But the man, the cold man who had been in the baths might.
Vasenu had to pull himself together. He was King. Someone had tried to kill him. That meant treason. Someone wanted his rule. He took slow, deep breaths, working on calming himself.
Outside the room there were shouts. Vasenu didn’t move. If the trouble grew, he hoped his people would deal with it. Jene crouched beside him, clutching a wet cloth and a basin of water.
“Let me clean off your hand,” he said.
Vasenu extended his wounded palm, noting that it didn’t shake anymore. He was all alone now, completely alone. No father, no brother, no true adviser. He hadn’t prepared well enough for this. He should have had his own guards, his own advisers, and his own friends. Somehow he hadn’t thought it through, despite his father’s warnings. He had always assumed that he and Ele would remain bound for life.
Jene scraped against something sharp in Vasenu’s palm. “Ow,” he complained.
Jene pulled back, glanced at the wound. He gently picked out more glass slivers.
The shouting grew closer. Finally the curtain in front of the door swung back and two guards that Vasenu had dispatched earlier came in. They dragged a man garbed in black behind them, holding his elbows because his hands covered his eyes. They pushed him forward when they saw Vasenu and shoved him to his knees.
“Uncover your eyes,” one of the guards said.
The man didn’t move.
The guard yanked the hands away. One of the man’s eyes was slit in half, blood running down his cheek. Broken glass was embedded in his brows and forehead. He glared at Vasenu with his remaining eye.
“Who sent you?” Vasenu said.
The man said nothing.
Vasenu felt a slow burning anger. This man had come into Vasenu’s rooms on the worst night of his life and had tried to take the last thing he had left—his life. “I want to know who sent you.”
The man didn’t move. A drop of blood ran down his cheek like a tear.
“Who is he?” Vasenu asked the guard.
“He’s a lower lieutenant, works with Kendru.”
Kendru. Kendru. Vasenu squinted, trying to remember. He had worked with Kendru once, on a western campaign. Kendru had been ruthless and violent. And at night he had told stories about his campaigns with Tarne.
“Did Tarne send you?”
The man remained motionless. Not a flicker betrayed his thoughts. If he was from Kendru, Vasenu’s words wouldn’t frighten him. The only thing that frightened him was the threat of Kendru’s retaliation. Unless Vasenu could make things seem worse.
You’ll hate the choices you must make as King, his father had said. That is why you must have a pure heart to begin with, so that it will survive the shattering.
Vasenu pulled his hand away from Jene. He took out his dagger, grabbed the man’s hair and held the dagger against the edge of the man’s good eye. “I took your other eye. I will blind you if you don’t talk to me.”
He could feel the man shivering beneath his hand. Vasenu shook him once. “Have you a tongue?”
“He can speak,” the guard said. “He was calling for help loud enough when we grabbed him.”
“And you saw no others?”
“None, sire.”
Vasenu let the tip of the blade dig into the loose skin near the man’s eye. “Tell me who sent you.”
The man’s trembling grew worse. He bit his lower lip.
Vasenu slowly sliced along the cheekbone. The man whimpered. His breathing grew labored. Vasenu brought the blade closer to the man’s nose before the man whispered, “Stop.”
Vasenu stopped cutting but didn’t move the blade. His stomach was turning. He had never done anything like this before.
“Who sent you?” he asked again.
“I came with Kendru,” the man said.
Vasenu brought the blade down. “Yes,” he said. “But who sent you?”
With a shaking hand, the man touched the cut that Vasenu had made. He brought his hand away slowly and examined the fresh blood. “Kendru is working with Tarne.”
“And?”
“And?” The man blinked and then winced. His voice was cracking.
“Who else?” Vasenu inched the dagger closer to the man’s face.
The man leaned back as far as he could. “Your brother,” he whispered.
Even though he had expected the words, Vasenu nearly doubled over with pain. He stood up and walked to the balcony. Outside the night air was chill. Torches illuminated the courtyard and the desert beyond. Below, soldiers paced in front of the gate. Everything was going on as it had before, and yet nothing was the same.
