half shooing him away. The amusement in the captain's eyes didn't seem
to lessen. Eustin escorted the man away, and when they were alone,
Balasar took the vacated stool.
"My men are in place," he said. "The time's come."
He kept his gaze on the poet, looking for reluctance or unease in his
eyes. But Riaan smiled slowly, like a man who had heard that his dearest
enemy had died, and laced his fingers together on his belly. Balasar had
half-expected the poet to repent, to change his mind when faced with the
prospect of the deed itself. There was nothing of that.
"Tomorrow morning," Riaan said. "I will need a servant to attend me
today and through the night. At first light tomorrow, I will prove that
the Dai-kvo was a fool to send me away. And then I shall march to my
father's house with your army behind me like a flood."
Balasar grinned. He had never seen a man so shortsighted, vain, and
petty, and he'd spent three seasons in Acton with his father and the
High Council. As far as the poet was concerned, none of this was for
anything more important than the greater glory of Riaan Vaudathat.
"How can we serve you in this?" Balasar asked.
"Everything is already prepared. I must only begin my meditations."
It sounded like dismissal to Balasar. He rose, bowing to the poet.
"I will send my most trusted servant," he said. "Should anything more
arise, only send word, and I will see it done."
Riaan smiled condescendingly and nodded his head. But as Balasar was
just leaving the garden, the poet called his name. A cloud had come over
the man, some ghost of uncertainty that had not risen from the prospect
of binding.
"Your men," the poet said. "They have been instructed that my family is
not to be touched, yes?"
"Of course," Balasar said.
"And the library. The city is, of course, yours to do with as you see
fit, but without the libraries of the Khaiem, binding a second andat
will be much more difficult. They aren't to be entered by any man but me."
"Of course," Balasar said again, and the poet took a pose accepting his
assurances. The concern didn't leave Riaan's brow, though. So perhaps
the man wasn't quite as dim as he seemed. Balasar told himself, as he
strode hack through the covered pathways to his own rooms, that he would
have to be more careful with him in the future. Not that there was much
future for him. Win or lose, Riaan was a dead man.
The day seemed more real than the ones that had come before it: the
sunlight clearer, the air more alive with the scents of flowers and
sewage and grass. The stones of the walls seemed more interesting, the
subtle differences in color and texture clear where previous days had
made them only a field of gray. Even Balasar's body hummed with energy.
It was like being a boy again, and diving into the lake from the highest
cliff-the one all the other boys feared to jump from. It was dread and
joy and the sense of no longer being able to take his decision hack. It
was what Balasar lived for. He knew already that he would not sleep.
Eustin was waiting for him in the entrance hall.
"There's someone wants a word with you, sir."
Balasar paused.
his men." "° The Khaiate captain. He wanted to speak about fallback
plans for
Eustin nodded to a side room. There was distrust in his expression, and
Balasar waited a long moment for him to speak. Eustin added nothing.
Balasar went to the wide, dark oaken door, knocked once, and went in. It
was a preparation room for servants-muddy boots cast beside benches and
waiting to be scraped clean, cloaks of all weights and colors hung from
pegs. It smelled of wet dog, though there was no animal present. The
captain sat on a stool tilted hack against the wall, cleaning his nails
with a knife.
"Captain Ajutani," Balasar said.
The stool came down, and the captain rose, sheathing his blade and
bowing in the same motion.
"I appreciate the time, General," he said. "I know you've a great deal
on your mind just now."
"I'm always available," Balasar said. "Though the surroundings are...
"Yes. Your man Eustin seemed to think it more appropriate for me to wait
here. I'm not sure he likes me." The captain was more amused than
offended, so Balasar also smiled and shrugged.
"Your men are in place?" he asked.
"Yes, Yes. Broken into groups of three or four, each assigned to one of
your sergeants. Except for myself, of course."
"Of course."
"Only I wanted to ask something of you, General. A favor of sorts."
Balasar crossed is arms and nodded for the man to continue.
"If it fails-if our friend Riaan doesn't do his magic trick well
enough-don't kill them. My boys. Don't have them killed."
"Why would I do that?" Balasar asked.
"Because it's the right thing," Sinja said. The amusement was gone from
the man's eyes. He was in earnest now. "I'm not an idiot, General. If it
happens that the binding fails, you'll be standing here in Aren with an
army the size of a modest city. People have already noticed it, and the
curiosity of the Khaiem is the last thing you'd want. They'd still have
their andat, and all you'd have is explanations to give. You'll turn
North and make all those stories about conquering the whole of the
Westlands to the border with Eddensea true just to make all this-" The
captain gestured to the door at Balasar's back. "-seem plausible. All I
ask is, let us go with you. If it happens that you have to keep to this
coast and not the cities of the Khaiem, I'll re-form the group and lead
them wherever you like."
"I wouldn't kill them," Balasar said.
"It would be dangerous, letting them go back home. Stories about how
they were set to be interpreters and guides? Not one of them knows the
Westlands except the part we walked through to get here. If the Khaiem
are wondering whether you had some other plan to start with ..."
Sinja raised his hands, palms up as if he were offering Balasar the
truth resting there. Balasar stepped close, putting his own hands below
the captain's and curling the other man's fingers closed.
"I won't kill them," Balasar said. "They're my men now, and I don't kill
my own. You can tell them that if you'd like. And that aside, Riaan
isn't going to fail us."
Sinja looked down, his head shifting as if he were weighing something.
"I can be sure," Balasar said, answering the unasked question.
"I've never seen one of these before," Sinja said. "Have you? I mean, I
assume there's some ceremony, and he'll do something. If there was an
andat beside him at the end, you'd have proof, but this thing you're