was a good man, stalwart and loyal, but he had a very low tolerance for risk. Pointless to argue with him over this. “Take care of her.”
Rael bowed and Kal started for the castle, a small catar of guards accompanying him for the show of it. He skirted his own property, glancing up when he passed Ily’s window. Dim light shone through the curtains and high windows. Tomorrow she planned to work until evening. The next day, he would take her to Nira and then he’d know whether he’d misjudged her.
* * *
The emperor was a young man, not yet twenty, but he showed great promise. Kal might have looked to him for help if he’d been just a few years older or his position within the court more secure. None of the families would attempt to remove the emperor, of course. The position carried with it a great deal of tedious responsibility and very little by way of compensation. And there were far easier ways to handle a weak ruler. Wealth ruled Saria—the merchants who controlled the trade routes and the guild who produced the finest crafts available to the known world.
The most powerful men and women were gathered at the palace tonight for the festival of the blind god. Ily was right about that, few aristos would miss a chance to shake off the fetters of morality. The gathered crowd was particularly enthusiastic and the masters Haran had engaged for the occasion had outdone themselves.
The passageway leading into the garden was lined with great stone pillars supporting an arched roof inset with glass panels. The glass mimicked the night sky, velvety black and set with unnaturally bright stars to light the path. Kal paused beside his family’s crest, wondering why his alone was white. As soon as his fingertips touched the stone, color leached from the point of contact like dye dropped in water. He smiled as the great dragon turned the vibrant red that was the favored color of house Azi.
Clever boy. An emperor who could flatter, entertain and reinforce the importance of obedience might just manage to hold on to the reins. Kal glanced up and down the corridor. He was last to arrive. That, too, would surely be noted.
Funny, he reflected as he stepped into the midnight gardens and inhaled the fragrance of night-blooming Jemras mixed with incense from the torches. He’d always particularly enjoyed this celebration. Tonight, he found himself calculating how long he was obliged to stay before he could return home.
Haran sat in state on a dais constructed for the occasion. Jilar, his advisor, stood at his right hand as always, watching the proceedings with an air of amused condescension. Jilar’s restless gaze paused on Kal and he inclined his head in what was—for the lion—a gesture of tremendous respect.
More than one person turned their heads to see who was so honored, the guildmaster among them. Lanel Hasson was still a robust man despite his years. His black hair was spiced with gray but when he rose and began to make his way toward Kal, he moved with the grace and purpose of a man in his prime. Kal accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and waited for the guildmaster to approach.
Ily feared this man and the guild because of him. The guild should protect her. Kal thought that a large part of her disdain for the aristos—for anyone in power—arose from her time spent at the University. Over the course of these last few weeks, Ily had let him in to her mind and body in the most intimate of ways, but still she kept the reason for her fear from him. Because of the man walking toward him now.
Kal had always disliked and mistrusted the guildmaster. The rage that swept over him now took him by surprise. Deliberately, he forced his fingers to ease their grip on the fragile goblet he brought to his lips. He forced his muscles to remain fluid and raised his brows in mild curiosity as Lanel stopped before him.
Lanel’s mouth tightened in what passed for a smile. “I understand you’ve hired my
Rael bowed and Kal started for the castle, a small catar of guards accompanying him for the show of it. He skirted his own property, glancing up when he passed Ily’s window. Dim light shone through the curtains and high windows. Tomorrow she planned to work until evening. The next day, he would take her to Nira and then he’d know whether he’d misjudged her.
* * *
The emperor was a young man, not yet twenty, but he showed great promise. Kal might have looked to him for help if he’d been just a few years older or his position within the court more secure. None of the families would attempt to remove the emperor, of course. The position carried with it a great deal of tedious responsibility and very little by way of compensation. And there were far easier ways to handle a weak ruler. Wealth ruled Saria—the merchants who controlled the trade routes and the guild who produced the finest crafts available to the known world.
The most powerful men and women were gathered at the palace tonight for the festival of the blind god. Ily was right about that, few aristos would miss a chance to shake off the fetters of morality. The gathered crowd was particularly enthusiastic and the masters Haran had engaged for the occasion had outdone themselves.
The passageway leading into the garden was lined with great stone pillars supporting an arched roof inset with glass panels. The glass mimicked the night sky, velvety black and set with unnaturally bright stars to light the path. Kal paused beside his family’s crest, wondering why his alone was white. As soon as his fingertips touched the stone, color leached from the point of contact like dye dropped in water. He smiled as the great dragon turned the vibrant red that was the favored color of house Azi.
Clever boy. An emperor who could flatter, entertain and reinforce the importance of obedience might just manage to hold on to the reins. Kal glanced up and down the corridor. He was last to arrive. That, too, would surely be noted.
Funny, he reflected as he stepped into the midnight gardens and inhaled the fragrance of night-blooming Jemras mixed with incense from the torches. He’d always particularly enjoyed this celebration. Tonight, he found himself calculating how long he was obliged to stay before he could return home.
Haran sat in state on a dais constructed for the occasion. Jilar, his advisor, stood at his right hand as always, watching the proceedings with an air of amused condescension. Jilar’s restless gaze paused on Kal and he inclined his head in what was—for the lion—a gesture of tremendous respect.
More than one person turned their heads to see who was so honored, the guildmaster among them. Lanel Hasson was still a robust man despite his years. His black hair was spiced with gray but when he rose and began to make his way toward Kal, he moved with the grace and purpose of a man in his prime. Kal accepted a glass of wine from a passing servant and waited for the guildmaster to approach.
Ily feared this man and the guild because of him. The guild should protect her. Kal thought that a large part of her disdain for the aristos—for anyone in power—arose from her time spent at the University. Over the course of these last few weeks, Ily had let him in to her mind and body in the most intimate of ways, but still she kept the reason for her fear from him. Because of the man walking toward him now.
Kal had always disliked and mistrusted the guildmaster. The rage that swept over him now took him by surprise. Deliberately, he forced his fingers to ease their grip on the fragile goblet he brought to his lips. He forced his muscles to remain fluid and raised his brows in mild curiosity as Lanel stopped before him.
Lanel’s mouth tightened in what passed for a smile. “I understand you’ve hired my
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