Kamen continued to weep quietly until he turned his face to the wall.
****
The throne room of the royal palace of Arinport was occupied by a quiet and grave collection of men. Noticeably absent were not only Ulen Ahnok but those scheming nobles who had supported his usurping the crown. Zuren was there as commander of all Sunjaa ground forces. Ruben, leader of the navy, stood near Darien, a fact which amused the large captain. Just a few weeks before, Ruben had been Darien’s second mate; now, due to the confusion and threat of civil war, he was for all intents and purposes admiral. Most of the richly-dressed men in the room Darien did not know by name, and only a few by face. He did recognize Oren, the former king’s chamberlain. Kamen reclined nearby on a low, soft sofa. His eyes were closed in rest, for he could not yet exert himself even long enough to stand and speak. But the Itenu lord’s presence was deemed necessary by everyone, for he was the highest-ranked noble left in the city. Darien thought Kamen should not have been moved from his room, but other voices had outweighed his opinion.
He shook his head in frustration at the thought. Why this grand conference when the fate of Ulen was obvious? He had killed the King; he had to pay the ultimate penalty. His life was forfeit. The blood of many – Sunjaa and Zenji alike – cried out from the earth for vengeance. Vengeance. Darien’s eyes flitted over to the figure of Talex Chamri, a pale-skinned, beady-eyed man whose sharp nose and thin chin came together to give him the look of a turtle. He looked about twenty years Darien’s senior. His thin hair he raked across his scalp as he adjusted his collar and brushed away invisible specks of dust, no doubt wanting to look his best. Gaudy rings weighed down each fat finger. His gut stretched out his wide belt-like sash. Behind him stood two stone-faced Zenji guards wearing longswords on their hips.
General Lomenin walked over to Kamen and whispered in his ear. Kamen opened his eyes and nodded. Once Lomenin stepped away to assume a position in front of the pillar closest to Kamen, the Itenu lord spoke. “Let’s get started, then. We’re all here?” He looked around, turning his head in weak, wide movements. He was clearly in no shape to lead negotiations.
Zuren stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Arinport is yours, Lord Itenu, and Lord Ahnok has surrendered all claims to positions taken during his interim as usurper.” There was no reason to hide his disdain for his former leader, for once he had learned about Jahen’s existence, he had abandoned Ulen. “He lied to all of us. We all thought King Jahen ...” He could not say the word “dead”, for to allude to the King’s death was tantamount to treason. “May the gods give His Grace long life.”
Everyone in the room nodded and murmured their agreement.
Darien sat forward in his chair. “Where is Ulen?”
“Under guard in his house,” Zuren said. “He will be held there until his fate is decided.”
Darien looked around the room at all the impassive faces. He could not read one of them. Only Kamen looked at him in pain – not physical pain, but something else. He knew something. “Decided? Isn’t it already decided? He is a kingslayer and an assassin. His death cannot come too quickly.”
“The Captain is correct,” said Oren, but Darien did not hear any further agreement with him.
Many of the nobles in the room shook their heads and whispered to one another. Darien wanted to jump up and bash their heads together. Then maybe they would have some sense. How could they even consider any alternative?
“It’s complicated,” Kamen said, his voice rising no higher than a harsh whisper.
Darien shrugged, asking with his body how it could be in any way complicated.
“A Vadal army sits outside Arinport’s gates,” some nameless old noble said. “This does not sit well with the people.”
“What are you trying to say?” Lomenin’s Sunjaa was accented and broken, but his irritation was clear.
The old man’s eyes hardened. There was deep animosity between the Vadal and Sunjaa, especially in the older generations. “What if the Vadal are here for revenge of their defeat in the war?”
“It was Lord Itenu and Darien who came north to raise an army in support of King Jahen, who, might I remind you, is equal parts Sunjaa and Vadal. We have come to defend his rights.”
“Yes, but how far will this defense go? Will you leave an armed force in the city?”
