the cities on the borders. And most roads—along with the trade they brought—took a central route through the region instead of crossing Parsathean or Farian territory, so the merchants of Ephorn bought from foreign traders on the cheap and sold their wares to the other realms at a profit.
But perhaps they called that the goddess’s favor, too.
Maddek passed through the citadel’s inner gates and dismounted at the base of the Tower of the Moon—the tallest of the four great towers within the fortress. With sheer walls of seamless white marble topped by a sapphire spire that pierced the sky, the tower had served as the royal keep until the Destroyer had slaughtered the royal family. Afterward, though many nobles still lived, no one had taken the king’s place on the throne. Instead the city had come under the protection of the Court of Muda and the fortress became the seat of the Great Alliance.
Here Maddek would find the answers he sought.
He glanced over at Kelir, who still sat on his horse. The big warrior’s head was tilted far back as he took in the height of the tower.
A doleful expression settled over Kelir’s scarred features when he noted Maddek’s gaze upon him. “I have held the tales of Ran Bantik close to my heart since I was a boy. One day, I would have told them to my own children. But now I know them all to be false.”
Tales of the legendary thief-king of Parsathe, who had long ago united the tribes that rode the Burning Plains. “Why false?”
“No one could have scaled those walls to steal the pearl from Ephorn’s crown. Easier to scale a wall of greased steel.”
“So it would be. But a man does not become a legend by performing feats that others deem easy,” Maddek said.
“Climbing that wall would not be difficult. It would be impossible.”
Maddek agreed. But a man also did not become a legend by doing what others deemed possible. “Is the feat not as impressive if he climbed the stairs?”
“How can it be? Shall I tell my children how Ran Bantik gasped for breath when he reached the top? Shall I describe how he must have clutched his burning chest as he stole the pearl?”
“If Commander Maddek were to race to the upper chambers, he would not be gasping for breath—and neither would I.” This came from Ardyl, who had also dismounted and now looked up at Kelir with a frown creasing her black-painted brow. “Perhaps if you more often ran beside your horse instead of always sitting on him, you could also reach the top unwinded.”
Kelir looked to Maddek as if for help, but Maddek had none to offer. Instead he could only laugh his agreement. Kelir’s saddle would wear thin before his boots ever did.
“When I see the keep, I do not think of Ran Bantik,” Ardyl added as she took Maddek’s reins. The warriors would not accompany him inside but would remain in the courtyard with the horses. “Instead I wonder what sort of fools the royal family must have been. They built a majestic tower honoring the moon goddess, though it is by Muda’s favor that they all prosper.”
“What insult could that be?” Kelir frowned at her. “Vela gave birth to Muda. What daughter would not see her mother honored?”
Ardyl’s response was a glance at the silent warrior mounted a few paces behind him. Danoh’s feud with her mother was almost as legendary as any thief-king. Many Parsatheans claimed the only time they’d ever heard Danoh speak was when she yelled at the older woman.
Grinning, Kelir bowed his head to acknowledge Ardyl’s point.
Movement on the tower steps drew Maddek’s attention. A seneschal in blue robes approached—a wiry Tolehi man with shaved head and pursed lips.
Omer. Maddek knew him well. He’d first met the seneschal as a boy, visiting the tower while his parents spoke to the council. He’d spent a full morning in an antechamber with Omer watching him as an antelope watches a drepa—with trembling limbs and pounding heart, fearing the raptor’s sickle claw that would spill steaming innards to the ground.
Though a sickle claw from Maddek’s first drepa hunt had already hung from the leather thong around his throat, he hadn’t spilled the Tolehi man’s innards. Instead he’d eaten his way through a platter of roasted boa.
Maddek had pleasant memories of that morning, and of every meeting since. Even if the seneschal did not.
“Commander Maddek.” Omer imperiously swept his hand toward the tower entrance. “The council is