Prince of Storms (10 page)

Anzi had a stunned look about her, as though she shared his sense of the momentous occasion. “What else did he say?”

“Toth said, ‘It has all played out. Nothing remains that can hold our interest.'”

He glanced over at the Jinda ceb hut. They had chosen not to be present. So as not to witness the Tarig shame, Anzi had guessed. Perhaps they watched from inside their odd habitation.

Quinn thought of Su Bei, and how he had been the first to say,
they would follow you
. That the Chalin people would welcome Quinn as their leader. Years ago, Quinn had dismissed this notion, but now…Well, Bei should have been here, but that was not to be. Lost in the void, escaping pursuit, in possession of the correlates that everyone had wanted.

The next group of Tarig passed in front of him in silence, without so much as a glance.

He had time to wonder if Lady Demat/Chiron would have been one to flee with the solitaires, or would have accepted exile.

Early Day passed into Prime of Day, and the line of Tarig marshaling on the hill diminished to a handful.

Breund's old legs felt the strain of standing so long. He could have asked
for a bench, but as he had been appointed to attend Lord Inweer, and Inweer chose to stand, he could hardly do less.

The lord stood with him at the base of the stairs. He could choose at any moment to join with a group moving into the plaza. Breund wondered if, when he did, the lord would bid him good-bye. They had not known each other long, but for his part, Breund would bow to the lord. It was only proper.

If Inweer was afraid of the transition moment, he gave no sign. None of them did. Such indifference led Breund to worry that the Tarig were planning to come back. After all, they had done so repeatedly, and though their door in the Tower of Ghinamid was locked down, it might be a simple matter to construct another. And yet, this was not likely. They had declared themselves done with the Entire. These who walked through the devouring door were gone forever, so Breund thought.

The last contingent of lords came down into the plaza. But instead of following them, Lord Inweer kept his place. He would walk alone to that door, then. Well, he had been one of the Five. It might suit him to keep aloof from the others.

And of course, he might make a last appeal to the regent.

The line of Tarig had gone to the door, moving quickly through and away. Inweer's turn, now. Breund took note of the crowd's rapt attention, all looking at the lord.

Unhurried, Lord Inweer turned to him and said, “Master Breund. Do you serve me under the commission of the regent? And do you wish to continue?” He paused. “You may speak freely. Please say whether you can bear your post or not.”

Breund's skin fluttered in pleasure. He had never been asked what he wanted; certainly not in this assignment, and never in service to the Red Society. This was most gracious of the lord. In any case, he must do his duty. “Yes, Lord Inweer. I would be content. If you stay.”

“Thank you for your service, then, Breund. More may be asked of you. We shall see.”

And with that, Lord Inweer walked out into the plaza.

Quinn watched him approach. This was the Tarig who'd kept Ahnenhoon, guarding its awful purpose, who had kept his wife, and used her. This was the Tarig who'd shut down the engine at Quinn's direction, under threat of the destruction of the door home, and who had brokered the surrender of the Tarig lords and ladies massed in the city—all but the solitaires.

This was the ambiguous lord who asked to serve him—against the interests of the solitaires, if it came to that.

Inweer did not want to join the collective mind of the Heart. He might have escaped with the others who shared that view, but he had not. It was that act of restraint that most moved Quinn.

Next to him, Anzi placed her hand on his good arm.

“I will spare him, Anzi,” Quinn said.

“Yes.” It was a chilling response, the tone of that yes.

“You want me to say why,” Quinn said.

“I know why.”

Was she thinking of Johanna again? Why did everyone think that he was governed by the personal? And why should Johanna be personal to him, in that way?

But since Lord Inweer now stood before him, there was no time for conversation. He only said, “I think it's the right thing.”

Zhiya leaned in toward him. “I'll ask him to approach.”

“No, Zhiya, I'll go down.” It was only a few steps.

She clucked her tongue, but said nothing as he rose and met Inweer on the level plaza.

He moved directly to the point. “If you stay, there will be rules and constraints.”

“Free is best. I might chafe at constraints.”

“Then chafe. But I will have security, Lord Inweer.”

“Tell me your conditions.”

“You will have a prison.”

Inweer heard this, then glanced toward the crossing point, as though gauging whether it was better just to have done with it.

Quinn went on. “A prison. But a mobile one. You will have a ship, but the ship will monitor where you go and when. And it will report to me. And
Breund will go with you, wherever you go. All this is contingent upon your being of service to me in case of need. That's what I can offer you. Nothing more.”

“You have no such ship.”

“The Jinda ceb will provide it.”

“Hnn.” He looked toward the peaked hut. “The Jinda ceb.” His look held a quite startling malice.

“For three hundred days,” Quinn went on. “Then I'll decide whether you can be of service to me or not. And if you stay at that time, you will divulge where Johanna is.”

Inweer regarded him. “No restrictions on where I might go.”

“Not to Ahnenhoon.”

“I would see what manner of ship this is.”

“Good. We will show you as soon as it's ready.” Whenever the Jinda ceb could provide it. Tindivir had not said how long it would take.