Lomenin exploded in anger, and a general din of argument ensued among the nobles, Darien, and Lomenin. Eventually Darien took control of the situation by taking Lomenin aside, quieting him, and then going to the nobles and telling them to shut their mouths. Such was Darien’s anger that the old men looked up at him in fear and fell silent.
“Now, to hell with all this talk about the Vadal army,” Darien said. “Lomenin is a trustworthy man. He will take his army home when His Grace is safely seated in his throne.” He stretched out his hand toward the empty throne that sat in shadows at the end of the hall. Only the front section of the room was lit with torches. “The real question here is Ulen.”
“We cannot kill him,” the old noble said.
“Why not?”
“He has too many friends. You are beloved of our people, Darien, because you are a warrior without equal. You command respect from your men, and I, too, respect your prowess. But you do not know the ways of court. You are a common man. Ulen did not pull off his scheme without plenty of support. The men who colluded with Lord Ahnok have fled and taken their armed men with them. If we kill Ulen, it will plunge the nation into civil war.”
“The very thing we have thus far avoided,” Kamen said, looking pointedly at Zuren and Ruben, two men whom Darien had been able to sway to the side of right.
“So we let murdering dogs go free?” Darien’s roaring voice echoed through the hall.
“We can’t do that.” Once more Oren, who had served the king personally for so many years, spoke in agreement with Darien, but once more no else agreed.
Kamen shook his head. “No, Ulen cannot hold his head up in Sunjaa society again. He knows this, and so he has asked to be sent to the Dimadan for his exile.”
Darien spun around to look at Talex Chamri, the man ultimately responsible for the eradication of Saerileth’s clan, the one in league with Ulen from the beginning. The only reason Darien did not go over and snap that smug foreigner’s fat neck was because he knew how much pleasure Saerileth would get from achieving her vengeance upon his flesh. “The Dimadan. Of course. He wants to run off and hide with the rats who made him rich.”
Talex just stared at Darien with eyes gleaming in shameless pride. Darien punched into the palm of his hand, trying to relieve some of his aggression and keep himself from jamming his thumbs into the fat pearl-merchant’s eye-sockets.
“So we exile Ulen in order to keep things quiet, to keep everything nice and tidy?” Darien asked.
Kamen’s eloquent raising of his eyebrows and pursing of his lips was the only answer Darien got to his question. “You have the luxury of looking at things with a soldier’s eye. Leave negotiation to your betters. Ulen’s indiscretion is very grey, indeed, but it must be overlooked. He must not die.”
“Indiscretion?” Darien laughed at the absurdity of the word.
“His involvement cannot be proved,” the old noble said. “Not enough to satisfy everyone.”
And by “everyone”, the old man clearly meant the nobles who had lent Ulen their support. As far as Darien was concerned, they, too, were just as guilty as Ulen, just as guilty as the ones who had held the knives. If only Darien could have made the final decision. If only he were at sea where his word was law.
The wide hall suddenly grew too stuffy for Darien. He needed fresh air; he needed to talk to Saerileth, to tell her what they were planning to do with Ulen. He knew she would agree with him that this was all madness. In a black fury, he stormed out of the throne room, his sense of helplessness only fueling his rage. He had never in his life felt so utterly useless.
“Saerileth?” Darien looked down the dark outer c
orridor, expecting to see his Red Lotus’s beautiful face. Even though she had been invited to the conference, Darien and Saerileth had decided it would be best if she listened at the door. After all, she could not trust herself in the presence of Talex Chamri. She might have killed him right there, and such an act would surely have complicated matters, to say the least.
But the corridor was empty, and Saerileth was nowhere to be seen.
Chapter Nineteen
Saerileth stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, her eyes closed. She had heard enough. It was clear to her, though she doubted that Darien yet understood it, that there would be no execution for Ulen Ahnok. No death, though he richly deserved it. Ulen Ahnok would live. He would go back to the Dimadan.
She sighed and slid down the wall, to sit on the stone floor. Though without Talex Chamri to blackmail – for she would have killed him by then – Ulen would have less wealth and freedom than he doubtless hoped, still he would go free. He would escape justice for what he had done. She felt her blood pounding in her ears.
