A Queen of Gilded Horns (A River of Royal Blood #2) - Amanda Joy Page 0,66
earn back her regard and gain Ysai as an ally of sorts. Somehow.
He swore it to himself as he walked past row after row of tents as big as houses.
Somehow.
* * *
The Elderi gathered in the only permanent building in the entire camp: a clay dome structure with a single chamber, its floor hollowed out to fit circular rows of seats padded with throws and furs. It had no name; it didn’t require one. It was simply the place where the Elderi met each morning. Or whenever something of note happened in the camp.
Such as Baccha’s sudden return to Ariban, in the Mother’s possession no less.
It wasn’t until Baccha was escorted into the meeting hall and bade to sit on the single stool at its center that he realized this was a trial of some sort. However informal, he had been escorted in with his wrists still bound. All thirteen Elderi watched him furtively. A few eyes glittered with open malice, and the few elders he’d called friends in decades past would not meet his stare.
They exemplified the array of forms found in the khimaer tribes. The Great War had made dividing and marrying according to tribe nearly impossible for khimaer in the Enclosures, but the bloodlines that had become enmeshed in the South were still strong in the Tribe. Winged chalam khimaer sat beside raven-feathered nixin who, like Eva’s Captain, had skin of the richest brown and hair as white as snow.
“Lord Hunter,” called Eramin, a bull-snouted Elderi with ram’s horns and tufts of white hair sprouting from bovine ears. He inclined his head to Ysai, seated in the center of the elders, many of whom were more than thrice her age. Eramin was the oldest of the elder council. “The Mother has called us to hear you account for your behavior in the South.”
How many times had he been in similar situations? He’d been taken before local rulers or Queens dozens of times and been accused—often rightly—of any number of treacheries.
Somehow the dread that filled him now was sharper than ever before. This meeting would determine much more than Baccha’s fate.
“I will account for all my perceived misdeeds, but first may I ask why I am being treated as a prisoner?”
“Because you aided the Usurpers,” Ysai said.
“May I ask one more question, then?” Baccha murmured. Before his request could be denied, he went on. “Did you know when Moriya sent me south that the Princess and King Lei were khimaer?”
Silence was all he got in return. Baccha smiled. Not the wolfish grin he was known for. Instead he offered a tight-lipped smile that showed exactly what Baccha thought of Moriya and them for withholding that knowledge when he was sent on the mission. “I admit I have trouble believing a family of khimaer managed to hide in Myre for all these years without any of your help. I’ve pondered this as I made my way north to make my report. How would they ensure their bloodline remained strong?”
Finally the striking, red-eyed Elderi seated to Ysai’s right, Arsa, spoke: “We know of a few families hiding in Myre. The Nbaltir family were once invited to join us here, but wanted to remain in Myre. Instead their children may train here for some years.”
“Did you know the King was from that family when you sent me to Ternain?”
This time it was Ysai who answered: “Moriya only learned of the King’s true identity shortly after you left.”
How could she have stumbled upon that secret here? His bafflement must have shown on his face, because Ysai added, “She learned this from one of our sources in Ternain. You remember Sarou?” Baccha nodded; the library apprentice had been his only companion until Eva came along. “Apparently the Sorceryn archive even their correspondence. She found an old letter from the King to a long-dead Sorceryn. It was all coded, of course, but she noted the strange symbol the King wrote alongside his name.”
“An iktar?” Baccha assumed the King must have felt certain no one in the capital would recognize the language. The letter must have been written years and years ago, when the King was still certain his identity was well hidden.
Ysai nodded. “Indeed. Moriya recognized it as the symbol of one of the families the Tribe has been in loose contact with.”
“Did Sarou share this with anyone besides Moriya?” Baccha asked. “The Princess believes whoever killed him must have learned that the King was khimaer. This could be how they discovered the truth.”