Khriss frowned, regarding the creature that had once been her betrothed. He sickened her. Not his appearance, but his attitude. Maybe being on dayside had convinced him of what he really was, and maybe he really was doing some good for the outcasts of Kezare. He had still, however, abandoned his first duty—that of his people back in Elis.
“I only want to know one thing, Gevin,” she said as he turned to walk away. “What made you give up? I’ve never known you to abandon an objective. You came here to get the sand masters. I can understand you deciding to stay if you’d found the sand mages were a delusion, but that isn’t the case. They’re real, Gevin! They can save Elis! You were right. Why give up?”
Gevin shook his head, not looking back at her. “Foolish, innocent Khriss,” he said. “Haven’t you realized yet? The sand mages exist, true, but they are of no use to us.”
“What do you mean?” Khriss demanded.
Gevin turned slightly. “Sand mastery turns sand black, Khriss,” he explained.
“Yes,” she prompted.
“There is only one way to turn mastered sand white again,” he said, continuing to walk away. “It needs the sun. Sand masters would be useless on darkside—they wouldn’t have a way to recharge their weapon.”
Khriss stood, receiving her third incomprehensible shock of the day. Useless. This entire expedition was a waste. Oh, Shella … .
Gevin tried to sneak away, but black-uniformed trackts began to surround them, looking over the scene with confusion. The Lord Beggar sighed, and began to speak with them in Lossandin.
Khriss, however, didn’t want to bother with tracts—she had something else to worry about. She turned to Baon with annoyance. “Why did you make me think you were being employed by the Dynasty?” She demanded.
“I am,” Baon said simply.
This brought Khriss up short, and she frowned. “What?”
“It is as I said when you asked me. I was sent do dayside by Lord Scythe.”
“But …” Khriss said in confusion.
“My mission was different from Acron’s,” Baon explained, watching trackts poke at the assassin’s body. “I was sent to determine if the sand masters were a threat to the Dynasty. Now, thanks to your former betrothed, I know they are not.”
“But you shot Acron!” Khriss said with surprise. “He was one of your own!”
“I was also hired to protect you,” Baon said. “I take all of my duties seriously, even if I entered them under false pretenses.”
“I don’t understand,” Khriss confessed.
Baon leaned forward, his dark eyes unreadable. “I am loyal to the Dynasty, duchess. That does not mean, however, that I agree with everything Scythe does. Gevalden is of no danger to us now. As for Acron, I have little respect for a man who would so betray his own country. Besides, he would have killed you.”
“You’re sure?” Khriss asked with surprise.
Baon nodded simply. “His cover was too useful to let it be spoiled by a single girl. He would have shot Gevalden, then you would have been next.”
Khriss shook her head. Things were too confusing at the moment—she needed time to think. Gevin’s barbs, spoken in anger, had hurt her more than she wanted to admit. She had always thought he was so perfect. It was like now that his face was scarred, he felt he could let out the vile emotions he had always kept hidden from her.
“I need to think,” she sighed. “Go back to darksider town and get Cynder, then meet me at the Diem.”
Baon paused.
“Please?” Khriss said. “I need the time in the boat alone.”
“All right,” Baon agreed.
#
Nilto watched her go, looking through the crowd of trackts as Khriss made her way to a small boat. Nilto. That was how he thought of himself now. Not as Gevin, the court fool, but as Nilto, the Lord Beggar. He felt so much more like a lord now than he ever had in Elis.
Farewell, my duchess, he thought. His words had been true, he had taken many lovers during his years in Elis. It was odd that he had never felt guilt about that fact until he had lay on the sands of dayside, the sun beating down on him, his face a mass of pain and agony. Then, he had felt guilty for so many things. He had remembered his double-dealings, his betrayals of Elis, and his cheating of his friends—all done while pretending to be so self-righteous.
Khriss stooped slightly as she walked. She deserves to know what I was, Nilto decided, turning away from Khrissalla. This way, perhaps, she can forget me.
