“That’s kebben,” Tamar said, entering the room and helping herself to a slice of plum. “One of us cannot be happy if the other is suffering.”
“Then … you understand what I had to do? Why I took Makhi’s mission?”
Tamar popped another slice of plum in her mouth, chewing slowly. “You murdered an innocent man. Isaak was unarmed.”
“He was a liar,” said Ehri, leaping to Mayu’s defense. “A pretender.”
“He was serving his king,” said Tamar.
“Just as I was serving my queen,” Mayu retorted, though the words tasted of ash.
“And yet, only one of you is dead.”
She was right. Isaak had deserved better.
“But you’ll help me find my brother,” said Mayu. She did not phrase it as a question. She couldn’t let her grief and shame overcome her, not until Reyem was free.
“I will. But not for you or your twin. The only way to stop the torture and persecution of Grisha is by locating those khergud laboratories.”
Ehri plucked a string on the khatuur that rested on the tea table. “We have a long road ahead of us, and none of us can make the trip alone. Let’s not waste the journey arguing. We have all suffered losses.”
Mayu rested her hand on the pommel of her talon sword. “What have you lost, Ehri?”
Ehri’s eyes were sad. “Don’t you know, Mayu? My sister.”
At that moment, fireworks burst over the city skyline in two bright showers of blue and gold. Ravka’s colors.
“That’s the signal,” said Tamar. “Queen Makhi’s messenger is on the move.”
* * *
It was said that no one knew all the secrets of the palace at Ahmrat Jen, but the Tavgharad knew more than most. There were hidden entrances for the use of both guards and members of the royal family, secret chambers where royalty could be watched over without being disturbed, and of course, secret exits in case of emergency or uprising.
Mayu led Tamar and Ehri down a hidden staircase to a tunnel that ran beneath the gardens, then emerged beyond the palace walls—or what had been the palace walls. The blight had struck here. This part of the garden and the orchards looked like the remnants of a blast site, but it felt like an old mine that had been worked until it had been stripped down to nothing, a place bled dry of any sort of life.
“What is this?” asked Ehri. “What’s causing it?”
“An enemy for another day,” said Tamar. “Keep moving.”
They followed her down a low slope into the plum orchards, where a coach was waiting, and climbed inside. Tamar spoke to two men on horseback. They were dressed as peasants but carried revolvers.
“To the queen,” Tamar said. But before Mayu could get a better look at the riders, they were off at a gallop, tearing across the fields.
Though the roads near the royal palace were all well maintained, to avoid attention the coach traveled on back-country cart tracks, jouncing with every rut and bump. Mayu and Tamar were both used to hard travel, but even in the shadows of the coach, Mayu could see the princess was miserable.
In her head, Mayu counted the miles of road, seeking landmarks in the dark. If the map in her head was right, they were headed toward the valley of Khem Aba. It was mostly known for farming and ranching, but there might be crags and canyons where someone could hide a government laboratory.
The coach slowed and Tamar opened the door, perching on the step to speak to another man on horseback before he rode on.
“The facility is a mile ahead,” she said as they rolled to a stop. “We should go on foot. We don’t know what might be waiting.”
“The airship?” asked Ehri.
“On its way.”
Ehri worried her lower lip with her teeth. “What if we’re wrong? What if there’s nothing there? If my grandmother—”
“The time for doubt has passed,” said Mayu. “We move forward.”
The night was cold and dark and quiet, the only sounds the singing of frogs and the rustle of the wind in the reeds. Mayu was glad to be out of the coach. She felt safer on her feet, ready to react.
A few minutes later, she saw a large structure with a peaked roof.
“What is that smell?” asked Ehri.
“Manure,” Tamar replied.
A low moo sounded from somewhere ahead.
“It’s a dairy,” Mayu exclaimed.
Tamar signaled them onward. “It was a dairy.”
Queen Makhi had hidden this secret facility in plain sight. And her messenger had led them right to the door.
