Race the Sands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  She looked so appalled that he almost smiled. “Of course not!”

  He reached out and took her hand this time. “Sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I’ve been on edge lately. Forgive me?”

  She let out a frustrated huff. “I’d never ask you to sacrifice yourself. I merely . . . Dar, just watch yourself around Ambassador Usan, all right? He’s not to be trusted.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  They reached the aviary doors, and she retreated. He watched her go, wishing the conversation had ended differently, wishing he’d had the courage to tell her how he felt—though a piece of him whispered, She already knows.

  She’d risked her reputation and her future safety to warn him. Wasn’t that a sign that she cared? And she wasn’t wrong—the ambassador was a threat. Just low on an ever-growing list of them.

  It was worth considering the fact that Ambassador Usan had access to a vast treasury. That was valuable information he hadn’t fully considered. Drawing on a king’s funds, Usan could have afforded a charm to turn a man into a kehok.

  The more Dar thought about it, the more he believed it to be possible. If the king of Ranir were planning an invasion, destabilizing Becar from the top would be a brilliant move. Dar had studied enough history to know that Becar’s strength—an emperor guided by the purity of the augurs—was also its weakness. Becar had never been without a crowned emperor for so long. We’re ripe for conquering.

  Thank you, Nori, he thought. You may be more right than you know.

  She would make a spectacular wife and empress.

  He mulled over Usan’s possible treachery as he left his guards and entered the aviary alone. The peaceful quiet, punctuated by birdcalls and the rustling of leaves, descended on him. Centuries old, the aviary used to be his brother’s favorite place. It was filled with lush trees and flowers that wouldn’t survive outside this glass enclosure. All the winding paths were mosaics, and hidden fountains were tucked into the bushes, creating tiny pools for the birds who lived here.

  He missed his brother so terribly that for an instant, he couldn’t breathe.

  It kept striking like that these days. He’d think he was fine. He’d be moving forward, focusing on the problems of the country or even more simply what to wear that day or whether he liked a particular soup, and a memory would strike him, leaving him feeling as if he’d plunged into a hole.

  He walked through the aviary, carrying his grief with him, until he reached a courtyard with a circle of chairs carved to look like waves of water. A river hawk was perched on the back of one.

  “Mother,” he said.

  Startled, the hawk spread her wings as if to take flight. She only managed a sort of hopping fall to the ground, before scurrying in between the bushes. She’d had her wings clipped. She never seemed to remember him as well as she’d remembered Zarin.

  “Your Excellence?” a guard called across the aviary. “Your guests have arrived.”

  “I am here,” he called back.

  He composed himself, forcing back thoughts of his mother and his brother, as the rider Raia, her trainer, Augur Yorbel, and Lady Evara were led into the courtyard. All of them bowed. He gestured to the chairs. “Please, sit. Make yourselves comfortable. I believe I have found a location where we can, at least for the time being, speak freely.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Raia said, looking around. “You could almost believe it wasn’t a cage.”

  “Raia,” the trainer muttered.

  Raia blushed. “Oh! I didn’t mean . . . Forgive me, Your Excellence! It’s only . . . My family had an aviary, but you could see the walls and the wire mesh above. With the glass, the birds have the sky. I think that’s wonderful.”

  “My brother loved this place,” Dar said, and then his throat clogged. He cleared it, as if he’d merely swallowed wrong. “But I asked you here for a purpose, not pleasantries. Rider Raia, congratulations on all your wins. Trainer Verlas, how are our prospects for tomorrow’s championship race?”

  “She can win, if people will stop trying to murder our racer,” Trainer Verlas said.

  The word “murder” felt like cold water being thrown in his face.

  Lady Evara rolled her eyes. “Forgive her, Your Excellence. I’ve often considered Trainer Verlas’s bluntness to be a virtue, but I recognize that not everyone agrees with me.”

  Dar tried not to look as alarmed as he felt. “Tell me all.”