“Kill him,” Vasenu said.
Jene gasped. Vasenu was not known for his harshness.
Vasenu turned. Everyone had frozen, as if his words had carried a power none of them had expected. “I cannot tolerate treason in any form. If I’m lenient now, the attempts on my life will never end. Kill him and make him an example to any other who might try to overthrow me.”
One of the guards reached down and yanked the man to his feet. The man extended his hands. “Sire, please.”
Vasenu cocked his head. He felt empty inside. “Yes?”
“I can tell you where Kendru is and what Tarne plans. Please, let me live and I will help you.”
“I know what Tarne plans. I know that my brother is aiding him. All you can give me are details and your life isn’t worth those. You’re more valuable to me dead.” Vasenu turned his back and stared out the balcony doors. His headache had grown worse.
“Sire—”
The man’s voice faded as the guards led him away. Vasenu’s palm itched and he rubbed it against his trousers. Jene came up beside him.
“Sire?” Jene’s voice had a new tone to it, a deference that it had never had before.
Vasenu glanced at him, surprised to find Jene’s gaze averted, as he used to do with Vasenu’s father.
“Let me finish with your hand.”
Vasenu held out his palm and winced as Jene applied ointment to it. “I want my brother here, now,” Vasenu said over his shoulder to the remaining guards. Two left hurriedly, as if afraid to disobey him.
That was the price he was buying: power instead of affection. After tonight everyone would treat him with a bit of wariness, a touch of surprise. No one had expected him to kill a man on his first night as ruler. But then, he hadn’t expected to fight for his own life.
The ointment stung. Vasenu tried to pull away, but Jene held tightly. “The men won’t like this change in you,” he whispered.
“I don’t like it either.” Vasenu spoke in a normal tone. “But I have no choice. I’m no longer a child, and no longer my father’s son. I’m the one in charge here, and I have to be respected.”
“But not feared.”
The words pierced through the emptiness in Vasenu’s stomach. There was pain behind it, more pain than he wanted to acknowledge. “What would you have me do?”
“Imprison him. Lock him away forever. But don’t slaughter him. That’s not civilized.”
“And what do I do the next time?” Vasenu asked. He pulled his palm away and stared at the grease covering the cuts. Minor wounds for such a serious event. “Put the next one in the dungeon and the next and the next, hoping that they’ll die of their own accord before the place fills up? Or perhaps I should have finished the job of blinding him and let him wander the streets to live off the charity of others until he died of starvation. Which is the most cruel? And which is the most effective?”
Jene said nothing. He took his ointments and set them aside, then moved the basin away. The remaining guards continued their cleanup as if nothing had happened. The pain in Vasenu’s stomach felt like a rotted melon about to burst. He wanted to go to his father and have his actions confirmed. His father would have told him what to do, how to handle the situation. Each problem has more than one solution, his father used to say. But some of the solutions are more valuable than oth
ers.
“Sire?”
Vasenu turned. He hadn’t heard the two guards come in, the ones he had sent after Ele. They were alone.
The guard who had spoken dropped his gaze. He looked nervous. “Sire,” he repeated, “your brother is gone.”
“As is Tarne, Kendru, and half the soldiers stationed at these barracks.” The other guard met Vasenu’s gaze. Vasenu saw the fear there, and the expectation of fairness.
Vasenu nodded. “I had thought so.” He sighed. “I want a meeting in the Assembly Room in an hour of the advisers and the remaining ranking soldiers.”
He turned his back on them all, so that they couldn’t see the panic move from his chest to his eyes. This was what his father had feared. This was why his father had yelled no just before he died.
No one had moved behind him. “Leave me,” Vasenu said.
