“Why?”
“He’s ugly.” Johzar’s shoulders rose in a shrug. “Bad for business. Did Danzell find you?”
“We found each other.”
“Where is she?”
“Finish your story first.”
Johzar nodded. “I couldn’t find my crew, but I found Sajem. He had your woman, bound and gagged, and she didn’t look healthy. I followed him. One of the most foolish things I’ve done in my life. I was ambushed and outnumbered. He planned to rape her and kill her unless I signed a bond. I agreed, the second most idiotic choice I’ve ever made. The best I could manage was to get us both on a ship.”
Raze stopped walking, and the noose delivered a tug on Johzar’s throat. “Why? Why save her?”
The slaver faced him, jaw already bruising. “Not because I’m sentimental. My objectives were more about Sajem than about her. You can make it easy or hard on me, but I swear to you, he’s a dead man.”
~35~
The throne room buzzed with pale Ezari in their layered finery. Obsequious drones, they plied their emperor with platitudes, fluttering eyelashes, and false laughter. Benjmur’s boots tapped across the gleaming floor.
Kyzan lounged on his sister’s throne. His gilded crown mashed his lion’s mane of hair and forced it out at angles over his ears. He appeared diminutive compared to Ezalion, not in physical mass but presence. The royal seat, carved from the roots of a giant ravenwood, resembled the tentacles of some colossal sea beast on the verge of strangling him. When Ezalion had occupied the throne, they evoked the rays of the bright Ezarine sun.
Benjmur hadn’t cared for her, his paltry influence ineffective in securing his future, but Kyzan was a ruler in need of allies.
Sunlight blazed through a long bank of windows, the place devoid of the sea’s cool breeze and the heat oppressive. The garnet banner of Avanoe hung lank on its pole adjacent to other symbols of conquest. He halted before the dais and bowed. “My Emperor, greetings from the Vales.”
“Ah, Governor Demiris, how goes the hunt?”
Benjmur straightened and forced a smile. “The quarry is a clever one, my lord. I bring a full report for your ears alone and would gladly return at a time of your convenience.”
“This?” Kyzan waved a hand at the assembled nobles. “Unlike in the Vales, here the wives negotiate and delegate while their husbands gossip about shoes. Fools and sycophants, Governor. Shall we adjourn?”
“As you wish.”
As Kyzan traipsed down the steps of his dais, the soldiers flanking the throne assumed an escort. He led the way to a private audience chamber adjoining the crowded room and clapped his hands at a quartet of servants. “Refreshments.” Two of them spun and hurried off.
A soldier opened the door. “Would you like us to join you, Emperor?”
“Unnecessary.” Kyzan flicked his wrist. “Stand outside and don’t let anyone in.”
The council chamber resembled Benjmur’s salon in Avanoe, though instead of a desk, in a corner sat a second ravenwood seat, ornate but ordinary in size and composition. Kyzan dropped the unflattering crown on a table where it rattled and stilled. He sank into his chair and yawned, the back of his hand scarcely covering his mouth. “Is my sister dead?”
“My lord?”
“Is Danzell dead? That’s what you’re here to report, isn’t it?”
Benjmur bowed. “Nae, my lord. I haven’t crossed paths with her since our departure after the games. I wondered if she’d met an end here.”
“We raided the catacombs and slaughtered her conspirators, but she wasn’t among the bodies. Is your daughter here?”
“Nallea and I aspire to serve you and none other. I’d arrested the Anvrells in Avanoe for treason and the murder of the Empress, but they escaped at the cost of twelve lives. Fortunately, I’d already executed their guards.”
“A shame about all this death but no longer my concern. The empire shuffles onward, Benjmur, and you assumed correctly—any mention of Ezalion regurgitates rumors of conspiracies. Far better to let the silt in the river rest and the water run clear.” Kyzan frowned. “Danzell, though, is a never-ending threat. Order your daughter to find out where she’s hiding.”
A pair of servants arrived with wine and a tray of sliced fruit. Benjmur served the Emperor while the servants bowed and fled. “I’m uncertain my daughter will know where to search, my lord. Last time, she stumbled on the location quite by accident.”