She’d taken the bait. Ehri had made sure to tell Makhi that she’d left Grisha guards to protect their grandmother at the Palace of the Thousand Stars. They knew that threat wouldn’t stop Makhi, and they also knew that she couldn’t use her Tavgharad against Leyti Kir-Taban. They would never raise a hand against a Taban queen, even if that queen no longer sat the throne. So who could Makhi use against a fighting force of Grisha? Soldiers who supposedly didn’t exist: the khergud. To deploy them, she had to get a message to one of her secret laboratories, and Tamar’s scouts had followed.
Mayu could only hope Reyem was behind these walls. There were no obvious guard posts around the dairy, just what looked like a night watchman.
“Are we sure this is the place?” she asked.
Tamar nodded. “That watchman is carrying a repeating rifle. Unless the cows are planning a breakout, that kind of firepower is excessive.” She gestured to the right side of the yard, past the fence. “There’s a lookout posted in those trees.”
Mayu and Ehri peered into the shadows.
“How can you tell?” Mayu asked.
“I can feel his heartbeat,” said Tamar.
Heartrender. Mayu sometimes forgot. Tamar was deadly enough without her axes or a gun in her hands.
“Stay here,” she said.
“I’ve never done anything like this,” Ehri murmured as they waited in the dark. “Have you?”
“Only in training exercises,” Mayu admitted. She was Tavgharad. She shouldn’t fear death. She shouldn’t fear at all. But she’d never seen real combat, never been in a proper fight. Isaak had been the first person she’d killed.
What was waiting behind those doors? And if they were caught, what would she do? The answer came easier than she’d expected. She would fight to the death if she had to—for herself, for her brother, for Isaak who had died for nothing. She tried to summon the focus and quiet her instructors had attempted to drill into her.
Maybe she’d been in the city too long. She was unused to the deep black of the night, the spread of stars above them, the sounds of all this empty space—frogs, crickets, something chittering in the trees. She blew out an exasperated breath. “The country is much noisier than I anticipated.”
Ehri closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “This is what I long for.”
“A dairy?”
“Peace. I always dreamed I’d get to build my own home in the mountains, a canyon where I could place a little amphitheater, maybe teach music. You would have come with me, I suppose. You and my other Tavgharad.”
A silence fell between them, the memory of the women they’d both known.
“They didn’t scream,” Ehri said, a tremble in her voice. “I was the only one who cried out as they burned.” When she opened her eyes they were wet with tears, silver in the moonlight. “Would you have done it? If you hadn’t been in the infirmary and my sister had given the order?”
Yes. If not for Reyem. If not for the debt she owed him. Even now, she knew she was betraying the oath she had taken and that she had lived by—to protect the Taban queen over all others. She was in Ehri’s service, had lived in her household, but ultimately, Queen Makhi was the woman she was meant to serve. Mayu had loved that simplicity, that certainty. She would never have it again.
“I would have died with my sisters,” she admitted.
“And would you have sentenced me to death as well?”
“I don’t know.” Mayu
thought of the confusion in Isaak’s eyes when he’d realized what she’d done. He’d tried to tell her he wasn’t the king. But it was too late by then. “I thought I understood death. I’m not so sure anymore.”
They heard a soft thump and a moment later, Tamar jogged back to them.
“Did you kill him?” asked Ehri.
“I just dropped his heart rate. He’ll stay unconscious and wake up with a headache.”
Mayu saw what Tamar was wearing and gasped. “Where did you get that? You have no right to wear—”
“I can’t enter this place as a Ravkan soldier. And I have every right. I am Grisha. My people are being tortured behind those walls.”
Mayu tried to push aside her outrage. Tamar had dressed in the black uniform of the Tavgharad, her short hair hidden by the tilted black cap, the carnelian falcon at her shoulder. Mayu knew these things, these symbols of honor and tradition, shouldn’t matter to her anymore. But they did.
She tried to peer past Tamar in the dark. “Are they in there?”
