I’ve done a terrible thing.
Had Meryam planned all along to break Hamzakiir’s mind and pretend she’d been ensorcelled by him? Might that give her the perfect excuse to remove her father from the throne? If so, it would be a simple thing to draw Ramahd into her plans in Viaroza, and to force him to play his part in covering up her crimes.
He recalled how eager she’d been at the thought of breaking Hamzakiir. She’d already broken him, Ramahd understood now. She must have. The rest had been for Ramahd’s benefit, so he’d believe that Hamzakiir had in fact dominated them both.
The only part Ramahd didn’t understand was her father’s death. If she meant to kill him, why not do it in the capital—why take them to Guhldrathen? Perhaps it was unforeseen, a miscalculation on Meryam’s part. Or for her plans to work did Hamzakiir need some free will, and he’d chosen the method of Aldouan’s death? Or maybe she’d foreseen it all and hoped to trick Guhldrathen into killing Kiral, disguised as Hamzakiir.
Whatever the case, after Aldouan’s death, Hamzakiir had begun laying the groundwork of her plans in Sharakhai. He’d made overtures to Kiral to give up the identity of the Moonless Host’s leaders. Kiral had taken the bait, for it served his purposes, but it served Meryam’s as well. She had weakened the Moonless Host even as she made her bargain with Kiral to ensure her eventual place in the House of Kings.
That was her goal all along. The throne of Sharakhai.
Hadn’t she said as much? How better to take it than as a woman who controlled Kiral himself, or the man who looked like him?
As Ramahd stared at Hamzakiir’s face once more, a cold dread inside him began to expand. He’d been certain Hamzakiir and Kiral had switched forms, but he could sense none of Meryam’s magic. Was he wrong? Was this, in fact, Hamzakiir?
“My lord,” Tiron said as he glanced to the dead ships. “Perhaps we should bury them.”
“Yes.” Ramahd stood and picked up his shovel. “Very well.”
They began covering the two men once more. Sand piled higher and higher, covering legs, arms, chests. When Vrago tossed some onto Hamzakiir’s face, however, Ramahd started.
“Stop!” he called, raising one hand.
In a rush, he dropped to Hamzakiir’s side and brushed away the sand from the left side of his face.
There, along his jaw, was a lone pockmark. Ramahd ran a finger over it. Peering close, he saw the barest signs that there were more, but they were extremely shallow.
He pressed one hand against Kiral’s cheek, closed his eyes, and used his power to feel for that lone mark on Hamzakiir’s face. Rümayesh had done this, he realized, not Meryam, which was why he’d been unable to sense it. It was more subtle than Meryam’s magic, but now he’d found the way to unravel it.
Like a knife through a chink in armor, he pressed and found his way through. Slowly, the whole of the spell was revealed, and he rubbed his hands over Hamzakiir’s face once more. He ran his fingers through his wiry hair and beard. With each movement, the face before him changed just a little bit more. The beard sloughed from his chin and cheeks. The hair atop his head did as well, leaving it closely shorn. Bones popped and cracked as his face widened, transforming from Hamzakiir’s narrow face to one with broad cheeks and a strong jaw. The pockmarks were plain to see now. And although the eyes were cloudy, they were Kiral’s steely gray.
For a time, the four of them simply stared. “Blessed Alu,” Cicio said.
Ramahd had shared his fears with all of them. They knew what this meant: that all of it was true. Meryam had dominated Hamzakiir from the start. She’d forced him to kill Aldouan, her own father and the rightful king of Qaimir. She’d killed Kiral, the King of Kings, and put Hamzakiir in his place.
“What shall we do?” Vrago asked.
Indeed, what should they do? Ramahd had been asking himself the same question over and over. Should he return home to Qaimir? Surely Meryam had returned to Sharakhai. Should he go there and confront her? Present proof to the Kings and let them deal with her treachery? And whatever he chose, he had to consider how Qaimir would suffer. Each option came with a price, and some would be steeper than others.
Taking out his knife, Ramahd sawed through Kiral’s neck. He cut the head clean away, then wrapped it in the shreds of the robes he’d cut earlier. Climbing out of the hole, he set the head of the King of Kings aside and motioned for the others to take up their shovels.
They buried the bodies, then headed back to the Blue Heron. Once aboard, his men looked to him. “Where to, my lord?”
Taking the wrapped head with him, Ramahd made for the ladder leading belowdecks. He needed to think. But there was a plan starting to form in his mind.
“Set sail for Sharakhai.”
Acknowledgments
Sometimes authors struggle mightily with books. Sometimes we don’t. This one, thank goodness, was more the latter than the former. Not that it came easy, mind you—only that it came easier than some of the books I’ve written. And as always, I had a ton of help along the way.
I’d like to thank Paul Genesse for pushing me to make this story better. Your keen eye helped me innumerable times in course correcting this story. Just as importantly, though, your enthusiasm for the series has helped me stay positive when things got rough. To Rob Ziegler, thank you for the read, our chats, and your advice. I’ve always appreciated how you can cut through the noise and get me back to the only thing that really matters in the end: the story.
To Renée Ann Torres and Femke Giesolf, thank you for taking a look at the manuscript and providing your valuable insights. It’s wonderful to have that sort of feedback as things are nearing their final form.
I am indebted to the DAW and Gollancz publishing teams for shepherding both the story and the manuscript from its early, protean stages all the way through to this, its final form. To Betsy Wollheim, thank you for the wealth of knowledge, experience, and insights you’ve shared with me and brought to bear on this book and the larger series. To Gillian Redfearn, thank you for your invaluable feedback, particularly in showing me how trimming can amplify a scene’s impact without losing meaning. To Marylou Capes-Platt, thank you for your keen eye and your insights into writing. I don’t know where I’d be without you! (I’m learning, slowly but surely, Marylou. Don’t give up on me!) And thank you to all the unsung heroes in the DAW and Gollancz production, marketing, sales, and back office support teams. I see you, and appreciate all that you do.
I am indebted to my agent, Russ Galen, not only for this book, but for helping to ensure that the full series will see the light of day. Many thanks to Danny Baror and Heather Baror-Shapiro as well for your tireless efforts in bringing this series to readers all over the world.
Last of all, I’d like to thank you, the fans of this series. We’ve made it through three books and reached the halfway point in this sand-filled epic. I hope you’ll stick with me to the end.
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A Veil of Spears Page 65