In addition to the finery, she also wore a heavy amulet around her neck, proclaiming her the Grand Champion of the Becaran Races—as if there was anyone in the entire empire who didn’t know who she was. She’d never meant to become famous. But in a way, she’d become as famous as the emperor-to-be himself.
My life will never be the same.
Certainly she’d never be able to hide in plain sight anymore. She wasn’t forgettable the way she had been when she first ran from home, so very long ago. She wondered if anyone had told her parents about her new status: handler of the late emperor’s vessel, grand champion, and friend to the emperor-to-be, and she wondered what they’d think. She told herself she should no longer care, though that was easier to say than believe.
She touched the one piece of jewelry she’d been allowed to choose herself—the pin that Dar had given her, in the shape of a lion. It calmed her.
Bells began to ring all over the Heart of Becar. High and low notes blended together into a cacophony. She twisted to look up at the great entrance. Prince Dar had emerged, weighed down in more finery than she’d ever seen. He carried it with no sign of its weight as he crossed to the clear pool of water in front of the palace. She immediately stopped feeling bad about all that she was wearing.
Poor Dar, she thought.
The new head augur carried the symbols of coronation. She projected an air of calm dignity.
A steward beckoned frantically at Raia. Our cue, she thought at the black lion. With her hand on his mane, Raia walked the lion down the steps.
The audience was packed into the streets. They backed up as she walked past them and took her place on the opposite side of the mirror pool. Her and the lion’s reflections appeared in the clear water. The emperor and the augur were reflected in the opposite side.
One by one, various courtiers spoke. In an unrushed coronation, these would have been the governors of the various districts and cities of Becar, but there wasn’t time for the travel, and so they’d chosen representatives to read speeches sent by messenger wights.
Raia heard little of the speeches. Most of her concentration was on the lion, keeping him calm, and on Prince Dar. He was listening, seemingly intently, as he was lectured on the noble duty of the emperor to his people. The words were traditional, but the emotion in them wasn’t. She heard a mix of fear and relief—the people needed an emperor, but few had ever seen a succession like this.
At last it was Raia’s turn.
She cleared her throat and said the official words: “I present the late emperor’s vessel and certify that Prince Dar has fulfilled his duty to his family, our history, and our traditions.” Her voice didn’t shake, and she kept her eyes fixed on Dar.
He smiled at her, and that was all she needed. She heard a roar of ragged cheers from the crowd behind her, which was answered by the black lion roaring at the sky. She grinned at Dar, then at her lion. Then she tilted back her head and roared too.
The augur presented the symbols of the emperor: blue beads that draped over Dar’s shoulders to symbolize the river, a gold pendant in the shape of a stylized sun, and a simple circlet of silver that had been worn by the very first empress, thousands of years ago, when the Becaran Empire was born.
By the time the circlet was placed on Prince Dar’s head, tears were pouring openly down his cheeks.
The black lion stirred beside Raia.
“What is it?” she asked in a whisper. “Our part is done.”
But the lion rose and walked around the edge of the pool. The soldiers gripped their spears, but Raia held out her hands and followed beside the lion.
Silence had fallen over the packed street. All eyes were on her and the kehok.
The kehok halted in front of Dar. Raia held her breath, ready to intervene if she had to, if the kehok was more in control than the memory of the man.
Lowering onto his front knees, the lion bowed to the emperor.
This time, the cheers of the people were loud and full of joy.
Chapter 36
Lady Evara wasn’t used to being called a hero. In fact, the first time it happened, she overheard a whisper in the palace court. “I heard she knew from the beginning—that’s why she sent her trainer to the market to buy him.”
She opened her mouth to correct the rumor. Of course, I hadn’t known, she was prepared to say. I was as shocked as anyone.
But then the whisperer continued. “She’s the true hero behind it all. If she hadn’t had the vision to instruct her rider to purchase that kehok . . . well, imagine where we’d be. Slaves to the Ranirans!”
Pretending she hadn’t overheard, she’d glided toward the speakers, introduced herself, and let them fawn over her as they introduced her to their social circle. When they asked her direct questions, she demurred, which they took for humility.
From them, she gleaned that Lord Petalo had taken a few liberties with his retelling of what had happened. Instead of leaving her out of the tale, or revealing the sordid mess with her inheritance, he’d painted her as some kind of wise heroine.
Which her parents would have thought was hilarious.
Frankly, she thought it was hilarious. Also, bewildering.
Why would mustache man enhance her reputation? If she was a heroine, then he had no leverage over her—who cared about her past when she’d helped save the empire? But after she talked with a few more fawning nobles, she realized that Lord Petalo had also inserted himself into the tale, as the brave double-agent who alerted the wise Lady Evara to the murder attempts. She let his lie slide. After all, in a way, he had helped.
And he had been the one to make sure the entire court knew the truth, which had softened them up for the official verification from the augurs. With the support of both the augurs and the court, Prince Dar had sailed through his coronation.
