YASH TOOK the jar of salt and left Coral’s tower, returning to the shadows where she had hidden her weapons and Needle’s head. A chill was in the air, and through the stink of fire and sewage and other smells her nose did not understand, a little breeze intruded with the scent of juniper and pine on it. She looked up, tracing her eyes over the stars. In the east, an orange moon was rising into a clear sky. But in the north and west, the stars wavered. The distant shadow of an approaching storm.
“Deng’jah?” she whispered.
“I’m here,” the insect said, appearing on her shoulder. “That was an evil place. I could not enter it. I’m glad you returned. Did you kill Master Coral?”
“No,” she replied. “That’s for later.” She laughed softly.
“What is it?” Deng’jah asked.
“You called it an evil place. Yet of the tower masters I’ve met so far… Coral is not the worst. I almost liked him.”
“He may actually be the worst,” Deng’jah said. “Certainly the danger I sense there is the greatest so far.”
“Maybe,” Yash said. “But still, he has redeeming qualities.”
“First mercy to the woman and the soldiers, and now you like one of your most dangerous adversaries?” Deng’jah asked. “Do you need me to remind you of your purpose? It is one of my tasks.”
“Oh, calm yourself,” Yash said. “I will kill Master Coral when the time comes. But I do not need to hate him to do it.”
“It helps,” Deng’jah said.
“Does it?” Yash asked. “I doubt that. And I know why I’m here. That’s all that’s necessary. Come on.”
“You aren’t taking your weapons?”
“To see Bright? They didn’t help much last time, did they? No, it would only make matters more difficult.”
* * *
THIS TIME Yash entered Bright’s tower by the front entrance. The guards searched her person for weapons, as she had known they would, but when they reached for the bag, Yash pulled it close.
“This is for Master Bright, and Master Bright alone,” she said. “I came down earlier, you remember.”
“Yes, I remember,” said an older guard whose eyebrows were half silver. “But you didn’t have that with you.”
“I’m supposed to bring it up and show no one. Go ask him, if you doubt me.”
The older guard waved at a younger one, who ran up the stairs like an antelope. As she waited, Yash smiled.
“You’re new to the fortress?” the older man ventured.
“I have not been here long,” she replied.
“I’m Thesh Deh, the xi of this bunch. How are you called?”
“Tchiił.”
“Where from?”
“Tugan,” she lied. Tugan was in the Empire, albeit at the very western edge. She had been there and spoke some of the language.
“Oh,” he said. “That far? Have you ever seen the ocean?”
“Once, when I was younger,” Yash said. It wasn’t a lie. She really had been to the ocean, not far from Tugan. It was one of her favorite memories. She had chased the waves, battled them with driftwood clubs, eaten oysters raw from their shells. She had ridden in a sea canoe, watched dolphins play. She had seen whales.
“How much younger could you have been?” Deh asked. But he was smiling. “I’ve never seen it. But I’ve been downstream, at Irthoq, where the rivers converge. I’ve seen the lake.”
Yash nodded. “I’ll bet it was beautiful. I would like to see that one day.”
“Count yourself lucky to still be here in the fortress,” Deh said. “We could be fighting the barbarians in the highlands. That’s nasty business, I can tell you now.”
“You’ve been there?” she asked, looking at Deh with new eyes.
“I fought in the Yechi Valley,” he said. “We lost hundreds of soldiers, for what? Red rocks and sand, and the barbarians took it back three years later anyway. I don’t see what the Emperor wants up there. Better to let them have it, I would think. But the Emperor knows more than I do.”
Yash knew the battle. She had been eleven. Four of her cousins had died there. Shede’e, her mother’s brother, had died there.
“That sounds bad,” she said. “I don’t know anything about it.”
“It wasn’t a famous battle,” he said. “Almost no one has heard of it. But I lost friends there.”
Everyone Yash knew had heard of it. Everyone she knew had lost family there. But she didn’t say anything. She just smiled.
“You’re right,” she said. “We’re lucky to be here, where we’re safe.”
Deh’s expression grew more serious. “Yes,” he said. “Safe. But don’t—that is to say, be careful around the tower masters. You’ve been up there, and obviously you’re well. But, where you’re from, I’m sure your family is important, or you wouldn’t be a courier. You’d be one of us. But even a courier…” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “Be careful, that’s all. Don’t offend them. Don’t imagine you are their equal. Do what they say, and don’t complain. Don’t look at them too much, especially Master Bright.” He glanced at the bag. “And if one of them gives you something to give to another…” He looked meaningfully at the sack she was holding. “Be sure it’s something they… ah… want.”
