“You also gifted her one of my gowns!”
“She offered me a Zarqan, Sarai. A Zarqan! Do you know how hard it is to get ahold of one?”
Only a mother’s love for her child rivaled Roshar’s obsession with the rare and beautiful handbags. “If you wanted a Zarqan, you could have just taken one from my wardrobe. I have plenty of bags I’ve never even touched.” It’s not uncommon for nobility to offer the royal family gifts of favor. Years later, they sit, gathering dust.
He emits a frail, choking sound, as though he has been brutally impaled. “A Zarqan is notjusta bag. It is exemplary, of the highest standard in Ammaran fashion.”
Of course it is.
Very soon, Sarai, we will meet.
My head snaps in his direction. “What did you say?”
Roshar lifts a curious eyebrow. “Only that a Zarqan is so much more than a bag?” There is a pause. “Are you feeling all right?” He presses the back of his hand to my forehead in concern. “You do feel warm. Have you visited the physician?”
“I’m fine.” But I’ve heard that voice before. I hear it on the edge of sleep, when waking and dreaming become one. It is no voice I recognize, yet I fight its pull.
“Do you mind if I complete some reading while you work?” I ask him.
“Reading?” His expression folds into one of distaste. “Sometimes I wonder why we’re friends.” Then he springs to his feet and retreats to the other side of the room, soon disappearing behind a small mountain of cloth.
Reaching into the small bag resting at the base of the chair, I remove the book I saved from the night of the darkwalker attack. Seeing as it is the only resource I have at the moment, I’ve been wary of leaving it in my chambers. Already, I’ve read this volume thrice through, scanning for overlooked details, information that may benefit us. If Prince Balior intends to release the beast, then the only option is to kill it.
Cracking open the spine, I begin to read. Every so often, Roshar’s mutterings pull me from my research. Occasionally, I hear the plink of a sewing needle hitting the floor.
After what feels like an hour, he uncurls from his hunched position, stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before wandering to the window. I’m rereading the beast’s personal account when Roshar abruptly straightens, pressing a palm against the glass. “Sarai.” He glances at me with enough severity to make me sit up straight. “I think you’re going to want to see this.”
Setting aside my book, I move to stand beside Roshar.
The labyrinth, with its curved walls and crisscrossing inner passageways, dominates the center of the courtyard. Notus advances toward it with a confidence some might mistake as arrogance. Upon reaching the entryway, he brushes a hand against a curtain of black tendrils seething beneath its massive door.
“By the gods,” Roshar whispers.
The hair along my arms stands straight on end. Nose pressed against the glass, my exhalation rushes forth to steam the window.
The veil parts. The door opens. Notus steps through.
I gasp in alarm. When Notus said he would conduct his own researchon the labyrinth, I didn’t think he meant he wouldenterit alone. I thought we were working as a team.
Roshar turns to me, oddly mute. “What is the South Wind’s interest in the labyrinth?”
There are things I can speak freely about to Roshar. This is not one of them. “I’m not sure,” I say, pulling away, “but I’m going to find out.”
Down and down and down the central staircase, before I burst through one of the doors leading out into a heat so thick my airway sears with each breath. The sun is blinding. I lift a hand to shield my eyes against it. Dust puffs beneath the heels of my slippers.
And then I am before the labyrinth. It is tall, it is wide, it is unknown. Notus has yet to emerge. Panic—I feel its roots, its slow-opening bud. What if he is trapped? The last time he faced the beast, he failed to kill it. His powers were not sufficient. How am I to know if he needs help?
Beneath the dense, pulsing shadows shielding the doorway are words chiseled into stone, a language the world has forgotten. The left pillar of the archway contains a large, round ruby. My eyes pass over it curiously. Strange. Never before has the jewel glittered in this manner, as though lit from within.
I glance around the courtyard. A few guards observe me warily, yet do not attempt to approach, likely due to fear of the labyrinth. I could go after Notus. But there is always the risk that I will lose myself in its twisting depths.
Hello, Sarai.
Won’t you step into the dark?
This voice. It sings to me. Itknowsme. Reaching out, my fingers brush the coiling shadows. Frost prickles my fingertips. Rather than snatching back my hand, I allow it to sink deeper into the darkness, its chill coating my fingers, wrist, elbow. I step closer. The toes of my slippers brush the door.
A startling clang wrenches my attention skyward, and I stumble back, falling onto my bottom with anoof. The capital bell heaves.One, two, three, four, five…
