“I would stay around, too, of course,” Zirabo said. “I don’t want you to think I have any notions of ruling through you, but I can certainly stand near you at ceremonial functions to play my flute to help sway people to listen. Not that I think you’ll need that. Not the way my father did.” He grimaced.
For the first time, Yanko guessed at some of the duties Zirabo might have had as his father’s son. If he’d been forced to use his magic to help sway people to go along with what had been draconian and warmongering dictates, no wonder he’d run away. Maybe his boyhood self had glimpsed the future ahead.
A knock sounded at the door.
Jhali stepped away from the wall, a dagger appearing in her hand.
“Come,” Zirabo called.
One of the guards poked his head in. “There’s someone who appeared on a communications orb in the Great Hall.”
“Who?” Zirabo asked. “And who do they want to talk to?” He waved toward Yanko and then toward himself.
Yanko snorted. As far as he knew, nobody except those leaders, and he supposed anyone they’d had time to tell, knew that Yanko might be someone worth talking to. Or so he assumed. But maybe that wasn’t true. That moment in that underground room, he’d had the feeling he’d been the last to figure out Zirabo’s plans. Even Jhali had seemed unsurprised.
Yanko gazed at her, thinking they might finally get a chance to discuss that, if Zirabo went off to talk with someone else.
“It’s a mage hunter, Honored Prince. He asked to talk to—” the guard looked to Jhali, “—you, I think. Are you Jhali Arun Min?”
“Yes.” Jhali’s monosyllabic tone reminded Yanko of Sicarius. It gave no hint to what she was thinking or if she was surprised that someone was looking for her.
“The man wants to talk to you. He said he was Morin Shu.”
“One of the officers in my old sect,” Jhali explained to Yanko and Zirabo. “I never trained with him and do not know him well, but I am pleased that another of my people has survived. I hope he’s able to tell me that even more are alive.” A hint of emotion entered her eyes for the first time, a longing for old friends.
“Is it permitted, Honored Prince?” The guard looked at Zirabo, then also at Yanko, as if he was one of the permission givers now. A strange thought, that.
But Zirabo raised his eyebrows and looked at Yanko before answering. Maybe not asking permission so much as wondering if she should be trusted to go off and chat with an old comrade.
“Of course,” Yanko said, waving for Jhali to go and feeling uncomfortable that he might have a say over her freedom here.
She nodded once and left the room. The guard hesitated in the doorway.
“Should I listen in on her conversation?” he asked.
“No,” Yanko said before Zirabo spoke, feeling indignant on Jhali’s behalf.
The guard bowed and left, closing the door behind him.
Zirabo tapped his lip and considered Yanko. “You mentioned that your friends—your older advisors, if you will—have suggested you might have… naive moments.”
Yanko scowled, having no trouble guessing where he was going.
“You think I’m being naive to trust her,” he said flatly, not making it a question.
Zirabo opened his palm toward the ceiling. “If she weren’t a mage hunter, I would assume you could read her thoughts and would know if she had truly come over to your side, but you’ve confessed that you can’t.”
“That’s true, but isn’t it like that for most people? Those without magic? And yet, trust still exists in the world.”
Zirabo smiled sadly. “And is often betrayed.”
Yanko’s scowl deepened.
“Didn’t you say that she’d tried to kill you once?” Zirabo asked.
“Several times from afar. And the last time in my cabin when she sneaked in at night with a dagger.”
Zirabo’s eyes widened. Maybe he hadn’t imagined Jhali had gotten so close. And maybe Yanko shouldn’t have admitted to that.
“I woke in time and stopped her,” Yanko said. “After that, I saved her life, and she stopped trying to kill me.”
“I saw her save your life when you battled the soul construct.”
“Yes. Because we’re working on the same side now.”
“Or you’re even now, with her debt, if she felt one, repaid.”
