the silhouette of a graceful servant approaching. He silently prays for the servant to bring no new reports, no new rumblings of still more troubles in the farthest reaches of the kingdom, and, above all, no word of still more poisonings — indeed, the Layzin would be pleased with no message at all.
But he knows that it cannot be so: not at this moment in the life of the kingdom. Thus he is unsurprised when the youth — some seventeen years of age, with a powerful body plainly visible through his own very sheer white robes — delicately steps out onto the veranda, made timid by the thought of disturbing his master.
“It’s all right, Entenne,” the Layzin says softly. “I am not sleeping.”
“Thank you, master,” the youth Entenne says. “Her blessedness, the First Wife of Kafra, has returned from Davon Wood.”
“Ah.” The Layzin sets down his goblet, believing his prayers for good news to have been answered. “Excellent.”
The youth wrings his hands in distress. “Apparently there was an — an
The Layzin appears pained. “All right. Then let her enter.”
The youth slips from the veranda as silently as he entered it; and in moments a young woman with a long, striking sweep of black hair and brilliant green eyes enters. She wears a robe of black edged in silver, and moves with confident strides toward the Layzin, her remarkably fit legs appearing through long slits in the robe. Kneeling, she takes the Layzin’s ring hand when it is offered, and kisses the pale blue stone, which appears all the paler under the brilliance of her green eyes. She kisses the stone a second, then a third time, after which she holds the hand tightly to her neck.
“Master. I have succeeded. In the name of the God-King, and for his sake. The animal is within the palace. The children are outside.”
The Layzin leans down to her. “And this ‘encounter,’ Alandra† …?”
The woman looks up at him, smiling yet momentarily concerned. “A party of Bane foragers, Eminence. Before their Horn had sounded. No harm was done — I believe they suspected sorcery.”
The Layzin cups the woman’s chin, admiring its perfect angle and size. “And would they have been so very wrong? I sometimes wonder …” He stands. “The animal is for tonight. Saylal is most anxious. And the children — their parents agreed?”
“Yes, Eminence. It was only a matter of money.”
“And what are the ages?”
“Twelve years the boy, eleven the girl.”
“Ideal. We must prepare them at once. The others …” The Layzin looks at the guards before the Inner City gates once more: “The others are dying more quickly than we can dispose of them … And it grows harder to greet those who replace them, knowing …” He rouses himself. “But it must be done — and so bring them to me, Alandra …”
The woman departs; and for several disconcerting moments, the Layzin tries, with every ounce of strength, to continue looking out over the city; anywhere, save west, at—
The woman reappears, this time accompanied by two children, who wear clothes of a rough fabric. They are fair-haired, with light young eyes that peer out from pale faces in wonder and fear. Guided by the woman, they approach the Layzin, who smiles gently at them.
“Do you know why you are here, children?” he says. Both the boy and the girl shake their heads, and the Layzin laughs quietly. “Your family has given you in service to the God-King Saylal. What that means is very simple —” The Layzin glances up when he hears the musical rattle of glass, and sees the woman Alandra within the bedchamber, preparing two deep blue glasses with lemon water, the new granulated crystals known as
The Layzin takes the two glasses from Alandra, and hands one to each child. They drink cautiously, at first, then eagerly, when they taste the sweet liquid. “Good,” the Layzin pronounces. “Very good. Now—” Tenderly, the Layzin kisses each child on the forehead. “Go along with your mistress,” he whispers. “And remember — obey, always.”
Looking more confused than they did on entering — but also undisturbed, now, by that confusion — the children follow the First Wife of Kafra out of the room.
“Entenne?” the Layzin calls softly; and the youthful servant reappears. “Run to the home of Lord Baster-kin. Say to him that I am unwell, after the exertions of the day, and will not be able to attend his dinner. Express my apologies.”
Entenne nods, and goes down on one knee. “Of course, Eminence,” he says, kissing his master’s ring and departing quickly.
The Layzin then reclines upon one of his sofas, grimly determined to enjoy the remainder of the sunset. He has suddenly realized that much of his disquiet, this evening, has been most immediately caused by Lord Baster- kin’s characteristically relentless insistence that the matter of Sentek Arnem’s son entering the sacred service be pressed upon the great soldier’s wife at once.
He might have known it would be just the sort of commission that would delight the Merchant Lord …
Several additional moments of similarly irritating ruminations continue to give the Layzin scant relief; and his mood does not truly improve until he catches sight of the youth Entenne departing the House of the Wives and moving onto the near-empty Celestial Way. The pleasant image of his favorite servant setting off at a run, southeast into the wealthiest residential section of the First District, prompts the Layzin to marvel, as he so often has, at the power and grace of Entenne’s long, muscular legs; and all thoughts of Lord Baster-kin’s aggressively pious preoccupations (which are no doubt patriotic and faithful, at heart, the Layzin eventually decides) dissipate, as the herald vanishes from view. His Eminence then allows himself to recline more fully and rest more completely, as the dusty golden light that fills the city at this peaceful, divine hour slowly begins to give way to equally serene nightfall; and he allows himself to hope — even to believe — that all in Broken will yet be well, despite the shrouded ills that beset the entirety of the kingdom, from the depths of the seemingly serene Lake of a Dying Moon behind the Inner City walls to the farthest towns and villages in the Meloderna Valley, into which the loyal soldiers of the God-King are even now making their way.
1:{xvi:}
Isadora Arnem’s children bring her signs of a deadly mystery, one
that only she may be able to understand — and put to use …
Quietly gazing from one of the tall, open windows of the sitting room that overlooks the unique garden of her family’s home, Isadora Arnem appears to be both keeping watch overher children, who have gathered about the stream in their walled wilderness, as well as preparing to attend to several of the vital trivialities of a mother’s existence: sewing, mending, settling household accounts, and writing letters. And, were her husband merely on duty in the Fourth District, or had Sixt left the city on some trivial military matter, such would doubtless be the sorts of activities with which Lady Arnem’s mind and hands would now, in fact, be preoccupied. But this is early evening on the day following the departure of the Talons from the city, and the commencement of their campaign against the Bane in Davon Wood has complicated the affairs of Sixt’s family ominously: for Isadora has already received written inquiries from Lord Baster-kin, expressing the Grand Layzin’s desire to know when the priests of Kafra may expect to receive Dalin Arnem as one of their acolytes …
