The ashen-faced Arxa lies in deep slumber, his wound tightly bandaged. His chest moves steadily, but weakly.
“I gave him potion to sleep,” I say, “but he may be able to hear you in his dreams.”
Mehtap draws close. She touches his hand quickly, as one might test a hot stove, before wrapping it in her own.
“If only I had the courage to tell you the truth,” she whispers. And I know that she’s thinking about how she assassinated Emperor Kurosh. The tableau of father and daughter is heartbreakingly raw, and I get the acute sense that I shouldn’t be here. She doesn’t seem to notice when I quietly slip out of the cave and sit outside the entrance. Walgash and Sisson stand a stone’s throw away, talking between themselves. What a bizarre mix of people we are: an elite Amparan soldier, a Dara healer, a lady assassin, her escort, and a comatose general. The tangle of loyalties is dizzying to consider. I don’t know if I should be glad for their presence or fear for my life.
When Mehtap joins me a while later, her eyes are rimmed in red. She sits down next to me and leans against the granite mountainside.
“I keep on trying to work up the courage to tell him,” she says. “He thinks I’m his perfect daughter, yet he would despise me if he knew.”
“Why do you want to tell him?” I ask.
“If I don’t deserve his love,” she says, “I shouldn’t have it.”
For a while, neither of us says anything.
“I didn’t want to believe what you told me about Kiran,” she says. “But you gave me a name, and I had the means to go find her. It would have been foolish of me not to look further. I found Kione, though she was afraid to speak to me at first. I think she worried I would disbelieve her and turn her over to the emperor. But eventually she told me everything.”
She fixates on a distant spot, and her lips flatten. “I came in search of my father after that. When I arrived at the army camp, they told me he’d gone missing. I feared he was dead, and then Walgash pulled me aside and told me he knew where he was.”
Mehtap wipes at the corner of her eye. “I knew Kiran at court growing up. He was only a few years older than I, and very ambitious. Did you know his mother was a lower-ranked wife? She had to fight to get him named crown prince, and I think Kiran just never stopped fighting. He often talked about the glory of Ampara, of how we needed to safeguard it, to always be on the attack lest we be overtaken ourselves. I remember Father warning him against his ambition, but I never thought he would go this far.” She chuckles. “But then, who am I to condemn him for going too far? I’m just as bad as he is. But Father isn’t. He believes in Ampara. He would never have done what I did to Kurosh, and he would never knowingly serve an emperor who’s committed Kiran’s crimes.”
Mehtap continues. “I think Kiran has more plans we don’t know of. Walgash tells me he got pulled out of Neju’s Guard to serve in that unit on the beach. Everyone in that unit is umbertouched—Kiran says it’s so they can take on more dangerous missions and fight without worry of rose plague. But we all know there’s no real need for such a battalion, because the only one who has used rose plague in battle is Kiran himself.”
An umbertouched battalion...“So you think Kiran means to cause more harm.”
She nods. “Walgash is suspicious too. He didn’t say as much, but I can tell. I don’t think he would have taken me here otherwise.”
Those are foreboding words. I think of my family somewhere in the mountains, of the traitor in the Shidadi camp, and I pray that Dineas was able to warn them. “We need to tell your father about Kiran.”
“Not just my father. There are other generals and commanders who feel the same way. They should know what kind of man they really serve. We need to find evidence.”
There it is again, evidence. I’m so tired of telling people of my failure. “I’ve been trying. I’ve searched Baruva’s quarters twice, and I found nothing.”
“We just need to get him to confess,” says Mehtap matter-of-factly. “He’s here, you know. On the beach near Kiran’s ship.”
“Baruva’s here? What is he doing?”
She shrugs. “Nothing good. But I’m sure he knows something. It’s just a matter of finding some way to persuade him to be honest.”
“Are you talking about torture?”
She grimaces. “That has crossed my mind, though I don’t think I have the stomach for it, even if Baruva would do it to his own enemies. But if it’s the only way...”
An idea comes into my mind. “It might not be,” I say.