“You have assured me she isn’t part of a plot, and of that, I am not convinced. Here’s her opportunity to demonstrate her loyalty.”
Benjmur fought the snarl creeping to his lips. “Yes, Lord Emperor. We shall both do our best.”
“Tiring business being Emperor, Benjmur. People beg and demand constantly, and they’re full of complaints. The next noble who shows up whining for a favor might find himself flung from the cliffs.” He chuckled. “That would put an end to the sniveling, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. Most effectively.”
Kyzan leaned forward, goblet dangling between his fingers. “You comprehend the trials of rule, the ruthlessness necessary to create stability. For the sake of the realm, sometimes we must do terrible things, even to those we love. It is a sorrowful burden we bear.” Kyzan tipped his goblet and poured the wine down his throat. It dribbled from the corners of his mouth, staining his jacket. “Is that all?”
“All, my lord?” Benjmur had lost the thread of the conversation, and every muscle in his body longed to bolt from the room. Kyzan’s thoughts ran about like mice, impossible to catch.
“All the wine? All you want to discuss? All my orders?” Kyzan laughed. “You’re dismissed, my loyal friend. Send in a servant. I need a clean jacket.”
~
Blood throbbed through Benjmur’s temples like a forge’s hammer pounding steel. He hadn’t suffered headaches for years, not since his father’s death, and now they called like solicitors with lists of complaints. He almost smiled, his opinion mirroring Kyzan’s.
He let himself into the suite he’d rented with Nallea. The third floor of the luxurious inn boasted a view of the sea from a narrow balcony. Linens were white as goose down, and vases of fresh autumn blooms filled the air with a heady fragrance.
The balcony doors stood open, inviting the salty air to cool the room. Nallea peered up from a book as he sagged onto a floral settee. She angled her head, lips in a pout. “Another headache?”
“You were right, my dear.” He massaged his temples. “How could I have been so misled. Kyzan is unfit, a danger not only to Ezar but to the Vales, to us, to you.”
“I’m relieved you finally see it.”
She joined him, and he grasped one of her hands. “You mustn’t speak with him about the slavers. Not now, and perhaps not ever. He’s threatening to throw anyone who irritates him into the sea, and what worries me is I believe he’d do it.”
“I cannot promise that.” She withdrew her hand and curled it in her lap.
“Yes, you can. Sajem broke the laws of the land, and we don’t need Kyzan’s blessing to charge him. The next time he enters through the gates in Avanoe, we’ll arrest him for the murders at Raze’s freehold.”
“Another one will take his place. The whole thing is morally reprehensible. Johzar claims to follow the law, and though he’s not as physically repulsive, he’s still vile. He tried to kill me; he kidnapped and sold Bel. If none of his atrocities broke the law, the law needs to change.”
“Nallea.” He shut his eyes to the daylight spearing his head. “The Emperor is ruthless. I now concur with the Anvrell’s belief that he arranged for his sister’s assassination. And if I interpret his insinuations correctly, he intends to murder his other sister as well.”
“That is old news, Father.” She set her book aside. “And it makes no sense. Why would he kill her? He’s already emperor. Did he confess his plots?”
Benjmur rolled his head to look at her. “After the games, after we departed for Avanoe, he learned of
the catacombs and ordered everyone there slain.”
“Oh, nae.” Tiny fissures formed between Nallea’s eyebrows. “I wonder if she knows. When she saw us off in Kestrel, I didn’t inquire about where she intended to go or what she’d do next. I assumed she’d head here, to Tegir, but truly I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“You encountered Danzell in Kestrel?” Benjmur eyed her, the revelation a surprise. “I don’t recall you mentioning her.”
Nallea stiffened. “I’m certain I did. But, perhaps I didn’t. It was a brief visit, unimportant at the time.”
“It likely slipped your mind.” Benjmur sighed at her lie, adding regret to the troubles throbbing behind his eyes. “If she’s in Tegir, we should warn her.”
“I doubt she requires any warning.”