  Trainer Verlas described an attempted attack on the lion in the stables. Most of it he’d heard when Lady Evara requested the use of palace guards for the kehok, but he’d assumed it was an accident. The trainer, though, was clear that she did not consider it an accident. She suspected that the latches had been weakened on purpose. She believed it was too great a coincidence that the three kehoks with weakened latches also had loose shackles and also aimed their attack at the same target—she believed the attack was orchestrated and guided. After listening to her, Dar was inclined to agree.

  “We should arrest the suspect trainer,” he said.

  “With all due respect,” Lady Evara said, “our sneaky little trainer is no longer a threat, and we should be focusing our attention in other directions.”

  “But we can’t let this criminal walk free—not when there’s only one race that stands between us and an end to this! We can’t allow anything to interfere with tomorrow.”

  “Precisely my point,” Lady Evara said. “The racing commission has been alerted. They view any attempt to tamper with race results as the ultimate crime. She is being interrogated and will be dealt with. At the very least she won’t dare make another attempt. But she is not the only threat.” Lady Evara related how a courtier had approached her with a threat of blackmail and an offer of riches. She named the man as Lady Nori’s cousin, Lord Petalo, a man known for his heavy gambling on the races. She wasn’t specific about the details of the blackmail, but Dar considered that a lesser issue.

  Lady Evara added: “Just for the record, I did not try to poison the kehok.” She smiled at them as she said that, as if expecting great praise for not committing treason and murder.

  Raia picked up the story, describing how a palace guard, or someone impersonating one, had attempted to poison the black lion. The suspect had fled. “We’re watching his food even more carefully now,” she said. “It won’t happen again. And the lion is helping—he knows not to eat until I’ve tested his food.”

  “Uncanny,” Trainer Verlas muttered.

  Dar heard her. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a highly intelligent kehok.”

  My brother was a highly intelligent man, Dar thought.

  “No, Dar,” Yorbel said quietly, as if sensing his thoughts. “He may have your brother’s soul, but he does not possess his mind. He is not your brother. He has the mind of a monster now, with all its limitations.”

  Raia jumped in. “But he didn’t kill a man when he could have.”

  That’s true, Dar thought. Was it so terrible for him to hope that some vestige of his brother survived whatever was done to him? After all, Zarin had come regularly to talk to the river hawk who had been their mother, claiming she carried some of her memories. It was said memories, at least the strongest ones, could return through exposure to past loved ones.

  “Details aside, it remains that the poisoner is still out there,” Lady Evara said, “as is the one who hired him or her. . . . According to all I’ve been able to discover, Lord Petalo does not have access to the kind of funds he claims to. I believe that the corrupt trainer, the poisoner, and Lord Petalo are all puppets. Which means there will be other attempts.”

  Raia let out a gasp.

  “As much as I love surprises, perhaps there’s something we could do to minimize the effectiveness of our next aspiring assassin,” Lady Evara said. “Like, ooh, I know, set a trap!” She said it as if the idea had jumped into her head.

  Dar didn’t believe for an instant that it was a thought she’d spontaneously had. Lady Evara was far m
ore intelligent than she pretended to be. She’d merely been waiting for the right moment to introduce her idea. “Go on.”

  “Instead of waiting to be surprised by our puppet master’s next move, why not present an appealing opening and see who rushes to claim it?”

  “Terrible idea,” Trainer Verlas said.

  Lady Evara pouted. “I think it’s brilliant.”

  “You want to use my rider and racer as bait!” Trainer Verlas scowled at Lady Evara. “For one, it’s too risky. For another, Raia and the lion should be focusing on preparing for the final race, not being distracted by playing bait. I won’t permit it.”

  Lady Evara let out a tinkling laugh. “Darling, you are in the presence of the emperor-to-be. I don’t really think it’s your place to permit or not permit anything. Besides, worrying about another murder attempt is already quite a distraction.” She flashed a charming smile at Dar. “Your Excellence, of course, it’s your decision.”

  He considered it. “Your rider and racer are already targets. If we can anticipate when and where the next attack will be, it would give us a measure of control that we don’t currently have.” And it would be nice to control something, Dar thought. As it was, nothing in his life felt under control. If he could flush the ambassador of Ranir out into the open, it might be enough to convince the generals to act to defend the border even without a formal imperial order. “Yorbel, what are your thoughts?”

