“Thank you all for coming,” said Remath. Her eyes touched on each of us in turn: me, Shahar, Dekarta, and, oddly, Wrath and Morad, alone of Remath’s full court. The latter two knelt behind Shahar and Deka, conceding right of prominence to the fullbloods. Ramina was present, too, standing behind and to the left of Remath’s throne. I leaned against the wall nearby, my arms folded as I pretended boredom.
It was late afternoon. We’d expected Remath’s summons earlier in the day—in the morning, when she took her usual audience, or after that. But no one had come to fetch us, so Shahar and Deka had done whatever it was Arameri fullbloods did all day, and meanwhile I had slept until noon, mostly because I could. Morad, bless her, had sent brave servants to beard me in my lair with food and clothing, then bring me to Remath.
From the blocky stone chair that had been an Itempan altar before the Gods’ War, and that still smelled faintly of Shinda Arameri’s demon blood, Remath smiled at us.
“In light of yesterday’s disturbing events,” she said, “it seems the time has come to implement a plan that I hoped I would never need. Dekarta.” He twitched in surprise and looked up. “Your teachers at the Litaria assure me that you are without doubt the finest young scrivener they have ever graduated, and as my spies at the Litaria confirm your accomplishments, it appears this is not just toadying praise. This pleases me more than you can know.”
Dekarta stared at her in obvious surprise for a full second before answering. “Thank you, Mother.”
“Do not thank me yet. I have a task for you and Shahar, one that will take substantial time and effort, but upon which the family’s future will entirely depend.” She folded her legs and glanced at Shahar. “Do you know what that task is, Shahar?”
It had the feel of an old question. Perhaps Remath quizzed Shahar in this manner all the time. Shahar seemed unfazed by it as she lifted her head to reply.
“I’m not certain,” she said, “but I have suspicions, as my own sources have informed me of some very curious activities on your part.”
“Such as?”
Shahar narrowed her eyes, perhaps considering how much she wanted to divulge in front of the mixed audience. Then, bluntly, she said, “You’ve had parties examining remote locations around the world, and you’ve had several of the scriveners—in secret, on pain of death—researching the building techniques used to create Sky.” She glanced at me briefly. “Those that can be replicated with mortal magic.”
I blinked in surprise. Now that I hadn’t been expecting. When I frowned at Remath, I was even more disturbed to find her smiling at me, as if my shock pleased her.
“What in the heavens are you up to, woman?” I asked.
She ducked her eyes almost coyly, reminding me, suddenly, of Yeine. Remath had that same smug look Yeine had worn the evening before. I did not like being reminded that they were relatives.
“The Arameri must change, Lord Sieh,” she said. “Is that not what the Nightlord told us, on the day you and the other Enefadeh broke free from your long captivity? We have kept the world still too long, and now it twists and turns, reveling in sudden freedom—and risking its own destruction by changing too far, too fast.” She sighed, the smugness fading. “My spies in the north gave me a report last year that I did not understand. Now, having seen the power of these masks, I realize we are in far greater danger than I ever imagined….”
Abruptly she trailed off, falling silent, and for a breath-held moment there were hells in her eyes—fears and weariness that she had not let us see up to now. It was a stunning lapse on her part. It was also, I realized as she lifted her gaze to Shahar, deliberate.
“My spies have seen hundreds of masks,” she said softly. “Perhaps thousands. In nearly every High North nation there are dimyi artists; the northerners have been spreading knowledge of the form and nurturing youngsters with the talent for more than a generation. They sell them to foreigners as souvenirs. They give them to traders as gifts. Most people hang them on their walls as decoration. There is no way to know how many masks exist—in the north, on the islands, throughout Senm. Even in this city, from Sky to the Gray to Shadow beneath. No telling.”
I inhaled, realizing the truth of her words. Gods, I had seen the masks myself. On the walls of a tavern in Antema. In the Salon once, right below Sky, when I’d pretended to be the page of some noble in order to eavesdrop on a Consortium session. Stern, commanding faces arranged on a wall in the bathroom; they’d drawn my eye while I took a piss. I hadn’t known what they were then.
