The Fire Seer and Her Quradum (27 page)

She stopped short. Who were these people?

The men were tattooed with stars on their faces, which meant they were palace guards. One of them had two stars and must be a veteran. Why would a large group of palace guards come here? Bel-Sumai had not sent a messenger to the palace about Tufan’s death. These new men could not possibly know what had happened.

She counted fourteen new arrivals, twelve of them on horseback and two sitting on the driver’s seat of a horse-drawn wagon. For a moment, she had the thought that this might be nothing more than a routine delivery of supplies. But surely that wouldn’t require so many guards, and the wagon wasn’t laden with goods.

Bel-Zaidu spoke to the man in front, the veteran guard.

These new men would naturally be allies of Bel-Sumai and the others. If they discovered what she and Mandir had just done, another fight was likely to break out—and this time she and Mandir would be more seriously outnumbered.

Perhaps she should run back and warn Mandir about this unexpected situation. They could grab Setsi and Nindar and flee the compound. But, as Bel-Sumai had correctly pointed out, their respite would be short. The guards would pursue them, catching up to them at the Coalition temple if not sooner. She’d have to warn Mandir so they could figure out what to do, but perhaps she should first learn why the men were here.

She approached the group, trying to look casual.

The conversation between Bel-Zaidu and the veteran guard appeared sober and concerned. There were no smiles, no jokes, and none of the touching of fingers she might expect from a reunion of long-separated fellow guards.

When she reached them, she asked, “What’s going on?”

The veteran guard looked her over. “Who are you?”

“She’s Coalition,” said Bel-Zaidu. “She’s the partner to that man I was telling you about.”

“My name is Taya,” she said. “What did you tell him about Mandir?”

“That’s not important right now,” said the veteran guard. “Taya, I’m here because King Izdubar has been given to Isatis.”

She gasped. “The king is
dead
?”

“Yes, and—”

“Was he sick?” Taya struggled to process this information. King Izdubar had ruled over the river country longer than she’d been alive. She had never met him. She knew him only as a public figure, not as a person, and part of her had subconsciously assumed he would be around forever.

“Yes, he had been sick,” said the veteran. “The throne now passes jointly to his three sons. We came here to collect Prince Tufan and escort him to the palace for his joint coronation.”

Taya sent a panicked look at Bel-Zaidu.

“I told him about the situation here,” Bel-Zaidu explained.

“How long ago did King Izdubar die?” asked Taya. Mandir had been accused of killing a prince, but depending on the timing of Izdubar’s death, the accusation might now be that he’d killed a king. Of course Mandir hadn’t killed anybody, but the guards would swear he had, and the fact that he’d just disarmed and tied up three of those guards would not be a point in his favor. This turn of events could turn to disaster.

“He died ten days ago,” said the caravan guard.

Then yes, whoever had killed Tufan had killed not a prince but a king. “What will you do now? Given that the man you came to escort to the palace has gone to Isatis like his father.”

“Bel-Zaidu was telling me that he and Bel-Sumai and the others meant to return to the palace today with the news, and with the man who will face trial for the crime of killing Tufan,” said the veteran guard. “We need to rest our horses, but I imagine we’ll all travel together.”

“I see.” She needed to do something quickly, before they discovered the situation in Tufan’s chambers, and she and Mandir and the guards ended up in an all-out war.

“I’ll show you to the stable,” said Bel-Zaidu to the guards. “You can cool out your horses and let them rest for a while. Then we can get on with our business.”

Good, that gave Taya a little bit of time. As Bel-Zaidu gestured the guards toward the stable, Taya walked casually back in the direction she’d come. When she rounded the corner of the main house and was out of sight, she ran.

∞

Taya reached Tufan’s chambers, panting from her sprint across the grounds. The guards were still tied up on the floor in the bedroom, and Mandir was examining the two
nepenthe
vials. One she recognized from Gadatas’s quarters. It was the vial that had been planted in Mandir’s saddlebag. The other was less familiar and must be Tufan’s
nepenthe,
which she’d seen only from a distance in her fire vision. It was a larger vial than the other, but because its fluid level was low, it appeared to hold about as much
nepenthe
as the smaller one.

“Fourteen guards are here from the palace,” she blurted.

Mandir’s head popped up. “What?”

