Tamra had seen her use. “At last,” Tamra murmured. Somehow, while she’d been worrying about attacks and sabotage, Raia had discovered something it often took riders years to discover: how to convert pain into power, and powerlessness into strength. “She’s going to win again.”
“How can you tell?” Lady Evara asked. “She’s not even at the turn!”
“She’ll win.”
“I’m placing another bet.”
By nightfall, the requested guards were waiting for them at the camp, along with Augur Yorbel, to Tamra’s surprise. He bowed to Raia. “Congratulations on your win today.”
“He ran fast,” Raia said modestly. “I just let him do what we both wanted to do.”
He waited while Tamra helped Raia secure the lion in his cage, and then she shooed Raia into the tent to bathe, eat, and sleep.
“So I’m fairly certain it was attempted murder,” Tamra said without preamble.
Yorbel startled. “You mean . . .”
“I’ve no proof, but thank you for the guards.”
“The emperor-to-be has enemies,” Yorbel said, considering it.
“So do I, apparently.” She told him about the trainer Limra. “I could, of course, just be paranoid. It would be an enormous risk to plan such a thing—the race commission will investigate, and if they find her guilty, she’ll be barred from racing for life. I can’t see how the risk would be worth the revenge, if her only motive was last year’s race.”
“She could have been hired by the emperor-to-be’s enemies, chosen because of her history with you.”
“Gold plus revenge?” Tamra nodded. It was plausible. “In that case, I’m doubly thankful for the loan of the guards.” The four soldiers from the palace had taken up position on each corner of the kehok cage. It was ostentatious, but hopefully, everyone would assume that the emperor-to-be was just overzealous about his return to racing and extra anxious after the incident in the stable. She doubted anyone would suspect the truth.
With a groan, she lowered herself onto the bench next their firepit. The fire was embers, so she tossed a log onto it. Flames shot up, and the fire ate at the edge of the bark.
Yorbel sat next to her. “My augur friends do not understand my obsession with this year’s races. Sometimes I don’t either. I cannot help but wonder if this is the best path.”
“She won again,” Tamra pointed out. “If she keeps this up, she’ll be in the championship race.”
He sighed. “I thought my involvement in this would be over by now.”
“I asked for guards,” Tamra said. “I didn’t ask for you.”
He laughed. “That was blunt. I know you didn’t. Dar requested I accompany the guards. He wants my assessment of the situation.”
“And your assessment is you don’t like lying to your friends, and you worry about whether this will work?” she guessed.
He stared into the flames, as if the tiny sparks of fire held the key to unanswered questions. “I have devoted my life to the study of ethics. Read countless volumes on morality and the betterment of the soul. Engaged in discussions with the wisest minds. Spent hours in contemplation. Only to face reality and be unsure if I have made the correct choices. Again and again, I find myself in situations where there are no good choices. How does one live a moral life and still live in reality?”
“You know, I never thought I’d be in a position of counseling an augur on morality, but here goes: You’re doing the best you can with the crappy dice you rolled. Sure, when the options are choose right from wrong, there’s an obvious way to act. But when the choices are just ‘better’ or ‘worse’?” She patted his knee. “You’re doing fine.”
He met her eyes, and a faint smile touched his lips. “Shockingly, that makes me feel better.”
“Frankly, I don’t worry about the state of my soul,” Tamra said. “I worry about whether the ones I love are safe and happy. What happens to me after I’m dead . . . I won’t remember who I was or anything in this life, so what does it matter?”
“You would give my colleagues fits if you said that to them,” Yorbel said.
Tamra massaged her neck. She’d been tense all day, and her muscles were aching as punishment. “You’re not having fits.”
“Inside I am screaming,” he said in a flat, calm voice.
She laughed. “Inside we all are.”
He laughed too, then said, “I have no idea why I’m laughing. That’s horrible.”
“Because it’s better than crying.” She thought of Shalla and hoped she was well and happy and not worrying about her mother.