Remath continued. “I have, of course, requested the aid of the Order-Keepers in locating and neutralizing this threat. They have already begun searching homes and removing masks—without touching them,” she added, as Deka looked alarmed and had opened his mouth to speak. “We are aware of the danger.”
“No,” Deka said, and we all blinked in surprise. One did not interrupt the Arameri family head. “No one is aware of the danger, Mother, until we’ve had a chance to study these masks and understand how they work. They may function through more than contact.”
“We must nevertheless try,” she said. “If even one of those masks can turn an ordinary mortal into a nigh-unstoppable creature like the ones that attacked us yesterday, then we are already surrounded by our enemies. They need not muster soldiers, or train them, or feed them. They can create their army at any time, in any place, through whatever mechanism or spell they use to control the masks. And the defenses our scriveners have devised have proven woefully inadequate.”
“The corps have only now obtained examples of these masks in their undamaged state to study,” said Shahar. “It would seem too soon—”
“I cannot risk this family’s fortunes on uncertainties. We’ve lost too much already, relying on tradition and our reputation. We believed we were unassailable, even as our enemies winnowed our ranks.” She paused for a moment, a muscle flexing in her jaw, her eyes going dark and hard. “You will make stranger choices, Shahar, when the time comes for you to lead. Not for nothing did I give you our Matriarch’s name.” Her eyes flicked to Deka. “Though I know already that you have the strength to do what’s right.”
Shahar tensed, her eyes narrowing. In suspicion? Or anger? I cursed my paltry mortal awareness of the world.
Remath took a deep breath. “Shahar. With the aid of Dekarta, and our family’s most capable members, you are to oversee the preparation of a new home for the Arameri.”
Utter silence fell. I stared along with the rest of them. Unknowable Maelstrom, she’d actually sounded serious.
“A new palace?” Shahar did not bother to hide her incredulity. “Mother…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”
Remath extended a graceful hand. “It is very simple, Daughter. A new palace will soon be built for us—in a hidden location, far more defensible and isolated than Sky. Captain Wrath and the White Guard, Steward Morad, and any others whom you trust implicitly will reside in this new palace—alone, until such time as you can make it ready for the whole family. Unlike Sky, the location of this new palace shall be secret. Dekarta, you are to ensure that this remains the case, utilizing whatever magical means are at your disposal. Create new ones if you must. Ramina, you are to advise my children.”
I could see which people in the room had known about this by their reactions. Shahar’s eyes were bigger than En; so were Deka’s. Wrath’s mouth hung open, but Morad continued to watch Remath, impassive. So Remath had told her lover. And Ramina smirked at me; he, too, had known.
But it made no sense. The Arameri had built a new palace before, but only when the old one had been destroyed, thanks to Nahadoth and an especially stupid Arameri family head. The current Sky was fine, and safer than any location in the world, seated as it was within a giant tree. There was no need for this.
I stepped away from the wall, putting my hands on my hips. “And what orders do you have for me, Remath? Will you command me to hew the stones and lay the mortar for this new palac
e? After all, I and my siblings built this one.”
Remath’s gaze settled on me, inscrutable. She was silent for so long that I actually began to wonder if she would try to kill me. It would be utterly stupid on her part; nothing short of the Maelstrom would be able to stop Nahadoth’s fury. But I put nothing past her.
Try me, I thought at her, and bared my teeth in a grin. En pulsed on my breast in hot agreement. At my smile, however, Remath nodded slightly, as if I’d confirmed something.
“You, Lord Sieh,” she began, “are to look after my children.”
I froze. Then, before I could muster a thought, Shahar sprang to her feet, abandoning protocol. Her hands were fists at her sides, her expression suddenly fierce. She rounded on all of us.
“Out,” she said. “Now.”
Wrath alone looked at Remath, who said nothing. Ramina and Morad held still for a breath, perhaps also waiting to see if Remath would counter Shahar’s command, but they carefully did not look at either woman. It was never wise to take sides in a battle between the head and heir. As soon as it was clear that Remath would not intervene, they left. The chamber’s heavy doors swung shut with an echoing silence.
