the shooting and dying was happening, more rebels kidnapped the Viceroy’s daughter. Lady Shamina was injured in the fight. Faraj is…distraught. I’m afraid recovering you won’t be the first thing on his mind.”
Isyllt swallowed and blinked. The man fleeing with a child—Murai. “Have they made demands for her return?”
“We’ve heard nothing.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “We?”
Siddir smiled. “A figure of speech. As I told you, my loyalty is not to the Khas.”
“Where is it, exactly?”
“To the Empire.” His smile stretched at her expression. “To the Empire, but not to Rahal.”
She set the curry down again. The pressure in her head had become a stabbing pain above one eye. She rubbed her temple, wincing as the movement tugged stitches.
“Would you please just tell me what the hell is going on?”
One brown cheek dimpled as he nodded. “The Emperor’s dreams of expansion are no secret in Ta’ashlan, but not all the Senate supports him. The Senate has consistently refused to increase taxes for military spending. But that doesn’t seem to be stopping Rahal. The money keeps coming in—never fast enough to be conspicuous, but enough that some senators have become suspicious.”
Isyllt reached for her cup of ginger beer and wished it were something stronger. “And they think it’s coming from Symir.”
“I’m almost certain of it. But we’re not sure where. At first we thought he was skimming from the tithes, but the Khas’s records balance—far too neatly, for a known hive of graft and corruption. Something’s happening off the books, but I don’t know what.”
It was Isyllt’s turn to smile. “I do. But,” she continued as Siddir cocked his head, “how will this be of any use to me? Giving the Empire a legitimate source of wealth will do nothing to keep Assari armies away from Selafaïn shores.”
“Expansion is not the will of the people in Assar. Rahal has supporters amongst the generals and the arms-makers, of course, but too many families still mourn those who died in the Ninayan campaign, or in Iseth, or here. Assar is large enough—there are things we want from Selafai, but another vassal country isn’t one of them.”
“And you think proof of this embezzlement would be enough to stop the Emperor?”
“Yes. Some of the senators are…willing to take steps.”
She pressed her tongue against her teeth, tasted ginger-sweet and treason. If he was lying, she couldn’t tell.
“Sivahra has a diamond mine. The Viceroy is smuggling the stones out in private ships.”
Across the room Vienh stiffened, lips parting. She subsided without speaking, though.
Siddir blinked. “Well. I’ve been underestimating Faraj, it seems, if he’s kept something like that a secret. I wonder where Rahal is selling them.” He shrugged the question aside. “We need proof.”
“I think I know where to look. I’ll need to speak to my contacts.”
He nodded. “I encourage haste. If the situation here continues to deteriorate, the Emperor will send troops, and everything will become more complicated.”
“I have another question for you, my lord, while we’re being so forthcoming. How well do you know Asheris al Seth?”
He didn’t blink, quite, but he stilled for a heartbeat. “Ah. Yes. Once, I knew him well. We went to the university together. We were friends.” The word came out too quickly, too blandly. “He had no designs to be an Imperial agent in those days. He was a middling mage at best—a lot of talent, but little dedication, more interested in carousing than serious study. His connection to the throne was too remote to concern anyone, and mostly he was left to his own devices.”
“But?”
“Seven years ago, something changed.” He frowned, smoothed his face again. “I still don’t know what it was. He joined an expedition into the desert—a spirit cataloging trip, very ordinary. Al Najid was with them as well. When they returned, no one heard from Asheris for several months, and when he finally emerged he was…different. More focused, more reserved. More powerful. It wasn’t long afterward that he began to rise in the Emperor’s confidences.”
Isyllt swallowed, her stomach cold. Seven years of feeding off a bound spirit. A spirit powerful enough to make a man immortal. Yes, that might change someone. Her left hand tightened before the pain stopped it. No doubt his fear of death was real enough, even if his distaste for bindings was a lie.
He would come after her. It was a secret worth protecting. He knew the taste of her magic—her magic and her skin. At least, she thought bitterly, no one could track her by her ring.