Her vision blurred, tears welling against the smoke, and she watched through a crystalline glaze as Asheris called the fire into him. The blaze died in the warehouse as the flames ran like water away from wood and stone and into flesh. The last came in a rush, flaring around him like giant wings.
Then it was gone.
The rest of the roof fell in, billowing smoke and ash and sparks. But no more flames. The absence of light blinded her, and her eyes ached as they adjusted. The wind stung her face.
Asheris swayed and fell to his knees, head sagging. Steam rose from his skin. Not even the guards approached him.
Zhirin bit her lip; she might be useless, but she didn’t have to be a coward. But before she could move toward the fallen mage, a hand closed on her arm. She started, then recognized the dark fingers.
She turned, his name on her lips, but Jabbor silenced her with a shake of his head and drew her away from the crowd. Down an alley she followed him, biting back questions as she dodged fleeing vermin. They ducked through a back door into a narrow lamplit kitchen. Temel and Kwan followed them in-Zhirin hadn’t seen them outside. Soot smeared both their faces, and blood dried in a dull crust along Temel’s brow.
Kwan vanished into the front of the house, returned a moment later. “It’s clear.”
Jabbor sank into a chair by the table and Zhirin sat beside him. Her filthy feet smudged clean tiles and she tucked her heels onto a chair-rung like a child. Sweat and tears dried stiff and itchy on her face, and when she scratched her cheek her nails came away dark with grime. Her finger was bruised where she’d bitten it.
“What happened?”
“We slipped in quietly-a few coins, drugged wine, and a little distraction. It should have been bloodless. But the Dai Tranh came right behind us.”
Zhirin’s stomach chilled. Jabbor’s group, the Jade Tigers, were known for their peaceful-if not always legal- protests. It was part of what drew her to them. The Dai Tranh, however, was known only for violence.
His full lips tightened, carving lines around his mouth. Sweat glistened oily between the neat rows of his hair. “They outnumbered us. Killed the guards, looted the stones, and set the fire. We tried to put it out, but they left some of the rubies behind for fuel.”
No wonder the blaze had been so fierce-Haroun’s fire, harnessed into stone. “But how did they know?”
Kwan’s eyes narrowed to angry black slits. “Shouldn’t we be asking you that question?”
Zhirin’s mouth opened, but Jabbor raised a hand before she could snap a retort. “No, Kwan.” He caught her eyes and held them. “But I’ll ask it anyway. Did you say anything to anyone else?”
She shook her head, cheeks stinging. He couldn’t afford to trust blindly, she knew that. Not even her. Maybe especially not her. “I only told you.”
“Then they have someone inside us, or a spy of their own in the Kurun Tam.” He wiped a sheen of sweat off his face.
Kwan snorted softly but held her tongue. She found a pitcher of water and a rag on the counter and began to sponge the blood off Temel’s face. True cousins, not just clan-kin, and the resemblance showed in the set of their cheekbones and short, flat noses. High forest people, the Lhuns, before the Empire had claimed their lands for the Kurun Tam and sent them to live by the river.
“We looked inside one of the crates,” Jabbor said, “before everything fell apart. One of the boxes marked for flawed stones. Do you know what we found?”
Zhirin shook her head.
Jabbor pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. A stone gleamed dully against his palm-the size of her thumbnail, uncut, yellowish-white. A chunk of quartz, she thought, until she reached for it and felt the crystal’s sharp pulse.
“Sweet Mother,” she whispered, snatching her hand back. “Is that-” She swallowed the foolish question; she knew what it was. A diamond.
She’d never seen one in the rough before, only cut and polished and gleaming on the hand or throat of a mage, and very few of those. Unlucky, the uninitiated called them, or cursed. For the spirits or ghosts who ended up trapped in them, they must be.
And expensive. No question about that. The stone resting on Jabbor’s palm was worth a dozen rubies in Assar.
“What’s it doing here?” She caught herself leaning back. Foolish superstition-it was just a stone, without a mage to wield it. Her master would chide her for making warding signs against a lump of rock.
“It came from the Kurun Tam, didn’t it?” Kwan asked, setting aside the bloody ash-smeared rag.
“No! How could it? We mine rubies, sapphires-”
“We?” the other woman snapped, but Jabbor waved her silent.
Zhirin shook her head, pressing her stinging knuckle against her lips again. Diamonds came from Iseth, or lands far to the north whose names she could never remember. Places where people bound ghosts into slavery, as well as spirits. She couldn’t call it abomination-the Empire accepted such practices and her own master wore a diamond-but it still made her skin crawl.
“We need to find out where this came from,” Jabbor said, closing his hand over the stone. “I need you to investigate.”
Zhirin nodded. All the energy had drained from her, leaving fatigue and aches in its place. She wanted to lean into Jabbor, to breathe in the smell of his skin and let him hold her till the world felt right again. But weakness wasn’t what he needed from her. Her eyes stung.
“I should go,” she said, wincing as she put weight on her bruised and torn feet. Who would clean up the mess they’d made? Perhaps whoever lived here was used to rebels tracking mud and blood across their floor. “I’ll find you when I learn something.”
Jabbor rose with her and took her hand, tracing a gentle thumb across her knuckles. “Thank you.” And she would have run twice as far barefoot for that smile.
The crowd had thinned when she limped past the ruined warehouse, and guards roped off the shell. She didn’t see Asheris. Smoke trailed a gray veil across the city and ashes drifted softly on the breeze.
Chapter 3
Isyllt and Adam found a tavern in Saltlace that night, an expensive one overlooking a broad canal. The sort of place where a bored traveler might come to waste time and money-Isyllt thought she could manage that ruse. She lifted her chin as she crossed the threshold, letting her hips roll. Midnight blue silk swirled around her ankles and a corset cinched her waist and kept her back straight. They drew glances like gnats to the paper lanterns as they crossed the room. Whether it was her bare white arms or Adam glowering at her back, she couldn’t say.
They weren’t the only foreigners. Symir had a reputation as a haven for expatriates-separated from Assar and the northlands, it was a place to escape local trouble and live in exotic decadence. If you had the money for it.
They claimed a table on the balcony and Isyllt let the waiter recommend food and wine. Skiffs paddled in the canal below and evening crowds drifted across bridges and along the sidewalks. Xinai was out in the city somewhere-hopefully the mercenary would have better luck finding insurgents.
Their food arrived and inside the tavern musicians began to play, deep drums and a woman’s ululating voice. Blue lantern-light glittered on the cutlery and washed Adam’s face cold and gray.
“How did you meet Kiril?” Isyllt finally asked, picking at the arrangement of rice and fish on her plate. She should have asked sooner, but she’d spent too much time during the voyage hiding in her cabin. He studied her for a moment, head tilted. She found herself mimicking the gesture and distracted herself with a rice ball.
“I came to Erisin when I was young,” he said. “Just a stupid orphan brat-I thought I could make a living picking pockets, become as good a thief as Magpie Mai, or some nonsense like that.” He snorted and sipped his wine.
“I was damned lucky Kiril found me, or I’d have wound up in a cell, or the bottom of the Dis. He helped me find work I was better suited for.” He touched the hilt of his sword. “So I owe him.”
Isyllt’s mouth twisted. “He always did like taking in strays.” She glanced down and found her goblet empty. Condensation glistened on the curve of the flagon-chilled, but the wine burned going down and kindled a pleasant