“It’s not only that.” He leaned forward, dropped his head in his hands, and pressed on his temples. “I want to discuss what she’ll do for the Vales if we support her and she’s crowned Empress. That’s how we’ll end bondage in our cities. Not through Kyzan but through Danzell. Do you have any idea how we might reach her? Can you arrange a meeting? I’d like to learn if we can aid her in ousting the empire’s tyrant.”
~36~
Behind the royal palace, Tegir’s Temple of Souls soared into the cloudless sky, a hollow cylinder of stone, the dwelling place of thousands of souls and the monks who cared for them. Nallea marveled at the peaked front door, a hint to visitors that something sublime lay inside. From a distance, the elaborate carvings in the archway resembled flowers. But upon closer inspection, they were, in fact, scores of intricate faces, all unique. She could have studied them for hours and resolved to return another day to do just that.
The inside didn’t disappoint. A mosaic of tiles blanketed the floor depicting the cosmos, its planets and stars orbiting a stylized sun. Orderly bookcases hosted hundreds of books, catalogs, and ledgers, with an occasional slanted shelf to rest a tome for study.
A door to the rear led to other parts of the lower building, likely the monk’s dormitory and kitchen. She strolled to the sun’s center and stepped in a circle. A staircase wound in lazy spirals along the exterior wall, rising through mezzanines that glowed with the soft light of souls. Looking up left her dizzy, but the sight mesmerized as floor after floor soared up the height.
“May I help you?” One the monks bowed, an older man gnarled as a cliff-top tree.
“I hope you may.” Nallea smiled at the kindly face, unsure how to inquire about a fugitive. “I’m seeking a woman who wishes…who for complicated reasons, may not wish to be found.”
“Ah, found by you or by others?”
“Found by others. To me, she is a friend. And she is well known to the Temple.”
He chuckled. “That is a rather long list of potential acquaintances, my lady.”
Nallea huffed a breath, glanced over her shoulder, and lowered her voice, “The lady I seek is familiar with the catacombs.”
The old monk’s smile faded. “I’m afraid your description leaves me in the dark. If you would wait here, I’ll inquire with my colleagues. Maybe they’re more familiar with the visitor than I.”
“Tell her my name is Nallea Anvrell.”
“Be patient, Lady Anvrell. I shall move as briskly as these old bones will allow.”
The man’s slippers scuffled across the tiled floor, and Nallea sighed as he mounted the stairs, one laborious step at a time. If he returned before twilight, she’d count it a miracle.
To pass the time, she browsed the shelves and selected a random book. Lists of names referenced other ledgers, none of its import intelligible to a laywoman’s eyes. She wandered along other shelves until she found a book of interest. Each page within the leather binding offered a glimpse into a life—lineage, temperament, skills and personality, an inventory of details that ended with a summary of the soul’s possible benefits and detriments to a new host. The number in the corner likely referenced a luminous soulstone somewhere above her.
“Lady Nallea?” This time the voice belonged to a silver-haired woman, her aspect birdlike, eyes sharp as shattered glass. She wore a monk’s robe, hands clasped at her waist. “I am Solanse. If you would follow me up.”
Nallea’s gaze rose. A face too distant to pinpoint the features peered down at her from seven flights above. She followed the old woman up the coiling climb until they reached the seventh level. Lanterns hung from hooks set in the columns, a few burning brightly. The maze of cabinets glowed while the rest of the mezzanine lay in varying shades of dusk. She trailed Solanse, mesmerized by the hundreds of delicate boxes, each emitting an ethereal light.
The monk led her to a table by a tall window where Danzell stood, her attention captured by a small wooden container. Inside were scores of soul-catchers, a treasure of luminescent pearls, though their value exceeded any gift of the sea. Nallea inhaled at the precious beauty. “How many are there?”
Danzell raised her eyes from the light. “Three score.”
“How will you tell them apart without their pendants?” Nallea’s hand rose to the star-shaped soulstone given to her by her father.
“I won’t, but it doesn’t matter. They’re all similar. And their pendants looked very much alike anyway. Yours is exceptional.”
“Are they yours?” Nallea wanted to touch them but held back her hand, the act too intimate. “What will you do with them? You can’t swallow them all.”