It also helped that the prince, Trainer Verlas, and the rider Raia had stopped an invasion. Just the three of them, with an army of monsters, against one of the largest invasion forces Becar had ever seen—the size of the invasion force tripled every time the story was retold, Lady Evara noticed. The exact numbers were unknown. But the story caught the imagination, and it spread far and wide. Lady Evara fanned its flames as often as she could.
Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe all the praise being heaped on her. Her soul had yet to be read by an augur, at least not since the last time she’d tried (and failed) to obtain her inheritance—what was the point? Her soul was still very much whatever it was. She didn’t think it was likely to have changed. She’d never even returned the gold pouch she’d lifted from Lord Petalo. She tried not to let her nerves show, though, when she was at last summoned to the aviary to speak with Emperor Dar.
If he knew the truth, he could still have her cast out of the palace as unworthy, no matter what lovely rumors were circulating.
The guards recognized her at the doorway and escorted her inside. She heard the soothing waterfalls and the pleasant chirp of birds and did not feel calm. What if he objected to the rumors? What if he thought she was trying to claim glory for herself by not refuting them? I wasn’t. Well, only as a side benefit.
She picked her way through the winding path, between the lush flowers and the tranquil corners, until she reached the center mosaic. Emperor Dar was seated on a throne of white marble. The black lion was with him, as he always seemed to be, accompanied by Raia. The three were inseparable these days, which Lady Evara approved of. The emperor’s enemies would think twice if he was perpetually protected by a vicious monster.
With a flourish, Lady Evara bowed. “Your Excellence, how may I serve you?”
“You are already serving your empire, Lady Evara,” Emperor Dar said.
He did not seem displeased. In fact, he was smiling. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be a disaster? It would be lovely not to be forced to leave the Heart of Becar in disgrace and poverty. “Always,” Lady Evara said smoothly. “Your coronation was a joy and blessing to all.”
&nbs
p; “Your efforts to ensure that have not gone unnoticed,” Emperor Dar said, and then he wrinkled his nose. To Raia he said, “Am I sounding appropriately pompous? I feel like I’m overdoing it.”
Raia laughed. “You’re doing great.”
Lady Evara noticed how relaxed they were and began to hope. If he was going to send her away, he would be more serious, wouldn’t he? “May I ask why you have summoned me, Your Excellence?”
“I’d like you to keep doing what you’re doing,” Emperor Dar said.
“Oh?” That sounded promising, though she wasn’t exactly sure what he was referring to. Keep doing what? she wondered. The threat to the kehok had been removed, and she’d neutralized Lord Petalo.
“My brother had friends among the court. . . .” The emperor laid his hand on the lion’s metal mane. “Friends who smoothed the way for him. They’d put in a good word for policies he wanted to be supported. And they’d watch the temperature of the court.”
“You want me to keep spying for you,” Lady Evara clarified.
“Precisely.”
Lady Evara felt like dancing a little victory lap, but she kept her expression smooth as if she were considering it. “My affairs in Peron have been calling to me. I was intending to return home. . . . My finances have suffered a blow since my time away.” She hoped that was a subtle enough hint. If not, she’d be more blunt.
“You will be compensated,” Emperor Dar said. Music to my ears, Lady Evara thought. “I need allies, Lady Evara. Every new emperor does. Will you be my ally in the court?”
“Yes, Your Excellence,” Lady Evara said with another bow. “I would be honored.”
“Splendid. Then let’s begin now. What have you learned?”
She dove into relating her conversation with Lord Petalo, excluding the unflattering bits, but including everything he’d said about Lady Nori.
That seemed to sadden him. “I suppose I never did see her true soul.”
She also told how Lord Petalo was altering the story to paint her as a heroine. “I am your loyal spy,” she told the emperor. “But I’m not a heroine. If you wish, I could correct the record. . . .”
She hoped he’d say no, and to her relief, he did. “It’s useful to have you admired by the court. Leave it be. My concern, though, is whether you will be vulnerable to blackmail again.”
Quickly, Lady Evara weighed her options. He already knew about the attempted blackmail, so there was zero point in trying to deny it. She should have suspected he’d ask. For all she knew, he’d already investigated and this was some kind of test. “It relates to my parents.”
Raia spoke up. “You already have my sympathy.”
She flashed the girl a grateful smile, and then she launched into the messy tale. The will, the failed readings, the humiliation. As she talked, the kehok watched her with his golden eyes, which oddly enough made her feel better.
Maybe she wasn’t worthy enough of her inheritance. But she had done some good here.
When she finished, she noticed a river hawk had settled on a branch above Prince Dar. It was the only bird anywhere in the vicinity of the lion.
“Thank you for trusting me with your secret,” Prince Dar said gravely.
It wasn’t as if she’d had much choice.
“Do I still have the position?” Her voice was stiff as she asked, but mercifully didn’t crack.
“Of course.”
Lady Evara inclined her head in gratitude. Inside she cheered.
“You should have an augur read you now,” Raia said. “Maybe this time it will have a different result.”