He could hear the footsteps. His father had put the kingdom first. Ele wouldn’t rule with Vasenu as his father had wanted, and they couldn’t rule together as joint sovereigns, not after this. Vasenu would never be able to trust Ele again. Other solutions. He could abdicate and give his brother the power he wanted. But Ele was thinking of himself and not Leanda. If he had been thinking of Leanda, none of this would have happened. But if Vasenu fought Ele, would he be working for Leanda or himself? He didn’t know. Either way, the discord was not good for the country. No matter what happened, he had already lost.
CHAPTER 45
He was strangling, his air gone. Ele reached a hand to his throat, found a thick and hairy wrist. He jerked awake, saw a face above his, half-hidden by a black veil.
“You’re coming with us.”
Ele kicked and his assailant fell aside. He rolled, only to be caught by other hands, stronger hands, and to feel the prick of a dagger against his throat.
“One more move and I will kill you. Nothing would please me more than to gut you and watch you die.”
Tarne. Another dagger pricked Ele’s back. His room was too dark, the candles burned out. He could see a shape huddled in the corner, its feet at an odd angle, and realized they had already gotten to his servant. He couldn’t tell if the man was dead.
“What do you want?” Ele kept his voice calm.
“You,” Tarne said. He snapped his fingers. Ele’s original assailant grabbed Ele’s wrists and yanked them behind his back. Ele kicked and was about to push away, when the dagger at his throat pushed against his larynx.
“I said I will kill you.” Tarne’s voice was low. “I mean it.”
Ropes bit into his wrists and cut off the circulation in his hands. “What’s so important about me now, Tarne?” It hurt to talk. The pressure against his throat caused the words to jumble up behind his tongue.
“Your brother thinks you just tried to kill him. If you’re going to stage a coup, you need to leave the palace tonight. I could care less if you leave it alive.”
Ele tried to swallow. More hands grabbed his feet, pulling them together, stringing another rope around his ankles. “If I were going to kill Vasenu, I would have succeeded.”
“Perhaps.” Tarne removed his blade from Ele’s throat. “You know the same maneuvers. He rolled into his assailant too. My men weren’t prepared for that.”
The fact that Tarne didn’t rise to the taunt upset Ele more than he thought it could. “You may as well kill me now, Tarne, because I’m not going to cooperate with you.”
“Yes, you are. You just don’t know how yet.” Tarne took a silk scarf from his waist and handed it to another of the men. The man shoved it into Ele’s mouth, then tied another scarf over the first. The angle was odd, and his skin pulled. Ele tried to spit them out, but couldn’t.
“Get him out of here,” Tarne said. “Quietly.”
They lifted him up as if he weighed nothing. Ele wriggled, but the men held him tightly. He felt panic rise in his breast. Vasenu would think Ele betrayed him after that conversation in the baths. Tarne had manipulated him, and he hadn’t even realized it. Ele would get no help from his brother—or from anyone else. Tarne’s men were Tarne’s men. Ele hadn’t fought for any support, hadn’t built any base because he thought he hadn’t needed one. Such a mistake. A major mistake.
He was alone now, completely. One more mistake and he would die.
CHAPTER 46
Vasenu pulled open the door to the Assembly Room. He was using the King’s entrance, which he had used a dozen times before, always following his father into the room. He could almost see his father’s swaying form moving ahead of him. Vasenu shook his head slightly. Exhaustion and panic were making him weaker than usual. He had to get a grip on himself.
Torches spread along the walls gave the room almost a campfire feel. If Vasenu closed his eyes, he could imagine the open air, the stars above, and the whinnies of horses behind him. The room still had a bit of a chill—it had been closed for weeks—and it smelled faintly of smoke.
The advisers looked sleepy. Many of them wore robes casually belted, their hair askew. The soldiers were all dressed in clean white tunics and trousers, with boots going up to the knee. The swords attached to their waists did not have the dress hilts. Yet many of these men also looked exhausted, their eyes red-rimmed as if they’d been crying or drinking.
Vasenu paused a moment before taking his father’s place at the dais. He didn’t know who half these men were and didn’t, for a moment, think he could lead them. What if he gave them an order and they didn’t obey? He couldn’t execute them all.
