One Thousand Nights (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 6)

by Pope, Christine

  How much Besh had known about the relationship between the Duke of Marric’s Rest and myself, I was not sure, but he had to have at least been aware that we fancied ourselves engaged, and that I had broken off the engagement to come here.

  For the longest moment my husband said nothing, while the silence weighed heavily between us. Was he wondering how truly intimate Thani and I had been, and whether I was now regretting my choice?

  I could not ask such things, of course. No, I could only sit there and pray that he would speak soon, for I did not know what to say to him. Everything that rose to my lips felt dreadfully wrong.

  Fate saved me then, for there sounded a knock at the door to the library.

  “Come,” Besh said shortly, a brief flicker of annoyance passing over his face before he smoothed it away.

  The door opened, and one of the guards stood there, bowing at the waist. “Most High Majesty, a thousand apologies for the intrusion. But the visanis is waiting without, and he says he has urgent news he must discuss with you.”

  One of Besh’s eyebrows lifted, but he said only, “Show him in.”

  I could not help wondering what news could be so urgent that it brought my husband’s chancellor here at such an hour of the night, but I supposed we would find out soon enough. The guard went away, returning a scant minute later with Azeer Tel-Karinoor on his heels.

  By some unspoken request, the guard slipped back out to the corridor, leaving the chancellor to stare down at my husband and myself. There was something in Azeer’s expression that told me he was none too pleased to find me here closeted with the Hierarch, but of course he could not outwardly express his displeasure.

  Instead, he bowed from the waist, hands pressed together before him, gaze fixed on Besh. “Most High Majesty, I have news…news which I believe should be given to you in private.”

  Meaning, I supposed, without me present, for certainly we were private enough here, cloistered in the Hierarch’s library.

  Besh must have thought more or less the same thing, as he said at once, “I have no secrets from my lady wife. Speak.”

  No secrets? Well, I had managed to discover several that he would have rather kept hidden, but I did not know if he had any others. Perhaps not.

  Lips thinning, Tel-Karinoor said, “Most High Majesty, through the grace of God, we have captured the one we believe was behind the attack on your most noble self. He is now in the dungeons, awaiting questioning.”

  At these words, Besh stood. Unsure as to what I should do, I remained in my seat, apparently forgotten.

  “You are certain?” he asked, gaze fixed on his chancellor.

  “As I said, Most High Majesty, he will be questioned soon, and then we will have the answers we seek. However, the evidence pointing to him is strong…very strong. I have no doubt that when all the truths of the matter are revealed, we will know for certain — and he will know the bite of the executioner’s sword.”

  Because I had been watching him closely, I saw how Besh winced just a little at the mention of that dreadful blade. No doubt he was not welcoming the reminder of how his own wife had lost her life.

  But because he was the Hierarch, he could not acknowledge that pain, could only say, “That is excellent news, visanis. Do keep me apprised of any further developments.”

  “As you wish, Most High Majesty,” Tel-Karinoor replied. His jaw seemed to stiffen, and I felt rather than saw his gaze shift toward me briefly before returning to Besh. Perhaps he blamed my presence for my husband’s subdued reaction to the news that the would-be assassin had been apprehended. “I will go to the dungeons now to oversee the interrogation.”

  “Very good, Tel-Karinoor.”

  And that was the end of the interview, for after another bow toward both of us, the visanis exited the chamber, heading, presumably, for the dungeons, wherever they might be. From the bits and pieces I had picked up, listening to the maids talk amongst themselves when they thought I was occupied with a book or with my writing, there was a veritable maze of storerooms below the palace, and perhaps below one wing or another the dungeons lay as well, although I rather doubted they would be here, beneath the Hierarch’s own apartments.

  “Well,” Besh said, then paused, gazing down at me. “I apologize for the disruption, but I fear now it is quite late. We shall have to speak of these wolf-men of the north at a later date.”

  I noticed he did not say “tomorrow.” Perhaps he thought he would be occupied, now that the transgressor had been caught. I did not know for sure, and I could not think of a way to ask without revealing to him how important these nightly discussions were to me. All I could do was rise from my seat and say, as calmly as I could, “Of course, my lord. Whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

  At least he did offer his arm, made no attempt to fob me off on the guards so he would not have to waste precious time taking me back to my own chambers. We walked quietly, without speaking, and I wondered what he was thinking of. Was he wondering who the would-be assassin was, and why he would have taken such a terrible risk? Great men always had their enemies, it was true, although I had seen nothing in Besh’s words or deeds that would lead me to believe he was the kind of man to engender the hatred necessary to make an assassination attempt. Indeed, he was always even-tempered, thoughtful, not easily swayed to a decision without pondering it for some time beforehand.

  When I considered these parts of his nature, I thought him to be a very good measure of a ruler, the sort any realm would be lucky to have as its sovereign. Perhaps my own feelings toward him influenced my opinion, but I didn’t believe so. Truly, I would be lying if I did not admit to myself that in some hidden corner of my soul, I was angry with him for not allowing me to be his true wife, for letting his terrible experience with Hezia color all his dealings with me. Despite that buried resentment, which was purely personal, I could see nothing about him that would make him a target.

