“Can you first decide whether you should believe her or you should disbelieve her?” Shai Vishal asked. “It will make the rest of this easier to follow.”
The priest ran both hands over his face. “She said that everyone in the Temple knew you would lose a ring half the times you visited, your Highness.”
“And did Shai Nanda say why?” Najra asked. “I’ve got at least four theories myself.”
“Uh.” The young priest glanced at Shai Vishal in a way that suggested Shai Nanda’s description might not have been entirely flattering. “There was a mention of underthings in a wad, which of course I dismissed?—”
“But how can you dismiss eyewitness testimony?” Najra’s eyes had a dangerously mischievous gleam.
Irfan said firmly, “No, we will not ask his Reverence to provide evidence of the state of his undergarments.”
“But historic record?—”
“No, Najra.”
“In any case, what else did she say?” Faraj asked quickly, before it could escalate further. “I admit I have never asked Shai Nanda about her guesses.”
“Then youconfess,your Highness?” the young priest cried, shocked.
“That I have left rings and jewelry here more intentionally than one would describe as ‘lost’? It is a poorly hidden secret, if it was ever secret.”
The young priest looked utterly horrified. “Why would you — how could you?—”
“You will not believe me when I tell you it was for mercy’s sake,” Faraj murmured. “Let me attempt a more calculated explanation. A ring donated to the Temple by its craftsman is valued not only by the raw material, but also by the craftsman’s name and skill. A ring given to the God-Emperor’s brother accrues a certain patina of renown among its layers of provenance. Those with wealth and power will regularly pay a premium for that.”
“I know,” the young priest said, looking sick. “The only part I don’t understand is where you take your profit from this embezzling chain.”
“I don’t,” Faraj admitted.
“…what?”
“Rings and jewelry and tokens come to my hands steeped in others’ wishes,” Faraj said. “A nobleman’s wish for consideration, a craftsman’s wish for attention, even my brother’s desire for a symbol of His power held in distant realms. The tokens are not for me, not for my own sake; they are a conveyance. I understand what they convey. I hold my brother’s sigil because it is my responsibility, but the others — once the wish has been conveyed, their purpose in my own hands has been completed. So I wear them for a time, long enough for their provenance to be established. And then if they are found in the Temple, after having been seen upon my hand or about my throat? I was neither the craftsman nor the buyer nor the seller. If they are more greatly valued for having touched my hand, it is notmyname that raises the value, but my brother’s. It would be crass and unworthy to sell themmyself. But if my brother’s Empire benefits from that difference in value? If a ring I have worn sells for more than a ring straight from the craftsman’s bench, and that difference in value returns to the farmers who raise the crops that feed our people through the cauldrons of Upaja’s priests… you see?”
Incredulous, the priest asked, “What even is this? Anti-embezzling?”
“Some people would call it charity,” Shai Vishal said.
“But theaccounting,”the young priest moaned. “How can you properly calculate the tax differential on a matter of estimated prestige?”
“That is among several reasons I prefer to quietly donate them,” Faraj admitted. “If I estimate the value from the craftsmanship alone, it is far less embarrassing than if I must learn exactly how the merchants calculate the financial value of my reputation.”
“We will have to look into this.”
“If you absolutely must,” Faraj sighed. “Please don’t tell me what you learn.”
“What kind of accountantdoesn’twant to know a full and fair valuation?”
“One who is excruciatingly aware that he is not the most fashionable of the God-Emperor’s brothers,” Faraj admitted wearily. “I know what the less honest servants at the Summer Palace charge for a goblet Ziyad’s lips have touched, let alone Rashid’s. I truly don’t wish to know the difference. Please.”
“…You are a most peculiar prince.”
“Yes,” Faraj said, “yes, that would be the problem precisely.”
“How many princes have you known well enough to compare?” Najra asked him.
“I advise you not to answer that,” Shai Vishal said, dry as dust. “If you indulge her insatiable curiosity, eventually you will find yourself defending the state of your undergarments.”
“Shai Nanda started it,” Najra pointed out.
