Race the Sands

by Sarah Beth Durst

  He seized on another thought that didn’t make sense. “Your coronation?”

  Nori bowed her head.

  And suddenly he realized what should have been clear before. Lady Nori of Griault was of noble birth and beloved by the court. In the absence of any direct heirs, she had a viable claim on the throne.

  Especially if she were seen choosing the good of Becar over her feelings for Dar.

  It was a brilliant move.

  “Nori . . . how could you? I loved you.”

  Nori didn’t speak. She wouldn’t even meet his eyes. He wanted to be wrong, to believe that she was deceived by the high augurs, that she was as innocent and good as he’d believed, that she loved him the way he loved her, but the high augur’s words about the coronation and Nori’s lack of surprise . . .

  She had planned this, with them.

  The guards clapped their hands on Dar’s arms. Some were guards he’d joked with only a few days before, who’d helped him secure musicians to drown out spies, who had accompanied him to the aviary. “I didn’t do this,” Dar pleaded with them. “The high augurs are lying!”

  The nearest guard, one he knew, who had stood outside his chambers and protected him, said in a broken voice, “I believed in you. I thought you were good.”

  That hit him straight in the heart. “I am. And so was Zarin. I don’t know why the high augurs wanted him dead, but you need to get word to my rider that she needs to flee. She accused the high augurs. They’ll target her next.” And the lion. “Please. Say you’ll warn her.”

  But the guards refused to speak with him again or even meet his eyes. They marched him out of the throne room and through the court. He heard the whispers, saw tears on the faces of the lords and ladies, saw the disbelief and the pain—Everyone believes them! he realized. He tried again. “I didn’t kill my brother! The high augurs murdered him!” But even he knew how crazy that sounded. Still, he kept shouting when they pulled a velvet bag over his head, bound his arms, and threw him into a kehok cage. He fell when the cage lurched forward, hauling him out of the palace. His shouts were drowned beneath the screams of his citizens as they fought one another in the streets.

  Chapter 30

  Yorbel led Shalla to the safest place he knew: his own quarters within the augur temple. It took only a word to the temple guards, explaining she was a temple student who had been caught in the riots at the racetrack, and he’d been allowed inside with her.

  The girl hadn’t spoken a word as they’d crossed the city, and they had slipped through anonymously, with no one suspecting he was an augur. Oddly, the farther from the tracks they got, the less the riots seemed to be about Raia’s accusation. He didn’t know how the violence had spread so far so fast. It felt as if everyone had simply been waiting to let all their frustration, fear, and anger explode, and the fuse lit at the racetrack had outrun reason. He wished he could have stayed and done something to protect Tamra and her rider, as well as Shalla. But she asked me to take her daughter to safety, Yorbel thought. She trusts me, and I couldn’t say no.

  He hadn’t even questioned it.

  Opening his door, he welcomed Shalla in. She scanned the mostly empty room: a cot, a desk, a table where he ate solitary meals. He had a few books on a shelf, and his robes hung in his closet. A plant sat on his windowsill. “It isn’t much, but you’ll be safe here.”

  “And my mother? Will she be safe?”

  “Knowing you’re safe will help her,” Yorbel said. “She’ll be able to focus on protecting the kehok until Lady Evara is able to reach the emperor-to-be.” He thought of the way she’d quieted multiple kehoks at once. She was one of the most powerful people he’d ever met.

  “And if the high augurs come for her?” Shalla asked.

  “The high augurs are a force for good in Becar.” He believed that with all his heart and being. “I don’t believe Raia lied, not knowingly, but she must have misinterpreted. There must be more to what is going on than what we know.”

  “Then find out.” Shalla crossed her arms. In that instant, she looked so exactly like her mother that Yorbel nearly smiled. “Ask your augur friends. Before the truth gets my mother killed.”

  It was a brilliant idea. And now he had a way to help Tamra, even from a distance: discover the truth and share it. Once he knew why the emperor kehok had reacted the way he did, Yorbel could spread the word and save them all. He had the potential to know both sides of the story. In fact, as the only augur who was privy to all the details of the kehok’s relationship with Prince Dar, he was uniquely suited to this task. “Stay here,” he told Shalla. “I have a friend who is a high augur. I’ll speak to her.”