“They say the king has died. They were to escort Tufan to the palace for coronation, but...well, obviously that’s not going to happen, and I think we need to get out of here before the situation gets out of control.”

The bound guards twisted their heads around. “King Izdubar is dead?” asked Bel-Sumai.

“Yes,” said Taya.

Mandir stared at her, stunned.

“I know it’s a shock,” she said, “but we can’t stay here. Those men are going to come to the main house soon, and if we have to fight them, it’s not going to end well. For them, I mean.”

Mandir turned to Bel-Sumai. “Did you know about this?”

Taya blinked, puzzled. “He couldn’t have known. It happened ten days ago, far away from here.”

“
Did you know?
” Mandir repeated.

“Of course I didn’t know about the king’s death,” said Bel-Sumai. “How could I?”

“What did the king die of?” Mandir asked Taya.

“I don’t know,” said Taya. “They said he was sick.”

“That’s what I thought.” Mandir poked Bel-Sumai with his toe. “You knew he was sick, didn’t you? You’re the newest arrival—you’ve been here only four months. The king was dying four months ago, when you left the palace, and
you knew
.”

“Everybody knew he was sick,” said Bel-Sumai. “We didn’t know he was going to die.”

“Was it your idea?” asked Mandir. “Or did you do it on King Izdubar’s orders?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Bel-Sumai.

“Yes, you do.” Mandir’s voice was soft. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. King Izdubar must have worried about it a great deal. He’s always been a good king. He’s kept the peace; he’s kept order. Two of his sons are much like him; they will rule well as joint kings. But the third son was a problem, wasn’t he? King Izdubar must have agonized over that problem, asking himself,
What will happen when I die and Tufan shares the throne with his brothers
? Perhaps he confided in you, his trusted veteran guard, about the dilemma he was in when his health began to fail.”

“It’s not my business what the king wondered about,” said Bel-Sumai. “Nor is it yours.”

“I think he made it your business,” said Mandir. “And I’m sorry, because those are terrible orders to lay on a man who is, above all, loyal to the crown. You
are
loyal, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” said Bel-Sumai.

“King Izdubar knew he was dying,” said Mandir. “He knew his third son was unfit to rule. That’s why he sent you. It all makes sense. Nobody does a second stint here in the middle of nowhere, especially not a trusted veteran like yourself. He didn’t send you here as penance for your sins. He sent you here because he knew he could count on you to carry out his orders.”

Bel-Sumai was silent.

“He sent you here to kill his son,” said Mandir. “To dispose of Tufan as humanely as possible, so that he would never ascend the throne.”

Still Bel-Sumai said nothing.

“You did an excellent job,” said Mandir. “Completely hands off, a painless death for the prince. You were loyal to your king above all. You did the service he asked of you.”

“What do you know of loyalty?” snarled Bel-Sumai. “What do you know of
service
? You are Tufan’s worthless bastard. You know nothing. You
are
nothing.”

“Did he tell you to plant evidence and set up somebody else to take the blame?” asked Mandir. “Or was that your own idea?”

“Mandir, there are fourteen palace guards out there,” said Bel-Sumai. “Fifteen if you include Bel-Zaidu. Do you think they’ll believe your story over mine? If you want to survive another day, you’d better untie me right now.”

Mandir snorted. “If I untie you, that will be my death.”

“It’s your death if you don’t,” said Bel-Sumai. “Do you want an all-out war between the Coalition and the crown?”

Taya had not said a word throughout this exchange, thoroughly stunned, but everything Mandir had said rang true. The piece of the puzzle that had been missing was motive. Why would a palace guard kill a man he’d been charged to protect? It didn’t make sense—unless he had been
ordered
to do it, by a dying king who wanted to make sure he would not be succeeded by a terrible and incompetent ruler.

How frustrating that Bel-Sumai wouldn’t just admit what he’d done so that they could have a rational conversation about this. If the king had ordered Bel-Sumai to kill Tufan, then no crime had been committed. Tufan’s death had been a royal command, and Yanzu’s death was accidental. There
was
a way out of this, and it didn’t have to involve anybody dying. “If you killed Tufan on the king’s orders, you did nothing wrong.”

“Except plant evidence in my saddlebag and blame me for the crime,” Mandir pointed out.