He had never deserved her in the first place.
#
Kenton woke to the sound of pounding on the door. He blinked drowsily, sitting up on his sand mattress, confused. What time was it?
He yawned, stumbling to his feet. The day had gone fairly uneventfully following Ais’s attempted meeting the day before. They had returned to the Diem, where Kenton had been forced to spend the day’s remaining hours making decisions about supplies, room assignments, and settling minor disputes between other sand masters. He hadn’t realized how much he had been depending on Dirin to take care of such things.
He had retired exhausted, and a little frustrated—though not so much as Ais, who had left at the end of the day in an even worse mood than he was usually in. Apparently, he had been depending heavily on the chance to turn one of Shaerezan’s subordinates.
The knocking continued—there was an annoyed edge to the sound. Kenton yawned again, throwing on a white robe and tying his sash around his waist. He stumbled out of the bed chamber and into the main room, pulling open the door just as the knocking began again.
Khrissalla stood outside. She wore a simple blue dayside robe, cut for a man, like usual. Her eyes were a little puffy, but her face was unreadable. Something had happened, but she was hiding it well.
“Khriss?” he asked, shaking the last bits of sleepiness from his mind.
Khriss walked through the door, moving to stand in the center of the room, her arms folded. Kenton watched the strange behavior with a frown. What was going on?
“I found Prince Gevalden,” she finally said. “He’s alive.”
The announcement hit Kenton like a wave of frigid riverwater. Suddenly alert, he let the door slide closed. “That’s wonderful,” he said, noting the lack of enthusiasm in his voice. I was right—she has been crying. However, they were tears of joy.
“He’s the Lord Beggar,” Khriss explained. “He took a pistol shot to the face two years ago, completely destroying his features.”
“I see,” Kenton said, feeling stunned and strangely sick. She actually found him. Fool, you knew the only reason she was here was to find her betrothed. Why are you so surprised? Did you expect something else?
“Congratulations,” he said, nodding in her direction, trying to mask his pain. This is what she had wanted—what she had dreamed of. Who was he to spoil her victory? “After all you have been through, Khriss, you deserved to find him. I hope he realizes what a fortunate man he is.”
The words sparked a reaction in Khriss, but not the one he expected. She pulled her folded arms in tightly, shaking slightly, as if she were very cold.
“He said he didn’t want me,” she whispered, looking down at the floor. “He said … he said he left darkside to get away from me. That I sickened him, and that I always had, because I was dull and unexciting.”
Kenton paused for just a moment, feeling helpless. Then she looked up, her wide, despairing eyes meeting his own, and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He walked forward, gathering her in his arms. She responded, resting her head against his chest, still quivering.
“My entire life has been a lie,” Khriss whispered. “I have been Gevin’s betrothed since I can remember. I ordered my life around that single idea, doing things I assumed would make him happy. He was so perfect, and I wanted to be perfect for him. He was seeing other women the entire time, flaunting them around the court. Everyone knew but me.”
“Oh, Khriss … I’m sorry,” Kenton replied, not cer
tain what else to say. Instead, he simply held her tightly, wishing somehow that he could lend her some of his strength, wishing he could do something to take some of her pain upon himself.
She didn’t cry. She just let him hold her, her eyes staring almost blankly to the side. Eventually, her shaking slackened, and she took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to pile all of this on top of you. I thought I was over it before I got here. I just want to ask you a question.”
Kenton smiled. “Why am I not surprised?” he said.
She looked up, smiling as she met his eyes, though she did not pull away. Then her smile faded, however. “Is it true?” she asked. “Does sand have to recharge in the sun after you use it.”
Kenton paused, then he nodded. “Yes,” he said. “It takes about three or four hours.”
Khriss sighed, resting her head back against his chest. “I have a confession,” she mumbled. “There was more than curiosity behind my trying to find out how sand mastery worked.”
“What do you mean?” Kenton asked.
