human to a kehok. He’d never heard of such a thing, and he’d studied plenty of old legends. But if it was possible . . .
He heard a clattering from below him and didn’t move.
Puffing, Yorbel hauled himself onto the roof. He hiked up his robes with one hand, and he climbed painstakingly slowly with the other.
“It’s not that steep,” Dar said.
“Apparently I’m that old,” Yorbel said.
Dar snorted.
“May I ask why you requested my presence here, Your Excellence?” Yorbel sounded a touch exasperated, which was amusing since the augur was normally unflappably calm. He lowered himself to sit beside Dar.
“Spies can’t hear us. Plus, great view.” Leaning back, Dar pointed at a trio of stars. “Look, the ears and nose of the Jackal. Always rises in flood season.”
“Very nice.”
“You’re in a foul mood tonight, Yorbel.”
“And you’re in a surprisingly good mood. Your racer nearly lost.”
True. “But she didn’t.” He’d seen the way she’d pulled herself out of a slow start. He’d also seen the hiccup near the end, but the fact that she could overcome a bad beginning spoke well. A lot of riders would have folded after that. And the way she attacked those turns!
“Spared by a technicality.”
“You watched the race?” He’d thought that Yorbel had washed his hands of the whole business after he reported on the poor performance of the supposedly top-notch trainer and rider that Dar had called in. He’d delivered that news with the air of a man who had had enough, and Dar had been content to let him return to his cocoon of a temple.
“From a distance.”
“You should have joined us. Lady Nori would have been happy to see you.” He’d been lucky enough to have her with him in the stands, even if he hadn’t been able to explain to her why he’d cared about winning so badly.
Yorbel was silent for a moment. “I hadn’t planned to watch it at all. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It. The race, I mean. Sneaked out of the temple like I was a recalcitrant schoolboy.”
Dar laughed at that image. It felt good to laugh. He hadn’t done enough of that lately. He wondered who the “her” was. The rider? That was the “her” he couldn’t get out of his head. She’d given him hope, in a way no one else had. He thought hope had died with his brother. “Yorbel . . . the victory charm used on the winning kehok. How was it created?”
“Only the high augurs are privy to that secret,” Yorbel said, “if it hasn’t been lost to history. The victory charm was made many centuries ago.”
“And there is only the one? Because it was such a difficult process?”
“Very arduous. The sacrifices to the souls of the augurs who created it . . . As students, we used to speculate on it, and we were always told that the truth of it defied imagining.”
“Do you know of any other charms that we ever made? To influence how a soul is reborn?” Even though he knew the dome was safe, Dar kept his voice low.
“You are talking sacrilege, Dar,” Yorbel said, equally quietly. “The fate of a soul is sacred. To interfere . . . Hush, and never speak of this again.”
“I don’t wish to do it,” Dar said. “I want to know if it could have been done. If it has been done. To Zarin.”
“Impossible.”
“Why? The victory charm exists.”
“As I told you, the cost—”
“Emperors have enemies,” Dar said. “Becar itself has enemies. Some who might be willing to pay any price to see the empire fall, to see my family fail.” He thought of Ranir to the south, who had been nipping at their borders for centuries, and of Khemia to the west, who had had their own political unrest recently. Any of their neighbors would be happy to consume the Becaran Empire, if it were to weaken. Plus there were closer-to-home enemies, rival houses who would sacrifice much to see their own lineage on the throne. He could conceive of at least a half-dozen suspects without even trying, and there were undoubtedly more enemies he was unaware of. It was, frankly, exhausting.
“No augur would consent to make such a charm,” Yorbel said. “It wouldn’t matter what someone was willing to pay. We know the value of our souls.”
“But it could be done,” Dar said. “The knowledge exists.”
“I don’t know if it does or doesn’t.”
“But it might,” he pressed.
Yorbel looked as if he’d tasted a poisonous leaf. “It might. I