78: FATAL IMPROVISATIONS
(Teraeth’s story)
The problem with assassinations is that they rely as much on blind luck as careful planning and meticulous execution. A hapless fool might get lucky, while an expert assassin who had spent years carefully monitoring and planning their strike might find their target unexpectedly changing plans, sitting in the wrong spot, choosing the steak instead of their normal evening oysters.
Of course, the hapless fool was usually found and killed quickly after their unexpected success, while the expert had a backup plan and an escape route in case of complications.
Since Teraeth had neither a backup plan nor an escape route and was basically making this up as he went, he was uncomfortably aware of which category he fell into at that moment.
“Come on, Taja,” he muttered under his breath. “You like Kihrin, right? He’ll vouch for me.”
Teraeth had passed by the entrance to the palace a dozen times, always using a different disguise, which would mean nothing if he chose to wander too close to wards designed to strip away exactly the sort of illusion he was using. Teraeth wasn’t trying to make it inside the palace, however. He was observing.
The vané royal palace wasn’t located on the branches of the Mother of Trees, as the rest of the capital was. Instead, it nestled into the tree itself. It had no windows. No way for any ne’er-do-well or miscreant to find their way inside except to pass through the same set of doors everyone used, from king to merchant. That passage into the palace was arguably the most heavily warded doorway in the entire world.1 Inside, illusions created the appearance of windows, of wide and sweeping views of the phosphorescent forests. Magic kept the air fresh. Magic took care of the sanitation. There was a Gatestone, but it was even more heavily warded and guarded than the front door. The palace itself had been—not carved—but trained into the tree, a kind of massive negative topiary. Rumor had it that even the ants, bugs, and various vermin sheltering in the tree herself acted as active guards. The palace was luxurious, beautiful, and mind-numbingly secure.
The Manol royal palace had never fallen to attack in the entire history of the vané, not even when Terindel had waged his war against Khaevatz. The only successful assassination ever carried out within its walls had been Miyathreall’s assassination of Khaeriel, and technically speaking, Miyathreall hadn’t survived it.
Everyone knew attempting an assassination within the palace walls was suicide. But Teraeth was of the opinion that worked to his advantage. When people think they’re vulnerable is exactly when people gird their loins, board up all the windows, and take sensible precautions. And conversely, when people know they’re completely safe …
Well. That’s when security is sacrificed in the name of convenience. That’s when matters are allowed to get a little sloppy. Sure, Kelanis logically knew the Black Brotherhood would not be happy with him—he’d broken his word to Thaena, after all—but that had to be fighting with the emotional certainty no one would ever, could ever reach him.
To make matters worse for Kelanis and better for Teraeth, there was the rather inconvenient matter of royal blood. Most of the magical defenses of the palace were designed to allow access to a cleared group of staff and the royal family itself. Khaeriel, ironically, might still be perfectly capable of entering the palace grounds because she now inhabited the body of Queen Miyane’s sister. Teraeth, meanwhile, was the half brother of Kelanis and Khaeriel’s mother, Khaevatz, which meant that he was technically a member of the royal family, regardless of whether or not his father still counted.
If Kelanis was smart—and he did seem to be smart—that would virtually guarantee the need to come up with new security arrangements, something that didn’t depend on bloodlines. Except, of course, that unpredictable, last-minute changes in procedure and schedule were just the sort of thing that encouraged mistakes and made Teraeth’s job much easier. The vané were no more immune to bureaucratic errors than anyone else.
Teraeth watched the comings and goings of the palace retinue, retainers, and guests for a while longer. Then he gave the palace a wink on his last pass and headed back to the silk farm.
Normally, Teraeth liked to have more time. Significantly more time. He didn’t enjoy making it up as he went. But at least there was a Black Brotherhood chapter house; the silk farm proved every sort of useful.
He avoided Khaeriel while he made the preparations. The supplies he needed were easy to obtain, but he’d didn’t want any of it traced back to the safe house. Unfortunately, Kelanis had every bit as much motive to see Khaeriel and Doc done away with as the reverse.
Teraeth had finished his last preparations, which included a well-deserved bath, and dressed for the job. Which was when he discovered he’d lost his necklace.
Technically, this wasn’t important. Technically. However, in reality, even if he didn’t always wear it (especially not on jobs), he fastidiously made certain he knew where it was at all times. And when he did wear it, Teraeth often used it as a talisman, which made it extremely important to keep it from falling into unfriendly hands. That necklace was his most cherished possession.
