to one knee; blood trickled down the side of her face.
Riuh knelt beside her, wrapping a careful arm around her shoulders. “What happened?”
“Khas soldiers. They came with warrants, demanding Kovi’s accomplices, members of the Dai Tranh—they named you, Riuh. We…resisted.”
“You should have let them have me. I can take care of myself.”
She shrugged, winced. “We won’t lose anyone else, not without a fight.”
“What happened to Selei?” Xinai asked.
“She escaped, with most of the other elders. But we paid for that.”
Xinai forced her nerves aside, tugged off her cloth belt, and began to wrap Phailin’s wounded arm. The cut was deep into the flesh of her upper arm, but she had at least some use of it. The girl’s lips pressed white, but she made no sound.
“We have to get out of here,” Riuh said as soon as Xinai tied off the bandage. He helped his cousin to her feet.
“Where?” Phailin nodded toward Cay Xian. “The soldiers are between us and all our safe houses.”
“Cay Lin,” Xinai said, before she could consider it.
Riuh’s throat worked. “It’s haunted.”
“Better spirits than Khas swords.” Shaiyung had driven away the gangshi, and her own witchcraft was enough to best lesser spirits.
After a heartbeat’s hesitation, he nodded. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 8
Zhirin watched the procession ride toward the far gate and swallowed. The Viceroy and Imran al Najid strode across the courtyard and up the steps. There was still time to salvage their plans, and perhaps more.
“I’m going to find Jabbor,” she said to Adam and Vasilios. “Wait for me inside.” Her cheeks warmed as she heard the tone of command in her voice, but Vasilios only smiled and nodded.
She circled past the stables, around the library wing of the hall, but didn’t head for the fig tree by the wall where she often left messages for Jabbor. Instead she waited in the shadow of the building until she saw Faraj and Imran emerge from the eastern hallway. Isyllt and her plans had distracted Zhirin from the mystery of the diamonds, but now she had a chance to investigate.
The two men walked toward the lapidary hall; the Assari mage topped the Viceroy by a head, stiff-spined and square-shouldered. Zhirin followed, keeping to the grass and shadows, a whisper of concealment hanging off her. Not that it could hide her from a mage as strong as Imran, but it made her feel better.
She felt better knowing that Asheris was gone too. Imran was a humorless and disapproving man, but he didn’t make her skin crawl. Lesser spirits fell silent when Asheris passed, the way small animals cowered away from predators. No matter how charming he was, she still shivered when she met his eyes. It was the diamond he wore, she suspected—something fierce and unsettling bound in it.
The two men spoke as they walked, but she couldn’t make out their words over the crunch of gravel. Her own slippers on the grass sounded ridiculously loud and she didn’t dare move closer. She often enjoyed the soporific peace of the grounds, but now it thwarted her.
When they finally stepped inside the lapidary she sped up, slinking around the gray-white trunk of a neem tree and toward the back of the building. She nearly sighed out loud when she found a window open to the breeze. Crouching amid hibiscus bushes, she forced herself to ignore her racing heart and concentrate on sharpening her hearing. After a moment voices came into focus.
“It’s not enough,” Faraj said. Sandals scuffed against tile. “Half our tithe was in that warehouse, or more. The Emperor won’t be pleased.”
“We’ll redouble our efforts in the mines,” Imran replied. “Empty the Khas’s prisons—we need every body available if you wish to collect the tithe on time.”
The Viceroy sighed. “Very well. They’ll be full anyway, after today.” His voice faded as he paced away, loudened again as his circuit brought him near the window; Zhirin held her breath. “But what about the rubies? Not all of them could have been destroyed in that fire. Can you locate them?”
“We can try. If we have some stones cut from the same vein, it will be easier.”
Between their voices, she heard someone else breathing, and the scrape of a chisel. The old lapidary Hyun, she guessed. The man was long deaf—Zhirin had never suspected they kept him on because he couldn’t overhear their plans.
“Tell the overseers—they’ll help however they can.” Faraj paused. “What about the other stones?”
“Again, we can try. Those will be easier, perhaps. There are less of them about to muddle