Inweer made a nod in acknowledgment, and then, as the crowd murmured in surprise, he walked back toward the Palatine Hill.

Quinn turned back to his viewing stand, meeting Zhiya's incredulous look. Next to her, Tai, unreadable. Anzi didn't look at him. He felt that, and painfully.

He knew what she thought: that Inweer hated them and would make a dangerous enemy. Quinn couldn't articulate to himself why he thought this wasn't so. But late last ebb, he had awakened and known what he would do.

The decision came as a relief, almost as though he had been directed by a wiser part of himself, one that wasn't paralyzed by distrust and the unfamiliar land of vicious politics.

Despite his counselors being unanimously against it, he felt certain.

CLOUDS OF DUST BOILED BEHIND THE
I
NYX MOUNTS
as they reached for ground, propelled by their riders' shouts and the frenzy of competition. Sen Ni and Riod held back, saving a burst for last. At their side until the last few moments had been Akay-Wat on Gevka and Takko on Ogai. Were they afraid to pull ahead, holding back to give Sen Ni a win after her long absence? If so, they had grown soft!

She challenged the riders:
Don't let us win! Ride till your hearts burst!
Riod listened and flung her words out to the melee, his blood hot, his thoughts all for the race.

Arrowing in from the side came a new contender, shouldering away Takko. It was Mo Ti, ever the strongest rider in camp. The only mount that could hold him, Tarnya, thundered down on Riod's position. Akay-Wat saw him too, and they challenged each other for the second position, galloping in companionable contest, before Akay-Wat finally fell back.

Now it was Sen Ni and Mo Ti leading the race, almost like the old days. But those times were gone. He had helped Titus, bargained away Inyx secrets—a betrayal so stunning she still could hardly credit it. She shouted to Riod to leave him in dust. Riod burst out of the knot of riders, a full length, then two. She heard, or felt, Mo Ti and Tarnya behind them, hooves drumming, thoughts desperate.

Such a heavy load they all carried, of former love, remorse, and outrage.
Didn't Mo Ti understand that when you only had one person who loved you, that one's betrayal could never be forgiven?

He had said:
If I had won Quinn's trust, he would have given you the Ascendancy.

You knew he was my enemy. If you loved me, you would not have gone over to him.

You must learn what love looks like, Mistress.

So he thought to school her in love, this eunuch, this friend of her father. Sen Ni pressed herself forward onto Riod's spine, gripping his forehorns, murmuring,
My heart, my heart, win this one for me.

And Riod did, crossing the line of rocks three lengths ahead of Tarnya. Around them, the next Inyx boiled over the line, and then the others, in the hundreds. Amid mounts stamping and cooling, riders paid off side bets and racers crowded around Sen Ni and Riod, offering congratulations. Riod pranced in a circle, exchanging views of the race just passed with his fellow mounts. When he settled at last, Sen Ni was left facing Akay-Wat.

“Third place, Captain,” Sen Ni said, grinning.

Akay-Wat, despite her prosthetic leg, had outdone herself. “Mistress is back, and all races are sweeter!” Her gaze went to Mo Ti, who, having been ignored this long, took his cue and moved off, heading back to camp.

Akay-Wat murmured, “Speak to him.”

“We have nothing to say. I wish it was otherwise.” Sen Ni pulled out her canteen of water and took a long drink. “Some friends remain, though,” she said, holding Akay-Wat's gaze.

They came into camp then, gathering around the drinking troughs. Sen Ni's mind was filled with the sent thoughts of the Inyx, dominated by mating season now, and the pervasive worry about the nearby Jinda ceb minoral, where the former Paion had already established villages. Tensions were high for both reasons.

While their mounts slaked their thirst, Sen Ni looked in the direction of the Scar, formerly that great amputation on the storm wall, now restored to what it had been.

Akay-Wat noted her gaze. “Akay-Wat thinks you will go to see them, to get them to join us.”

Geng De had urged Sen Ni to wait. He was trying to weave them, she
knew. But what if he could not? She wanted to believe in his powers, but a whiff of madness hung around the navitar.

She looked at her good friend, grateful for her prodding. “Maybe I
will
go to them, Akay-Wat.”

The word for riding was
joy
. At one with the movement of her mount beneath her, Sen Ni felt nothing but the ride, thought of nothing but sheer speed, and the exquisite trust of rider and mount.

Cliffs loomed ahead, forming a destination, though there was no purpose but speed and abandon. Riod thundered on, reinforcing her happiness, making all emotions double.

My heart
, she sent to him, full beyond words.

They had spent the night in dream casts. Riod, in the field, leading the herd in mental flight, using the combined powers of all the mounts to reach out to the five primacies.
The engine is our only hope to survive. Titus Quinn has silenced it.
It was time the Entire learned the true purpose of the Repel at Ahnenhoon—not as a staging ground for the Long War, but as a redoubt to shelter the engine that drew power from the Rose. Reactivated, the engine would become increasingly effective, working toward a collapse of the Rose into the final power source. A brutal solution. The only solution.

The only thing the Tarig had gotten right.

Sen Ni felt Riod slowing, but they were still some distance from a shadowed cleft in the hills, their ostensible goal. They had come upon a well of the sort that dotted the steppe. Approaching it, Riod slowed to a trot.

