and the answering genuflection of twelve ghostly water trees.
Yet it was not this grandiose beauty that caught my breath. It was the soldiers posted every few lengths around the terrace walls.
“Holy Shola,” I whispered. “So many.”
The eunuch glanced back at me. “There are fewer alongside the empress’s residence,” he said softly.
It was logical; the residence was empty. Sethon had not summoned his old wife to sit by his side as empress. Still, even with fewer guards, the avenue between the residence and the West Temple would make an excellent trap if the eunuch planned to betray us, after all.
Vida’s hand tightened around her knife; she must have come to the same conclusion. If it came to a fight, there would not be much I could do. Every step I took brought a fresh welling of blood through my fingers, and a chill had settled on my skin. Even worse, there was a lightness in my head that made the world pitch and sway.
We crossed the perimeter of the forecourt, the eunuch keeping us at the edge of the light thrown by the bronze braziers. The two soldiers at the corner of the empress’s residence shifted to watch us walk by. I clamped my fingers more tightly around my arm, hoping they could not see the dark saturation of blood on my silk sleeve. A strange sound brought my head up. One of the soldiers was kissing the air, gesturing at his groin. His partner snorted, the noise attracting the attention of two sentries farther along the wall. The eunuch looked back at us, his eyes wide with terror.
“Turn around,” Vida whispered urgently. He obeyed, but his body was stiff with fear.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Dela gesture obscenely at the gyrating kisser. “You wish,” she called, her voice rough.
He gestured back, but subsided.
I lifted my chin, fighting to keep my breath even.
“Keep moving,” Dela urged softly.
We turned into the wide lane that ran between the temple and the empress’s residence. At the very end was the main palace wall, and beneath it, the dark track of the servants’ path. So far away. We had to pass at least ten more sentries along the terrace wall. I fixed my eyes on the ground and concentrated on keeping up with the eunuch’s brisk pace. A mesmerizing pattern of light and dark stones passed beneath my feet. I counted the sentries, trying to focus past the racing rhythm of my heart. Four … five … six. My whole being listened for a shout or the hiss of a drawn blade, but all I could hear was my hard breathing and the shrill, throbbing song of the frogs in the water garden.
The palace wall loomed ahead. We passed the last sentry and I saw his head turn to follow our progress. The urge to run the last few lengths surged through me. I grabbed Vida’s arm, praying I would not stagger. We finally crunched onto the rough gravel of the servants’ path — dark, narrow, and thank the gods, deserted.
Dela ushered us behind the thick hedge grown to hide the passage of the palace menials. Vida half carried me along the dim, pot-holed path until I stumbled and pitched forward, kicking up a spray of dirt and pebbles. Strong hands caught me under my arms and eased me onto the uneven ground.
“Put your head between your knees,” Dela said, pressing my head down. She crouched in front of me and pulled my hand off my arm. The wet dressing stuck to my palm and yanked the cloth out of the wound, ripping a gasp from me.
“Sorry,” Dela whispered. “Vida, I think she’s still bleeding. Get something else to bind it.”
I hung my head, breathing through the pain. The world was spinning around me again.
Vida took Dela’s place in front of me. “Let me have a look.”
The eunuch peered over her shoulder. She took my arm in a firm grasp and peeled back a larger section of the cloth with a low grunt of concern. “There’s not enough light to see properly, but from the feel of this bandage, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
She unwound the sash from her waist and folded it into a pad, then pressed it over the wet dressing, using the ends to tie it in place.
“Hold it up against your chest,” she said, lifting my arm across my body. The weak moonlight caught her frown. “Your skin is cold.”
I caught her sleeve. “Don’t let me pass out. If I pass out, I won’t be able to heal Ido. Everything will be lost.”
At Ido’s name the eunuch stepped back. “Do you mean Lord Ido, the Dragoneye? The prisoner?” He retreated a few more steps, pebbles clinking loudly in the sudden tense silence. “I thought you were Blossom Women. Who are you?”
Dela stepped up to him, her hands held out as though she were calming a nervous horse.
“It’s all right,” she said, then punched him in the face, the snapping blow so fast and so heavy that he staggered backward, sat down on the pebbles, then toppled over.
I gaped at the still figure lying in front of me. Knocked on his arse like the eunuch clown in the fool’s opera.
The ludicrous comparison rose through my shock in a quivering curl of laughter. I bit down on the building wave of whimsy — it was callous and wrong — but it broke out of me in uncontrollable giggles. I clamped my hand over my mouth. It had to stop. The poor eunuch had been punched senseless. We were in extreme danger. Which was suddenly hilarious. I rocked forward and shoved my bloodied knuckles into my mouth, trying to force back the spasms that caught my breath into snorting gasps.
Vida stared at me, a horrified smile pulling at her lips.
“Stop it,” she hissed. The words hiccupped into a snuffling giggle. She pressed both hands against her mouth. “Stop it.” But her shoulders shook, her eyes filling with tears. The sight pushed me further into gulping spasms.
Dela’s hands caught my shoulders, holding me still.
“Eona, calm down. You’ve lost a lot of blood. You need to
The low urgency in her voice broke through my hysteria. I sucked in a breath, fighting for control. The fluttering crest of a giggle ebbed away, leaving only the thudding pain in my arm.
Dela looked at Vida. “I don’t know what
Vida wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”
“Get up and help me roll him under the hedge.”
“Is he all right?” I asked.
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean.” Dela hooked her hands under my armpits and helped me to my feet. For a moment everything was still, then the hedge and the wall rushed past me in a spin of nausea. I swayed and fell back into the tight embrace of Dela’s arms.
“Eona?” Her face blurred in and out of focus.
My heartbeat resonated in my ears, fast and labored. At the base of my skull, a sick ache drummed in the same ominous rhythm.
“Get me to Ido, quick,” I said, the words like sludge in my mouth.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DELA HITCHED ME up higher on her back and edged into the shadowy portico of the Pavilion of Autumnal Justice. Under the tight hook of my good arm, I felt her chest still heaving from the effort of sprinting from the Pavilion of Five Ghosts. I blinked through my own weariness; I had to stay awake. Already I had half stepped into the shadow world twice; only Vida’s vigilant pinches had pulled me back from crossing into oblivion.
Dela’s quick breathing lengthened into a sigh. The portico was empty. Yuso and Ryko had not yet arrived. Had they been caught? Were they still alive? I pushed the grim rush of possibilities away. They must make it to the pavilion: without them, our soldier and Blossom Woman ruse would not succeed.
I licked my lips, trying to find some spittle in my mouth. The last time I’d felt such thirst had been at the salt farm. Dela pointed to a tall, heavily carved recess: its dark alcove held the promise of good concealment and a decent view of the courtyard and cells. With Vida leading, we crept to our new vantage point using the thick