Yanko shook his head, though he couldn’t find words to rebut the statement right away. Not when Jhali had said almost that exact thing after the event, that they were even now. But then she’d kissed him. And she’d kissed him again since then and genuinely seemed to care about him.
“Is it possible she’s been biding her time until she can get close enough to you to try again?” Zirabo asked softly.
“No.” Yanko felt certain there had been opportunities that she could have taken advantage of if she’d truly wanted to. Such as when they’d kissed. He’d been quite distracted with no thought of raising magical shields to protect himself.
“All right, Yanko.” Zirabo set his glass on the tray and stood up. “If you trust her and she’s worth your trust, then good. I’m glad you have a bodyguard and friend you can rely on, but since you can’t truly know her thoughts, wouldn’t it make sense to listen in on her chat?”
“It’s a little late for that.”
“She would have had to walk to the Great Hall. There’s a communications orb in that armoire over there that’s linked with the other one. It would be a simple matter for you to will it to show you that conversation.”
Yanko crossed his arms over his chest and glowered from his seat.
“It’s your choice, but given how much is at stake… I’d be distressed if I’d gotten you all the way here only to find your cold body with a dagger in the heart in the morning.” Zirabo smiled again, but his eyes were utterly serious. “Good night, Yanko. You can sleep in that bedroom over there. It belonged to my parents when my mother was alive. Father moved down the hall after she died in the war, but it’s probably still in good shape.”
Yanko closed his eyes, listening to Zirabo’s footsteps as he walked out and closed the door behind him.
Then he opened them and looked at the armoire. He wanted to trust Jhali fully. He didn’t want to spy on her conversation.
But what if Zirabo was right?
Wasn’t it a little strange that some mage hunter from her old sect knew she was here and wanted to speak with her? She’d warned Yanko that the order to assassinate him would still be in place. Even if she didn’t intend to do it herself anymore, was it possible this Morin Shu wanted to handle it?
Yanko drank from his glass for the first time, the apple brandy smelling sweet like juice but burning his throat on the way down, then set it down and strode to the armoire. The promised communications orb rested on a velvet cushion inside. He waved his hand and willed it to show him what was happening on the other orb in the palace.
“…What do you mean, you haven’t been able to complete the assignment?” a middle-aged man with a wolverine tattoo snarling from his cheek asked. Morin Shu. “You’ve been seen walking at his side. And it’s been months since you left the cavern. It’s disgraceful that it’s taken so long. And now they’re saying that boy is putting himself forward as the next Great Chief.”
Well, no doubt about who they were discussing. Yanko leaned his hands on the armoire shelf, waiting for Jhali’s response. Fearing and dreading what it would be.
“He is not easy to kill,” she said, and the view in the orb shifted to display her face. Not that it was readable. She had her mask on, and her tone was deadpan.
“You’ve tried?”
“Yes.”
Morin Shu leaned back. Maybe he hadn’t expected that answer.
“And he didn’t kill you?”
“No. He’s…”
Please don’t say naive, Yanko thought.
“Forgiving,” she finished.
He wasn’t sure that was any better.
“You ne
ed to do it tonight. Luy Hano Sun Dragon was at my throat earlier, demanding to know why his family had paid the sect months ago and the job wasn’t complete. More than that, he’s learned that White Fox killed his cousin, Jaikon.”
“Jaikon plotted against him. He also wanted the dais.”
Morin Shu chopped a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. These ambitious moksu asses would cut their own mothers’ throats to get into a better position to kiss the Great Chief’s hand. Or steal his dais, in this case. We stay out of politics. You know that. Sun Dragon wants the boy killed tonight.”
“I’m sure he does.”
Did that mean Sun Dragon had learned that Yanko and Zirabo had made deals with the other faction leaders? Morin Shu didn’t say that, and Jhali didn’t ask. She was being painfully neutral. Yanko thought she might be looking for a way to tell this man to get out of her life, but he couldn’t be sure.
“If you won’t do it tonight, I will,” Morin Shu said.
She hesitated. “You’re in the city?”