Prince Dar held up his hand. “You could. But consider: you have already proven yourself to me and to all of Becar. Perhaps it isn’t necessary.”
Lady Evara mulled over his words. He’s right, she thought. With a promise of a position at the palace, she didn’t need her inheritance. Given that, why submit to a reading? So she could secure her late parents’ approval? She didn’t need to prove to anyone that she was worthy of the kind of future she wanted.
I make my own destiny and determine my own worth.
And I am worth quite a lot.
Raia was silent as Lady Evara left the aviary. When the door closed, she said, “You didn’t want her to win her inheritance, did you? You wanted her to need you.”
“I meant what I said: I need allies,” Dar said. “I let my brother down once—his murderers almost succeeded. I will not leave the empire so vulnerable again.”
Rising, the lion pressed against her side. She placed a hand on his smooth metal mane. She could guess what her kehok wanted to say. “You didn’t let him down. And we’re your allies. You can count on us.”
“I am counting on that. Are you ready?”
When she nodded, he signaled the guard, who let augurs file into the aviary. There were six of them, four women and two men, in robes and wearing pendants. Raia guessed they were the new high council—she’d heard elections had been held across the temples. An unusual move, but then there had never been another time in history when all the high augurs needed to be replaced at the same time.
They halted, formed a semicircle, and bowed in unison.
They’ve been practicing, she thought, and buried a smile.
“Your update,” Emperor Dar commanded.
One of the augurs stepped forward and began reciting a litany of facts: the cost to rebuild the temple, the number of workers they’d already employed, the impact of the riots on various professions and how the augurs were assisting. . . . Raia stroked the kehok’s smooth mane while Dar listened to the augur drone on.
At last, she wound down, and Dar said, “I am delighted to hear the augurs are offering so much aid to the people of Becar.”
“The old high augurs strayed from the path,” the new head of the high augurs said. “We wish to restore the people’s faith in us.”
“Excellent,” Dar said, nodding. “Then you will be open to restructuring of the role of augurs in Becaran society.”
The high augur blinked. “The—”
“I have prepared the proclamation that my brother wanted. The one that he died for.” He smiled, and Raia could tell it was a fake smile. She was beginning to notice the nuances between his always well-controlled expressions. “I know you’re not your predecessors, but in the interest of the stability of the empire, I have already had multiple copies written. If I die unexpectedly, they will be distributed.”
The head augur managed to stutter, “P-p-proclamation?”
“My brother uncovered the truth that all people have the capacity to read auras. It is not limited to ‘the purest of the pure,’ which is how it was possible for corruption to sneak into your ranks. Now the truth will be known: anyone can be an augur. I imagine your temples will want to prepare themselves for an influx of volunteers. And an exodus of those who never wanted to be augurs in the first place.”
He said all of this calmly, as if he weren’t upending a basic tenet of what the augurs believed about themselves and their power. Raia kept her face expressionless—she had heard all of this as the one who had helped the kehok and the emperor communicate with each other over many, many sessions—but it was new to the augurs.
New and unwelcome.
“Only the purest should become augurs,” Prince Dar said. “This is very different from only the purest can become augurs.”
The augurs murmured to one another, and the second from the left, a man with a braided black beard and bald head, said, “This will undermine people’s faith in us!”
“There will be ramifications,” Prince Dar agreed. “You may, in fact, find people relying on themselves more, once they know we are all the same: equally human, with our own choices to make.”
“It will shake the core of how people see themselves, as well as us!” the bearded augur said. “Becarans are not prepared for this. You cannot issue this proclamation!”
The black lion began to growl. She felt the rumble vibrate through his mane.
The kehok bared his teeth, continuing to growl. Easy, Raia thought at him. The people might not be so forgiving if kehoks slaughtered a second set of high augurs.
“My brother was murdered to keep this secret,” Dar said blandly, as if sharing news of the weather. “I believe that in and of itself proves its validity.”
“With all due respect, Your Excellence,” the head augur said, bowing, “it merely proves that our predecessors considered it dangerous.”
Dangerous and true, the kehok’s voice echoed in Raia’s head. She was startled—she heard him only rarely. She repeated his words: “Dangerous and true.” She added, “I was chosen to be an augur. I’m proof that who we were doesn’t determine who we become.”
“You are but one person,” the head augur objected.
“Then study this,” Dar said. “I am giving you the chance to prepare for the questions, the confusion, and the changes this announcement will cause. You have two months.”
All the augurs began to babble, objecting.
Convince them, Raia told her kehok.
He paced toward them with measured steps. His paws were silent on the sandy path, the birds were silent in the presence of the kehok, and as soon as the augurs noticed he was moving, they fell silent too.
“Two months,” Dar repeated. “This is a gift that your temples do not deserve, after what befell my brother. What almost befell our nation. Do not make me regret it.”
Eyes on the kehok, the new head augur stepped forward and bowed. “Release your proclamation now.”
The other augurs behind her gasped.
“Secrecy is the enemy of trust,” she said. “Let all Becarans face this revelation together.”
Race the Sands Page 43