Half magus. The phrase sends a chill down my spine. Half magus thanks to my real father. A tall figure in white appears in my mind, disappearing before I can identify who it is.
I tamp down my rising anxiety and head back home. It is too late to go to the reservoir now if I intend to get to the stables on time. We must make do with the water we already have.
When I step into our house, I find Papa sitting upright on his cot, quenching his thirst with nearly half of it.
He wipes his mouth. “What happened?”
I put the empty bucket to the side. “Dead dog in the tenement reservoir.”
Papa grimaces. “I shouldn’t have drunk our water.”
“You should have,” I say more forcefully than normal. “I’ll head to the reservoir near the mines this evening.”
Papa is silent for a long moment. “You shouldn’t have to do this. If only I wasn’t ill.”
“I’ll be in the army soon. I’ll work hard. Send you coin.” Spoken out loud, the words sound hollower than they did in my head.
“So you’ll let Gul die, then.”
I suddenly feel the way I do whenever I sit in one position for too long, my legs growing numb. Only this time, the feeling seems to have crept over my entire body—including my tongue. I shake it off. “What do you mean? What do you know about Gul?”
Papa holds up a scroll and, with it, a green swarna. “You think your old papa knows nothing about what you’re doing or whom you’re talking to outside the house.”
“You mean, Latif told you,” I say, staring at the swarna. “Have you been talking to him this whole time?”
“No. I spoke to him for the first time yesterday, after many years. The last time I met him was a couple of years after you were born; he was already a specter by then, so I only heard his voice. Govind was the one who put us in touch again. He wrote to me yesterday after you both argued.” Papa holds up the green swarna, which looks like a jewel even in the dim light of our house. “Govind is the only person I know who can make these swarnas. Ruhani Kaki brought it to me last night after you fell asleep, along with his letter.”
So Ruhani Kaki probably knows about Latif as well. Yet, for some reason, I can’t quite direct my anger the same way at her as I can at the man sitting before me. A man who should have told me the truth about myself. About everything.
“Did you and Latif have a good laugh about how little I know?” I ask. “About how Latif can, with a little vow, make me dance like a puppet on strings?”
“Cavas, we never—”
“Did Latif tell you what he promised me if I could get Gul into the palace? How he took advantage of our desperation and lied?”
“Did he really lie, Cavas? Or did you simply choose not to believe him when he asked you to wait a little longer to get us out of here?”
“You don’t understand!” I snap. “If I try to save Gul, then the Sky Warriors will come after me. After you. I don’t care about myself, but if anything happens to you—”
“Then what? Will you stop living? You can’t let your fear for me shackle you into this position, son. I am your father, not your jailer.”
I want to argue back, tell him how wrong he is, but every retort that comes to my mind feels weak, fades before the compassion in his eyes.
“In this scroll, Govind described the argument you both had,” Papa continues. “He wrote about how he couldn’t tell you more about why Latif died. But don’t blame Govind, my son. He has a family, and he’s afraid. Don’t blame Latif, either. Blame me. I’m the one who remains at fault for your ignorance—I made Govind and Latif promise not to tell you.”
I hold my breath as Papa pauses for a moment.
“Govind, Latif, and I—we worked at the palace together for several years,” my father begins. “I worked under Govind, who had been promoted to stable master. Latif was the head gardener, of course; earth magic had run in his family for generations.
“We were close, the three of us—all outcasts in some way. I was a non-magus. Govind had a mother from Samudra, which made the others suspicious of him during the Three-Year War and even afterward when it was over. As for Latif—well, Latif had opinions about everything, including the new king. Old Rani Megha had ignored Latif—I think his insults amused her—but Raja Lohar was different. He didn’t like criticism or want any dissent from his subjects. Latif got into trouble once for calling Lohar the tyrant stepson of a tyrant queen.”
“Was that why he was arrested?” I ask, feeling uneasy. “Why he was killed?”
“Oh no. That happened later.” Papa’s face grows hard. “After the Three-Year War came to an end, Lohar brought in a new queen—Rajkumari Juhi from Samudra.”
Juhi? “Surely you don’t mean…”
“Yes, the very same Juhi who wrote that letter to us,” Papa says. “She was different from Lohar’s other queens; she didn’t act like the servants were beneath her notice—even if they were non-magi. She became friends with Govind because of his Samudra connection, and later with Latif. She was the only royal who willingly took my hand to climb onto her horse—not because she needed the help but because she hated how the other queens treated me. Over time, she won our loyalty and our trust. We knew we had to get her out, help her escape.
“We made a plan and staged a diversion—Latif, Govind, and I. We set fire to the garden, while Juhi was supposedly there and faked her death. In the chaos, we sneaked her out through the Way of the Guard—a secret underground passage within Ambar Fort. Security at the time wasn’t as stringent as it is today. Since the fire happened
