The Markreev’s expression transitioned through a lot of emotions in quick succession: anger, worry, dread, fear, and finally a wary, grudging respect. He gestured toward Ninavis. “Why her, though? Why not yourself? Setting this up must have taken you years. No one just gives away power.”
The corner of Ninavis’s mouth quirked. “I admit I’m wondering this myself.”
“I’m surprised at you, Aroth. I’m not giving away power. I’m delegating. I’d do it myself, but it turns out I’m going to be too busy with more important matters.” She raised a finger as Aroth started to protest. “Yes, it turns out that there really are matters more important than ruling Jorat.”
Aroth Malkoessian examined Ninavis. “Can you do the job?”
Ninavis laughed. “Compared to Foran Xun? A goat would do better.” She shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to have a good adviser. Someone who’s actually Joratese might be nice. None of that Relos Var business.”
“Indeed.” His gaze turned contemplative. No doubt the Markreev was mulling all the ways he could possibly turn the situation to his advantage. “What about my papers?”
“What about them? I’ll keep them safe for you.” Ninavis’s grin bordered on nasty as she lowered the rolled-up page in her hand to the brazier. “Except for the Theranon debts, of course. It’s so kind of you to forgive those. Really, I’m touched.”
Janel snapped her fingers again, and the Markreev’s gaze focused on her immediately. “Do we have an understanding, Aroth?”
He met her eyes, which flickered pale blue again, then he shuddered. “Yes,” Aroth whispered. “Yes, we do. My … my lord.”
Janel smiled. “Good.”
Aroth shook himself.
“Well, you two should find Dorna and start planning how you want to approach the other Markreevs with the happy news about their new duke. I have other things to check on.” Janel bowed to them both and left to see who else had survived.
63: RESCUES
Atrine, Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Teraeth retained his gift for diplomacy
When Kihrin woke, he found himself lying on a cot set up inside an army tent. He left before anyone had a ch63ance to decide what should be done with him, one way or another.
Outside, a continuous rumble filled the air; the vast, deep sound reminding him of the sea maelstrom called the Maw. Nearby, soldiers busied themselves setting up or tearing down the military camp. No one seemed eager to pay any attention to him.
He rubbed his head, but whoever had pulled him from the water had healed the injury. Kihrin’s hand fell to his belt. No Urthaenriel either, and he couldn’t hear her singing from nearby.
Kihrin’s gut clenched.
Kihrin saw Thurvishar pacing near Lake Jorat’s shoreline, looking pensive and miserable as he gazed at Atrine’s burning, wrecked remains. Standing next to Thurvishar …
Kihrin’s breath caught as he saw the Manol vané turn to profile. Then he realized it wasn’t Teraeth. The eyes were wrong, the nose was wrong, everything was wrong. Kihrin released his breath, fighting back disappointment. He’d bet metal this was Teraeth’s grandfather Mithros—and clearly the camp’s soldiers didn’t realize the vané was also the God of Destruction, Khored. He had to wonder how the Quuros army—many of whom worshipped Khored—would react to finding out their favorite deity was in fact a Manol vané.
A nearby tent flap opened, and Janel walked outside.
She noticed him right away and smiled. An instant later, Janel was in his arms, kissing him. Which almost made everything better. Or at least made everything a lot easier to forget.
Someone cleared their throat.
Kihrin looked up to see a Manol vané standing next to Tyentso—this time, the right Manol vané. Kihrin pulled away from Janel.
“Teraeth,” Kihrin said. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The assassin’s green eyes flicked to Janel and then back to Kihrin. “Obviously.”
Kihrin wanted to kick himself. “Look, I’m glad to see you.”
“Are you really?” Teraeth raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, damn it.” Kihrin looked out over the lake toward the ruins of Atrine. “I’ve lost Urthaenriel. It only took three days—”
“Well, you do work fast,” Teraeth said.
Kihrin sighed. If he’d ever wondered how Teraeth would react to Kihrin becoming romantically involved with Janel, now he knew the answer: poorly.
It might have gone that way for a while, but the women had other ideas. “You two can catch up on your flirting later. Janel, how are you feeling?” Emperor Tyentso asked.
“Surprisingly well for someone swallowed by a dragon,” Janel admitted. “Have either of you seen Qown? I’d have expected to find him around the medical tents.”
Kihrin felt a dozen dull knives settle in his stomach. “Uh, about that—”
He didn’t want to be right about his suspicions. He certainly didn’t want to explain those suspicions to Janel.
Janel’s expression gave way to dread. “He’s not hurt, is he? I don’t know what happened down there—”
“That’s what we came over here to find out,” Tyentso said.
“I don’t think Qown’s injured, but Relos Var tricked us all. You see, I didn’t destroy a Cornerstone.” Kihrin felt sick. Somewhere out there, Relos Var had just checked off another item on his list, come one step closer to whatever horrible event he was attempting to trigger. Fulfilling the prophecies. As if that were a good thing.
Kihrin looked out over the water. Nearby, he heard people working, talking. Also moans and cries of pain.
Teraeth’s expression changed from simmering anger to caution. “Kihrin, I pulled both you and Thurvishar out of the water. Qown wasn’t there. Neither was Urthaenriel.”
“No, I think Qown took it with him after he knocked me unconscious.” It had to have been Qown. Kihrin had seen Thurvishar go down, and he’d been facing Relos Var. Qown was the only person who could have done it.
Janel blinked at him in horror. “No, that can’t be what happened. Relos Var must have done something, some trick…”
Kihrin pressed his lips into a thin line and met Teraeth’s stare. The vané had, at least for the moment, put jealousy aside in favor of being concerned with more important matters. And they had both placed recent events firmly in the “not good” category. Teraeth gave him a single nod of acknowledgment.
“No,” Kihrin said, “I don’t think so. Qown just figured out whose side he’s really on, that’s all. I’m really sorry, Janel.”
Janel’s eyes were wide and shocked. Teraeth walked over and put a hand on her shoulder.
“I know it looks bad,” Tyentso said, “but we’ll find Relos Var. Everyone will be looking for him now. I may not like the Academy witch-hunters, but they’re good at their job. We’ll find him—and we’ll find Urthaenriel.”
“You don’t understand,” Kihrin said.
“It can’t be that bad,” Tyentso said. “No one’s reported a demon attack in hours, anywhere in the empire.”