He searched the entirety of the washroom (normally for washing silk fibers, converted into something more standardly utilitarian for the safe house’s new guests) but couldn’t find the pendant anywhere. And he knew he’d been wearing it when he came inside.
Doc? Maybe. Certainly Doc could have easily made it inside the washroom without anyone noticing. He was even better at moving around quietly than Kihrin, although in Doc’s case, he did have to know you were there. Still, Teraeth couldn’t imagine who else could have taken the necklace.
He walked outside to find Doc, when he saw Janel leaning against one of the ant houses, one arm crossed over her chest, the second arm held out, spinning his necklace on her index finger.
Teraeth stopped. “Where did you find that?”
Janel stopped spinning the necklace, holding it up to look at the black arrowhead that formed the main pendant. “This was the arrow that killed Atrin Kandor, wasn’t it? The actual arrowhead.”
Teraeth cleared his throat. “Yes.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Has anyone ever told you how remarkably unhealthy keeping something like this around as a memento is? Although I believe the expression Kihrin would use would be: ‘That’s fucked up.’”
Teraeth held out his hand. “Give it to me.”
She closed her fingers around the necklace. “Of course. After you agree that I’m coming with you.”
Teraeth’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
Janel pushed herself away from the ant house and walked over to him. She had a way of swaying her hips that made him …
Teraeth reminded himself to focus.
She stopped before him and held up the necklace. “I know where you’re going,” Janel said, “and I want to come along.”
Teraeth cleared his throat. “Much as I’d like to think you meant that as an invitation to the bedroom—”
“I’m serious.”
Teraeth had his doubts but was equally sure he’d regret saying so. “All right. You’re serious. Why do you want to come along?”
She crossed her arms over her chest, tucking his necklace out of sight. “Because. I don’t like Kelanis. I’d like to see him dead. And I’d like to confirm he does not, in fact, have Kihrin.”
He hesitated. “This isn’t … This isn’t like being on the field of battle. I’m not saying you can’t do it, just that it’s not the sort of thing I’d ever expect you to want to do.”
“Oh, I’m not going to assassinate anyone,” Janel said. “Do you honestly think I’d be able to get anywhere near Kelanis? No. But I do know a few tricks that might prove useful. I can be a distraction. I’m very good at distraction.”
“You distract me constantly, but I don’t think that’s what you meant.”
“No, I meant we’re on a tree and I excel at making things burn.”
A small worm of possibility began to thread its way up the back of Teraeth’s spine. He frowned at her. “We’d never pass you off as a vané. Any illusions would be stripped away as soon as you entered the palace, unless we used Chainbreaker. And if we did that, we might as well bring Doc along for the rest of the assassination and make it a party.”
“Which we both know is not a good idea,” Janel said. “I can’t recommend we let either Doc or Khaeriel anywhere near there. It just seems like asking for trouble.”
“Right, so…”
“Teraeth,” Janel said gently, “if illusions won’t work, how are you planning on breaking in?”
Teraeth started to tell her that didn’t matter. He stopped himself. “My way was going to be a little … messy.”
She gave him an incredulous stare. “You thought I’d be put off by violence? Have you met me?”
“Not that kind of messy. But once past the main entrance, illusions will work again, so from that point forward, I’ll be golden.” He chewed on his lip as he considered her. “I’m not that good with voices, you realize, so I don’t suggest you talk to anyone once we’re inside.”
The corner of her lips rose. “I think I can manage.”
“I’ve seen no evidence that’s true.”
“Said the snake to the serpent,” Janel replied.
He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Fine, but I would plead for your help in one small area.”
“Yes?” She looked ever so slightly wary.
“Teach me about idorrá and thudajé,” Teraeth said. “We somehow never got around to talking about that in the Afterlife.”
“No, I suppose we never did.” Janel visibly relaxed. “I should have done that weeks ago.”
Teraeth held out his hand. “The necklace, if you don’t mind.”
She looked him in the eyes, lifted up the necklace, and then quite deliberately fastened it around her own neck, so the arrow point fell just above her cleavage. “I’ll just keep this safe for you.”
Teraeth was surprised to realize that idea didn’t especially bother him, although it did make him want to delay going out in favor of admiring her wearing that necklace and nothing else. “All right,” he said, smiling. “You do that.”