Gatha leads me into camp with my hands bound, surrounded by the ten fighters she’d brought with her when she met me in the forest. Word spreads quickly that I’m here. A handful of Shidadi appear out of the foliage to follow us, shooting me curious glances, and then more after that. It’s as if I’m at my own funeral procession.
Finally, I see Vidarna coming toward us, followed by Karu. Vidarna’s composed as always, and dignified. A Shidadi among Shidadi. Karu regards me with suspicion. No, I’m not the one you need to fear.
“What is this, Gatha?” says Karu. “I thought you’d exiled him.”
“I found him lurking just out of scouting range,” says Gatha. “His presence here raises some questions.”
“It certainly does,” says Vidarna.
Gatha lifts two fingers. Two of her fighters grab Vidarna by the arms, as others go for his weapons.
“What—” Vidarna struggles against them, kicking one of Gatha’s fighters and sending him sprawling as shouts of confusion come from the crowd.
“Order,” calls Gatha over the shouts. “Order! All will be explained.”
Miraculously, voices die down, though the scene still crackles like dry brush on a hot day. Vidarna stands disarmed and restrained by Gatha’s fighters. Every member of Vidarna’s tribe has a hand on his weapon, as do many of Karu’s and Gatha’s, for that matter. Karu stares openmouthed and silent. Gatha looks at all this, and then steps in front of Vidarna to address the crowd.
“Forgive me for the break from tradition,” she says. “There have been accusations brought against Vidarna. Accusations which he is free to dispute, but they need to be investigated immediately and without warning, if he’s to clear his name with no room for doubt. While Dineas was in exile, he fought and wounded an Amparan officer. He found a map on the officer’s person marking our current locations, and he found this.” She holds up the colored cloth.
Murmurs start up again at the sight, but Vidarna’s voice cuts through them. “I won’t stand to have my name impugned. Even if that cloth really was found on the Amparan’s body, I’m not the only one who uses pigeons. It seems it’s not enough for Dineas to betray his people. He must make it look like others share in his guilt.”
“It’s true that there are others with pigeons trained in this manner,” says Gatha. “But you are the only one who knows our positions to the detail drawn on the map. If you claim your innocence, then let us do one simple test. Send your pigeon Whiteclaw out with the cloth. We’ll have one of our crows follow.”
“This is insulting,” says Vidarna.
“Insulting perhaps,” says Karu. She takes several steps closer, and her one eye is sharp. “But it’s an easy way to clear your name.”
“Crows are fickle,” says Vidarna. “They’d be just as likely to fly off by themselves.”
Mansha, the woman whose ear I severed when I served in Neju’s Guard, steps forward. “My crow Digger is more responsible than most. He can trail the pigeon without getting distracted.”
Gatha addresses Vidarna again. “There’s no good reason to refuse,” she says.
A vein pulses in Vidarna’s forehead. For a moment, I think he might try to fight. But then he simply snaps, “Let’s get this done, then.” He whistles for his pigeon. Gatha flashes the handkerchief in front of the bird’s face, and it takes off. Mansha commands her crow to follow.
The next hour passes painfully slowly. Gatha’s soldiers allow Vidarna to sit, and I follow suit
, resting my aching legs. I itch to get rid of the ropes at my wrist, but I know Gatha would refuse if I asked her. The area around us is crowded with Shidadi, but no one speaks, and everyone’s eyeing everybody else with suspicion. It seems like the slightest provocation would set us all aflame. For the first time, the ramifications of what I’ve done sink in. Maybe the crow will bring back something incriminating. Maybe this entire plan will fail. Either way, I don’t know if our Shidadi alliance can survive this.
Finally a ripple goes through the crowd. “The birds are returning!” someone shouts. Indeed, the pigeon’s flying back, followed by the crow bearing something in his beak, which he drops into Mansha’s hand. She holds up a silver cord for all to see.
“That’s the silver ribbon of Neju’s Guard, Arxa’s elite,” I say. “I wore one myself.”
“Rubbish,” says Vidarna. “It’s simply a silver cord.”
Karu takes the ribbon from Mansha. She rubs it between her fingers and examines the weave. Then her expression abruptly changes. “Seize Vidarna’s belongings,” she says to three men next to her. “Sift through it all.”
