only person who has the training, the temperament, and the lineage to take the throne. You, Tavin, and Rhusomir are the only living descendants of Ambra now who aren’t sworn to the Phoenix Priesthood.” He scowled and muttered, “I still can’t believe the tiger. Of all the gall.”
“And you thought I was joking about Jas being named for his pa’s dog,” Fie said.
“That would have been preferable,” Khoda scoffed. “The point is, you’re the best candidate for the throne. It’s my job to keep you alive at any cost.”
“Not any cost,” Jasimir said, suddenly irate. “I asked that of Tavin once, and I have never been so ashamed as when I got it.”
Khoda shrugged. “Get used to shame. You’re going to be a king. Anyway, neither of us needs to be spying in the parties anymore. Fie, you may have to keep going as Lady Sakar if we can’t get you an excuse, but they’ll be useless for scouting for defectors now. No one in their right mind will do anything but blow smoke up Rhusana’s”—he coughed—“face. Yula, is there any particular role that will give us free run of the palace?”
She frowned at the ceiling, then snapped her fingers. “Oh!” Her face fell. “But it … it’s beneath His Highness.”
“I’m willing to test that,” Jasimir said, grim. “Chamber pot duty?”
Yula shook her gray-streaked head. “Pest control. There isn’t a corner of this palace that mice won’t get into, and the tabby there seems to have a shine for you. We’ll round up a few more mousers, and then you can be our new cat-masters. Well, one of you is cat-master. The others are deputy cat-masters.”
Khoda gave a resigned sigh. “Brightest Eye help me, if these scar over”—he gingerly tapped a cheekbone between the scores and winced—“I’ll have the whiskers for it. Cat-masters it is.”
“Deputy cat-masters,” Fie corrected. “Jas is obviously the ranking cat-master.”
Khoda scowled at her but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Food for the sick,” Ebrim grunted outside.
“See? Password,” Khoda hissed at Fie, then called, “Come in.”
Ebrim slid in, then caught the door before Yula could close it. “Hold on. We have a visitor for the patients.”
A man slid in behind him. He was a lanky fellow, looked to be in his late thirties, wearing Pigeon grays with surprisingly long sleeves. He was sweating, and from the way he fidgeted with those sleeves, Fie reckoned it wasn’t just from the heat.
Ebrim closed the door, then motioned for them all to huddle in the middle of the room, as far from the window and the hall as possible. Barf mewed in protest as Khoda moved her from his lap, then curled up on his pillow instead.
“This is one of our missing Sparrows,” Ebrim said in a low whisper. “What do you want us to call you?”
The man’s mouth wobbled. “Just … just Sparrow will do.”
Ebrim patted the man on the back. “Sparrow here sought me out. He still remembers what happened when the qu—” Sparrow flinched, and Ebrim stopped. “When she called for him. Will you tell them, or should I?”
Sparrow took a deep breath. “I’ll do it. It was just yesterday, after the solstice, around noon. I was working on the retiling project in the west wing of the archives, on the fourth floor, you know the one.” Ebrim nodded. “Her Maj—Her footman said she needed assistance at once. I … My sister, she, she was called more than a week ago, just like that. Doesn’t remember a thing. I thought I could find out what happened to her.”
“Brave man,” Khoda said. “What happened next?”
“I was taken to the royal catacombs, near the well. The footman gave me a torch and told me to go to the Tomb of Monarchs and wait until I was called back. The hour-bell was ringing when they sent me down, and I-I think it rang again right around when they called for me. The—she was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, with a man in an Owl robe. They asked if I heard anything, and I said no. Then she said if I told anyone, she’d—” He covered his mouth and shook his head. “The man also said he could make me forget everything, everyone I ever loved, all of it. I swore I wouldn’t tell. They let me go.”
“She had you there for an hour,” Jasimir said. “For … nothing?”
Sparrow gnawed at his bottom lip, then shook his head again. “I lied,” he whispered. “I heard … something.