“I am. So are Dray Jin and Beywu.”
Jhali closed her eyes. “I’m relieved they made it out safely. When I heard about the cavern…”
“Few survived, but some of us did. I’ve spoken to Hinru Ke.” Morin Shu narrowed his eyes.
“Ah,” was all that Jhali said.
Yanko wondered if that might be the name of the mage-hunter woman they had rescued on the prison island. If so, she might have witnessed the battle with the soul constructs. And she might have seen how Jhali had protected Yanko there. Had she reported it back to the other mage hunters?
“Are you capable of completing the mission, Jhali?” Morin Shu asked softly. “We will re-form the sect and find another place to live and train, and we will rise again. But we can’t start anew when we’ve failed to complete a mission we were already paid for. Not only would it be a devastating blow to our honor and our reputation, but the Sun Dragons are powerful. We cannot cultivate them as enemies. Not when we’re so weak now, our numbers so few.”
“I understand,” Jhali said softly, something akin to sadness creeping into her voice. Or regret?
Had she realized that in choosing not to finish her mission, not to kill Yanko, she was putting her people at risk? The people who had taken her in and trained her from childhood after her parents had died?
Yanko groaned, wishing he could read her thoughts.
“You haven’t answered me, Jhali,” Morin Shu said, sternness returning to his voice.
“Are there truly so many Sun Dragons left that we need to fear them? There’s Luy Hano and Tonn, yes, but are there others that would pick a fight with us?”
Yanko liked that she wasn’t agreeing to swiftly stick a dagger in his heart that night, but it disturbed him that she wasn’t bluntly saying she wouldn’t do it. He remembered once catching her looking at his shoulder blades with a pistol pointing at his back, the way she’d admitted to wavering between duty and her debt to him. A debt that she no longer owed him.
“Luy Hano alone would be difficult to deal with—he made that dragon, you know. And who knows how many of their clan are behind the bid for the dais? More than his brother, that is certain. We dare not make enemies of them, Jhali. Not when we’re at the weakest we’ve been in ten centuries. The sect is in danger of dying out completely if we don’t rebuild. We lost so many… We need you to do this, Jhali. Tonight.”
Jhali closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest.
“If you can’t finish it, we’ll come do it,” Morin Shu said. “We cannot fail.”
Yanko hissed in frustration. Couldn’t he just give Sun Dragon back the money his family had paid? Yanko would still have to deal with a man who wanted him dead—badly—but maybe then the mage hunters wouldn’t be held accountable.
Jhali lifted her head. “I’ll do it.”
A chill went through Yanko. He couldn’t tell if she was lying or not. Even if she was, what would it buy him? The mage hunters would know by dawn that he was still alive and send three people after him. Three highly trained people that Jhali knew and might not be willing to fight against.
“Tonight?” Morin Shu asked, his eyes intent.
“Tonight.”
The orb went dark.
20
Yanko lay under the covers in the enormous canopy bed with the lights off. He was fully clothed, from red robe to sandals. He’d thought about pulling Jaikon Sun Dragon’s scimitar under the covers with him, but if he ended up in a blade battle with Jhali, he would have already lost.
He lay utterly still on his back, his head on ridiculously fluffy pillows, and listened to every sound in the palace. The fire in the hearth had burned low, so it no longer snapped and crackled, but he could hear guards talking as they passed through the hallway outside on patrol. His senses told him that two guards stood outside the door of the bedroom Zirabo had chosen for himself. None were stationed outside of his door. Should he have requested it? Maybe nobody thought a mage who slew dragons needed guards. Or maybe they thought Jhali was with him and would protect him.
He shook his head bleakly as he stared at the dark canopy. It had been more than two hours since he’d eavesdropped on her communication. If she’d meant to confess everything to him and tell him that she had no intention of going through with it, wouldn’t she have come to him by now? Before the lanterns had been turned down all over the palace. Before almost everyone had gone to bed. Before he’d gone to bed, or pretended to.
