“Leave her alone!”
Unfazed by Gharek’s shout, Zaredis shrugged. “No. She’s now as valuable to me as she is to you, just for different reasons.”
“If you hurt her, even your soul won’t be safe from me. Even death won’t stop me from destroying you and everything you love.”
For the first time since they’d been shoved into this tent, Siora saw a waver in Zaredis’s confidence, a fraction of a breath in which doubt seized him, and maybe even a little fear in the face of Gharek’s promise. It was gone so fast, she might have imagined it, but she was sure of what she saw, and if she interpreted Rurian’s expression correctly, he’d seen it too.
“I’ve no intention of harming her. Yet. In fact, she’ll be welltaken care of while you return to Domora, gain access to the palace, and discover a way to retrieve the item Herself called the Windcry. An artifact of great power. You’ll bring it back to me and provide me with a map of all accesses to the palace and any changes you discovered while you’re there.”
Several gasps greeted his statement, and Gharek’s features went slack for a moment before he stared at Zaredis as if he spoke gibberish. “You must be joking.”
“I’m not one to waste time on useless humor,” Zaredis said.
Siora dared to venture a question. “What does the Windcry do?”
She expected the general to answer or order her to be silent, but it was Gharek who replied.
“It’s a weapon of magic. Before the old emperor outlawed all sorcery and had his mages slaughtered, he had them craft a weapon that could circumvent the defenses of a walled city. The Windcry could turn a fortification to a pile of rubble in an instant. The old histories tell of it being used against the cursed city.”
No wonder others in the tent had made noises of surprise. She hadn’t known such a thing existed. Then again, she wasn’t like Gharek or the general, who mingled with the aristocracy of the Krael Empire and were privy to secrets no one else knew.
“You want to use the Windcry on Domora’s walls,” Gharek said.
Zaredis nodded. “If I have to. I’d rather take the city from inside. If you’re telling the truth, you’re one of the few with the knowledge I need to navigate the palace’s labyrinth of traps to reach its inner sanctums.” He quoted Gharek, “ ‘I know the palace like my own home.’ ”
Gharek’s mouth curved down into an even deeper frown.“And you’ll hold my daughter as a hostage to gain and keep my cooperation.”
The general remained unapologetic. “I demand your success as well. You’ll still die, but I will make your death swift instead of slow and tell your child you died a hero.”
Siora looked not at Gharek or at Zaredis but at her feet. This scenario played out yet again, with one of the players a repeat performer, only this time it wasn’t Gharek who wielded a vulnerable hostage as a bargaining tool against someone else. This time he occupied Malachus’s place, a man with something of value forced to exchange it for the life of a loved one. The awful irony of it made her eyes blur with tears, and she felt Gharek’s gaze settle on her. She refused to look at him, wondering if he somehow blamed her for this fateful circle or if he believed as she did; that fate had a way of balancing scales, often in the worst way. Ruthless plans made under the impetus of loving intention had terrible consequences.
Gharek was obviously less than impressed with the general’s bargain. “A dead hero is useless to my daughter, so spare me the bait as you wield the whip. What reassurances do I have from you that you won’t harm her while I play your dog and fetch this stick?”
“I’m not Herself.”
A succinct reply but spoken with a sincerity that challenged anyone’s disbelief in Zaredis’s words. And its impact was profound on Gharek, whose bristling defiance bled out of him. Siora prayed that the general stood behind what he said. Of course, claiming a less cruel nature than Dalvila and making it true wasn’t difficult to do. The twisted empress had stood solitary upon that pinnacle.
She frowned when a small voice—not Kalun’s, but her owninner one—whispered to her, and its message was harsh.You stand here and beg mercy for Estred. What would you offer to help assure it? How truly great was your own sacrifice when you betrayed Gharek’s secret to Malachus?
At the time it felt enormous. She’d willingly walked—no, ran—away from regular meals, a warm bed, a dry roof, relative safety, and the company of a bright, loving child and her broken father. She still didn’t regret it, but maybe she’d worn that decision as a martyr’s cloak. If so, it was time to shed it and leave it behind.
“I’d like to go with him,” she told the general.
He and Gharek gaped at her, and both said in unison, “Why?”
Another question whose best answer was a complicated one, so she did as before and kept it simple. “Because I wish to help.”
“Gods save us all from your kind of help,” Gharek snapped.
Her cheeks burned at his cutting remark but she continued, undeterred. “The dead sometimes share secrets, give information or warnings if they’re so inclined at the time. My father has done so for me all my life. He died fighting in the Pit years ago. He was the one who told me I was in danger in Wellspring Holt.”
“That doesn’t explain why you offer to help the cat’s-paw.” Zaredis gestured to Kalun. “I want you here. Where you can defend my brother in case that thing comes back and so I can speak with him.”
Hand on the heel,Kalun said, and there was amusement in his voice.Zaredis hasn’t changed much as he’s aged.
Siora didn’t repeat what Kalun said, but she noticed he didn’t back his brother’s insistence that she stay. “My lord, for the dead to walk on living ground, it takes strength, power—and it isn’t limitless. It’s like if you or I ran a long distance. We have to stop andrest at times. So it is with the ghosts among us.” She turned to Kalun.You already fade even as we touch.
He nodded.Will I return?His shade darkened for a moment, and his features adopted a more cadaverous look, all hollows and angles and deeply sunken eyes.