Vidarna jumps to his feet, but Gatha’s guards are ready for him. They restrain him again, and this time they tie his hands. Several of Vidarna’s fighters rush forward, drawing their weapons, but others from our tribe form a wall between them and Gatha.
I can’t look.
“Sheathe your weapons!” shouts Gatha. “Your loyalty is to your people, not to Vidarna. If he is innocent, no harm will come to him, but if he is guilty, he no longer commands you.”
Two of Karu’s fighters approach. “Here are Vidarna’s bag and cloak,” they say, laying the prizes at Karu’s feet.
“Sift through it,” says the young warlord. “Search every pocket.”
“Get your hands off my belongings,” says Vidarna. His face is flushed, and he pulls against the men holding him.
A woman looks up from examining Vidarna’s cloak. “There’s something sewn into the lining.” Karu holds out her hand, and the woman gives her a ring of purple stone.
Gatha’s face darkens. “Is that what I think it is, Dineas?”
“The emperor’s seal,” I say. “Someone holding it would be granted access through the empire front lines.”
Shocked exclamations come from the crowd. Gatha shakes her head incredulously. “What do you have to say for yourself, Vidarna?”
Vidarna bares his teeth. “It’s folly to think we can beat the Amparans,” he says. “In exchange for the location of the Dara camp, they promised safety to the Shidadi.”
“We promised the Dara our protection,” says Gatha.
“They’re a deadweight on our war effort,” says Vidarna. “This alliance will get us all killed.”
Gatha’s eyes narrow dangerously. “They’ve provided us with food and medicines throughout this war. And we gave them our word.” She raises her voice. “Order your people down. Your fate is sealed, but not that of your tribe’s. If you’re a true warlord, you won’t let them destroy themselves fighting their own kin.”
The forest itself seems to go quiet waiting for Vidarna’s next move. As the old warlord looks from Gatha to the fighters thronged around him, I scan the faces of the Shidadi. I see surprise, betrayal, and incredulity. Gatha and I had talked about whether anyone in his tribe could be complicit. Neither of us had thought it possible to keep something this large a secret, but it’s hard to know for sure. Now, looking at the faces, I’m convinced that most, if not all, of them did not know.
Vidarna drops his head. “My tribe had no hand in this,” he says. “I take full blame and responsibility.”
Gatha regards him with a stony gaze. “So this is how low we’ve fallen,” she says. “Dineas, forgive us. We have wronged you.” She looks into the crowd now and raises her voice. “Brothers and sisters from Vidarna’s tribe, I do not hold you responsible for your warlord’s wrongs. But if you stay, I must know you to be true. I do not ask to be your warlord, but I do demand your loyalty if you stay under my command. If you cannot give me that, then leave now. You have my word that we will not harm you. If you choose to stay, you will swear your sword to me in Neju’s name. The choice is yours, but it must be made now.”
Nobody moves. Somewhere, someone coughs. I look from Gatha, staring down the crowd, to Vidarna’s grim countenance, and then to the Shidadi fighters all around me. And I’m painfully aware that we could still end up destroying each other right here.
A woman clears her throat. Taja, the fighter from Vidarna’s tribe who’d led the raid against Arxa, steps forward. “You have my sword, Gatha. Neju strike me down if I go back on my word.” I try to imagine what it would feel like to risk your life on such a dangerous mission, only to find out your warlord has been undermining you. I wonder if Vidarna had tried to warn Arxa about the raid.
A sigh passes through the crowd. Another fighter steps forward and pledges his sword to Gatha, and then another. A woman I don’t recognize says she will leave for the mainland, and Gatha tells her she must leave by the end of today. Most of Vidarna’s fighters, though, make the decision to stay. One by one, the fighters take out their swords and bring Neju’s wrath upon themselves if they lie. As I watch, I should feel vindicated, but instead there’s something tugging at the corner of my mind. I feel like there’s something I’m overlooking, almost as if I had a memory that’s been buried. Images flash through my mind—the catapults and the tiny bundles of flour at the beach, Kiran’s seal everywhere, and his ship on the waters. Why would the emperor be on the beach instead of on land with his men? I remember now the umbertouched soldiers at that outpost, and I wonder if they were all umbertouched. I think about Walgash’s warning, You don’t know what our soldiers and our weapons can do.
