is dead, and now you're going to have what should have been yours a long time ago. You would never have let this happen.'
Hyrkallan's brow furrowed and for a moment he looked lost and confused. Then he shook it off. 'Sell-swords. Shit-eaters. That's what we're worth to Zafir. She probably doesn't even know we exist.' He grinned then and laughed. 'If you really want to sting her, burn her eyries.' He spat. 'Yes, Rider Semian. Go burn her palace. If you can.' They were all still looking at him in silence. 'A pox on all of you.'
They watched as Hyrkallan left them, great in his day yet now old and worn. No one said a word. Or maybe GarHannas had said something. Jostan wasn't sure. They all watched B'thannan fly away into the dawn sky and vanish, and then they stared, lost in thought perhaps, or lost in wonder, or simply lost.
'Riders!' The crack of Semian's voice jerked Jostan awake. He felt as though he'd been sleeping and someone had tipped a bucket of water over him. He shook himself and looked around.
Next to him, Shanzir almost fell over.
'What happened?' she whispered. She looked confused.
A dozen yards away, GarHannas held his head in his hands.
'What have we done?'
'Riders!' shouted Semian again. 'Red Riders! Hyrkallan is gone. He has left us, but we remain. We are the Red Riders! We were forged together and we will follow our purpose to our death if that is what the fates demand. I say again, we alone remain! I will lead those who will have me, and we will take the fight to where it belongs. We will fly our dragons to the walls of the speaker's palace and we will make her burn! Stay or go, but do it now.'
Most of them stayed. All except GarHannas and a couple of others, who milled around aimlessly, confused and desolate, only to be herded towards their dragons and sent on their way with rude haste. Semian couldn't hide his glee once they were gone. He stood with the blood-mage beside him and smiled, nodding. It made Jostan feel sick. And yet I stay. Why?
He couldn't listen to another of Semian's speeches so he stumbled back towards their tent to find Nthandra, only to be met by a scream. As he drew near, she staggered out, wearing only a shirt, her hands pressed between her legs. There was blood running down her thighs. Jostan froze; his stomach turned to lead. His face and his hands went numb. He felt distant tears roll down his cheeks. In a flash, he knew exactly what this was. This was the sacrifice Kithyr had demanded.
'Oh…' He couldn't speak. His lips were made of wood and his tongue tasted of ash. He reached for her and she recoiled, shrieking and wailing like an animal. Then she looked at him as though he was mad. He wasn't sure, through her grief, that she even knew who he was.
'The blood-mage. He did this.' He shook his head. Any moment now he was going to be sick. She's just a girl. 'I am so sorry. I knew…' He was shaking, horror and rage flooding together. She's too young to be a rider. 'I should have…' He was after her right from the start, from the moment we came… 'I'm sorry, Nthandra of the Vale. It's too late, I know, but I'll stop him, Nthandra. Whatever it is, I'll stop him.' He sighed and held his head in his hands, then screwed up his face and screamed at the sky.
No, you won't,' said a voice behind him. An edge burned across his throat. His mouth filled with something hot and salty and he started to choke. He staggered and coughed and blood gushed out of his mouth. He turned and then fell over. He could hear singing. The Picker was standing over him, holding a knife so thin that you could see right through it. Or you could have, if it hadn't had Jostan's blood all over it.
'Suppose you should have gone with the others.' The Picker shrugged and walked away, and all Jostan could see was the sky, fierce and bright. The singing was getting louder. He heard Semian somewhere far away, bellowing promises of blood and fire and victory, and then the singing swallowed everything.
And then it stopped and there was nothing.
Two
Of Princes and Queens
8
'Can I kill your bride yet?' Speaker Zafir curled her arm around Prince Jehal and stretched her long neck, tilting back her head, inviting Jehal to sink his teeth into her throat. He duly obliged, nibbling gently at her skin. A few feet to one side of him was a bed. Their bed, high up in the topmost room of the Tower of Air, scattered with silk sheets from the silkworm farms on Tyan's Peninsula. His farms.
'That would hardly be wise, my love.' A few feet the other way was a gaping open arch. More silk fluttered in the breeze. Beyond that, a tiny balcony; then nothing but air and the hard ground of the Speaker's Yard a hundred feet below. He liked it up here. For the view across the palace and the City of Dragons beyond and then the sheer dark cliffs of the Purple Spur and the glittering rain from the Diamond Cascade.
And yes, for the bed too. Although sometimes, when push came to shove as it always did when they were alone, he wondered what would happen if he pushed for the window instead. Two speakers lulling to their death in such quick succession would show such a lack of imagination though…
'I was wondering whether to have her poisoned, or whether I should simply slit her throat.'
Tedious, tedious. Jehal put on his best smile. How many times had they talked about this? He gave a petulant little sigh and stepped away from her, a little closer to the arch and the empty air. 'Must we go over this again? Lystra is Queen Shezira's daughter. Her other two daughters are already riled enough. They have well over three hundred dragons between them and they want your head. The speaker is supposed to weld the realms into a unity of peace and harmony, not start a war. You should let Shezira and King Valgar go.'
Zafir snorted and turned away from him. 'Let them go, let them go – that's all you ever say. I'm beginning to think you're far too attached to this new family of yours. Let them go? Why? So Shezira can wage war on me? I'd rather face the skinny little rag of a daughter that rests so uncomfortably on her throne. So Valgar can stir trouble on my borders? Let his feeble-minded wife be the thorn in my side.'
She was flaunting herself, letting him see the slit of her under-gown, the long gash of naked skin beneath, all the way to the small of her back. She knew exactly what she was doing, of course. He felt himself stir. 'Not so feeble, my love. She is undoubtedly supporting the Red Riders.'
Zafir threw back her head and laughed and brushed her fingers over the silk sheets on the bed. 'The Red Riders? Twenty dragons loose on my borders, and so far all they've done is burn a few peasants. If that's the best she can do then I've no fear of her. No, they're just loose ends that our idiot Night Watchman failed to clean up when Shezira murdered my husband. Let them brood in the Worldspine for a few weeks. They'll go home soon enough.'
'They stole five of your dragons and they burned Drotan's Top.'
'And I've already taken three of them back. They tickled my feet, Jehal, that's all. Drotan's Top was some huts on a hill. And they didn't burn it. They didn't dare.'
'I remember your face when you first heard the news, my love. Dark and stormy as the Endless Sea.'
She pouted at him. 'They won't be allowed to do it again. The Red Riders are barely even a nuisance now. I'm inclined to let them be for a while. We can make some sport with them after I kill their queen.'
Jehal shifted on his feet. 'They make me nervous.' If I were you, I'd stamp on them. But I'm not, and sometimes it amuses me to watch you falter. He smiled at her. 'Hyrkallan leads them and he's no fool'
Now she yawned. 'Then he'll know to give up and go home.' 'Don't be so sure, my love. He might just burn something that matters first.' He moved behind her and ran his fingers along the skin of her spine. 'Show some grace. Let Shezira go. Let the cloud of suspicion hang over her for the rest of her reign. Let everyone wonder whether Hyram fell or whether he was pushed. The longer you hold her, the more your enemies will rally under her banner. Let her go and some will start to question her. Your Red Riders will quietly fade and disperse.'
Zafir waved him away. 'The world thinks* Valgar tried to have me killed. I'd look laughably weak if I let him go.'
Here we go again. 'Fine, fine. Hang Valgar if you have to hang someone. But let Shezira go.'
