The storm eased eventually. No more snow flurried in through the roof, and Rao’s shivers had stopped. He and Sima didn’t talk in the hours that passed—not with eyes on them. But eventually Sima wriggled her hand free from her blankets and touched her knuckles to his arm. That comforted him.
One of the kai’s sisters—Qutlugh—stirred, turning toward the entrance of the tent with narrowed eyes as the tent flap drew back.
Kai Ehsan stood at the entrance, the sky and ground blue-white behind him. “I want you to come with me,” the kai said. “It is time for us to talk.”
Rao’s gaze turned to Sima. She looked back.
“She’ll be safe with my sisters,” said the kai. “Come.”
“Go,” Sima said croakily. “I’ll be fine.”
So Rao rose to his feet and followed.
“You’ll like this wine,” Ehsan said, as Rao sat across from him at the low table in the kai’s own tent. The fire was burning low, but the closed tent and the furs and blankets around them kept the chill at bay. “This is my last bottle,” Ehsan said as he poured. “My grandfather lost his eastern ancestral lands, where our grapevines grew, in war with his cousin. Now my heritage is reduced to this. Two cups of sweet liquor.” The bottle hit the table with a soft thud. “My father later lost his fruit orchards to a Babure kai,” Ehsan continued, pushing the cup to Rao, who took it obediently. “But I never cared for peaches, so it was no great loss to me,beyond my pride.” A beat, and then he murmured, “The losses afterward were harder.”
Rao touched the cup to his lips. He didn’t drink deeply, but what little he tasted was rich, warming. It was like nothing he’d had before.
“What knowledge do you want from me?” Rao asked, lowering his cup.
A thin-lipped smile from the kai, who lowered his own cup.
“I want knowledge of the empire,” he said. “Of Parijatdvipa.”
Knowledge could be many things. Gossip. Secrets. And Rao knew more about Malini’s court—and her army, and her secrets—than he would ever share with a stranger.
“I know you trade with the Lal Qila,” said Rao. “You speak Zaban. You know as much as I could tell—perhaps more.”
“A few Babure tribes trade with the fort,” Kai Ehsan corrected. “And only sparingly. Only when they seek more weapons to fight us.” Another thin smile. “You understand, perhaps. The Lal Qila arms one impoverished border tribe against another, ensuring that we are too busy killing one another to fight the Dwarali or turn our faces toward the empire. A clever defense strategy, but not one that has benefited me or my kin. I know many of your languages because my people, like yours, believe in the value of learning.” A fluid shrug of a single shoulder. “A common soldier could bring me knowledge I don’t have. But I am sure you, as aprince, can give me truth as precious as gold.”
“I must apologize,” Rao said, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. He was painfully aware of how vulnerable he and Sima were here in this camp where they did not belong. “But I will not share any knowledge that places my empire in danger or works against the lord and lady of the Lal Qila. If that is what you seek, I cannot pay my debt.”
“Did the lord and lady of the Lal Qila allow you here? Surely not, or you would have approached my camp with an army. You already act against them.” Ehsan leaned forward, his hawkish eyes unblinking. “Nothing I ask you to share with me will harm yourempire. I am not going to torture you for knowledge—there’s no need to look so hunted, Prince Rao—and there is no need for you to withhold it from me. I have something you want, and all I ask in return is to know how the empire fares beyond the border of mountains and fort. Tell me about your new empress. Tell me what danger sends you running to follow a god’s voice.”
He was dangerously convincing.
“What do you have that I want?” Rao asked, trying to buy time.
“The end to your quest, of course,” Ehsan said. “The truth of your ruby. Though we call it heart’s shell.”
Rao’s breath caught like a claw in his throat. For a moment a vision of fire, an insistent call, burned behind his eyes, then faded to smoke.
“You are a desperate man,” Ehsan said, low. “I see in you an echo of myself. I am a man with barely enough food to feed his soldiers. My people are decimated. I know what desperation looks like. What hunts your people? What beast hounds Parijatdvipa? Tell me.”
Rao held his cup of wine simply to ground himself. Cold metal under his hands. His own blood thundering in his ears.
“There is a danger in Parijatdvipa,” Rao said. There was a hush inside the tent. Nothing but the crackle of the low fire and the light of it glancing off the planes of Ehsan’s attentive face, his narrowed eyes. “Yaksa—ancient beings—are returning. And a strange rot destroys our crops and our people. Those beings want to destroy us. Our empire. And it is my duty to find a way to save us all. I hoped my vision would be an answer.”
Ehsan’s smile faded. His expression was solemn now.
“We were meant to meet. I prayed for an answer to my desperation, and here you are.” He stood abruptly. “Come with me. And put on this coat, Prince Rao,” Ehsan ordered, offering him a lined jacket as he drew on his own, drawing the high collar tight at his throat. “It’s bitter where we’re going. Cold that rises from inside your bones. You’ll need all the warmth you can get. And one last thing…”
Rao paused as the man briskly drew out a cloth and held it up to Rao’s eyes.
“You will have to trust me,” the kai said.
Rao closed his eyes and allowed himself to be blindfolded.
He would never have been able to chart the route if asked. He was led on a winding path: up a rough surface, then down again; over soft ground onto jagged stone. He felt foolish and uncomfortable, convinced at any moment that he would fall and crack open his skull. But Ehsan led him calmly, giving straightforward instructions even as he steered Rao with hands at his upper arms.