  Save that he was the Hierarch, and therefore seen as something more than a man, instead a figure, a symbol. Perhaps in the mind of an assassin, killing a symbol did not carry the same weight as killing a man.

  “You are very quiet,” Besh said, and I realized that we had gone all the way to the entrance to my chambers without exchanging a single word.

  “Oh!” I replied, rather discomfited. How on earth had I allowed myself to be so lost in my thoughts as to remain silent that entire span of time? “I suppose I have merely been thinking of the news the visanis has brought. It must be a tremendous relief to you.”

  “Yes,” he said at once, and yet I thought I noted a slight hesitation in his manner. “We will see this man and whatever allies he has brought to justice, and then we may go on as we were before.”

  No, not that, I thought, for I do not wish to go on as we were before. I want things to change between us, so you can finally see me for myself, and not as an echo of the woman who wronged you.

  But I said only, “Yes, that will be very good.”

  Besh paused then, gaze fixed on my face. I could only hope that I looked serene and untroubled, secure in the knowledge that the guilty parties had been apprehended, and that the undercurrent of unease which had run through the court for the past half-year and more would finally lessen.

  He said, “Be well, my wife,” and bent and kissed me on the forehead.

  Again I felt a rush of heat along every limb, even from that one mild, chaste kiss. But I had been so deprived of any sign of affection from him that any touch at all was equal to the most passionate of embraces. I drew in a breath, willing myself to stay calm. “And you, my husband,” I said quietly.

  A faint movement of one hand, as if he had been about to reach out and touch my face, caress my hair. Then he stilled. “I will see you tomorrow night, then.”

  And that was all. He bowed to me before turning and leaving me there alone.

  Ah, well. At least by then I was used to such things.

  * * *

  Even in my secluded chambers, w
e felt something of the buzz that had overtaken the palace at the news that the assassins’ mastermind had been caught. Naturally, I was not allowed to precisely participate in the whispered conversations between my maids as they tidied my rooms and worked at their interminable needlework, but no one was there to keep me from eavesdropping. Thank goodness my knowledge of the Keshiaari tongue had only grown and deepened during my time here, and so it was not any great difficulty to follow their lightning-fast sotto voce exchanges.

  Pretending to be engrossed in a book, I sat in my favorite chair by the window and heard Marsali whisper to Alina, “They say he is a giant of a man, and possessed by dark spirits, and that is what made him do it.”

  Alina’s eyes widened, and she whispered back, “Do you think the spirits will come out when they cut off his head?”

  “I do not know, but I suppose that is a risk they will have to take. After all, they cannot allow such a man to live.”

  Lila jumped in, saying, “But I heard from Alzham down in the kitchens that the villain is not possessed at all, but rather an evil magician from Purth, who came here to kill His Most High Majesty so the empire should be disrupted, and armies from Purth could then invade.”

  “Don’t be silly,” snapped Marsali, who was a few years older than Lila and therefore deemed herself infinitely more sensible. “For although that would be a very great tragedy, it is not that His Most High Majesty does not have an heir designated.”

  I wondered then who this heir was. Some cousin, I guessed, as of course Besh’s brother had lost any chance he might have had of inheriting the throne.

  “Besides,” Marsali continued, “His Most High Majesty’s advisors and generals would still be alive. Purth is not even one-fifth the size of Keshiaar, and they would lose before they even began.”

  Faced with such convincing arguments, the other two young women fell silent, staring at one another as if attempting to wrestle with the conundrum in their minds. In that moment Therissa, in her guise as Miram, came bustling in.

  “Cease this chattering immediately,” she commanded, and the three maids at once returned to their needlework, eyes studiously downcast. Across the room, Therissa’s eyes met mine. I could see they were fairly dancing, which meant she must have some news to impart.

  Once again I wished for a simple life, one where I was not tasked with having so many attendants. Truly, their presence made it so very difficult to have a private conversation. I would have to trust that Therissa could manage to remove them somehow, for I could think of nothing to task them with that would require all three of the young women to be gone at the same time.

  Apparently she had been pondering the same question, for, after allowing the maids to work for another quarter-hour or so, during which time I attempted to read and did not do very well at it, Therissa clapped her hands together and said, “That will do for now. Go down to the storerooms, for the seneschal has informed me that the new silks Her Most High Majesty ordered for her draperies have arrived, and I want you to go and fetch them.”

  I could feel my eyes widen, although I forced myself not to look up from the book I held. There had been no such order — or at least, I had not placed it. As with all the other furnishings in my apartments, the azure-colored brocade curtains that framed the windows looked almost new. I had gotten the distinct impression that Besh had had these chambers redone from top to bottom in preparation for my arrival, and so of course there was no need to replace anything in them, let alone the draperies.

  But I was not so foolish as to not recognize an opportunity to be alone with Therissa once she presented it, so I laid aside my book and said, “Yes, I had been hoping for some days now that the new material would have come in. I cannot think why it was delayed. Do as Miram instructs, and take care when bringing the fabric back here, as it will not do for it to become dusty.”