  Yorbel looked startled, as if he’d hoped to blend into the greenery. “I . . . Couldn’t we simply increase security? All we must do is protect the kehok until he wins the final race.” His eyes slid over to Trainer Verlas, as if he were looking for her approval.

  “This is the best way to protect him,” Lady Evara said. “Catching an assassin in the act could even lead to unmasking our puppet master. Wouldn’t it be lovely to know who is behind these attempts? It could be separate coincidences, or a pattern that points to one powerful, wealthy enemy. Don’t you want to know which? If this all works and you’re crowned emperor, your enemies aren’t going to—poof—vanish.”

  “She’s right,” Raia said. “We’ll do it.”

  “Raia!” Trainer Verlas snapped.

  “I’m willing,” Raia said stubbornly.

  Dar admired that. “You have my gratitude.” She had it twice now, the first being when she gave him hope that Zarin had been the man he thought he was. “Lady Evara is correct. If there’s a chance to identify and stop this enemy, that’s what we should do.” Especially if it were the same enemy who used a charm against Zarin. If he could expose that enemy . . . he could achieve both redemption and revenge for his brother. “Let’s discuss specifics.”

  Tamra hated their plan.

  It was simple, which she was assured by Raia, Yorbel, and the emperor-to-be meant that there were fewer ways it could go wrong. I do not feel reassured. All she had to do was leave Raia and the kehok on the racetrack for a few minutes.

  By tradition, before the final races, every trainer was granted fifteen minutes with their rider and racer on the racetrack in private. You were supposed to use the time to work out any nerves, refine strategies, practice techniques—you weren’t supposed to play bait in a trap. But the wheels were already in motion. Lady Evara had spread word, amid her “twinkling,” that her rider was so confident of her abilities that she planned to use her time to bond with her racer on the track without her trainer. She’d be alone.

  Of course, Tamra was nearby, hidden beneath the stands, ready in case the attack came in the form of other kehoks. And of course, the emperor-to-be had deployed several of his most trusted guards to rush in in case of a human attack. A few of his best archers were hidden in the stands as well. As Lady Evara had put it, “They’ll be safer in these fifteen minutes than they are at any other time during the whole Becaran Races.”

  Tamra had felt even less reassured after that. The races were never safe.

  Squeezed into her hiding place with her was Lady Evara herself, though she was blessedly silent now that the fifteen minutes had begun. Peeking out, they watched Raia and the racer run a lap. At the end of the lap, Raia dismounted and came around to her kehok’s face.

  Lady Evara whispered, “What’s she doing now?”

  “Talking to him,” Tamra whispered back. Wasn’t that obvious?

  “She’s too fond of him,” Lady Evara noted. “You should speak to her about that. Augur Yorbel is right—whatever he used to be, he’s a monster now.”

  But Tamra was no longer sure that was true.

  Raia backed away from her kehok, then turned and walked slowly down the length of the track. The kehok watched her, motionless.

  “Now what’s she doing?”

  “Testing her control,” Tamra said. It was similar to the exercise they’d done on Raia’s very first day—call a kehok to her. Clever girl, Tamra thought. If she wanted to make the bait more appealing, separating from the kehok was a smart way to do that. Both of them looked even more vulnerable.

  But what if this time the killer decided to target Raia instead of the kehok?

  If the enemy hated the emperor-to-be, then targeting the kehok was logical. However, if the enemy hated Tamra or simply wanted to fix the races, then—

  “Ooh, what’s this?” Lady Evara clutched Tamra’s arm.

  A woman was walking onto the track. Tamra squinted, trying to see who it was. She didn’t appear to be armed, and Raia didn’t look as though she was afraid. “I’m going out there.” Tamra started to stand.

  Lady Evara held her back. “See how it unfolds.”

  “She could have a knife or—”

  “She’s making the universal sign of I’m not going to stab you.” Lady Evara jutted her chin at the track, where the woman was approaching Raia with both hands raised, palms out. The woman halted a few yards away from Raia.