“Queen Makhi’s messenger arrived about fifteen minutes ahead of us. He’s already gone. The lights are on, but there are no windows on the ground floor. They may be mobilizing the khergud for action or they may wait until morning. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into. Ehri, we may be headed into a combat situation—”
“I was trained to fight.”
“I know,” said Tamar. “I sparred with you myself, and I know you can hold your own. But the khergud are a different kind of soldier, and if something happens to you, all of our plans will come to nothing. We’ll have no leverage against Makhi. So stick to the plan and if something goes wrong, get out. Get away and get back to Nagh and Zihun.”
Ehri nodded. “All right.”
Tamar gestured to Mayu. “Let’s go.”
Flanking Princess Ehri, they strode right up to the front doors.
“You there!” called the night watchman, holding his lantern high. “Identify—oh!” He bowed deeply. “Princess Ehri, we heard you had returned to us, but … we … forgive me, Your Highness, but we were not told to expect you. Or at such an hour.”
“You received my sister’s messenger?”
“Only moments ago.”
“There is a change to the queen’s orders, and I must deliver it.” She held up a scroll marked with a blot of green wax.
“May I see that?”
“I beg your pardon?” Ehri seemed to grow six inches. Her brow arched. Her voice was cold. Despite her pointed chin and diminutive stature, she was the very picture of Queen Makhi. And it was a good thing too, because that green wax seal bore no royal stamp.
The night watchman looked like he wanted to find a deep pit to jump into.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” He fumbled for his keys.
The door slid open on a shadowy entry. Two men were seated at a table. One wore military dress and the other the blue robes of a doctor. They looked a bit bleary, as if they’d been woken from their rest. They had a stack of papers before them—and a vial of some rusty orange liquid.
“Princess Ehri Kir-Taban brings word from her most exalted sister,” said the watchman breathlessly.
The soldier and the doctor rose and bowed, but their expressions were confused.
“My sister has had second thoughts about deploying the khergud for this particular mission,” said Ehri.
The doctor raised the vial of liquid. “We haven’t woken them yet. Should we scrap the whole thing?”
Ehri clasped her fingers together and Mayu knew it was to stop herself from fidgeting. “Yes. Yes, scrap the whole thing. But, while we’re here, we’d like to have a look around.”
The men exchanged an uncertain glance.
“My sister said I would be most impressed by the work you’ve accomplished here.”
“The queen spoke of me to you?” the doctor said in surprise. “I’m honored.”
Ehri smiled her warmest smile. “Then will you show my guards and me your remarkable project?”
The soldier eyed Tamar and Mayu in their black uniforms. “It might be best if they remained here. This is a top secret facility.”
The princess gave an amused laugh. “You think my sister doesn’t know that? She would never send me here without my guards.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you ask me to make myself defenseless?”
“I … I would never—”
“I have enemies in the government. All of the Taban do. Perhaps you see this as an opportunity to strike at my family?”
“We should take him in for questioning,” said Tamar.
“No!” The soldier held up his hands. “I have only loyalty for the Taban. Your guards are most welcome.”
Now Ehri smiled again. “Very good.” She gave a wave of her hand and the doctor scurried to a big metal door that had no business in a barn.
Mayu felt a chill move through her as the door creaked open. The room beyond was large and dimly lit.
“What is that smell?” Tamar asked. It was sweet, cloying.
“The sedative we use. It’s necessary to control the volunteers once they’re under the influence of parem. But they cannot do the work of creating khergud without it.”
The volunteers. He meant Grisha.
“We also use it on our khergud. They tend to get restless at night, since they have no real need for sleep anymore.”
What did he mean? Why would Reyem have no need for sleep?
The former dairy had been divided into three large areas. On the left was a kind of dormitory, a row of bunk beds and washbasins. Most of the occupants rested atop their blankets, their wasted chests rising and falling in rapid pants, their bodies little more than bones and waxen skin.
“How long—” Tamar swallowed. “How long can the volunteers be kept alive like this?”
“It varies,” said the doctor. “The older subjects have a harder time of it, but sometimes it just seems to be a question of will.”
