“Darzin’s still alive,” I said, “so I’m guessing Thurvishar hasn’t fulfilled his promises.”
“He said it would be up to me,” Talea said, “but he explained—” She paused, taking my hand again. “He explained what they’re trying to do. I may hate Darzin, but they are trying to take down the empire. Slavery isn’t a feature of Yoran culture—Kaen won’t allow it to continue once he’s in charge. And what price wouldn’t I pay for a Quur without slavery?”
Truly, her willpower left me awed. I felt equally skeptical about the motives of royals. The Royal Houses rested on a foundation of slavery, greed, and pain.2 I didn’t think anyone whose fortunes rested upon such a base would be eager to undermine the source of their wealth.
Oh, I understood Kaen’s motives: Yor felt lashed to a Quuros yoke, so it made sense to smash the empire first, before Yor declared itself free.
The royal families, though? All they wanted was more power. Always more power.
“It must be torture seeing him alive and breathing,” I said at last.
Talea shrugged. “Not once I started training with Xivan. I’ve rarely left the caves. And even then—” Talea chuckled. “He did see me once, when I first arrived with Thurvishar. Can you believe that bastard didn’t even recognize me?”
“But now you’ve left the caves.” The idea Talea would now have to deal with Darzin horrified me. “He’s going to be here. He’s here rather a lot.”
“No,” she said, grinning. “I won’t be running into him. And I have you to thank.”
“You do?”
“The Hon banished Darzin from the court as punishment for his role in plotting to kill you. Darzin may send someone else in his place as an emissary, but he’s not allowed here again himself.”
I didn’t feel like pointing out Darzin might have been accused unfairly. “I’m glad to hear it. I admit I didn’t relish seeing him again.”
“He’s a monster.” The bitterness and hate returned to her voice.
Even as a monster myself, I couldn’t disagree.
She reached out a hand and touched my cheek, lingered just south of my lower lip. “Would you like me to stay with you tonight?”
I felt a tremor shiver down me from cheek to loins. I hesitated. “Are you asking to share my bed?”
Her smile faltered. “Only if you want. I hope I haven’t offended. If you prefer men…”
I didn’t quite laugh. The desire to pull her to me, to cup her head in my hands, kiss her open-mouthed, and push her back onto the bed felt overwhelming. Did I want this? Oh yes.
I picked up her hand and kissed her calloused fingertips, each in turn. I felt her shiver. “Nothing would please me more.”
46: THE SEARCH FOR THE BLACK KNIGHT
Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Janel crossed a really rickety bridge
“I always wondered what had happened to Talea,” Kihrin said. “I thought about asking Thurvishar, but I was afraid he’d tell me she’d been eaten by … you see, I used to know this mimic … Anyway, I’m glad Thurvishar freed her.”1
Qown raised his head. “Did you say a mimic? I thought those were myths.”
“Oh no,” Kihrin said. “Very real and very terrifying. And this particular mimic—Talon—is the same assassin Talea mentioned, the one who murdered her sister, Morea.”
“Well, I’m just glad you saw sense and decided to run with mares,” Dorna said, nodding and patting Janel on the shoulder. “Talea seems lovely.”
Janel rolled her eyes. “Dorna, don’t start.”
“You run with whoever you like, dear. I will always love you,” Dorna said.
Janel plastered a tight smile on her face and turned to Qown. “Start reading. Right now.”
Qown’s Turn. The Ice Demesne, Yor, Quur.
Brother Qown didn’t see Relos Var again for several months, but when he did, the wizard seemed in a foul temper. He paused at the study door, still speaking to someone outside.
“Why haven’t you killed her yet?” Relos Var said, looking behind him, and, as far as Brother Qown could tell, failing to notice Qown. “Mark my words, you’re going to regret your misplaced loyalty. She’s dangerous. She should be destroyed.”
Then the Hon, Azhen Kaen, pushed past the wizard. “I have my reasons. This isn’t up for discussion, Var.”
As both men came into the room, Brother Qown found himself hoping they might overlook him, too involved with the conversation to realize someone was already present.
Luck wasn’t with him.
The Hon slapped the table before Brother Qown, making him jump. “You’re Var’s new apprentice, right?”
“I, uh—” Brother Qown swallowed. Apprentice wasn’t the right word, considering. But reminding the Hon he was Relos Var’s ensorcelled, soul-chained slave didn’t seem a good idea either.
“It’s fine, Qown,” Relos Var said, smiling down at him. “The Hon has asked for our help with a situation in Jorat. And since I’m sure you’ve had enough time to grow accustomed to Worldhearth, I volunteered your services. I hope you don’t mind.”
Brother Qown swallowed again, but this time managed a wan smile. “No. Of course not, Lord Var.”
“Good,” said the Hon. “I need to find out who has picked up the Black Knight’s mantle. Someone’s assumed that role at the last dozen tournaments—and I’m sick of it.”
“I’m sorry?” Brother Qown asked. “How does the same person playing the Black Knight cause a problem? It’s a tournament. It affects commodity prices and business deals…”
The Hon gave Qown such a fierce “you’re an idiot” glare the priest found himself fighting the urge to duck. “Pick your reason. When he won the tournament in Praliar, he used his idorrá to convince the local baron to evacuate the entire town afterward—before Aeyan’arric arrived. Or the several occasions where he was so disruptive, the local rulers canceled the tournament and sent everyone home. Or simply the fact that he’s sneaking into tournaments, knocking out whoever should be the Black Knight, taking their place and winning—often before scattering his prize money to the crowds. Which is making the local rulers look like fools.” He growled. “That’s supposed to be my job, Var. How am I supposed to come in and save these people if this bastard keeps beating me to it?”
Brother Qown blinked and looked up at Relos Var. “Wouldn’t it be better to use the Name—”
Relos Var shook his head. “That would require too open-ended a question. The Black Knight isn’t a unique identifier. Since it’s a role and not a title, we’d receive a thousand names or no names at all. There are times in Jorat where no one is the Black Knight, because no one is playing the role in a tournament. But we’ve made an initial list of people who’ve played the part in the last year. It’s likely one of them.” He untucked the large vellum scroll he’d been holding under his arm and unrolled it on the desk.