Shahar glared at Dekarta, who had gotten to his feet as well but remained where he was, his face set and hard. “No,” he said.
“How dare you—”
“Mark me,” he snapped, and she flinched, silent. “Put a true sigil on me, geld me like Ramina. Do this if you want me to obey. Otherwise, no.”
Shahar’s lips tightened so much that I saw them turn white under the rouge. She was angry enough to say the words—in front of Remath, who might not let her take them back. Fools, her and Deka both. They were too young to play this game yet.
With a sigh I strode forward, stopping between and to one side of them. “You took the oath to each other as well,” I said, and they both glared at me. If Remath had not been there, I would have cuffed them like the squabbling brats they were, but for the sake of their dignity, I merely glared back.
With a dismissive hmmph, Shahar turned her back on us, striding up to the foot of the dais that held her mother’s chair. She stopped when they were eye to eye.
“You will not do this,” she said, her voice low and tight. “You will not make plans for your own death.”
Remath sighed. Then, to my surprise, she stood and walked down the steps until she stood before Shahar. They were of a height, I saw. Shahar might never be as full in breast or hip, but she did not turn aside as her mother drew near, her gaze clear and angry. Remath looked her up and down and slowly, smiled.
Then she embraced Shahar.
I gaped. So did Deka. So did Shahar, who stood stiff within her mother’s arms, her face a study in shock. Remath’s palms pressed flat against Shahar’s back. She even rested her cheek on Shahar’s shoulder, closing her eyes for just a moment. At last, with a reluctance that could not be feigned, she spoke.
“The Arameri must change,” she said again. “This is too little, and perhaps too late—but you have always had my love, Shahar. I am willing to admit that, here, in front of others, because that, too, is part of the change we must make. And because it is true.” She pulled back then, her hands lingering on Shahar’s arms until distance forced her to let go. I had the sense that she would have preferred not to. Then she glanced at Deka.
Deka’s jaw flexed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, and though I doubt anyone else saw it, the marks on his body, beneath his clothing, flared in black warning. Remath would get no welcome there. She sighed, nodding to herself as if she’d expected nothing more. Her sorrow was so plain that I didn’t know what to think. Arameri did not show their feelings so honestly. Was this some sort of trick? But it did not feel like one.
Her eyes fell on me then, and lingered. Uneasily I wondered if she would try to hug me, too. If she did, I decided I would goose her.
“You will not distract me, Mother,” Shahar said. “Are you mad? Another palace? Why are you sending me away?”
Remath shook off the moment of candor, her face resuming its usual family head mask. “Sky is an obvious and valuable target. Anyone who wants to damage Arameri influence in the world knows to come here. Just one masked assassin through the Gate would be sufficient; even if no one is harmed, the fact that our privacy can be breached would show our every potential enemy that we are vulnerable.” She turned away from us, heading over to the windows, and sighed at the city and mountains beyond. A branch of the Tree arced away, miles long. The blossoms had begun to disintegrate, the Tree’s time of flowering having ended. Petals floated away from the branch, dancing along an air current in a winding trail.
“And our enemies include a god,” she said. “So we must take radical steps to protect ourselves, for the world still needs us. Even if it thinks otherwise.” She glanced back at us over her shoulder. “This is a contingency, Shahar. I have no intention of dying anytime soon.”
Shahar—stupid, gullible girl—actually looked relieved.
“That’s all well and good,” I said, rolling my eyes, “but building a secret palace is impossible. You’ll need workers, crafters, suppliers, and unless you mean for Shar and Deka to scrub their own toilets, servants. You don’t exactly have enough of those to go around here in Sky, so that means hiring locals from wherever your new palace is situated. There’s no way to keep a secret with that many people involved, even with magic.” Then it occurred to me how she could keep the secret. “And you can’t have them all murdered.”
