“You know it is not only the Emperor who seeks to preserve the Empire, or has the means to do so.”
Zahir was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I promised you information. I’ve given you and your sister scholars my knowledge of the realm of ash. I offered no more than that.”
“I don’t ask for the Maha’s knowledge out of a desire to barter with you further. Giving us the Maha’s knowledge would be the right thing to do, Zahir.” Aliye’s voice was suddenly rich, impassioned. “We do not have armies and thrones, as your brother does, but we are not lacking in influence. We are everywhere, seeking and learning, holding the Empire as it crumbles. You do not know what we have already averted, through carefully chosen lies and truths, through the men we cultivate, through the light of knowledge alone.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t know.”
“If you hear nothing of the fall of Atara Fort, it is the work of a group of my sisters, who betrayed one soldier’s traitorous pillow talk to his commander. If you do hear of a fatherless man of low blood raised to commander or noble adviser, then you see our efforts to ensure the strongest in the Empire rise. And if the royal mortician tells his pretty mistress in confidence that Prince Akhtar was strangled to death, and she spreads the knowledge of it, so that Parviz may not sit easy on his stolen throne…” Aliye made an expansive gesture. “Small gestures can have great power.”
“The spread of the story of the Maha’s heir,” Arwa whispered. “You had a hand in it. Didn’t you?”
Aliye said nothing. But she nodded, eyes on Arwa, as if to say, You have the measure of me.
“Aliye,” Eshara said, in an aggrieved tone. “Tell me you haven’t.”
“You were not there when we conferred, Eshara,” Aliye said. “But the will of the Hidden Ones is united in this. We honor the Emperors who rule by right of the Maha’s blood. But Parviz is no true Emperor. He was not his father’s chosen heir. He has broken the imperial line of legitimacy, and worse still, he abhors everything we believe in.” Her voice lowered. “We know what became of Durevi, under his rule. We will not see the people of the Empire suffer as Durevi has for what he names heresy.”
“Spreading tales will only anger him, Aunt,” said Zahir.
“He may be angry, indeed,” she agreed. “But his court will remember that he strangled the fine, upstanding brother who should have ruled them. They will remember that the Maha’s heir has slipped beyond his reach. And when he gives his orders to seek out heretics and see them gutted, his court will hesitate. Perhaps they will even disobey.” She shrugged, one elegant lift of her shoulders. “Better for us all, that his throne rests upon such a bed of sand.”
Eshara muttered something unsavory under her breath. Then she said, “It paints a target on Zahir.”
“It does,” Aliye acknowledged. “But, Zahir, you need not be in danger. You can travel invisibly. There are plenty of pilgrims making their way to the Maha’s grave. A few more would not be noticed. Eshara has offered herself for the task, and I can provide your provisions. Coin, food, supplies.”
“That is all your Hidden Ones can offer?” Arwa asks.
Aliye and Eshara both turned looks upon her.
“Only coin, and no defense but a single guardswoman. It suggests,” said Arwa, chin raised, “that your power is limited.”
“Not limited,” Zahir said, an edge of bitterness to his voice. “Divided. Isn’t that so, Aunt?”
“Knowledge is complex, the path to truth shaped by the individual’s own nature,” Aliye said softly. “But we have one rule, for our sisters. One alone. The Hidden Ones remain secret. Secrecy keeps us alive. Bahar was wise to try to influence the Emperor and Empress to look kindly upon our vision of a better world, one shaped by more than circumstance of birth, but she revealed too much. She broke our trust. For her son to continue her work…” Aliye shook her head. “A traitor’s child, and a boy. Many of my scholar sisters will not be willing to provide resources to his work.”
“And others are willing,” Eshara said. “Like me. Obviously. Zahir, there are scholars enough that may not support you, but will accept the Maha’s knowledge. They’ll make use of it—build the better world you hope for, as we do—”
“No more.”
Zahir said it quietly enough, but his voice was so cold and hard that it silenced the room.
“I find,” he said, “that I am growing tired of being a tool in the vast games of others. And the players seem to keep dying. Aunt Aliye, Eshara, it’s your division that makes me doubt the worth of placing the Maha’s knowledge in your hands. I revere the work of the Hidden Ones, but I won’t break myself upon this cause if it will all come to nothing.”
Aliye sighed. Her eyes were sad.
“Then what would you do, Zahir? Stay here? Take up your mother’s profession perhaps?”
“You think to shame me into going?” He sounded incredulous. “Do you think so little of my regard for you? For my mother?”
“No. I only think to remind you that your skills have been honed to this purpose, and this alone. Pursuit of knowledge. Service to a higher power. So use them, dear one. Try to save the Empire. And trust that the Hidden Ones will do all in their power to use your knowledge well, and see it placed in the wisest hands.”
“I need time,” he bit out.
“Go, then,” said Aliye. “You have it.”
Zahir left. Without pause, Arwa turned on her heel and followed him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
He was on the roof once more. The sunlight was blazing now. It took Arwa a moment to adjust to it—to blink the painful burst of new light from her eyes and fix her gaze on Zahir, sitting on the edge of the roof, his head in his hands.
Arwa sat down beside him.
“Don’t,” he said.
“I’m not doing anything,” she replied. “I’m just sitting here.”
She kicked her feet idly back and forth as she stared across the city in daylight. At night, it glimmered. In the day, the bright paint of the buildings of the pleasure district was clearly peeling. The streets were festooned with burnt-out lamps. People milled about, bullocks and carts, food traders; there was the smell of flowers in great baskets, and sweets and fried dough. The air was rich with noise and life.
“Jihan may be dead.”
It startled her, when he spoke. Her legs froze mid-kick. She lowered them and turned a little to look at him.
“After my mother’s death, she arranged my tutors. My housing. My life. And now she may be gone. Arwa…” Exhale, shaky with feeling. “I know I have a duty to the Empire. To do what’s right. And it’s time. My wounds are healing. But.” Voice a whisper. “My soul feels like a thing splintered. I do not think it is strong enough for the Maha’s memories. Grief has undone me.”
Arwa swallowed. Her throat, her heart, felt full of grit.
“I know something of grief,” Arwa said.
“Yes,” Zahir murmured. “Do you miss him, your husband? Mourn him still?”
He’d never asked her about Kamran. But she was a widow, of course. Some things were inviolable.