Ulen Ahnok. Darien’s enemy. He would go free. He had burned Darien’s house to the ground, nearly ruining him. And yet Ulen would go free.
He had tried to assassinate Darien, tried to poison him with a hired blade. And yet Ulen would go free.
He had slaughtered Darien’s concubines. Here Saerileth paused. Though she did not doubt that Lia had deserved her death for murdering Darien’s unborn child, none of the others had. Darien had wanted to save them, protect them. Ulen had slaughtered them like beasts. And yet Ulen would go free.
He had flogged Darien, had had that beautiful dark flesh ripped from Darien’s back, until he was near to death. And yet Ulen would go free.
She opened her eyes. No. Ulen would not go free. He had deserved death; she would give it to him. She slipped out of the king’s palace and into the royal gardens. She had been here on the night of the Princess Royal’s festival; she had been here on the day of the royal assassinations; she had been here on the night she had rescued Kamen. This place had never been somewhere she entered or exited lightly, and now she left it with death in her thoughts.
Death had always been her companion, had always been the backdrop of her thoughts, until Darien had burst into her heart, displacing everything but his own glories. Even death had ceased to have his old attraction, his old pull. But now for Darien’s sake, death filled her mind, and death wore more beauties than ever before. Darien deserved to have this death, and it would be her honor to give it to him. She had given him Kamen’s life, and now she would give him Ulen’s death.
“Lotus?”
Saerileth’s eyes focused on the face of the one speaking to her. The realization that someone had come upon her without her hearing, without her seeing, jarred her. She inhaled slowly. “Yes?” She recognized the dark face of one of the Princess Royal’s former attendants.
“They say that you helped carry the young king out of the city. Is that true?” The girl was perhaps five-and-twenty, and her eyes shimmered with tears.
“It is.” Saerileth smiled.
“I was supposed to be there.” The girl’s shoulders shook, and her tears spilled over. “I was supposed to have been with the Princess Royal, to have been attending the little Crown Prince as was. I was unwell that morning, and the Princess Royal said I could keep to my bed.” The girl covered her face with her hands. “She was so kind to me! And the king was almost killed because of me.”
“No, no.” Saerileth patted the girl’s shoulder. “No. It would not have mattered. You might have died with the Princess Royal, but you could not have saved her. And His Grace I protected myself. He was safe.”
The girl’s sobs gradually quieted, and Saerileth, though she did not smile, was pleased that the Princess Royal had left behind such sweet memories. The good she had done had not died with her, and her son by the king would sit on the Sunjaa throne. She was sure that Ulen, on the other hand, would not have support that would last beyond his death.
When Saerileth left the palace gardens behind, with a much comforted Sunjaa nursemaid sitting by the pools, she knew that, despite its uncertain beginnings, King Jahen’s reign would not be contested.
The journey through the city was eerie for Saerileth. The streets were unnaturally quiet. Though no serious shortages of anything had yet reached the city, the knowledge that the fate of the royal house was being decided seemed to have seeped through Arinport. The stalls and stores were open, but no one seemed to be buying much. There were many gathered knots of men and women, but no one spoke loudly. All voices were hushed, but as she passed, the sounds of speech rose. They were whispering of her, and she held her head proudly. She was going to give Darien a death.
****
Ulen Ahnok’s house was as large as Darien’s had been, and Saerileth was momentarily surprised at its beauty. From his mode of dress, she would have assumed that his taste would have been gaudier. She circled around the outside of the edifice. It had a high garden wall, in typical Sunjaa fashion, but no one was there. Ulen’s wealth was enormous, and he had property reaching nearly to the city wall. His house stood nearly alone, and Saerileth smiled. She would be undisturbed on her way in. She scaled the wall, her hands easily finding purchase in the rough white stone. It was only when she dropped onto the inner side of the wall that she realized it.
