reserved. More powerful. It wasn’t long afterward that he began to rise in the Emperor’s
