were false starts at firstbroken truces and the like. How long before hatred turned to tolerance, then respect and trust, then something more? And once it finally did, were they as passionate in love as they had been in war?
There is a legendary romance in this. And most fascinating to me, most frightening, is that it isnt over yet.
* * *
Tvril left for work at dawn. We exchanged few words and a silent understanding: the previous night had just been comfort between friends. It was not as awkward as it could have been; I got the sense he expected nothing else. Life in Sky did not encourage more.
I slept awhile longer and then lay awake in bed for a time, thinking.
My grandmother had said Mencheys armies would march soon. With so little time, I could think of few strategies that had any real chance of saving Darr. The best I could do was delay the attack. But how? I could seek allies in the Consortium, perhaps. Ras Onchi spoke for half of High North; perhaps she would knowno. I had watched both my parents and Darrs warrior council devote years to the quest for allies; if there were friends to be had, they would have made themselves known by now. The best I could do were individual sympathizers like Onchiwelcome, but ultimately useless.
So it would have to be something else. Even a few days reprieve would be enough; if I could delay the attack until after the succession ceremony, then my bargain with the Enefadeh would take effect, earning Darr four godly protectors.
Assuming they won their battle.
So: all or nothing. But risky odds were better than none, so I would chase them with all I had. I rose and went in search of Viraine.
He was not in his laboratory. A slim young servant woman was, cleaning. Hes at the oubliette, she told me. Since I had no idea what this was, or where, she gave me directions and I set out for Skys lowermost level. And I wondered, as I walked, at the look of disgust that had been on the servant womans face.
I emerged from the lift amid corridors that felt oddly dim. The walls glow was muted in a strange waynot as bright as Id grown used to, flatter somehow. There were no windows and, most curious, no doors, either. Apparently even servants did not live this far down. My footsteps echoed from ahead as I walked, so I was not surprised to emerge from the corridor into an open space: a vast, oblong chamber whose floor sloped toward a peculiar metal grate several feet in diameter. Nor was I surprised to find Viraine near this grate, gazing steadily at me as I entered. He had probably heard me the moment I stepped off the lift.
Lady Yeine. He inclined his head, for once not smiling. Shouldnt you be at the Salon?
I hadnt been to the Salon in days, or reviewed my assigned nations records, either. It was hard to care about these duties, considering. I doubt the world will falter for my absence, now or in the next five days.
I see. What brings you here?
I was looking for you. My eyes were drawn toward the grate in the floor. It looked like an exceptionally ornate sewer grate, apparently leading to some sort of chamber under the floor. I could see light glowing from within that was brighter than the ambient light of the room Viraine and I stood inbut that odd sense of flatness, of grayness, was even stronger here. The light underlit Viraines face in a way that should have sharpened the angles and shadows in his expression, but instead it stripped them away.
What is this place? I asked.
Were below the palace proper, actually in the support column that elevates us above the city.
The column is hollow?
No. Only this space here at the top. He watched me, his eyes trying to gauge something I could not fathom. You didnt attend the celebration yesterday.
I was not certain whether the highbloods knew about the servants celebration and ignored it, or whether it was a secret. In case of the latter I said, I havent been in a celebratory mood.
If you had come, this would be less of a surprise to you. He gestured toward the grate at his feet.
I stayed where I was, suffused with a sudden sense of dread. What are you talking about?
He sighed, and abruptly I realized he was in an ugly sort of mood himself.