The thought made him wince. More than once, he had gone to his door to rescind the execution order. Each time he had stopped. His argument with Jene still seemed valid in his own mind. He had to show his strength right at the beginning. He had to prove that he would never tolerate treason.
Even from his brother.
Vasenu sat cross-legged on the satin pillow. The advisers looked up. All but Tarne had shown up. Only about fifteen soldiers had appeared, however.
“For those of you who don’t know,” he said, “my brother Ele made an attempt on my life tonight. He was assisted by Tarne and one of Tarne’s men, Kendru. They have since left the palace on their own accord, destination unknown.”
No one moved. They had heard.
“I want this discussion to be frank,” Vasenu said. “We’re at the early stages of my rule. The decisions we make here could affect decades to come. Anyone who feels that he can’t be honest and that he cannot keep this discussion secret should leave now.”
One of the soldiers near the back shifted slightly. Vasenu watched him. The man didn’t leave.
“All right.” Vasenu took a deep breath. He was tired and he wished he could get some sleep. “I believe that my brother and Tarne are planning to overthrow me. My brother has not kept his agreement made before this assembly and my father, to abide by the heart readers’ decision. When he discovered that our father had died, he left me and refused to talk to me. He went immediately to Tarne, and arranged this evening’s assassination attempt. Clearly he believes that he should rule.”
“The heart readers said he could not,” said Arenu, an elderly man who had advised Vasenu’s father for decades.
“No,” said Vasenu. “The heart readers said he did not have a pure heart. The concept behind the pure heart is that it can withstand the decisions a ruler has to make without breaking, and still maintain a love and interest in the people it serves. I may have already destroyed my purity. I ordered a man executed this evening.”
The gasps echoed in the room. Most of the men had not heard that news.
“He was one of the assassins. I needed to set an example.”
Arenu nodded. Some of the others did as well. The soldiers toward the back remained motionless. Vasenu wondered if he could trust them.
“My brother wants this rule, enough so that he will kill for it. He will risk everything. And I am at a loss. Am I as bad if I go to war to defend my position? We must decide first if I am to rule and to what cost.”
Vas
enu’s words sent a murmur through the room. He strained, but could only catch phrases. He held up a hand. “Please,” he said, “discuss this with me.”
Salme, one of the younger advisers, stood. “Your brother has given no thought to Leanda. If he had, he would have avoided this struggle at all costs. I think his actions prove the heart reading. He cannot make choices based on the needs of the people, only upon his own needs.”
“So I must act for the people. But I’m not sure which course is the wisest,” Vasenu said.
One of the soldiers stepped up from the back. General’s bars ran along his sash. “A battle now will cost hundreds of lives and will pit friend against friend,” he said.
Vasenu wished he knew the general’s name. He would have to ask as soon as he could. “So you believe I should abdicate to my brother.”
“No, sire. Your brother will take hundreds of lives over the years and will do as much harm as King as he is doing now. If you can find him and kill him before the war starts, then the problem is solved.”
For a moment, Vasenu couldn’t breathe. Kill Ele. That was the option he hadn’t seen, that he hadn’t wanted to see. And yet he had already acted upon it by killing the assassin Ele sent. Perhaps that was why Vasenu couldn’t stop that execution. He had to practice—to get a death done with before he killed his brother.
“Have you a plan?” Vasenu asked. His voice remained calm, although his heart was pounding.
“Yes, sire.” The man stepped into the light. His face was weary, leathery from decades under the sun. “The only defensible positions outside the palace are the caves west of the city. I’m sure that Tarne took them there. We need to draw your brother out, bring him here, and execute him.”
“It’ll still cost lives,” Arenu said.
“Yes.” The general spoke softly. “But maybe dozens instead of hundreds.”
One of them Ele’s. “We would need Tarne as well, and all the others involved in the assassination plot.” Vasenu cleared his throat. “Are there other choices?”
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