A young man on a lower bunk lifted his head and looked at them with hollow eyes. He had flaxen hair, ruddy pink skin. He didn’t look Shu at all. Mayu nudged Ehri.
“Where do they come from?” Ehri asked.
“Oh, that’s Bergin. He’s from Fjerda.”
“And he came here willingly?” Tamar asked.
The doctor had the grace to look sheepish. “Well. Willingly enough after his first taste of parem.” He gestured to Bergin and the Grisha rose. He wore a kind of uniform—loose gray trousers and a tunic of the same fabric. Mayu saw desperation in his face, the same helplessness the other prisoners shared. But there was something else there too: rage. He was still angry. He was still fighting. “Bergin was a translator working for a shipping concern in Fjerda, but when his powers were discovered, he tried to flee the country. Our troops intercepted him and offered sanctuary.”
Fury flared in Bergin’s blue eyes. Mayu doubted the doctor’s story bore much resemblance to the truth. Bergin had probably been dosed by Shu troops and taken captive to serve as a “volunteer.”
“We’ve had him working on Locust.”
“Locust?” asked Tamar.
“The conversion from ordinary soldier to khergud is incredibly complicated, so we pair each volunteer with a soldier candidate for the duration. Of course, sometimes the volunteer dies before the work is complete, but we’re getting better at managing doses to prolong their lives.”
“Remarkable,” Tamar said, her voice sharp as a blade begging to draw blood. The doctor didn’t seem to notice, but Bergin did, his blue eyes suddenly more alert. He was leaning on one of the huge, slablike tables that took up the center of the room.
“This is where the great work is done,” said the doctor.
Mayu saw drills, bone saws, long pieces of brass and steel, a contraption that looked like it had been welded into the shape of a wing. The floor was made of some kind of metal and punctuated by large drains. To make it easy to wash away the blood. This isn’t an old dairy, she realized. It’s a slaughterh
ouse. This is the killing floor.
On the far right was a different kind of dormitory. The beds here were more like coffins, sealed brass sarcophagi.
“And these are our ironhearted children, the khergud.”
Here was the proof of Makhi’s program, of the torture of Grisha, of the abominations they’d created. But was her brother among them?
Tamar laid a hand on Mayu’s shoulder, and Mayu realized she was shaking.
“What are their names?” asked Ehri.
“Locust, Harbinger, Scarab, Nightmoth—”
“No,” said Mayu, unable to tamp down her anger. “Their real names.”
The doctor shrugged. “I don’t actually know.”
Mayu gripped the pommel of her talon sword, trying to control her frustration. She looked at the princess, willing Ehri to understand her need. Yes, they had their proof, but where was her brother?
“I’m curious,” said Ehri. “Is it safe to open the … containers?”
“Oh, entirely,” said the doctor, already flipping a switch on one of the sarcophagi. The lid released with an unexpected pop. “We wake them using a stimulant made from ordinary jurda. But they’re safe in any state. The khergud are perfect soldiers.”
Is that what I am? Mayu wondered. A soldier who would take an innocent man’s life, murder a princess, watch her sisters burn at the whim of a queen?
The doctor lifted the lid. A woman lay inside, her breathing shallow, her brow furrowed in sleep. “They don’t dream well,” murmured the doctor. The sleeping soldier seemed to scent something; her nostrils flared. Tamar moved away from the container. The khergud were rumored to be able to smell the presence of Grisha. Perfect soldiers. Perfect hunters.
“Another, please,” said Ehri.
The doctor flipped a switch, pushed open another lid. “We made the sleeping chambers wide to allow for those with winged enhancements.”
Mayu looked down at the man who lay in the container, his brass wings folded behind him. Metal horns curved from his forehead. Not Reyem. Was he even here? If he wasn’t, how would they find the facility he was being kept at?
The doctor released the lid on a third container. He smiled. “Now, this will interest you, Princess. Something new we’ve been working on. This is Locust. We gave him metal pincers, fused at his spine. He’s taken to the treatment well.”
Rule of Wolves Page 29