“Where is he, then? You people always have some excuse when you are about your thievery.”
Cautiously I shift my head but do not otherwise move. Partway down the path two priest-wardens confront General Inarsis. One carries a lamp and the other holds an edged staff. Inarsis stands with arms at his sides and palms forward in a posture I often see Commoner men using to display that they are harmless.
“My apologies, Your Holinesses. He is taking a piss.”
A hand brushes my arm so unexpectedly I flinch. Kalliarkos rolls up alongside me.
He’s here! He didn’t abandon me.
Such a wave of relief hits me that I press my face into his shoulder for comfort. His fingers tangle in mine, our hands warm against each other.
He whispers, “I heard you shouting. I was afraid something was wrong so we pulled up the rope so I could come in after you. Then the wardens came. I have to interrupt them before they arrest Inarsis.”
I shudder, and his hand tightens reassuringly on mine. “They are alive but we have to get them out fast. The food and drink is poisoned.”
An exhalation of shock gusts from him. “Blasphemy upon blasphemy!”
“My mother won’t fit through the shaft,” I add. “We have to find another way to get her and Cook out. That day you followed me to the Ribbon Market there was a young man arrested. He was taken to the king’s prison. His sister, Coriander, is one of our servants. She is trapped inside too. She claims her brother knows people who can break into the tomb. You have to get him out of prison and see if it’s true.”
“How can I get a man out of the king’s prison?” he hisses. He sounds angry. “I can’t just walk in and demand they free him.”
“Of course you can. You’re a prince. Act like one.”
“You think it’s so easy just because of my birth? Everything I do is watched and measured.”
“What are you really afraid of?” I retort, made bold by the intimacy of him lying against me exactly as if we were lovers. The night, the danger, and our desperation make our closeness sharp and vivid.
“Of becoming like them,” he whispers, his tone so dark it makes me shiver.
“You aren’t like them because we are already fighting back.”
My fingers brush the bare skin of his neck and the lobe of his ear. A spark of pure sensation flashes through my body like a wave off the sea breaking over me.
He sucks in a breath. “Jes!”
“Go!” I say. “The Rings are opening. The time is now. If you need more help seek a man named Polodos at the Least-Hill Inn.”
Below, the lamp-warden booms a command. “You are under arrest for trespassing in the City of the Dead with the intention of desecrating a holy tomb. If you come quietly you’ll be given the mercy of a quick execution rather than torture.”
“I will return, I promise you on my honor as a man,” murmurs Kalliarkos against my cheek. “The rope and harness are up here on the roof. The clothing and jug are below. Wait for me.”
When he releases my hand my fingers feel so empty. He drops off the edge and hits with a loud-enough thump that the wardens exclaim. A moment later he appears on the other side of the tomb, walking with the knowledge that the world must give way before him. Both wardens make a deep obeisance.
“What trouble are you giving my servant?” Kalliarkos demands.
“My lord, criminals and troublemakers set a fire on the far side of the tombs. We are commanded to sweep everyone out while we search for the culprits. Our apologies, my lord.”
“Good Goat! Are you saying I am not safe here among the holy dead? Have you wardens shirked your duties?” His tone so closely matches that of the Angry Prince in The Hide of the Ox that I wonder if he is acting a part or if he has finally found his resolve.
For all Kalliarkos is a palace-born lord, the priests have their own authority separate from the court. “We must escort you to the gate, my lord, by order of our superiors.”
“I am outraged by this interruption of my peaceful communion with the memory of a Fives adversary I have long admired and studied, for I must suppose you did not know Lord Ottonor was an Illustrious in his youth.” His curt disdain makes me smile.
He allows them to escort him and Inarsis away. Lamplight bobs out across the necropolis as the wardens trawl the grounds for interlopers. I stretch to ease the throbbing pain in my muscles. So much for my brilliant plan. I have to believe he will do as he promised. Yet the truth is that I trust him because of the way he snared my fingers in his. That is the worst reason of all to trust, but my bitter heart will not stop singing its recklessly giddy song.
