Page 21

18

Blood. Andik felt a wave of disgust run through him as he felt the viscous consistency and the drop on the back of his right hand.

Old blood, the bearer of an ancient lineage. Blood of High Prelate Yalael Revenne, the madman who had tried to kill him.

Andik pressed two fingers to his left temple as he rubbed his other hand over his dark red cloak, disgusted and on the verge of a monumental headache. He needed a basin of boiling water to get rid of the dirty feeling. And wine to erase the taste that was poisoning his throat and heart.

He put his hands behind his back and breathed shallowly to control his anxiety. He had walked up and down the corridor without stopping, waiting for an absolutely necessary confirmation.

But first he had to get rid of the body.

He almost ran his hand through his hair again, as he did all too often when the anxiety gripped his chest, but he stopped himself in mid-air.

The door at the end of the corridor opened.

Andik turned to look at the gap, wearing the stern expression of an Ensin who was free of all doubt.

Vinna emerged from the room with eyes hardened by what she had left behind. It was as if that expression had been carved into her face, making her features as angular as marble.

Andik could not help but linger on the tattoo. The red eye, drawn on the right cheekbone of her face. Barely larger than a beauty spot, it identified her as a tool of Zayr, Lord of Urook, city-state and cradle of the Master Tutors.

The Acutes seemed to be able to see everything, to know all secrets, to expose the thousand enemies of the Household to which they had sworn allegiance. Zayr used the Acutes as a shield. Or a threat. They were his eyes, his foresight, his power beyond the brute force of his armies of Tutors.

Andik usually kept his distance from them. But the circumstances were worrying.

Vinna was aware of that, just as she must have been more than aware, though without complacency, of the fear her mere presence could inspire in those around her. "You should have been more careful," she told him in a low, hushed voice, almost monotone despite the reproach in it. "I could have forced him to speak."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

The woman pressed her lips into a thin line. "Your position grants you almost unlimited trust. No one will ever question your reasons."

"But?"

"But you made a strategic error, Andik."

Few outside his family took such a liberty—to call him by name. It was a sign of trust and intimacy that should have been out of place between them. But they had a shared past.

She almost seemed to want to bite her lip, to stop time and rewind it. "He could have been useful to us. Many questions could have dissolved if he'd lived a few more hours. Now the doubts will remain. No, they will grow."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"What do you mean? What do you know?"

Andik put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Yalael was acting on impulse in there." He gestured to the room behind the woman. Across the threshold, some servants were wrapping the body in dark sheets, others were busy cleaning blood from the floor, the walls and the now dull, cracked surface of the Eye. "He was afraid of what would happen if I had any further words with the Dagger or her masters. Desperation blinded him. It made him make the stupidest choice."

The woman followed his gaze to the now covered corpse.

"The old man said words that were hard to misunderstand. Before, they had only been whispered in the dark. Now he shouted them without shame," Andik whispered.

The woman nodded. "Do you think the threat is real?"

"It is no longer a threat. Yalael has committed an act of war by raising his blade against me. He persisted in making proclamations, spewing hate. He refused to say more because he thought it would protect the other traitors."

"Was he wrong?"

"Oh yes."

"What if he calculated everything?"

Andik looked at her sideways.

"What if he tried to hit you specifically to get you to kill him?"

He narrowed his eyes. "It's possible."

"He thought he was trapped. If your conversation with the Dagger had continued, you would have heard things that he thought were dangerous to whoever he was trying to cover for. So he convinced himself that he was not going to get out of that room alive. I don't think he really believed he could bring you down. He probably feared interrogation more than death at your hands."

Vinna shook her head. "I will not repeat myself. I know it is pointless to question your actions. You have never been inclined to discuss your decisions, regardless of the consequences. But by silencing him, you have deprived us of a real option. I will not pretend otherwise. I must discuss this with my superiors. Do you understand that?"

"Of course I do. I didn't call you by chance," he told her, moving closer, then lowering his voice and softening it. He made it sound more like the one he had used with her on many other occasions. "You're one of the few people I can really trust in this city," he told her. "And I know you trust me in the same way." He let his eyes complete the sentence, hinting at what had brought them together: a pleasant memory, made bitter by duty and regret, but still lingering and spicy.

