tongue, and his pulse beat hard in his temples.
“False modesty doesn’t become you,” Ahmar said with a narrow smile. “All know you’re the empress’s closest advisor.”
Pet mage was what he was more often called. He walked a careful wire in the Court of Lions, making friends and alliances so as not to draw dangerous rumors, but not letting anyone close enough to threaten his secrets. Some knew the sort of work he had performed for the last emperor in Sivahra, but many younger members of the court assumed Samar kept him close for the same reasons she did Siddir: pretty eyes and flattery. Asheris tried not to disabuse them of the notion.
It’s only the truth, is it not? A kept pet. Just because Samar doesn’t make you wear a collar doesn’t mean your wings aren’t clipped.
He shook his head against the bitter voice. Ahmar cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me,” he said. “The sun—” He was a desert creature, more than any mortal could be, but today the heat seemed unusually fierce.
“Yes. It is scorching, isn’t it? Perhaps we should find some shade.” She rose, shaking her robes smooth, and started down the garden path. Asheris fell in beside her, while the silent Khajiri walked several paces behind.
“Have the temple apiaries recovered from the storm?” he asked, gathering his sunstruck wits.
Ahmar’s expression darkened. “Not yet. It was a terrible thing. We lost so many hives. But we have new queens—we’ll rebuild.”
Innocent enough, but the words disquieted him. The high priestess was old and frail, and as close to holiness as Asheris had ever seen a mortal come. She was shrewd as well, but he’d never known her to dabble in secular matters. Not all priests were so unworldly in their designs. When Mehridad died, Ahmar would be among the candidates for the Illumined Chair. Her election would not make for a placid relationship between church and state.
“I’m told you’ve taken an interest in this ghost wind,” Ahmar said, her eyes narrowing.
“I saw the worst of the storm. It was…memorable. I want to learn its cause.”
“Yes. I imagine so.” She slowed as they neared the gated arch that led back to the palace proper. “I hear you’ve sent for a specialist in such matters.”
Asheris’s eyebrows climbed and he slid his hands into opposite sleeves to hide his tension. It was no surprise to learn the church had agents in the palace, but he and Siddir had been very circumspect in their plans. “Your hearing is keen, Your Radiance. Yes. An old colleague of mine from Selafai. She has experience in these things.”
“A necromancer.” Her dusky lips pursed in distaste.
“Who else would one call, for a ghost? Or a ghost wind.”
“The church also has its experts.” She tilted her head toward her Khajiri shadow.
Knowing how to destroy something wasn’t the same as understanding it. He kept his sharp reply to himself, but she read it in his face.
“I have only respect for the learning of the university mages, Lord al Seth, and for your judgment. But still I’ll risk a word of advice.” Her dark eyes pinned him, calm and cool. “The Fata is treacherous, as is necromancy and any traffic with spirits. Carelessness therewith is how abominations are made. Be judicious with your involvement.”
She knows , he thought, and his blood chilled. How could she, though? And if she did, why not act? The church would never countenance a demon in the city, let alone one standing near the throne.
If she knew what he was, that knowledge was a knife at his throat, and at Samar’s.
“I should return to the temple,” Ahmar said, pausing at the gate. “As you’ve reminded me, the apiaries need my attention more than matters of land. My discussion with Her Highness can wait a few more days. A pleasure as always, Lord al Seth.” She offered her hand and he bowed over it once more; his lips were numb as he pressed them to her ring. “I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”
“I’m
“False modesty doesn’t become you,” Ahmar said with a narrow smile. “All know you’re the empress’s closest advisor.”
Pet mage was what he was more often called. He walked a careful wire in the Court of Lions, making friends and alliances so as not to draw dangerous rumors, but not letting anyone close enough to threaten his secrets. Some knew the sort of work he had performed for the last emperor in Sivahra, but many younger members of the court assumed Samar kept him close for the same reasons she did Siddir: pretty eyes and flattery. Asheris tried not to disabuse them of the notion.
It’s only the truth, is it not? A kept pet. Just because Samar doesn’t make you wear a collar doesn’t mean your wings aren’t clipped.
He shook his head against the bitter voice. Ahmar cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me,” he said. “The sun—” He was a desert creature, more than any mortal could be, but today the heat seemed unusually fierce.
“Yes. It is scorching, isn’t it? Perhaps we should find some shade.” She rose, shaking her robes smooth, and started down the garden path. Asheris fell in beside her, while the silent Khajiri walked several paces behind.
“Have the temple apiaries recovered from the storm?” he asked, gathering his sunstruck wits.
Ahmar’s expression darkened. “Not yet. It was a terrible thing. We lost so many hives. But we have new queens—we’ll rebuild.”
Innocent enough, but the words disquieted him. The high priestess was old and frail, and as close to holiness as Asheris had ever seen a mortal come. She was shrewd as well, but he’d never known her to dabble in secular matters. Not all priests were so unworldly in their designs. When Mehridad died, Ahmar would be among the candidates for the Illumined Chair. Her election would not make for a placid relationship between church and state.
“I’m told you’ve taken an interest in this ghost wind,” Ahmar said, her eyes narrowing.
“I saw the worst of the storm. It was…memorable. I want to learn its cause.”
“Yes. I imagine so.” She slowed as they neared the gated arch that led back to the palace proper. “I hear you’ve sent for a specialist in such matters.”
Asheris’s eyebrows climbed and he slid his hands into opposite sleeves to hide his tension. It was no surprise to learn the church had agents in the palace, but he and Siddir had been very circumspect in their plans. “Your hearing is keen, Your Radiance. Yes. An old colleague of mine from Selafai. She has experience in these things.”
“A necromancer.” Her dusky lips pursed in distaste.
“Who else would one call, for a ghost? Or a ghost wind.”
“The church also has its experts.” She tilted her head toward her Khajiri shadow.
Knowing how to destroy something wasn’t the same as understanding it. He kept his sharp reply to himself, but she read it in his face.
“I have only respect for the learning of the university mages, Lord al Seth, and for your judgment. But still I’ll risk a word of advice.” Her dark eyes pinned him, calm and cool. “The Fata is treacherous, as is necromancy and any traffic with spirits. Carelessness therewith is how abominations are made. Be judicious with your involvement.”
She knows , he thought, and his blood chilled. How could she, though? And if she did, why not act? The church would never countenance a demon in the city, let alone one standing near the throne.
If she knew what he was, that knowledge was a knife at his throat, and at Samar’s.
“I should return to the temple,” Ahmar said, pausing at the gate. “As you’ve reminded me, the apiaries need my attention more than matters of land. My discussion with Her Highness can wait a few more days. A pleasure as always, Lord al Seth.” She offered her hand and he bowed over it once more; his lips were numb as he pressed them to her ring. “I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.”
“I’m
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