But his thoughts weren't on water. He wasn't giving Sen Ni his thoughts.

Beloved?
she asked.

Dismounting, she went to the well and removed the weighted cover. A deep and cool draught of air met her face. Pulling on the rope, she brought up a bucket, setting it out for Riod.

He looked at the top of the cliff face. There stood a white Inyx, tail lifted to the wind, graceful neck horns curved like scimitars under the glare of the
bright. And it was a female—Sen Ni could tell that much by Riod's frozen attention.

Riod stamped.

“She's not going to come running because you demand it,” Sen Ni murmured.

Emka
. Riod turned toward the water. That is
Emka
.

Sen Ni felt privileged to hear this from Riod. He had been silent about mating season, and now he had told her his choice.
Emka.
He drank deeply, checking now and then to see that Emka still watched.

She did, and remained watching as they retraced their path back to camp. It was a fine ride back, even with the unsettling vision of Emka in both their minds. It was only as it should be, though. Mating season came once every six years; and Riod should sire youngsters.

Beautiful Emka
, Sen Ni formed in her mind. She didn't know what else to say, and Emka
was
beautiful.

At Early Day, standing by the sky bulb that would carry her to the River Nigh, Sen Ni gave orders for her entourage to pack and prepare for the journey back to Rim City. She had finished her dream war business. The denizens of the Entire, sleeping generally at the same time, would have a new set of shared dreams; heart-sendings that they had already learned to take seriously. Now she would see what sentients would make of Titus Quinn, whether hero or enemy.

However, she had added a detour to her journey home. She would go to the new minoral of the Jinda ceb. Her cause needed allies—and now, not later. It felt strange not to discuss this with Riod, but right now he was little interested in practical matters, or even in her. She would not feel shut out by this. She would not.

But when she went to bid Riod good-bye, he had already disappeared from the encampment.

Hanwen hurried down the orphanage hallway to the children's garden, her bulk hindering her progress, her feet blistering under the pace of walking too
fast in too-tight shoes. It was unseemly for the mistress of the orphanage to run, but when a personage presents himself at the door you do not neglect to wait upon him. Everything in this world depended upon personages and their favor.

Especially if it was the illustrious navitar, Geng De.

Hanwen hoped that the servants had picked up the toys and straightened the beds; if he required a tour, he should see only pleasing things! Everything depended upon Hanwen's success in this new position; a far cry from merely tutoring youngsters in cheap Rim City academies. Everything depended on a good report to the mistress of the sway. Hanwen's two sons had passed their examinations and were waiting to be seen by very high legates at the Magisterium. Hanwen's post as head of Mistress Sen Ni's orphanage would certainly weigh in their favor if ever the Magisterium resumed its authority over the restive empire. That outcome was still very much in doubt now that the father of the mistress had usurped the bright city, casting down the lords—the staggering thought!

She had to pause and wipe her sweating face with her sleeve. Oh dear, where was she, now?

Ah. The visit, unannounced! She set out again, blisters screaming.

At the junction of the next hallway, she met the simpering Ling, who had the small boy Tiejun in her arms.

Ling ducked a quick bow. “He will want to see this one.”

Yes, she supposed so. Tiejun, a spoiled little emperor, unaccountably favored by Sen Ni herself. Luckily he was too young to notice that he'd been singled out to spend time with the mistress of the sway and the holy navitar, or they would never succeed in getting him to nap or finish a bowl of food.

She and Ling passed into the shaded gallery fronting onto the gardens. They paused, taking in the scene. Seated on a bench, the great teacher leaned on his cane, watching the children running and screaming around him.

“Order,” Hanwen hissed at Ling. “Bring order here, immediately!” Oh, someone would account for this—leaving such a personage at the mercy of playing, shouting children!

Hanwen bustled into the garden, with Ling rushing before her to quiet the loudest ones and give directions to the ringleaders. “Back with you, back to the day-room!” Ling cajoled, pushing the children away from the visitor.

With a calm face Master Geng De watched Hanwen approach.

“Your Excellency,” she panted. “The children—they have no training, no manners. Please pardon us, we—”

He held up a hand. “I came to be with them, even messy as they are.” He glanced at an older child. “But send these kinds of children away.”

Hanwen nodded, but she simply had no idea what he meant. “These kinds?”

Geng De gazed at her with such a blank look she thought she must be missing something quite obvious. “The old children. That kind.”

“Ling!” Hanwen called. “Take the older children away!”

Soon the garden grew quieter as the smallest children gathered some distance away, wary now, watching their school mother and the visitor.

“Hanwen,” the navitar said, “are these all your youngest?”

“This is their playtime, Excellency. Yes, our youngest, except for babies.”

“I would have more such small ones brought into protection here. Do you think that a good plan?”

His voice was too high to seem authoritative, but Hanwen could only say, “Yes, Excellency. Except our beds are full right now. To be sure, we will make room for any special ones that you have in mind.”

“No, Hanwen, you mistake me. It doesn't depend on beds. I expect you to find orphans and bring them to this lovely place.”