Earlier, he’d used his senses to check on her location. She’d been outside in a courtyard, staring at a fountain. Deep in thought. Thoughts about how best to kill him? Thoughts about how she would regret doing so but she was duty bound? Thoughts about how she would miss hearing his stories about pumpkins and sunflowers once he was gone?
He wished he knew.
Yanko wasn’t monitoring her continuously, so he didn’t notice immediately when she left the courtyard. But when he checked and she was gone, his heartbeat kicked up to double speed.
He located her aura in the palace. Walking down the wide hallway toward his room.
She wore all her clothes and her weapons. As usual. Her hand strayed to one of her daggers a few times as she walked, and his belly filled with dire foreboding. He didn’t want to fight her. He didn’t want her to make this choice, to have to make this choice.
There weren’t any guards in the hallway, not now. Not that they would question Jhali, regardless. She was, after all, his trusted bodyguard.
The door to the office opened silently. Yanko held his breath as she padded across the rugs without making a sound. All the lanterns were out, but she never bumped a piece of furniture. Had she memorized its placement when she’d been in the room earlier? Maybe that was part of mage-hunter training.
She reached the open doorway to the bedroom and paused on the threshold.
Yanko didn’t move. He thought about trying to make his breathing slow and even, as if in sleep, but he doubted he could manage that degree of acting now. She could probably hear his heart hammering and knew he was awake.
Why didn’t he sit up and confront her? Why the ruse?
Because he wanted to give her the chance to not follow through on her words to Morin Shu. He didn’t want to confront her, make accusations, not when he couldn’t truly know what was in her mind. But he was dressed in case he had to call upon his magic and fight.
“Yanko?” Jhali called softly. “You’re awake, right?”
“Yeah…” His voice came out as a croak.
He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not that she was speaking to him. His first thought was that it meant she wasn’t going to sneak in and assassinate him. But then he realized she could come to him as a lover might and distract him before bringing one of those daggers to bear. Admittedly, that mage-hunter outfit wasn’t exactly the costume of a seductress, but it hadn’t kept him from happily kissing her before.
“I need to talk to you,” she said.
&nb
sp; “Will daggers be involved?”
A long pause followed, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake in revealing that he knew something was amiss.
“You listened to my conversation with Morin Shu?” she guessed.
He couldn’t tell if there was any judgment in her voice at his eavesdropping. He thought about blaming Zirabo for putting thoughts in his mind, but he had to accept the responsibility for his choice. Besides, it had been a good thing he had listened in.
“I heard some of it. There’s another communications orb in the office linked to the one you were talking on.”
“Then I guess I don’t need to fill you in,” she said dryly.
“No, I’m all caught up.”
“May I sit down?”
“Yes.” Yanko waved his hand and ignited the wick on the lantern on the bedside table. He shifted up against the pillows so Jhali could sit on the end of the bed, though maybe he should have waved her toward the chair in the corner. He still wasn’t sure what she intended to do.
But when she came into the soft glow of the lantern, he saw tear tracks on her cheeks, and he lost his wariness. He had never seen her cry. He wouldn’t have guessed she ever did. The temptation to wrap his arm around her shoulders and draw her against his chest came to him. But she still had all those daggers and throwing knives. She wasn’t, he noticed as she sat on the edge of the bed, wearing her white mage-hunter garb—a uniform, he’d always considered it, even if it didn’t denote rank or have any insignia.
“What’s the plan?” he asked quietly, realizing the implications of the clothing change.
He’d never seen her wear anything besides her mage-hunter attire. Granted, they hadn’t had many opportunities to shop during the last couple of months, but if she’d wanted to find other garments, he had no doubt she could. This had to mean she was breaking away from her sect, from being a mage hunter. He didn’t think it was what she wanted, but if it meant she was choosing him—or at least not killing him—over staying with her people, he couldn’t object.
Great Chief (Chains of Honor, Book 4) Page 29