  “Speak well,” Shalla demanded. “Mama thinks she can fix everything if she works hard enough, and sometimes that’s not true. She needs help, even if she won’t ask for it. Promise me you’ll try to help her.”

  “I promise.”

  She was scowling at him as he let himself out of his quarters. He swore silently that he wouldn’t let her down, either of them. If there was anything he could do to help, he’d do it.

  He hurried through the corridors. It would be a supreme stroke of luck if Gissa were in her quarters, but it wasn’t impossible. She could have returned after the riots on the racetrack—seeking safety was a sensible course of action, and Gissa was sensible. He was crossing a courtyard, heading toward the east wing of the temple, when he heard a clatter from the front gate. Veering, he followed the sounds.

  The temple soldiers were returning with a prisoner. He didn’t see who it was, but he saw they were within a cage—and there was Gissa! She was with other high augurs, accompanying the cage as it crossed the courtyard between the pillars.

  Lurking in the shadows so he wouldn’t be drawn into extraneous conversations, he waited as they maneuvered the prisoner into the temple, and then he intercepted Gissa as she split off from the others. “Gissa, it’s urgent that I—”

  Grabbing his arm, she yanked him into a side corridor. “Yorbel, you shouldn’t be here! These are matters for the high augurs.” She shot a look back at where the prisoner had disappeared through a doorway. Yorbel briefly wondered who the prisoner was, then dismissed it as irrelevant. He had to stay focused on his purpose.

  “This is a matter for the high augurs too—matters that affect all of Becar. Gissa . . . I was there when the grand champion accused you all. I know it was a misunderstanding, but if you could help me sort out the truth, then we could end the violence that’s sweeping our fair city.”

  She shot a look back at the courtyard, and then she sighed. “Yorbel. Oh, Yorbel. So innocent. So foolish. You had to get yourself mixed up in this, didn’t you? Why couldn’t you have stayed in your quarters, done your readings, continued your studies, and not ventured out into the world? The world eats those like you.”

  “Gissa?” He didn’t know why she was talking like this, but it wasn’t helpful. “You can’t expect me not to care about the turmoil in Becar. There’s rioting in the streets!”

  “And an invading army nearly on our doorstep,” Gissa said. “Seal yourself in your room. Ignore it all. Come out in the morning when the world is pure and fresh again.” She put her hands on Yorbel’s shoulders and turned him, giving him a little shove toward the rooms.

  He heard footsteps clip-clop on the stone. A deep voice said, “High Augur Gissa.”

  Yorbel turned and bowed low to High Augur Etar.

  “You’re needed for securing the prisoner,” High Augur Etar said. He then hesitated. “Who is this? Your friend who found the kehok?”

  “High Augur Etar, may I present Augur Yorbel,” Gissa said. He thought he heard a strange note in her voice, but he couldn’t identify it, and he didn’t dare rise from his bow until High Augur Etar acknowledged him. He’d never been in the presence of the most holy of augurs before.

  “Rise, Augur Yorbel. High Augur Gissa has spoken highly of you.”

  He straightened his back. The high augur looked as he’d imagined hi
m: serene and wise, with gentle eyes. “High Augur Gissa is kind.”

  Gissa gave a light snort.

  High Augur Etar actually smiled.

  Yorbel felt as if the moon had peeked through the clouds. The high augur knows I exist! It was one thing to know Gissa was a high augur. It was quite another to be talking to the most revered elder. He wanted to ask him a thousand questions about the nature of souls and their place in the universe, but his tongue couldn’t seem to form a single coherent sentence. He dragged his thoughts back to Tamra, whom he’d sworn to help.

  “You would not happen to know the location of the emperor-to-be’s kehok and its rider, would you?” High Augur Etar asked. “We were separated from them at the tracks and are concerned about their well-being.”

  “They’re safe,” Yorbel reassured him, “though I am deeply worried for their continued safety. Your Pureness, I overheard the accusation made by the grand champion, and if I could but know the truth of the matter . . .”

