Conqueror's Blood (Gunmetal Gods Book 2)

by Zamil Akhtar

  But if he was, why were his lips still trembling? “I…” He shut his eyes, hard.

  “It’s all right.” I hugged him again. “You should rest. I’ll find a room for you.”

  “Don’t leave me alone,” he said. “When I’m alone, I see it.”

  “See what?”

  He looked to the ceiling with its shiny blue lattices and golden, bird-patterned mosaics. “I see the egg.”

  I led Eshe to a room a few hallways from the great hall, where the Shah would house visiting dignitaries. I lit the lanterns in the niches, fluffed the pillows, and wiped the silk sheets, though there wasn’t a speck of dust. Amid the throbbing candles, the gold-plated etchings on the low table, wardrobe, and desk seemed to glow, filling the room with golden light. On the wall hung a painting of a simurgh carrying a man across the sea, a rendition from Atash and the Simurgh, a childish story I never cared for.

  I poured water into a crystal cup as Eshe settled on the bed and sat against the pillows.

  “Drink.” I handed him the cup. “I should get you food, too.”

  He sipped. “I’m not hungry.”

  “The food here is really good. Fit for shahs, quite literally.”

  “Just my luck, then, that I’ve no appetite.”

  He seemed…morose…to say the least. Though I wanted to know what happened to him, more than that, I wanted to see his full smile.

  “I want you to rest. Whatever happened, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

  “I’ve no appetite for sleep, either.”

  I sat on my knees at the base of the bed. “Eshe, I was terrified when they took you. I’m sorry I didn’t try to stop them.”

  He shook his head. “You jest. What could you have possibly done against three armed men?”

  “I don’t know…thrown my soup in their faces? Anything…just not cowered, the way I did.”

  “Cyra, you saved me. I don’t know how you did it. I don’t know what devil’s deal you made with Pashang…but thank you. Really, thank you.”

  “Devil’s deal…you don’t know the half of it.” I crawled over and sat next to him. “The truth is…it’s been a long night…and I’m very tired.” I let myself slide against the pillow until I was reclining.

  “I recall you sweating gobs the other night. Couldn’t have been easy to do all you did in that state.”

  “I feel better. Much better. Must’ve sweated it out.”

  “You can take off that turban, too.”

  “Oh, Lat no — it was impossible getting my hair in here, and I’ll have to go out there,” I pointed to the door, “soon enough.”

  “The viziers will line up to fondle you,” he said with a wry, half-smile. It seemed I was cheering him up, and that made me hopeful.

  “Well…they’ll be quite disappointed, I imagine.”

  As we laughed, I remembered my star-seeing eye. Surely, this wasn’t the time to tell Eshe. Better for him to digest the day’s events before adding another awful layer.

  We both laid in silence and stared at the ceiling for a slender, happy moment. A thought interrupted that peace: what was I? Pashang had called me a starwriter, but what did it mean? What could I do with this new power, and how? Was it a gift or a payment? How much did Pashang know, and who else knew something about it? Should I be happy or terrified?

  “I have something to tell you,” I said, looking him in the eye, “but it’s hard to sound the words.”

  He shifted to his side and faced me. “I don’t mind if you keep secrets. But if something burdens you, you know I’ll help you carry it.”

  Sweet words…but Eshe had once said sugar dissolves on the tongue. “I aided the Jotrids. I helped them get into the city. A tribe I despise — enemies of Kyars, the man I bound my soul to. And I didn’t just do it to help you. I think I did it because…because…”

  “Cyra, no one likes the Jotrids. Least of all myself. But I saw the way Pashang lingered at your bedside as you slept. And I saw the remains of that Philosopher he cut in two. Now that he’s in the city, he’s the kingmaker. You’ve put yourself in quite a position.”

  I shook my head. “Whatever happened to loyalty? Whatever happened to the straight path?”

  “All I know is the straight path doesn’t lead to a palace like this. And I’m not one to give guidance…I gave up trying to be good, long ago. We’re always going to hurt others. Sometimes it’s about choosing the right people to hurt. Sometimes a few people have to die so that many people can live.”