“I wanted to take sand mastery back to Elis,” she explained. “I wanted to use it against the Dynasty to protect my people.”
“But …” Kenton said with a frown, “sand mastery won’t work on darkside.”
“Well, I know that now,” Khriss said. “But I didn’t before. Someone refused to tell me anything.”
“I’m sorry,” Kenton explained. “But I have to be secretive. Otherwise people might take sand mastery and use it as a weapon of war.”
Khriss stiffed slightly.
“It’s all right,” he soothed, rubbing his hand across her back. “Your goals were noble, Khrissalla. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the laws of sand mastery have contrived to make them unattainable. You can’t have sand masters on darkside, so it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Khriss nodded, looking up at him again. Her dusky, darksider eyes were wide, so deep and so open. Her body was pressed close to his own, her arms around his waist.
“My Lady!” Cynder’s voice suddenly exclaimed. “Are you all right?”
Kenton turned, seeing the lanky darkside linguist standing in the doorway, the massive Baon behind him.
Khriss blushed, releasing him as she submitted to the elderly professor’s inspection. He looked her over, frowning. “What happened?” he demanded, satisfied that she wasn’t injured. “Baon said you sent him to get me, but that Divine-cursed lunk has told me almost nothing. Acron is … .”
“Dead,” Khriss finished.
“What?” Kenton said with surprise.
“He was an assassin,” Baon explained. “One of Scythe’s personal elite. He was sent to find and eliminate Prince Gevalden.”
Kenton blinked in surprise. “Acron?” he asked. “The fat one?”
Baon nodded, completely serious.
“This is going to take some explaining,” Kenton guessed. “Let’s sit.”
The four made their way over to the room’s plush chairs, seating themselves. Even Baon did so, though the warrior usually insisted on standing.
“Nice to see you’re back, by the way,” Kenton noted to the large man.
“I was never gone,” Baon replied. “Despite what others might have assumed.”
Khriss blushed slightly. “You did mislead us,” she challenged.
Kenton looked between them, confused.
“Baon was sent by the Dynasty to investigate sand mastery,” Khriss explained. Kenton could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t quite certain what she thought of that news.
“But I was also sent by Elis to protect her,” Baon said. “I can do both.”
“You are striding atop a very thin wall, my friend,” Kenton noted. “Loyalty is a difficult thing to divide.”
“I know,” Baon said simply.
The statement was met by an incredulous sound. Cynder, chuckling softly to himself.
“What?” Khriss asked.
“I was just thinking,” the linguist said ruefully. “All this time, I assumed I had the superior intellect between Acron and I. Now it seems that my self-assurance was misplaced. Gravely misplaced.”
He shook his head, laughing again, but there was a haunted look in his eyes.
“What about Captain Deral?” Khriss asked, turning back to Baon. “You really did kill him?”
Baon nodded. “Deral was a fool. He was planning to sell you to a Dynastic border patrol. He would have ruined the expedition—both yours and mine.”
“Sell me?” Khriss asked with amazement. “Shella! Was there anyone on this cursed expedition that didn’t have an ulterior motive?”
Cynder chuckled. “It appears that we were the only ones, My Lady. I’m beginning to feel left out.”
Baon shrugged. “I shouldn’t have taken the pistols. I never thought you would notice.”
“I wouldn’t have,” Khriss said. “If you hadn’t taught me to do so.”
Baon smiled slightly. “All right then, duchess. What now? You’ve found your Prince; you know that sand mastery won’t help Elis. Do we return?”
Khriss paused, shooting a look at Kenton—a look that seemed to remember their embrace a few moments before.
A fluke? Kenton wondered. She was distraught, after all. Maybe she was just projecting her emotions on me.
“No,” she finally said. “We’ll stay a few more days. I’m very … interested to see what will happen with the Diem.”
Kenton smiled. “Me too,” he admitted. You fool, he told himself ruefully. You know how it is going to end. Even if you do save the Diem, you won’t live to see your victory. You have no right to play with the girl’s emotions. She’s just lost one love, she doesn’t need to start forming a bond with you, only to have it severed in four day’s time.