“I wasn’t supposed to look,” Yash said. “I don’t know what’s in it.”
“Then you had better not,” Deh said. “But, good luck. Ah, there’s Dar back.”
The younger guard reappeared at the bottom of the stairs.
“He says to bring the bag up and not to search it,” Dar said.
“Well,” Deh the xi said. “Go on up. But remember what we talked about.”
* * *
ZU MET the barbarian in the Jeweled Room again, surrounded by his xualudeh. The guard’s announcement of Tchiił’s arrival had given him a little time to overcome his astonishment and to have a small table placed in the center of the room. And to think more carefully about consequences and possibilities.
What it came down to: he had not really expected the barbarian to succeed. In fact, he had begun to worry that the failed attempt on Dzhesq’s life would draw attention to him. What if the barbarian implicated him in an attempt to save himself? He could dismiss the claim, but it might yet leave a cloud over him. The Emperor could decide that even a slight possibility that Tchiił was telling the truth constituted an unacceptable risk.
It seemed he needn’t have worried—about that, anyway. But for the moment, all he saw was a barbarian and a sack.
“Is that what I think it is?” Zu asked.
Tchiił reached into the bag and withdrew a head.
“Place it on the table,” Zu said.
Tchiił did as directed and then stepped back. Zu approached the severed head, walking completely around it as he examined it. At first, he had his doubts. It looked so unreal. Was it even a head? The eyes looked like dull gems, the flesh like wax. There was blood, and the neck was severed unevenly…
His feelings came at him in a rush. It was Dzhesq. A hje, like him. He remembered those same eyes, full of life as they sat through their first communing, the scent of resin and smoke, the full moon above, the wailing song of the Imprecators. Later, bathing and playing in the river, splashing one another. Most of the other tower masters were far older or younger than he. Dzhesq had been his age.
A long time ago, they had been friends. A very long time ago.
He smelled salt and realized he was weeping.
“Dzhesq.” Zu sighed. “You fool.” He stroked the dead sorcerer’s hair. He looked up at the barbarian. “This is his fault,” he said. “He should have known better than to cross wits with me. Still, I am saddened that it has come to this.”
“I’ve done as you asked,” Tchiił said.
Zu nodded. “I see that,” he said.
“I expect you will now do as you promised.”
“Do you?” Zu asked. “I see that you do. And yet it is not that simple. When you were last here, I was uncertain whether you could do it. Kill a tower master. After all, you failed to kill me. But now that you have, it presents me with a small problem. With Dzhesq dead, the Emperor will become concerned. There is a balance of power in this fortress, and without Dzhesq, it shifts somewhat. The Emperor may act to correct that shift.”
“I will never tell anyone of our agreement,” Tchiił said. “Even if I am caught, the Emperor will believe I killed Master Needle for my own reasons.”
“Even if he believes that, the Emperor will not like losing an ally. He will replace Dzhesq with someone he can trust, or he may eliminate one of my supporters. Or most likely, both.”
“As you said,” the barbarian replied. “I do not understand your politics.”
“I know,” Zu said. “It is one of my faults that I assume others are my intellectual equals. I apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to explain. I should have skipped the hunt and gone right to the kill. Now that Dzhesq is dead, I need you to kill four other tower masters. Hsij of the Yellow Bone Tower, Sha of the Sharp Horn Tower, Xuehehs of the Obsidian Spear, and Qaxh of the Red Coral Tower.”
Tchiił blinked. “That wasn’t our agreement,” he said.
“No. It wasn’t. My apologies. But we must have a new agreement.”
The barbarian looked away, his eyes picking around the room. Perhaps remembering his last time here.
“Very well,” Tchiił said. “Clearly you are in command here. I will do as you say. I will kill the tower masters you name.”
“I thought we could come to an understanding,” Zu said.
“And I will kill all of the others, as well,” the barbarian continued. “Starting with you.”
For a moment, Zu thought Tchiił was joking. He was smiling after all. But the threat hung there for too long. Then Tchiił took a step toward Zu.
“Xualudeh, defend me,” he shouted.
Instantly the creatures emerged from their holes in the wall, eyes already blazing.