  “Eshe…I should be cheering you up…but…” I jammed my tear duct with my finger to stop the tears, to no avail, as usual. “It’s all been so hard.”

  “Well...” He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m right here, suffering with you.”

  “Eshe…” I bit my lip, then forced out the words. “If I’m being honest, you might be the only one left I don’t want to see hurt, ever.”

  “That’s reassuring, I suppose.” He smiled.

  Whatever passed between our eyes, it struck like lightning, straight into my heart. I leaned away and did the most foolish thing: I smelled my sweat-soaked caftan.

  “You know, I really need to take a bath,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

  Eshe smelled his caftan, too. “You know, you might be on to something. A bath would cure my ills, surely.”

  “I can show you where the bath is. Oh, and it’s quite nice.”

  “Did the Shah himself bathe there?” He raised his eyebrows in excitement.

  I nodded as I got to my feet, though he likely never did. Nothing wrong with a little white lie if it made him happy. “Come on, then.”

  I peeked out the hallway door; a serving girl was walking away from our room, her back turned. Something about her gait…so familiar…entrancing, even. Short. Lithe. Straight hair the color of a peeled almond, down to her nape. No question.

  “Vera?” I whispered to myself.

  She turned the corner. I tip-toed after her. But by the time I’d reached the corner, she was gone.

  Was she…eavesdropping on our conversation? Had she recognized me?

  I turned to see Eshe at the doorway. “Something the matter?” he asked.

  “Thought I saw someone I knew…I hope she didn’t notice me. I better stay clear of the harem.”

  The bath was away from where she’d walked, in the western arm of the palace. Strange to see the place so empty, but I assumed it was because Mansur had replaced Tamaz’s guards and servants with his own, and they seemed busy with whatever was going on in the great hall.

  For now, I wouldn’t involve myself in the intrigues between Pashang and Mansur and Kato and Khizr Khaz. I simply wanted to go home — and I’d done it. All I really needed was to expose the sorceress and clear my name, but other than Pashang’s vision of a hundred-year-old woman, I had no leads. There was no one that old whom I knew of, but tomorrow I could begin investigating. Perhaps get birth and death records from the registrar — there couldn’t be too many women in the city over the age of a hundred.

  That ought to be my focus. I had no part to play in the bloodshed between the gholam and the Jotrids and the Order and whoever else was relishing a chance at more power. For now, I’d rather just soak.

  But the bath’s layout doused my plans. I’d never been inside since it was for men, but to my surprise, there was only one pool that extended across the far wall. The water, also, flowed faster than what I was accustomed to in the harem. Massage tables dotted the room, which our bath lacked. Aside from that, the tile was bright blue and similarly star-patterned, but the mosaic here depicted a battle between a mounted army and a staunch wall filled with mustachioed men.

  Without a hint of shame, Eshe pulled off his too-big caftan and stood topless. The whip-marks on his back reminded me of crude etchings children in the Waste would chisel onto bones.

  “I was hoping there’d be two pools,” I said, “but you go first. I’ll wait outside until you’re done.”

  He grabbed my arm a
s I turned. “Don’t leave me alone. Please. When I’m alone, I see it.”

  Right, he’d mentioned something earlier. “The…egg?”

  He nodded. “We’re the egg, Cyra. This whole world. All it needs is a little fire, and it’ll hatch. He showed me what would happen.” Even his eyelids trembled. What torture had the Philosophers devised? And why Eshe? “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Just…stay with me.”

  “Of course, I will.” I turned away as he undid the lace on his pants and stepped into the pool.

  “By Lat, the water’s soothing,” he said.

  I kept my back turned. “I’ve actually…never seen a man naked.” Ugh, by Lat, why did I let that bit of honesty slip?

  “Even your brother or your father?”

  “I mean, they don’t count.”

  Eshe splashed water on himself. “You really are a good girl. Lucky Kyars. Another maid to deflower.”

  I chuckled bitterly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was…a senseless thing to say.”