  “The truth of the matter is that emperor-to-be Dar has been arrested on charges of high treason,” High Augur Etar said. “He is accused of the murder of his brother, the late emperor Zarin. This will be known to all soon enough.”

  Yorbel felt as if all the air had left his lungs. He gaped at the high augur, then found his voice. “With all due respect, Your Holiness, but that is impossible. To murder an emperor . . . one’s own brother . . . it would leave an unmistakable stain on the soul, and Prince Dar showed no such corruption. I read him as recently as a few days ago.”

  He thought he heard Gissa make a small, sad noise, but when he glanced at her, her expression was impassive. He remembered the prisoner he’d seen brought in through the courtyard—had that been Dar? Was his friend imprisoned here, right now?

  High Augur Etar was regarding him with far more interest. “You will swear to this?”

  “By the Lady, by the River, by all I hold dear, I swear it.”

  Another almost-imperceptible sigh from Gissa, and Yorbel wondered if he’d misspoken. Surely, honor compelled him to defend his friend and their prince. If nothing else, the truth ruled in Becar, and for all his recent, smaller obfuscations, he was a servant of that truth.

  “You were never approved to read the emperor-to-be,” High Augur Etar said sternly. “Only a select few are permitted to view the auras of the royal family. How did such a thing come to be?” He then held up a hand before Yorbel could explain and apologize—it had never been Yorbel’s intent to read Dar. His second sight often manifested on its own accord. But even if that wasn’t true, Dar was his friend, and he never would have objected to Yorbel reading him. “That is of no consequence. What matters is what you saw.”

  A little voice inside Yorbel whispered that he may have misread the situation very, very badly. He looked from Etar to Gissa and back again.

  “High Augur Gissa, you know what must be done.”

  Yorbel felt a chill chase over his skin. Surely, he doesn’t mean—

  “Obtain the answers we need, and then do what you must.”

  Gissa bowed. “Yes, Divine One.”

  They both watched as High Augur Etar strode after where the cart had disappeared. “You’re an idiot, Yorbel. You know that? You mean well, but . . .”

  “Gissa . . .” Yorbel began. He didn’t truly order Gissa to interrogate me, did he?

  And kill him.

  Yorbel couldn’t forget about that part. He thought back to a conversation that he and Gissa had had—he’d looked up to see her sliding something back into her robes. He wondered now if it had been a knife. I have been so very trusting.

  I have been so very sheltered.

  “Shush, not a word more. I will do what I can to save you, but you must trust me.”

  He did, of course. She was his oldest friend.

  And it wasn’t as if High Augur Etar had given either of them much choice. At least if he was able to talk with Gissa alone, he’d be able to explain all he knew. She could then speak to High Augur Etar and convince him that the augurs had made a terrible mistake in arresting Dar.

  She clamped a hand on his arm and pulled him after her. She didn’t speak again until they were deep within the interior of the temple. He heard the sound of jackals baying and wondered where she was leading him. He wasn’t familiar with this part of the temple. Here, the stone walls were old, pockmarked with the passage of time, and the floor was smooth from centuries of sandaled feet.

  “Keep your hand on my shoulder,” Gissa said. She placed his hand on her shoulder and stepped forward toward a simple stone archway. Beyond the archway was darkness, and on either side were chained jackals. “And do not touch the walls.”

  He’d heard the stories about the High Augurs’ Chamber, the poisoned walls, the jackal guards, but he’d never thought he would visit the place himself. He felt himself begin to sweat beneath his robes.

  Perhaps following Gissa hadn’t been wise.

  But she was still his best chance of helping Dar and stopping the violence. If he could make sense of it all and work with Gissa to find a solution . . . It would be worth it.

  He thought of Tamra and Shalla.

  This was bigger than all of them now, if the augurs had imprisoned the emperor-to-be.

  Deeper into the maze, the silence pressed on him. It felt as if it were a living creature, filling his ears with nothingness. He strained to hear anything beyond their footsteps and their breathing. His eyes tried to form shapes out of the blackness.