But, still, he could hope. For some reason, it seemed like the incentive for surviving the fight with Drile had just grown much stronger.
Chapter Thirty-One
How did he find out? Ais wondered with frustration, staring down at his reports. Nilto was slipping away from him. All over Kezare the man was pulling out of businesses, shutting down operations, and quietly silencing those who could have spoken of him. Ais only had fractured reports and unrelated comments, but to him they formed a distinct pattern—one he had seen before. Sharezan was preparing to go into hiding. Ais had gotten too close this time, and now the man was preparing to run.
Ais felt all of his work, his efforts, his years of hunting, drying away like water in the sun. If he didn’t catch Sharezan in the next few days, then he would have to start all over. The man would remain in hiding for a year or so, then return under a different persona to rule Kezare again.
The man who had wanted to speak with Ais, whoever he was, would be gone by now. He was either dead or in hiding. And, now that Sharezan was preparing to disappear, he would make certain that there was no one around to connect him to Nilto. It was all lost.
“He certainly is having a good time, isn’t he?” The Lord Mastrell’s voice was subdued. He stood in one of his favored spots, leaning thoughtfully against his balcony’s banister.
Seeing Kenton brightened Ais’s mood slightly. If there were a person who was in a worse mood than Ais, it was the Lord Mastrell. He only had four days left, and he still lacked several important votes. In addition, the fight with the other sand master—Drile—would probably prove to be his execution. Kenton’s position was worse than Ais’s—at least Ais’s failure would probably mean that his family was safe again.
Kenton was staring across the courtyard to where Drile made his rooms. The other sand master was throwing some sort of party. Ais could see forms moving and mingling in the room—it wasn’t a formal party, like a kelzi would have. Wine was flowing freely, even though sand masters weren’t supposed to drink. Women had been brought to the room, and Drile’s supporters were enjoying a period of loose debauchery.
This is what sand masters are supposed to be, Ais thought to himself. Arr
ogant, wasteful, and sickening. Kenton is a fluke. Just because he appears to be an honest man does not mean that the Diem itself should continue. He would be better off outside of the Diem, actually. Perhaps he would give up this sand master foolishness. We could use his sense of dedication in the Hall.
“I wonder where he got the money,” Kenton mused. “He probably found the stash in his room—we didn’t search his.”
“Maybe I’m on the wrong side,” Eric said, opening Kenton’s door and walking into the room. “That party looks like a lot of fun.”
Kenton snorted, turning. “Did you sleep well?”
“Of course,” Eric informed, munching on some ZaiDon snaps in a small bag. “Unlike some other people, I didn’t stay up late yesterday.”
Ais shook his head. Apparently, the darksider Khriss had come to visit Kenton the day before. Ais had heard the news with trepidation, hoping he hadn’t missed anything he should report to the Lady Judge. Eric, however, had seemed personally offended that they hadn’t woken him to take part.
“You know,” Eric said, still chewing on some snaps, “I’m not even certain I want to tell you what I discovered today.”
Kenton perked up. “What?”
“It’s all over town,” Eric continued with a leisurely voice. “Of course, no one would probably tell a sand master—everyone’s too in awe of your magnificent powers. They think you—”
“Eric,” Kenton interrupted. “News?”
“You know,” Eric said with a quiet snort, “you’re a lot less fun now that you’re in charge.” He held up a hand to forestall further objections. “All right. The Lord Merchant and the Lord General are missing. People say fled the city together to avoid casting votes at the Council in four days.”
“Aisha!” Kenton swore. “Gone? They can’t do that!” He shot a look at Ais.
Ais frowned, considering the Law. His own studies had focused on the day-to-day mechanics of lawbreaking, not the intricacies of the Council and Taishin. However, everyone trained in the Hall—whether they be judge, scribe, or trackt—was required to have at least a basic understanding legal intent.
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