Ulen’s death was not hers to give Darien. It was true that Ulen deserved death. So did many people. But she was not Sunjaa; she could not take vengeance for the wrongs done to others. And if she simply stole this death and presented it to Darien, there would be consequences for him. No one in Arinport would believe she had done this without his permission, and they would blame him for sabotaging the peace. She knew that Kamen’s words of civil war were true. Ulen’s death was not something the Sunjaa would forgive. His involvement in the assassinations could not be proven sufficiently to force the nobles who had backed him to accept his execution, and without further proof – which even if it still existed would never be found until long after Ulen was safe in the Dimadan – Ulen’s death would be considered murder. A murder for which Darien would be blamed.
Ice struck at her heart. Darien could not be blamed! But if she did not kill Ulen now, then Ulen would escape justice. Darien would suffer from that forever.
“What are you doing here?” A house guard rushed at Saerileth, his sword drawn. “You’re trespassing.”
Saerileth did not kill him. Instead, she incapacitated him. If she were still here in ten minutes, she would deserve to be caught. She took up his sword and stalked into the house, keeping to the shadows there. She had not bothered to hide her journey here, and she would not hide on her return. But this time in Ulen’s house she would need to be stealthy. She crept through the halls, and here she saw the gaudy trappings she had expected. She understood then. The house itself Ulen must have inherited, and it had been designed by someone else, someone whose tastes were more elegant.
Darien’s house had been lovely.
Saerileth stopped still, and the house-guard’s sword slipped from her fingers to clatter on the cool, stone floor. She did have a death to give Darien. She was owed one death, and no one, not even the Sunjaa, would deny her right to take it.
But could she do this? Could she give up her own vengeance to take Darien’s for him? Could she let her father, her mother, and both her brothers lie in the earth and cry out in vain for justice? She had once thought she could give up her vengeance for Darien’s sake, but she found that now that her foe had a face and a name, now that her vengeance was within her grasp, it was a vastly different question. Talex Chamri was responsible for the slaughter of her clan; his death was hers to claim. But Darien deserved justice, too.
Darien was more to her than her clan. Darien was more to her even than her life.
Saerileth stepped over the fallen sword, not bothering with it. She would not need it. She darted from shadow to shadow, making her way deeper into the house. She paused every so o
ften, listening. It did not take her long to determine Ulen’s location. He was in his private receiving chamber, attended by two men.
Saerileth stopped in the hallway. The door to the room was open, and she made sure she stayed out of the line of sight. She held her breath and listened. One was standing, and judging by his voice, he had his back to the door. Another, who spoke less often, seemed to be nearer Ulen. Ulen himself was seated, and she suspected, due to the murmured words, that they were discussing accounts.
“I should be able to live comfortably on the income from only a third of my pearl contracts.” Ulen’s calculating drawl seemed to Saerileth to be an affront.
“Will you be maintaining your upriver properties, Master?”
Saerileth did not wait to hear Ulen’s reply. She tumbled into the room, and with one swift kick, she had knocked out the man with his back to the door. She popped up, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and faced off against Ulen and his other slave.
“Go while you can,” said Saerileth. “Your master and I have much to discuss.”
“Stay!” Ulen’s eyes were cold and full of fear.
“Do you fear to be alone with me, Lord Ahnok?” Saerileth relaxed her fighting stance, instead letting her pallav drop gracefully around her shoulders. “You purchased me. You chose me. Why should you not wish to see me now?”
Ulen narrowed his eyes. “You wish to accompany me back to the Dimadan?”
Saerileth shook her head. “No, of course not. I have come but for a brief farewell.”
“Then the slave stays.”
“Suit yourself.” Saerileth glided over to stand near Ulen, but he drew his dagger and held it out before him.
“Come no nearer, Lotus.”
Saerileth stepped backward, then dropped once more into a roll. She tumbled past Ulen to stand behind the trembling accountant slave. Her hands were on his throat, and she pushed her thumbs against the pressure points. “If you leave now I will spare your life.” She released her pressure, and the slave darted for the door. He slammed it shut behind him. His cowardice but confirmed Saerileth in her choice. Ulen had not been able to inspire loyalty even in his own slaves. But there was not one servant in Darien’s house who would have betrayed him.
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