  At last, they stepped into a chamber lit by torches. Eight massive chairs, ancient and decorated with carvings, dominated the room. “Do not touch, and do not sit,” Gissa told him. “We are here because it is the one place in the temple, perhaps in all of Becar, where we can speak freely.” She crossed to a throne that was devoid of carvings or markings of any kind, and she sat.

  It became harder to see her as his friend Gissa. Here, she was more than that. She was a high augur. The holy assassin. Without even deciding to do so, Yorbel knelt. “Dar is innocent of the crime he’s accused of. His soul is uncorrupted, and I will vouch for that in front of any and all.”

  If he could just make them understand that Dar wasn’t a murderer, then he could fix everything. They’d see the truth, release Dar, and crown him, solving all of Becar’s problems. That was worth any cost.

  Even my life, Yorbel thought.

  Gissa drummed her fingers on the armrest of her noble chair. “Mmm. You can’t do that, Yorbel. The people must believe in his guilt. He must be executed. And a new empress must be crowned tonight, before the Raniran army reaches the Heart of Becar.”

  He didn’t understand. “Gissa, he’s innocent.”

  “We act for the good of Becar. Innocence is irrelevant.”

  He rose to his feet, unable to believe what he was hearing. “You don’t mean that. We are the custodians of the light, the keepers of virtue, the protectors of goodness. Innocence is the most relevant metric of all!”

  “So stunningly naive,” Gissa said. “And I wish I could leave you this way, but you had to go and . . . Yorbel. Oh, Yorbel, did you lie to me? You read the kehok, didn’t you? You knew all along what he was!”

  He opened his mouth to confess that yes, he knew, when the realization struck him: She knows too. She, and perhaps the other high augurs, knew that the black lion was the vessel for the late emperor. “How long have you known?”

  “I am impressed.” She flopped back against her throne, not answering his question. “There may be hope for you yet. If you know the late Emperor Zarin is the kehok, then you understand why Prince Dar must die.” She sounded almost pleading, as if she wanted to beg for his forgiveness.

  Yorbel hated every thought that was pummeling his brain. Gissa knew. And if Gissa knew, all the high augurs must have known. Raia was right. He repeated his question: “How long have you known that the lion was Emperor Zarin?”

  “Only since the final race.”

  And then he asked a more terrible questi
on: “How long have you known that the late emperor was reborn as a kehok?”

  Gissa was silent for a moment. In this chamber, where all other sound had been erased, the silence had weight and meaning. “Do you want the answer to that question, Yorbel? Think carefully. You may not like what you hear.”

  He already hated everything he’d heard so far. It felt as if his world had been ripped open and turned inside-out. He felt numb, stunned by the sense that one of the foundation stones of his life had crumbled to sand.

  The high augurs were supposed to be good. The holiest of holies.

  But he didn’t need to read her or any of the others to know that was no longer the truth.

  He wondered if it had ever been true.

  “Did the high augurs use a charm to ensure that Emperor Zarin was reborn as a kehok?” The question felt as if it burned his tongue. It was inconceivable that he could even suspect them. There was no rational reason they’d want the late emperor dead, and no reason to arrange events so that Dar would fail and the empire would suffer.

  He heard a shuffling behind him.

  Gissa intoned, “You are known to us.”

  High Augur Etar entered the chamber. “High Augur Gissa, I question your methods. You are supposed to be questioning the witness, not vice versa. Have you obtained the information? Where is the kehok?” The last question was aimed at Yorbel.

  Yorbel felt as if he was reeling, but he pulled himself upright and answered the high augur, the most holy of holies. “As I told you, Illustrious One. Safe.”

  The high augur snorted and then sank into his throne, the one decorated with carvings of men and women. Yorbel wondered briefly what the carvings signified, his scholar’s mind wanting to categorize all he saw.

  “You do not understand the gravity of the situation,” High Augur Etar said with a heavy sigh.

  Gissa inclined her head. “He is an intelligent man. I had thought to explain it to him. Once he understands, he will help us willingly.”

  “If he doesn’t, he will die.”