She held his gaze. "You want me to keep it quiet."

"Only for a few days, three at the most. If we can conceal Yalael's death, I can investigate without alerting the other traitors. I have no doubt that there are still some within the walls of Urook. The old man was a High Prelate and allowed himself to be corrupted. Can you imagine how easy it must have been to deceive people of lesser rank and influence than him?

"The conspiracy may go further than we feared," she whispered.

"That's why I need time. I will dig into Yalael's past, find his secret connections. With the blessing of the gods, we will have the confirmation we need before the situation becomes a full-blown crisis."

"Keeping Yalael's staff and offices at bay will not be a problem. Silencing his family, however, is another matter."

Andik hinted at a smile. "That's why I chose you," he told her, closing the gap between them. He brought his lips to the woman's right ear. "You're the best, Vinna." He moved his mouth to brush her earlobe, speaking her name like a prayer, an invitation. "You always have been. Your loyalty to King Zayr and Urook is a flame in the darkness. I know you will find a way to give me the time I need to discover the truth." He stroked her shoulder and pushed her slowly but firmly to him, until he felt her hot breath on his neck and the shivers running through her body. "Do this for the children of the gods. Do this for me. They will approve of you, be assured. And I will be very, very grateful."

"It seemed you couldn't wait to get rid of me in Belur."

"Our duties have kept us apart," he continued. "But we will never be apart, not really, as long as our love for our lords unites us. Isn't that so?"

She took a step back and shook her head, as if recovering from a sudden intoxication. Her cheeks were burning and she clenched her hands into nervous fists. "All right. I'll do as you wish, for Urook's sake, not because of your gratitude."

"Is that why you're trembling?" he winked at her.

She opened her eyes wide. "You'd better begin your investigation. Now get out of here before I regret it."

Andik smiled. He took her hand between his and kissed it.

Then he turned on his heels and left the corridor, leaving Vinna, and Yalael's body, behind. He could feel the woman's eyes on him, and the desire they stirred.

And he felt guilty. He had shamelessly manipulated her, but the stakes were too high, far exceeding the conscience of an Ensin and the feelings of a beautiful spy serving the Lord of Urook.

Andik walked across Urook's Square of the Reasons. Each end of the immense triangle culminated in a huge building, piercing the clouds and defying the imagination. On one side stood the embassy of the Nurturers, the ziggurat that housed the permanent delegation from Napur, on the other the Embassy of the Binders from Larsa. Finally, majestic and imposing over all that surrounded it, was the ziggurat that housed Zayr, Lord of the Tutor Masters, ruler of the city-state of Urook.

The layout of this vast open space was identical to that of the centres of Larsa and Napur. But no one who had actually visited the twin plazas would confuse them.

Larsa's seemed to have just emerged from a lake of gold and precious crystals. Its ziggurat housed the seat of the local government of the Binders; it glowed with the opulence and audacity of the household that de facto obliterated the power of the other two.

Instead, Napur's Square of the Reasons looked like an endless garden. Its ziggurat, the home of the Nurturer Household, was clad in emerald and surrounded by magnificent sculptures as far as the eye could see.

Andik was shocked by the chasm of stylistic and architectural sensibilities that separated the three cities. In Urook, the square bore the reddish colors of the rock from which it had been built. Now, as the sun began to set and the day drew to a close, everything seemed bathed in a sanguine glow. He had often wondered if the scarlet bandages he wore were a tribute to that rock. He had never voiced these questions, confident that experience would provide the answers.

He quickened his pace, eager to get away from Kenjir's embassy, where Yalael had died, his hands smeared with blood. He clutched his cloak, cursing the capricious wind that kept making it flutter, and stifled his irritation. His presence at the Larsani Embassy had been pure coincidence. He was there to discuss the details of the Urookite delegation's trip to the capital for the Trials.

Zayr, in his infinite generosity, had expressed a desire to house all the Urukite families summoned to Kenjir on his Lethenium Dart. It was a generous offer, and the families had obviously rushed to accept it, but it meant moving a considerable number of men, women, more or less useful baggage, as well as their personal guards.

