I think back to that group of old men whispering in the grazing lands. “How King Minoak has vanished?”
“Vanished is aniceway of putting it.Someone”—Temujin puts the word in air quotes—“tried to assassinate him. No one knows if he survived or if he’s being held captive or if he attempted to flee and perished in the snow squalls. He’s simply gone, and the entire region is a mess under the rule of the imperial governor. Just last month they beheaded ten Verdenese men for no other crime than refusing to remove the rings from their ears. It’s like Chotgor: all enterprise has ceased in favor of conscription.”
“But the Verdenese work in gold and silver, not steel and death,” I argue. Unlike Ashkarians, our people have always been crafts workers and artisans. That’s why Verdenet sought Ashkar’s protection in the first place. “They would be the first to fall in battle.”
Temujin wrings out the bloody rag and slaps it against the altar with athwap.“Yet the Sky King sends them by the wagonload anyway.”
I want to say it’s impossible. The king wouldn’t do such a thing—the people of Verdenet have been an integral part of the empire for nearly two decades. But I don’t know for certain. As a member of the Kalima, I moved from battle to battle, never staying long enough to witness the “rebuilding”—as the king called it. And in the back of my mind, I have always wondered how Ashkar amasses such an enormous infantry, marveled at how eager our newest citizens always seem to serve.
Are they truly forced?
Hot fingers of guilt crush my ribs, but I will myself to stay calm. This is just one version of the story.
Temujin’sversion.
As angry as I am with Ghoa, I’m not foolish enough to believe everything this rebel says.
He moves around the altar and perches uncomfortably close, knocking his shoulder against mine. “This is why we’re so desperate for your help.”
Warning bells clang in my brain, but I’m careful not to show it on my face this time. “I still don’t understand how my darkness can be of use, exactly.”
“There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of warriors who wish to join our cause, but they cannot flee the war front. The risk of capture and execution is too great. The Sky King is monitoring his troops more closely than ever with the Zemyans advancing and our growing notoriety. Butyoucould swathe the warriors in shadow and help them evade the patrols. Ferry them across the grasslands and into the realm of the Eternal Blue. With your night spinning, our numbers could double in days.”
My fingers fly to the circular wound at my throat. “I can’t just wield the darknessout therein Ashkar. It isn’t safe.”
I also don’t like the idea of ferrying deserters from the war front. Temujin’s own desertion is one thing. He hardly had a choice—ifhis story is true—but encouraging it en masse? Purposely depleting our troops when Zemya’s on the offensive?
It feels wrong. Sickening. I press my fists against my churning stomach.
“I can’t.”
“But you just did. Chanar said the morning was as black as pitch around you.”
“It was an emergency. Orbai was dying. And I was barely able to contain the starfire.”
“So practice. Remember what I said? I can ensure you maintain perfect control.”
“Why?” I cross my arms. “If you’re so against the king’s conscription and conquest, why are you stealing warriors and cannons? What exactly do you plan to do?”
I expect him to brush me off with a vague remark, or insist it’s official business—that’s what Ghoa would do. But after a brief hesitation he says, “We hope that by stealing rations and cannons and luring warriors from the battlefront, the Imperial Army will be so depleted, Ashkar will be forced to seek our aid and agree to our terms. We will join with the Sky King’s forces and help drive the Zemyans out of Ashkaronlyif he affords the Protected Territories the aid and prosperity he initially promised us.”
I chew on his words. Temujin’s plan is brilliant but also incredibly risky. “You realize you’re playing chicken with the Sky King of Ashkar, the boldest and most ruthless ruler in the world? If he refuses, Ashkarwillfall to Zemya. They’re already over the border and advancing every day.”
Temujin looks at me without a hint of bravado. The lines furrowing his brow are as deep as trenches, and he scrubs his knuckles over his eyes. It makes him look tired. And young. I had thought he was closer to Ghoa’s age, but now I see he’s hardly older than me. “If things continue as they are, we’ll be conquered just the same,” he says softly. “Our troops are in dire condition. We can’t just leave them to die.”
I stare at him, stone-faced, because the war front can’t be as bad as he claims. Itcan’tbe.
“Rescuing our soldiers and then treating with the Imperial Army is the best chance we have at defeating Zemyaandsalvaging our culture and traditions,” Temujin continues. “Our only chance. And none of it is possible without you, Enebish.” He adds an unspokenpleasewith the way he catches his lower lip between his teeth.
Despite myself, my cheeks start to burn. I take a large step back. “I’m sorry, but it’s too dangerous. I’m not willing to risk it.”
Temujin says nothing. The only sound in the temple is the scratch of Orbai’s talons as she hunts for crickets around the urns.
Eventually he releases a drawn-out sigh. “I suppose I understand.”
I practically wilt with relief. “You do?”
“I do. But I hopeyouwill understand that I can’t possibly rescue Serik from the prison wagon bound for Gazar.”
