Brian Staveley - The Providence of Fire

Triste waved aside the objection. “Please, Mother. Anything you could have done would have ended in more misery for us both. The point is not that Adiv took me, but why he took me. He was laying a trap for Kaden.”

“Why?” Morjeta demanded. “Why did he need you?”

“He needed me,” Triste replied grimly, “for bait.”

Kaden watched the girl, studying her face for some hint that she was lying, for an echo of the fierceness she had shown in the dark chambers of the Dead Heart. There was nothing. Just a young woman, frightened and angry.

Morjeta let out a long, slow whistle, then turned to a silver tray and the ewer perched upon it, poured out four crystal goblets of chilled wine. She passed them to the men first, then to Triste. Kaden noticed the trembling of her hand when she raised her own, the depth of her first sip.

“What is happening?” she asked, shaking her head, then tipping the cup to her lips once more.

“We had hoped,” Kaden replied, “that you might be able to tell us.”

“I explained to Kaden,” Triste said, “how the leinas hear everything, everything to do with Annur’s powerful and wealthy.”

Morjeta grimaced slightly, though the expression looked like something she had practiced in a mirror, calculated to express coquettish displeasure rather than genuine irritation. “Not everything,” she said, “but it’s true enough. Lust is a great loosener of tongues, and men and women both tend to spill their secrets in the strong grip of the goddess.” She blew out a breath and spread her hands. “Tarik Adiv returned to the Dawn Palace weeks ago.”

Kaden stared. The timing suggested that the leach could also use the kenta, although that would mean … He stopped himself, Tan’s voice in his mind: Speculation .

“How?” he asked.

“The Kettral,” Morjeta replied. “He arrived at night, and landed atop the Spear, but people saw the bird.” She looked down, smoothing the fabric of her gown against her legs as she turned to Triste, bright tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I’ve tried to see him,” she said. “Tried to find out where you were. I’ve gone in person half a dozen times, humbling myself in the Jasmine Court. I’ve sent letters.…” She shook her head. “Nothing. From what the other leinas tell me, he’s been cloistered almost constantly with the kenarang .”

“Ran il Tornja,” Kaden said. He’d suspected as much. Micijah Ut had praised the general to the stars, and if anyone was in a position to suborn Kettral and Aedolians both, to murder an emperor in his own capital, it would be Annur’s military commander.

Morjeta nodded. “He’s been serving as regent since your father’s death.”

“It fits,” Kiel said, nodding. “He can act as regent for a while, then move onto the throne itself.”

“Why not just seize the throne right away?” Triste asked.

“He couldn’t,” Kaden said. “Not until news of my death or disappearance had time to make it back to the capital. He doesn’t want it to look like a power grab.”

“And it doesn’t,” Morjeta said. “At least, it didn’t until your sister disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Kaden asked, stomach tightening. If il Tornja had attacked Sanlitun, Kaden, and Valyn, it only made sense that he’d go after Adare as well. “When? Does anyone know where she is?”

Morjeta raised her eyebrows. “Everyone knows where she is-marching north to join forces with the kenarang .”

Kiel frowned. “We have been, all three of us … removed from society for quite some time. It might be helpful if you could begin with Sanlitun’s death.”

It didn’t take long for the leina to outline the main points in the story, a story that, to Kaden’s surprise and dismay, implicated Adare nearly as much as it did il Tornja. Morjeta explained how his sister had worked hand in hand with il Tornja to bring down Uinian, the Chief Priest of Intarra, how the two of them had crafted Accords that crippled the Church, how the princess had begun sharing the kenarang ’s bed.

Kaden stopped her there, demanding to know if she was sure.

Morjeta just smiled. “Regarding political gossip, my fellow priestesses and priests are well informed. Regarding romantic follies, the quality of our information approaches perfection. Besides, your sister made no effort to hide the liaison.”

Kaden shook his head. “Maybe il Tornja lied to her, manipulated her.”

“Maybe,” Morjeta agreed. “We weren’t certain what happened, because not long after, the princess … disappeared. For weeks no one seemed to know where she was, not even il Tornja, who was trying to keep the whole matter quiet while simultaneously sending out scores of soldiers to search for her. The next anyone heard, your sister was in Olon. The reports were confusing, but it sounded as though she’d had some sort of religious conversion, fully embraced the worship of Intarra, and, most shockingly, declared the regent a traitor and raised her own army.”

“That makes sense,” Kaden said, hope like a soft green seed sprouting inside him. “She learned the truth, raised an army, and fought back.”

Morjeta shook her head. There was something in her eyes Kaden didn’t recognize. Sorrow, perhaps? Pity?

“She didn’t fight back,” the leina said. “She marched her army all the way to Annur, but then she was welcomed into the city, into the Dawn Palace itself, by Adiv. It was not a long meeting, but it appears whatever differences they have were plastered over.” She shook her head. “When your sister marched north, her men were calling her a saint, and his men…” She hesitated, then spread her hands. “She’s claimed the Unhewn Throne, Kaden. Or all but claimed it. She intends to be Emperor.”

The words landed like a blow. Not that he felt any particular attachment to a massive chunk of rock he hadn’t seen since his childhood. If the Shin had taught him one lesson, it was the futility of coveting such things. Adare, though, had been his one connection to his family, to his father. While Kaden and Valyn had been struggling through their training at the ends of the earth, Adare had stayed, had lived inside the red walls, had made Annur her home. She was his link to the city, to the father and mother he’d lost, and now, it seemed, that link was severed.

“ All but claimed the throne?” Kiel asked.

“There wasn’t time,” Morjeta said. “They’re marching north now, the princess and the kenarang, to meet some sort of Urghul threat in the north.”

Ut and Adiv had mentioned the Urghul back in Ashk’lan. Kaden pulled the memory to the forefront of his mind. Some shaman had united the tribes for the first time, using his collected force to test the Annurian border.

“Il Tornja won victories against the Urghul,” Kaden said. “Before my father died.”

“It was those victories,” Morjeta replied, “at least in part, that won him the role of kenarang .”

Kiel nodded. “A familiar strategy in military insurrections.”

“What strategy?” Kaden asked, trying to keep pace with the leaps in the conversation.

“Provoke a foe, then use the newfound threat to convince your own people they need a military rather than a civilian ruler.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s trying to convince anyone,” Triste said. “He murdered Kaden’s father in secret. He covered it up!”

“But the Urghul threat helps his cause.”

“Except,” Kaden said, “it’s not his cause anymore. Adare’s claimed the throne, not il Tornja.”

“And,” Morjeta said, “all reports are that he’s supporting her claim.”