  “Why? You think I pine for him? I’ve known him for eight years. I know I won’t be his nighttime fancy. I mean, there’s Zedra, who is heaps more alluring. She could never pass for a beardless boy.”

  “Sounds like a lovely marriage. But you knew what you were agreeing to, I imagine.”

  I made a fist. “I agreed to be Sultana of Sultanas. Kyars can fuck and love whomever he wants. I want my position back. I want what that sorceress took away.”

  “Sorceress? A woman?”

  I didn’t want to tell Eshe about Pashang’s visions. That we’d entered the Palace of Bones. I feared he’d look upon us like the evils he hunted. “Sorcerer, sorceress, whoever. He or she took away the only thing I wanted.”

  I could hear the water shift as Eshe floated on his back. I almost wanted to peek.

  “Cyra, I don’t know what it’s like being you. We’re nothing alike. But at the end of the day, everyone wants the same thing. To be happy.”

  I snickered. “Happy? That’s the least wise thing you’ve said to me. While I lived in the Sand Palace, all day, every day, I witnessed viziers and concubines and even the eunuchs compete, not for happiness, but for more.”

  “Because they think more will make them happy. But you know what? I know that’s false…because I was happiest when I was a Disciple, living in a cave on a bed of sand and stone.”

  “So you were happy when you had purpose. We’re not so different, then. I don’t want to waste any more of my life idle in the harem or freezing in the Waste. As Sultana of Sultanas, I could do things that mattered to this country. Shape its destiny, even.”

  A splash of water dampened my back. I screamed and, without thinking, turned toward Eshe, who was standing in the pool and laughing. He wound his arm and splashed another gale onto me, soaking the front of my caftan.

  I shivered as I stared at his nakedness. I couldn’t deny that I liked what I saw.

  He sank back into the pool, obscuring what I was staring at. “Sorry, I just had to. My mother always said I had a bit of Ahriyya in me.”

  I was shivering, and I hated shivering. Cold reminded me of those frozen and starving days in the Waste, which I’d prayed to the void to escape. A prayer that had eventually led me here, to this bath, with this man.

  Without a second thought, I stepped into the pool and submerged in the rippling, warm water. It eased the shivers.

  “Are you really going to bathe with your clothes on?” Eshe asked.

  I glared at him, though I wasn’t as furious as I pretended. “So…was this your way of getting me naked? Well, sorry to disappoint.”

  He grinned. Just how shameless was he? “I swear, I don’t have any ill-intentions.”

  “Earlier, you said you gave up trying to be good…well, I haven’t yet…completely…”

  “That’s admirable. To be fair, while I gave up trying to be good, I didn’t give up trying to do the right thing…if that makes sense.”

  In a way, it did. What you were on the inside and your actions could be entirely different. “Was getting me in the pool the right thing?”

  “You’re the one who got in the pool. I only splashed you.” He scratched his beard. “Splashing you was not the right thing, no, but now that you’re in here, I don’t regret it.”

  I smiled. Was I blushing? “I don’t regret it, either.”

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Whoever it was entered before I could get out of the water. And it just had to be him: Khagan Pashang, still in his bloodied chainmail, wearing a shameless smile above his bright brown beard.

  He was obviously delighted to catch us in this sordid situation. And his smile only stretched as he stopped at the pool’s edge.

  “Cyra, Eshe, I honestly never knew,” he said. “Now, I’m not one to interrupt pleasure, but a serious matter has presented itself.”

  I wanted to say that nothing happened between us but swallowed my shame instead. Besides, it seemed Pashang wasn’t the jealous type. “What matter?”

  “Two matters, actually.” Pashang held up two gloved fingers. “First, someone claims to know who the soulshifter is. And second…oh, that you’ll barely believe.”

  20

  Zedra

  A few hours ago…

  Into the chest, I went, Celene on guard. With the Jotrids — somehow — in the city, it was time to use my most treasured bloodrune, lest it all unravel. I’d saved it for a crisis like this when subtler methods had failed, and a direct, though far riskier approach was needed. I touched the bloodrune with my mind, hoping it would do what I needed it to.

