“Take care of him,” I say. “He needs to be cooled down before he eats.”
The guard bows, his eyes locked on the ruby that I still have over my head. “Yes, missus.”
I don’t wait for permission to walk forward, and quite honestly, if any one of the men with the muskets and swords had gotten in my way, I’d have pushedhim down. I ride a wave of exhausted power up a set of steps, and find my way into the colonnade I went down before—whereupon I drop my numb arm because the crowd can’t see me anymore. The guards come with me, but stay in my wake, their boots echoing on the marble smartly. I am leading them, not the other way around.
Maybe all this changes the instant I am not holding the jewel.
I’m not going to worry about that right now, and I know the way. I make the turn at the corner at the lineup of feminine statuary… and now I am before the entrance into the audience hall itself, with the two pairs of red-uniformed guards.
It’s not a surprise that thevizareis standing there, waiting for me. And I can look at her full face now because as with everybody else, her eyes are on the ruby in my hand as if she cannot believe she’s seeing the stone.
Coming to a stop in front of the woman, my voice is rough, but strong. “I will be the one to take this in.”
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to dispute the carrying of such a sacred object by someone of no pedigree or standing in her community. Something in the way I stand before her changes her mind.
The advisor nods sharply at the red-uniformed guards, and they open both sides of the doors for me.
I enter the hall and hobble down the center aisle toward the throne and the mural. Up above, in the oculus, the shape is in place behind the mesh, the profile present.
As I pass by the marble soldiers on their marble steeds, I think of the ruins of the other city… and then the settlement that was burned out. People should never confuse the habit of days with permanence. Everything can die, anything can be lost… nothing is forever.
When I get to the throne, I look up to the oculus. “I have brought you back the sacred stone.”
I mount the dais by the shallow set of steps off to the side, and place the ruby on the seat. Then I take off my pack, remove the box from the folds, and go to flip the hooked latch. The thing resists, until I nearly split my nail once again, but I get the top up and balance the ancient wooden container on the throne’s arm as I take out the crown of black crystals.
Holding it up over my head, I put volume into my words. “This is yours. I was sent here to give it to you. Wear this and know that you can defeat the Dark King—”
“Leave us.”
The voice that filters down is deep for a woman’s, exactly what I would expect of a warrior queen. I notice this first, and then the meaning of her words filters through my broken brain.
Exhaling, I slump and take a deep breath. But crown aside, I will not—Icannot—leave unless it’s with Merc—
“Your Sublime Highness, surely you need me as witness.”
I twist around. The advisor is bowing at the waist, her long, complicated braid slipping off her shoulder and falling free. As she looks to the oculus, her face is drawn in tight disapproval, but her tone hides this.
Almost.
In response, the voice from above carves a single syllable out of the tense air: “Now.”
The hidden door by the mural opens and a pair of guards loom on the far side of the threshold, the implication clear that if the order is not followed, it will be promptly enforced.
“As you wish.” Thevizarebows again, and then walks out, head held high, back straight as one of the columns.
And then the secret entry closes up, as if it’s a mouth that’s bitten her off the tip of a fork.
I look back up at the portal.
“You killed one of my officers,” the Queen says in clipped tones. “That is an offense against my authority and property, punishable by death.”
“He was in the process of raping me.”
“Yes, so I gather. His pants were open.” There is a pause. “The corpse was quite messy.”
“I was being held in your torture chamber. I’m quite certain that particular ‘mess’ is not the first of its kind in that section of your dungeon.”
“Those torture tables were my father’s.”