  Now that she was closer, Tamra could see—Yes, I know her. Or more accurately, Raia did. “It’s Raia’s mother,” Tamra said flatly.

  Lady Evara released her arm. “Maybe you should go out there. Nothing can mess with a person’s head more than family. My dear parents still mess with mine, and they’re dead.”

  “Agreed.” Tamra began to move, but Lady Evara caught her arm again.

  “Wait, no. Changed my mind. If you go, it wrecks the illusion that Raia’s on her own. The killer won’t show himself. Just wait and watch. Her mother won’t hurt her. Raia’s her ticket to wealth.”

  Looking out, Tamra swore that if Raia looked the least bit distressed, even if Raia didn’t signal that she was in danger, she was going out there. I wish I could hear what they’re saying.

  Raia walked away from her lion. She felt his eyes on her back, watching her. It was a risk to experiment with how much she could trust him. But with guards watching them from the shadows and Trainer Verlas nearby, she couldn’t think of a better time to test her theory.

  He won’t hurt me, and he won’t leave me.

  She made it to the end of the track without looking back and turned around. The lion remained where she’d left him. He was still watching her.

  She had not used a single command to keep him there. She had merely explained what she wanted him to do. Even now, she wasn’t reaching out to control him, and he wasn’t trying to flee or fight.

  This wasn’t how ordinary kehoks behaved.

  Smiling, she began to head back to him when she saw a figure walk onto the track. She tensed, and then she saw who it was and tensed some more: Mother.

  “I’m training, Mother,” Raia said.

  “I heard your trainer isn’t here. You’re just playing.”

  “This is private training time. You shouldn’t be here. Why did the guards let you through?” She wondered if Mother had sneaked past them. Or bribed them. Or . . .

  “Because I’m your mother! Raia . . .” She took another step toward Raia, and Raia took a step backward. Mother stopped, a healthy distance away. “I want you to know that your father and I deeply regret our behavior.
The truth is we were scared about the future. About your future, and about ours. Our fortunes have always been precarious, and when you left the augur school—”

  “When I failed,” Raia corrected her.

  “Suddenly, all our dreams vanished. You must understand that we thought we were doing what was best for all of us. We never meant to drive you away from us.”

  Raia wished she could believe her. She’d always wanted the kind of mother who put her children first. But she remembered too many nights when she’d woken screaming from a nightmare, and her mother had come in and told her to be quiet, that children were to be seen and not heard. She remembered the first time her parents had paraded her in front of their friends, as if she were some clever trinket they’d bought, and then shooed her upstairs with orders to stay there until their party was over, forgetting she hadn’t eaten and couldn’t reach the kitchen without crossing the party room. She’d been hungry while the adults dined on sugar dates and other delicacies. Until Celin, there had never been a moment that tipped the scales into unbearably cruel, but it had been a hundred little things every day that said “we don’t love you,” even before her parents had tried to sign away her freedom.

  “You never cared about me. Only about what I could get you. That hasn’t changed.”

  “Oh, my baby, we want to try to make it up to you,” Mother said. She had tears in her eyes, and Raia couldn’t help but think they were real. Mother wasn’t that good an actress. She believed what she was saying. “Your father and I . . . we see we were terrible parents. You were a sensitive child, and we didn’t give you the love and affection you needed. I suppose it took an event like Celin’s death for us to realize it—and even then, we realized it too late. We treated you unkindly. We took you for granted and didn’t appreciate the fine woman you’ve become. Seeing you race on that track . . . Raia, we are so very proud of you.”

  She was saying everything that Raia had always dreamed she’d say. With all her heart, she wanted to run into her mother’s arms and say I forgive you. But she didn’t move. It was too easy. Even if Mother had good intentions, that didn’t mean her actions were right. Especially what she’d done, or tried to do, with Raia and her so-called fiancé. “You said I’d be free of you if I won, witnessed by an augur. But you never thought I’d win. And now that I’m one race away from winning the grand championship, you’re regretting letting me go.”