to kill you, my lord emir!” said Morgant. “They will burn down the inn around our ears. We must flee, quickly!” Kylon slung a satchel of papers over his shoulder.
“What?” said Cimak, looking back and forth as his alarm struggled with his hangover.
“Master Alchemist Malik Rolukhan commanded the Immortals to kill you!” said Morgant. “They’ve set fire to the inn and are waiting for you at the door. The emir Tanzir sent us to rescue you. Quickly, my lord emir, quickly.” He hauled the pudgy young man to his feet. “We must flee before the Immortals come to you.”
Cimak gaped at him, his foul breath on Morgant’s face, and nodded. “I knew it. I knew it! Those Immortals were up to something the entire time.”
“That is exactly right,” said Morgant. “Fortunately, Tanzir Shahan in his farsighted wisdom saw through the dastardly plot and hired us to rescue you. My associate and I arrived in the nick of time.”
“Yes,” said Kylon in a flat voice. “What he said. That is what happened.”
Gods, but that man was a terrible liar. Fortunately, Cimak was too frightened to notice.
“We must hasten, my lord,” said Morgant. “The emir Tanzir and his men await us below. I’m afraid we’ll have to go through the window.”
“Just as Istarr did when the Demon Princes of old sent their dire assassins to slay him!” said Cimak, his eyes wide. He swayed a little, and would have fallen had Morgant not caught his arm.
“Exactly like that,” said Morgant, steering the emir to the window.
“I’ve written several epic poems upon those very events,” said Cimak, stumbling as Morgant pulled him along. Kylon embedded the grapnel into the windowsill and threw the rope out.
“I’m sure you have,” said Morgant.
“I shall write my own poem of these events!” said Cimak. “Five acts, with sixteen stanzas each, cast in the traditional style of the Istarish epic! I…”
“Let’s make sure you live to write it,” said Morgant, suppressing his irritation. He only killed people who deserved it, but listening to Cimak’s poetry surely qualified. “Kyracian, help him down.”
“So that was the real reason you wanted me along,” said Kylon.
Morgant shrugged. “If you’d prefer, you could help the emir compose his epic.”
Kylon sighed, got one arm around Cimak’s waist, and lifted him over the windowsill.
###
The battle was over by the time Kylon and Morgant returned with Kuldan Cimak.
Caina looked over the village square, the stench of blood and fire filling her nose. The Immortals had been in an impossible position. Dio and Shopur knew their business, and they had sealed off the square, trapping the Immortals. Shopur’s archers had scaled the rampart, pouring arrows into the Immortals. Even without hope of escape, the Immortals had put up a ferocious fight. They had killed seventeen of Dio’s men, nine of Shopur’s, and twelve of Tanzir’s before they had at last been defeated.
Eighty dead Immortals, twenty-five dead mercenaries, twelve dead soldiers…and if the civil war did indeed begin, this was just the beginning. It was too late to turn back now. She would see this through to the end.
No matter how bloody.
Morgant and Kylon walked to Tanzir’s horse. Between them walked a short, pot-bellied Istarish man in a disheveled robe, his eyes bloodshot and his face unshaven. He was about Caina’s height, but he was at least fifty pounds heavier, his skin considerably darker.
Well. If Malik Rolukhan had never seen Kuldan Cimak, Caina supposed she could impersonate him well enough.
“My lord emir!” said Morgant, his voice ringing over the battlefield. “As commanded, we have rescued the honorable and noble emir Kuldan Cimak, and have brought him into your august presence.”
Tanzir blinked, looked at Caina and then at Morgant, and she saw the understanding come over his face.
“Kuldan, my friend,” said Tanzir. “I am very pleased to see you unharmed I was quite concerned for you. You are so unworldly, and you were thrust unprepared into the snake pit of our nation’s politics.”
“I knew it had to be a plot,” said Cimak. “Just like in the ancient epics.”
“Ah…yes,” said Tanzir. “I fear that Grand Wazir Erghulan and the Brotherhood saw you as a potential obstacle to their goals, and sent you to the Inferno to have you assassinated.”
Cimak nodded, his bloodshot eyes wide. “I had heard rumblings of discontent in the southern emirates, but I had no idea matters had advanced so far.” He drew himself up, trying to look as dignified as a hungover man could look while wearing a disheveled night robe. “I will pledge myself to