When Yalael had sent for him, Andik had been in the offices of one of his colleagues, an Ensin from the Golden Army, discussing the distribution of housing for some of the Larsani families now living in Urook, who had been recalled home for the upcoming celebrations.

Andik had been surprised by the old High Prelate's request. Yalael was a Larsani, one of the senior ambassadors. He had lived in Urook long before Andik's birth and never let a day go by without lamenting how much he missed Larsa. Like any of his compatriots, he made no effort to hide his firm belief that he was somehow superior to everyone else.

He was a vain and pompous old stinker. But he was also an incredibly influential vain and pompous old stinker. Over the past thirty-three years, he had helped to keep relations between his hometown and Urook peaceful and fruitful, despite deep social, economic and cultural differences.

So Andik had not dared to shrug off his demands or find an excuse not to comply. Sure, the old man had no authority over him, and Andik was more than happy not to be forced to say yes. But Yalael had never seemed so angry to him, and for a few moments it had even seemed amusing.

Andik had agreed.

Then everything had fallen apart.

Things had escalated so quickly that Andik almost had trouble repeating the exact sequence. He had taken the life of a very important man. A Prelate who had openly declared himself to be a traitor to his homeland, to those around him, and a blasphemer against the gods.

Andik knew he had to act quickly, to find out what Yalael was really up to, and what it had to do with what the Dagger had told him. But he also needed help.

He made his way to the Ziggurat, which towered over the city's horizon in the setting sun.

Buoyed by the unseen powers of the gods, the platform rose to the top of the first level of the ziggurat. Climbing up the outer walls of the building, which were dotted with tall rectangular windows leading to dozens of inner levels, always felt like flying into the sky. If Andik hadn't hurried to ask the platform operator to stop, the ride would have taken him almost to the top of the Ziggurat. From there you could see all of Uruk and the surrounding lands: a phenomenal view.

Despite what most foreigners believed, Zayr was a benevolent ruler. His predecessor had banned the use of mobile platforms outside his ziggurat, citing the safety and preservation of the building itself. As soon as he came to power, Zayr had lifted the ban, leaving in place minimum limits on the number of visitors who could roam freely on the terraces, but he had decreed that the platforms could only operate at certain times.

Andik walked down the platform in long strides, keeping close to the red stone parapet. He liked to watch his city. Even from this height, it looked like a tangle of thin webs, crisscrossed by busy insects on a huge and solemn sculpture.

Urook was the cradle of the Master Tutors, the government Household devoted to teaching and perpetuating the arts of war and protecting the peoples of Kenjir. It was designed to inspire awe, not give way to artistic affectation. Still, Andik found it beautiful. The solidity of the buildings, the clean lines that surrounded them, the brightness of the rooms they housed created a harmony of strength and serenity that gave him a deep peace. He would never trade these certainties for the gold of Larsa or the art of Napur.

But he also knew that many of his colleagues did not appreciate the qualities of his city with such conviction. In fact, there were those who performed duties very similar to his, but seemed to regard Urook as a giant cage. One of them was Ensin Nalia Korr.

Andik knew exactly where to look for her.

He reached the edge of the level, walked around the left corner near the ziggurat wall and continued walking more slowly. A series of wide niches followed one another. Some widened into veritable terraces giving access to the administrative offices, others were decorated with bas-reliefs telling of the city's history, and contained benches where one could sit and rest in the shade of the red stone.

He checked the thousand niches one by one, impatient to find Nalia. He was about to give up when he heard the Ensin's unmistakable laugh.

She was in the next alcove, sitting on the lap of a young man, an attendant judging by the simple clothes he was wearing. Nalia's black complexion, gleaming like fine wood and rare marble, stood out against the boy's snow-white skin and flushed cheeks. He seemed overwhelmed by the woman's beauty and attention, as he shyly rested one hand on her leg and the other around her waist. Nalia, on the other hand, was completely at ease. She caressed his chest, his hair and seemed more than satisfied when she made his eyes go wide, perhaps because of the obscenities she whispered in his ear.