And suddenly, I know what the Amparans are going to do.
We leave Walgash with Arxa. The rest of us—me, Mehtap, and Sisson—travel south to Kiran’s beach in search of Baruva.
The forest is quiet as we travel. It’s the quiet of hidden threats, though, and the silence winds up my nerves instead of soothing them. I wonder how Arxa fares back where I left him. Is he still alive? And if we manage to find any evidence, would he believe it?
We travel as fast as we can. I ride the donkey, Mehtap has a mountain pony, and Sisson walks. Both Mehtap and I are limited by our illness. Several times a day, one of us has to stop and wait for a particularly bad headache to pass. When we’re well enough to move, though, we go without stopping, eating meals as we ride and pushing ourselves not to lag. Occasionally, I see an herb that I want, and I direct Sisson to pick it.
Sisson walks close to Mehtap as we travel. Several times I see their heads bent together in quiet conversation. And once, when they think no one is looking, he touches her hand, and she looks at him with open, unguarded eyes.
During a rare stop to refill our waterskins, Mehtap speaks to me. “This is what Ampara is, isn’t it? It took the plague for me to see the truth of it. The emperor cares only for his own glory, and those that get in the way are tossed to the side.” She tilts her head thoughtfully. “Why did the gods decide to make him emperor? Why did they make you Dara and make me Amparan? Is it the same way they decide who gets struck with the plague? Sometimes I think our lives are just one big dice game to the gods.”
Her plainness of speaking makes me scared on her behalf. Say what she might, Mehtap is still a general’s daughter. “Have you thought fully about the consequences of what you’re doing?” I tell her. “If your father believes you, you’ll be driving a rift between your family and the emperor. You know what Ampara does to her enemies. Are you willing to pay that price? Are you willing to have your father pay that price?”
“My father would not want to serve a lie, whatever the price. As for me, my days are numbered no matter what I do.”
My days are numbered. She says it so matter-of-factly, and my eyes drift to Sisson a short distance away. Mehtap follows my gaze, and her serene smile gives me permission to ask.
“He’s more than a friend, isn’t he?”
There’s a glow about her as she speaks. “You come to know your companions well, when you’re traveling across the empire.”
Sisson looks over at us, and I have a feeling he knows we’re talking about him. I can’t help but wish I knew more about him, and whether he could be trusted.
Mehtap laughs. “There you are, being the protective older sister. I can see it in your face. But what can he gain from being with me? I won’t live long enough for him to curry any favor from my father. And if he simply wants someone to entertain himself with, well, there are plenty of girls who don’t get splitting headaches in his embrace, and who don’t have powerful fathers who will defend their honor.”
She does have a point.
Her eyes turn solemn. “He knows what I’ve done, and he hasn’t given me away.”
“You told him?” What reassurance I felt before evaporates. The girl is too trusting.
“He guessed,” she says. “He said I wore my guilt like an overburdened camel whenever the emperor was mentioned.” She rolls her eyes. “Romantic, isn’t it? He told me he would leave it up to the gods to judge my past, and that he’s only concerned about the present and future.” She continues, more subdued. “To be honest, what I worry most about is whether it will be too hard for him when I’m gone.”
Dineas’s face appears in my mind’s eye, and I blink it away.
Mehtap gives me a knowing look. “But I came to realize that if I love Sisson, then I need to trust him to make his choices wisely. I can’t protect him from grief, and it wouldn’t be right for me to do so.”
It’s clear that she’s speaking more for my benefit than for hers. “You disapprove of how I’ve treated Dineas,” I say.
“I’ve wished happiness for the two of you since the early days of our friendship,” says Mehtap. “Long before I saw you turn him away in the emperor’s garden.” She smiles when I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, I overheard the two of you speaking that night. You have a good heart, Zivah. You want to control everything. You want to protect everyone, but you can’t, even in the best of circumstances. Let Dineas decide what he’s willing to risk.”
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