Danzell closed the lid on the plain box and slipped it into a travel sack. “I’m undecided.” She turned to the silver-haired monk and kissed her forehead. “You may leave us, Solanse. We shall see our way down.”
“At your pleasure, Lady Danzell. I trust you will make good on your purchase when able.”
“Unless I join the Temple’s collection, you may count on it.”
The old woman started down. Danzell pulled out a chair and invited Nallea to do the same. “Why are you seeking me?”
“My father met with Kyzan yesterday.” Nallea rested her arms on the table. “He is convinced your brother is a danger to the realm, especially to the Vales.”
“He’s slow to catch on, isn’t he?”
“I realize you must think it’s absurd in light of all the questions about his choices. But if you’d seen him after their visit, you would know his heart. I’m worried for his sanity.”
“Is he swallowing souls?”
“Nae.” She frowned as irritation scaled her spine. By keeping company with Danzell, she gambled her life, and the woman hardly appreciated the effort. “It’s everything else—ruling and protecting the Vales, dealing with slavers whom your siblings refused to control, Athren and all that heartbreak. Your brother is a monster and a fool. Attempting to accommodate an Ezari ruling family such as yours would test anyone’s patience.”
Danzell’s eyebrows rose. “Are you finished?”
“Not quite.” Nallea set her shoulders. “If my father is guilty of anything, it’s endeavoring to be a loyal servant. The Emperor wishes you dead, and my father refuses to obey. He’s either committing treason or an act of heroism. It simply depends who you ask.”
Danzell leaned back, arms crossed. “He lies, Nallea.”
“He does his best and admits to terrible mistakes. The trouble with the Anvrells started with your brother’s accusations and demands. Are you suggesting he should have disobeyed the Tegir Emperor from the beginning?”
“He lied about Laddon’s death.”
“To protect Athren.”
“He ordered an attack on the freehold and had Bel kidnapped. He sold her.”
“That’s not true!” Nallea slapped the table. A flush of heat roared to her face as tears burned her eyes. “Athren commanded it. Grief left her mad, and my father was stretched beyond his capacity caring for her. She acted without his knowledge.”
“And someone murdered Athren before she could say otherwise.”
Nallea gritted her teeth and breathed, calming her fury. This wasn’t at all what she’d
planned, the accusations slung at her with deadly speed. She stared at Danzell with an attempt at control, “He didn’t abandon Athren when she needed him, and he certainly didn’t murder her.”
“Do you think Raze strangled her?”
“Nae.” Nallea sagged in her chair. “Where did you hear all this? They’re here, aren’t they? They reached Tegir.”
“I wouldn’t know. But Johzar arrived from King’s Fist four days ago.”
“Does he have Bel?” Nallea’s hopes soared and she straightened. “Our original reason for traveling to Tegir was to deliver her home.”
“Why would Johzar know anything about Bel?”
“Athren sold her to Johzar.” Nallea huffed and raised her chin. “It seems there are other liars besides my father.”
Danzell studied her, fingertips tapping her lips. “I can’t say I’ve seen her. I suppose he’s sold her.”
“We need to find her. Would you ask him where she is? We’ll purchase her freedom.”
“What does your father want with me?”
“A meeting. In exchange for his assistance and loyalty, he seeks a commitment that you’ll withdraw the slavers and end bondage in the Vales. It’s the source of so much misery, and he believes it’s the honorable thing to do. It’s also what I desire, and he loves me. If for no other reason, he’ll do it for me.”
Danzell tapped her fingertips on the tabletop and exhaled a long breath. “Allow me time for a decision. How do I send word?”
“We’re staying at The Providence. It’s north of—”
“I know it.” Danzell rose and leaned over the table. “If he betrays me, Nallea, I will cut him to pieces. My nation and life are in peril. And if you betray me, I will slay you too.”
“We would never betray you, Danzell.”
Danzell cocked her head. “Then who told my brother about the catacombs?”
~
Danzell rested her chin on a fist while Nallea descended the stairs. The threat had startled a nervous chuckle from the Lady of Kestrel, and yet she’d recognized it for the truth. Her pupils had widened into little black pools, a sure sign of fear.
Legacy of Souls Page 22