Andik watched the scene for a few seconds and did not even have to clear his throat or call Nalia to order because the young man saw him and jumped, almost causing the woman to fall.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me this is your first time," she protested, giggling. Then she noticed that she was not alone with her prey and turned around. "Go away, Thawill, I'm busy," she huffed before sinking her face into the boy's golden hair.

Andik stayed where he was. He put his hands on his hips and shot a menacing glance at Nalia's latest curly-haired conquest. The young man stiffened in fear and pulled his hands away from the woman.

She stopped sniffing his hair and spoke to him. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart. Tall, menacing types like our friend Thawill make such ugly faces because they have no other way of imposing themselves. It's all for show, don't worry about them. And put your hands back where they were." The servant's eyes darted from her to Andik and back again, seeming increasingly unsure of what to do. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak.

Nalia closed his lips with a finger. "No. You are not here for your language skills. Just sit down, shut up and be quiet. I'll be right back."

The Ensin rose slowly, not hiding how hateful it was for her to part with a morsel she had not yet been able to savor worthily.

"I hope you have something really, really serious to tell me, Thawill. Because I've had a very long day and I desperately need a distraction. I won't go to sleep without doing justice to those sweet eyes," she said as she pointed a finger at the young man.

"Ensin Korr, it is always a great pleasure," Andik nudged her.

"Ah, please! Get to the point."

"Since when do you like little boys?"

She looked at him sideways. "This one is not as young as he looks. And if I remember correctly, he is even older than you were when you first got into that spy's bed. What was her name? Vigga? Vitta?"

"Vinna. And she's not just a spy."

"Of course she is a spy. All of our Master's watchdogs are."

"Including us?"

"In a way, yes. But that's not the point. You're wasting my precious time and spoiling the atmosphere. When certain sails lose wind, it takes a while for them to hoist again."

"What a poet."

"Yes, I am. Now tell me why you bother me."

Andik approached her and lowered his voice. "This is big and more serious than I want. We need to talk about it privately. Not here."

Nalia raised her eyes to the sky and ran her hands through her long black braids in exasperation. "Forget it. As you can see, I have better things to do." She turned back to the young man, who had listened to everything, dumb as a stump and wide-eyed, twisting his fingers in a vice. Nalia blew him a kiss. "I'm almost done, sweetheart."

Andik's face went dark. "I'm the one who doesn't have time for this. Believe me, the last thing I want to do right now is involve anyone else, but I can't help it. You need to listen to me, Korr, right now. And away from prying eyes."

Nalia stared at him, crossing her arms. "You should get out more. You should meet new people, seize the moment. Spice up your bedroom and you won't have to bother me."

Andik barely resisted the urge to grab Nalia by the elbow and drag her away. He couldn't afford to, of course, as she had several years more experience than he in consolidating her position, so he chose his next words very carefully. They were friends, yes. But there were limits that such familiarity could not cross. He needed the authority of another Ensin to get the right answers quickly.

"All right, all right. I'm sorry. I realize I've been out of line, and I'm sincerely sorry to have bothered you. But something serious has just happened. Something related to the incident in the Spiced Rooms." Andik said the last two words with great emphasis. He had achieved the desired effect.

Nalia looked at him. "You've got to be kidding me."

"You always say that I have practically no sense of humor. And you're right. I couldn't make fun of you even if I wanted to."

Nalia cursed under her breath, rubbed her temples, then turned to the young man and motioned for him to stand.

He approached slowly, head bowed, and Nalia stroked his cheek. "Alas, duty calls, sweetheart. I'm sorry for the setback." She stepped close and met his gaze. "Be in my quarters when the moon is high. Don't disappoint me." She planted a kiss on his lips and pushed him away, staring at him as if she wanted to bite into a piece of sweet date bread. Without looking away, she moaned, "He smells like gingerbread. Do you realise what you are forcing me to do, Thawill?"

Andik did not know how to answer this question. Surely he lacked the elements needed to understand the bigger picture of events. He hoped that Nalia would help him to take a step back, to change his perspective, to see everything with new eyes.

And perhaps, with the blessing of the gods, to avert the most dangerous social, political and military crisis Kenjir had ever seen.