Her partner wasn’t helping. “Look,” she began. As she gestured, she noticed the wilted corobane lying on the floor. Perhaps now was the time to explain its significance. She picked it up. “See this?”

Bel-Sumai raised a brow at her but did not answer.

“It’s spotted corobane,” said Taya. “I found it in that little wood where you hunt game birds.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” said Bel-Sumai.

“Did you go hunting on the day your dog died?” asked Taya.

“Why are we talking about something that happened ten years ago?”

“Because you’ve carried a grudge about it for all of those ten years,” said Taya. “And now you’re trying to get back at Mandir for something he never did. On that day ten years ago, did you perhaps catch a quail and feed it to your dog?”

“Yes,” said Bel-Sumai. “My dog ate quail all the time. It never made him sick.”

“This quail may have,” said Taya. “Where I grew up, in the south, we never ate quail that lived in areas where spotted corobane grows. If the quail eats the seeds of this plant—” She shook the branch again. “—its flesh becomes poisonous. It kills by causing paralysis. You poisoned your own dog, Bel-Sumai.”

Bel-Sumai’s face lost its color. “I did not poison my own dog.”

“You didn’t mean to do it,” said Taya. “It was an accident. But you were wrong to blame Mandir then, and you’re wrong to blame him now.”

All three guards twisted in their bonds to stare at the wilted plant in her hand.

While she waited for this information to sink in, Taya glanced out the window. They were running out of time. The fourteen palace guards plus Bel-Zaidu could head this way at any time. She was gambling now, hoping the guards would see reason, and see it soon enough that they could end this conflict without bloodshed. “It’s a terrible thing to lose an animal you cared for,” she added gently. “I’m sorry it happened.”

“I didn’t kill your dog,” said Mandir to Bel-Sumai. “I told you that years ago.”

“You might as well have killed him!” snarled Bel-Sumai. “How do I know if my dog died from poisoned quail or from something you put in his food? Even if you didn’t do it, you’re the sort of person who
would
have done it.”

Mandir sat on Tufan’s bed. His shoulders slumped. “I’m not. I never was.”

Taya, seeing that he needed her, sat next to him on the bed and interlaced her fingers with his.

“The river country would be better off without people like you,” said Bel-Sumai.

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Taya. “And that’s not your judgment to make. The king ordered you to kill one man, for a specific purpose, not to persecute some other man you happened to dislike.”

Bel-Sumai scowled.

“I have a proposal.” She glanced out the window again. So far she didn’t see the guards. “Bel-Sumai, I propose that you forgive Mandir for the sins you believe he’s committed against you. And Mandir will forgive Bel-Sumai for planting evidence to get him into trouble. Yanzu’s death was an accident. There’s no reason we can’t claim that Tufan’s was as well.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Finally Bel-Sumai spoke. “The king said I had to bring someone back to face trial.”

“Why?” asked Taya.

Bel-Sumai attempted to shrug despite his bound wrists. “I don’t know. Plausibility? All of Tufan’s bastards are worthless; who cares if one of them is executed?”

“I care,” said Taya. “Nobody in this household is worthless. Setsi and Nindar certainly aren’t. Mandir isn’t. Ilinos is young enough to make a turnaround, and who’s to say that Runawir and Shardali might not improve if they leave this terrible place?”

Bel-Sumai snorted his contempt.

“As I said, it’s not your judgment to make,” said Taya.

“I’m supposed to bring somebody back,” said Bel-Sumai.

“The man who gave you that order is dead,” said Taya. “You’ve done your duty. You stopped Tufan from becoming king over the river country. You saved us all from the horrors that Tufan’s sons suffered every day under his rule. It’s time to stop blaming the sons for what their father did to them. It’s time for their suffering to end.”

Mandir’s eyes were soft and liquid. He wasn’t saying much, but Taya could see that he was moved by this conversation. He rose to his feet, picked up a knife, and walked to Bel-Sumai.

Taya tensed, but Mandir only reached down and cut the ropes that bound Bel-Sumai’s wrists and ankles. He took the man’s hand and helped him to his feet. “I forgive you for setting me up, and for beating me when you thought I’d killed your dog. Let us promise—” His voice broke as he said it, but he soon recovered. “Let us promise never to harm each other again.”