Remath lifted an eyebrow. “I could, actually, but as you’ve guessed, that would leave its own trail of questions to be answered. Such crimes are more difficult to hide these days.” She nodded sardonically to me, and I smiled bitterly back, because once it had been my job to help erase the evidence of Arameri atrocities.
“In any case,” Remath said, “I have found another way.”
Beyond the windows, the sun had begun to set. It hadn’t touched the horizon yet, and there were still a good twenty minutes or so to go before twilight officially began. This, I would later realize, when I recovered from the shock, was why Remath murmured a soft prayer of apology before she spoke aloud.
“Lady Yeine,” she said, “please hear me.”
My mouth fell open. Shahar gasped.
“I hear,” Yeine said, appearing before us all.
And Remath Arameri—head of the family that had remade the world in Bright Itempas’s name, great-granddaughter of a man who had thrown Enefa’s worshippers off the Pier for fun, many-times-great-granddaughter of the woman who had brought about Enefa’s death—dropped to one knee before Yeine, with her head bowed.
I went over to Remath. My eyes were defective; they had to be. I leaned closer to peer at her but detected no illusion. I hadn’t mistaken someone else for her.
I looked up at Yeine, who looked positively gleeful.
“No,” I said, stunned.
“Yes,” she replied. “A fine trick, wouldn’t you say?”
Then she turned to Shahar and Dekarta, who kept looking from her to their mother and back at Yeine. They didn’t understand. I didn’t want to.
“I will build your new palace,” she said to all of us. “In exchange, the Arameri will now worship me.”
17
IT WAS SIMPLE, really.
The Arameri had served Itempas for two thousand years. But Itempas was now useless as a patron, and Yeine was family, of a sort. I suppose that was how Remath rationalized it to herself—if she’d needed to. Perhaps it had been nothing more than pragmatism for her. Devout Arameri had always been rare. In the end, all most of them truly believed in was power.
We would travel to the site of the new palace at dawn, Remath told us. There Yeine would build it according to Remath’s specifications, and the Arameri would enter a new era in their long and incredible history.
I exited the audience chamber with the rest of them, leaving Remath and Yeine alone to discuss whatever family heads discussed with their new pa
tron goddesses. Wrath, Morad, and Ramina, who had waited in the corridor outside, were called in as Shahar, Deka, and I left, probably to make their obeisance to Yeine as well. No doubt they would have tasks to complete by morning, as they would be traveling to the new palace with us. We would also take a minimal complement of guards, courtiers, and servants, because—according to Remath—we would need no more than that to establish ourselves. Shahar and Deka, respectively, were to choose those members of the family and the various corps who would accompany us. Unspoken in all of this was the fact that anyone who traveled to the new palace, for reasons of secrecy, might never be permitted to return.
I informed Shahar that I had business in Shadow for a few hours and left. The Vertical Gate had been reconfigured in the days since the attack. Now it was set by default to transport in one direction only—away from the palace—and returning required a password sent via a special messaging sphere, which I was given as I prepared to leave. The scrivener on duty, who stood among the soldiers guarding the gate, solemnly reminded me not to lose the sphere, because I would be killed by magic the instant I stepped onto the Gate without it, or killed by the soldiers should I survive and somehow manage the transit, anyway. I made sure I didn’t lose the sphere.
That done, I traveled to South Root, where I notified first Hymn and then Ahad that I would be staying at Sky for the time being.
Hymn was more subdued about this than I’d expected, though her parents were plainly overjoyed to see the back of me. Hymn said little as she helped me pack my meager belongings; everything I owned fit into a single cloth satchel. But when I turned to go, she caught my hand and pressed two things into it. The first was a glass knife, the same faded-leaves color as my eyes. She had clearly worked on it for some time; the blade had been polished to mirror smoothness, and she’d even managed to fit it with a brass kitchen-knife handle. The other thing she gave me was a handful of tiny beads in different sizes and colors, each made from glass or polished stone, each etched with infinitesimal lines of clouds or continents. They had holes bored through them to go onto my necklace alongside En.
The Inheritance Trilogy Page 101