  At once all three of them got to their feet, setting down their embroidery and mending, and murmuring, “Yes, Your Majesty. At once, Your Majesty.”

  And then they were gone in a rustle of silk and a jingle of bangles, for of course the Hiereine’s maidservants must be dressed well, if not as well as their mistress. The door shut behind them, and Therissa let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  “And what I’m going to come up with next, Lyarris, I have no idea,” she said frankly. “They all seem like sweet girls, but I am certain they will be the death of me. They are so very underfoot.”

  That seemed a very apt way of describing them, and I nodded. “Indeed. If I were back home in Iselfex, I could send them out beyond the palace to fetch me something from the market and know they would be gone for some time, but I have not that luxury here.”

  “No, it is a very confining existence, here in the Hierarch’s palace,” Therissa admitted. I must have looked stricken at those words, for she hurried on, “Not that it isn’t a beautiful place, of course. I thought I’d gotten an eyeful when I was in your brother’s palace, but here — ”

  I reflected perhaps that one reason for the Keshiaari crown palace being so beautiful was that so many of its residents were compelled to spend an inordinate amount of time within its walls. But I decided to let that pass for now, as Therissa clearly had much she wanted to tell me, and only a limited amount of time in which to tell it before my three maids returned.

  “So, what have you learned?” I asked bluntly, and Therissa came back to the here and now, abandoning her comparison of the two palaces.

  “Well, even Miram does not have the freedom to go where she wills in this place, but we both know that is no great impediment to me. There is a certain lieutenant of the guard who is a smallish man, not much greater than I in stature. He is quite easy for me to imitate, for I do not have to stretch myself to appear so much taller than I am. And I must admit it is rather fun, for I can tell he is quite puffed up with his own importance, and has the most peculiar gait.” Here she stopped and jutted her chin out, then bent both arms at the elbow and took a few paces with them swinging back and forth, so I might see.

  I muffled a laugh and said, “I can see why you might enjoy taking on his guise. I can only hope that his fellows take him a bit more seriously?”

  “As to that, I am not quite sure. But because he is a lieutenant, they must at least play at deference, whatever their private thoughts might be. I took care to examine his movements, when he was on duty and off, and once I knew he was safely away, I went to the dungeons, pretending that I had forgotten some item or another.”

  “That must have been quite dangerous,” I said, rather alarmed that she would take such a chance.

  She waved a hand, saying, “Not at all, for of course none of the other guards had any reason to think he — or I — was anyone save who I was supposed to be. They are not much accustomed to magic here, at least not anything beyond small enchantments of personal items or love potions or seeing the future in some leaves at the bottom of a cup. And also, this lieutenant is not a man of such great importance that he would be the likely target of such a spell in the first place.”

  This sounded sensible enough, so I nodded and told her, “Very well, it sounds as if you have done your due diligence. And what did you see, when you wore the guise of this lieutenant?”

  Her expression sobered, and she hesitated for a few seconds before she made her reply. “The prisoner, this would-be assassin, is a man of normal size and appearance, no matter what the rumors might say. As to his particular features, I fear I cannot comment on that, as he has been tortured so badly that I doubt even his own loved ones could recognize him.”

  “Tortured?” I repeated, staring up at her in dismay. Had Besh ordered this? I did not want to believe it of him, thought his too gentle a soul to call for such pain to be inflicted on another human being. Then again, the captive had attempted to murder him. Such a transgression might waken a heretofore unknown rage in a man. “If that is truly the case, there must have been a good reason for it,” I added, but the defense sounded weak even to
myself.

  Apparently Therissa thought the same thing, for she said, “I am sure there are many in the palace who would agree with you, my lady, but I fear I am not one of them. I heard this man pleading for his life, saying he was innocent, and that he had only been taken because he had had the temerity to be heard speaking against some of the Hierarch’s policies.”

  “That sounds like the sort of thing a man bargaining for his life might say.” Even as I spoke the words, however, I felt doubt coiling within my breast. Surely someone with the courage — or recklessness, I supposed — to make an attempt on the Hierarch’s life, especially one as coordinated as the attack at the oasis, would not bother to hide behind weak excuses, but would take credit for his actions. Or perhaps I was assigning too much bravery to this unknown man, who was strong enough when working in the shadows but only wanted to beg for his life now that he had been caught.

  “Yes, Lyarris, I thought that at first,” Therissa said gently. Perhaps she had guessed something of my thoughts, that I did not want to believe Besh was capable of ordering such pain to be inflicted on another human being. “But I heard him…and I have spent many years observing people. It is part of what I must do, to wield my magic effectively. And I know I could be wrong, but I do not think I am.”

  She drew in a breath, then added, “My dear, I am quite certain he is innocent.”

  Chapter 12

  All I could do was stare at her, gaze up into her worried dark eyes. She still wore Miram’s face, for we had decided this was safer, in case any of the maids might return unexpectedly from one of their manufactured errands. But her expression, the faint pull of the eyebrows, the distressed pout of her mouth, were definitely Therissa’s, and not that of my erstwhile chief maid.

  “But…why?” I asked at last. “What is the point in torturing an innocent man?”