  I stood at the head of a prayer line, hands raised and head going left to right, left to right. These saint worshippers prayed all wrong, too: the head should start on the right, not the left, and you should never raise your hands.

  I dropped my hands, folded them, and said in a gruff voice, “I’m not feeling well. Everyone out.”

  The viziers in the rows behind me looked at each other, bewildered, so I shouted, “Out!”

  At that, they streamed out the room. I studied the rings on my fingers: an emerald partly encased in gold, a topaz within which was some sort of twinkling water, and a flat, golden disc with the sigil of the simurgh, its wings high and august.

  I didn’t need more confirmation. The bloodrune I’d scrawled under Tamaz’s table the night I’d supped with him had now worked. I’d used some of Kyars’ sower’s blood — which I’d cleaned up when I’d so clumsily left a needle in his bed — instead of my own seeker’s blood to make the rune, suspecting his father possessed the same flavor. Well, his father didn’t, but his uncle did. I was now a Seluqal. I was Mansur.

  I tried to remember where baby Seluq was. Mansur had given him to…a serving girl…somewhere…not far. I couldn’t tell precisely who or where, so I’d have to search. I’d only get one chance: was half an hour enough time?

  In the hallway, a gray-mustached man who wore chainmail over brocade bowed his head at me. “Your Highness. Khagan Pashang was last sighted at the Tower of Wisdom.”

  Tower of Wisdom? What was he doing there? “Why?”

  “We don’t know. Some of his force has already arrived at the palace gates. We’re well secured from the Order’s treachery. Khizr Khaz will pay for this betrayal.”

  Betrayal? Was Khizr Khaz originally on their side?

  “Where is Kyars’ son?” I asked.

  The man’s mustache twitched. “Where he’s always been. With the Ruthenian handmaid.”

  With Vera? But Mansur imprisoned her, even forced a false testimony from her.

  “I’m off to the harem, then,” I said.

  “Harem? But the girl and the child aren’t there.”

  “Then where are they?”

  He scratched his head — I ought not to let my ignorance show too much, from now on, lest they grow suspicious. “Where they’ve always been. In your bed chamber.”

  So…Vera had more cunning than I’d r
ealized. She always was good at getting baby Seluq to stop fussing or crying. She’d sing, rock his crib, and put him to sleep. Seemed her skill with children extended to old men, too. Good for her.

  After a short walk, I entered the Shah’s bed chamber. There Vera stood, polishing the golden trellis that surrounded the bed. Kyars had the same in his room — when we’d make love, I’d feel like a caged animal.

  Vera straightened her rose scarf and bent her neck. “My Shah.” Was she already calling him that? How profane.

  In the crib slept baby Seluq. Seeing him…tears misted on my eyelids, one trailing down my cheek and into my beard. I scooped him up, kissed his forehead, and hugged him close. Tucked him between my shoulder and neck.

  I turned to see an astonished Vera, dimples aside her soft, strawberry lips.

  “You’ve taken to him,” she said. “That’s a relief. He’s always been a good boy.”

  “And have you been a good girl, Vera?”

  I’m sure Mansur loved that mischievous smile. She said, “I hope so, my Shah. I’ve not denied you any request, have I?”

  I caressed her powdered cheek. Nauseatingly sweet, this girl, like an underripe date dipped in molasses. “You’ll do something for me, now.”

  She got on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek, finishing with her tongue. “Anything, my Shah.”

  I handed her baby Seluq. She cradled him over her shoulder.

  “Follow me.”

  Mirror-armored soldiers guarded every room in the hall, bending their necks as I passed. Servants also went about, though I recognized few — seemed Mansur had brought his own. After several minutes — I was acutely aware of the draining water clock — we arrived at the archway to the exit.

  Just my damned luck that a bubbly and over-perfumed Ozar stood there, as if lying in wait. He bent his neck.

  “I’ve no time for you,” I said. “Find me later.”

  “Your Highness,” he called as I passed, “I’ve received word from you-know-who at the shrine.”