Guns of the Temple (The Polaris Chronicles Book 1) (35 page)

She sauntered out of the chamber unbidden.

Amilia shook her head, rose from her throne, and dusted her robes off. She glanced at Taki and Hadassah. “I doubt the principality will return. In the meantime, I’d like a word with you, Cornet Natalis.”

“Your Grace.” Taki bowed deeply and tried to stifle his own trembling.
She wants to eliminate the evidence. Now is as good a time as any.
For once, he was glad that Hadassah was with him.
At least she’ll get axed too.

“There’ve been rumors of late,” Amilia said. “Idle slander that I seduced a young Polaris of the Temple and that, in a foolish attempt to gain my favor, the young man killed our former liege.”

“I know very little of these matters, Your Grace,” Taki said. He swallowed. Sweat droplets formed on his brow.

“As basileus, it is my sacred duty to uphold the law and bring justice to the murderer. If it so happened that an ambitious but misguided young man raised his hand against Niketas Palaiologos, then he should be hanged, drawn, and quartered, and his parts sent to all corners of the Dominion to serve as an example for traitors.”

Taki clenched his jaw. “Yes, Your Grace.”
This is the end.

“So you basically used him, and now you’re gonna turn him into wieners?” Hadassah said. “That’s pretty shitty of you.”

Amilia cracked her knuckles. “Were we not alone here, you’d be flogged to death for your insolence, girl.”

Hadassah seemed unfazed. “I just speak plainly, Your Grace.”

“Just consider yourself lucky to be beneath my notice. As for you, Cornet Natalis, perhaps I’ll speak plainly too. You’re becoming a liability. But, as your wench pointed out, it would be untoward of me to simply have you killed.”

“I’m
definitely
not his wench,” Hadassah said.

Taki coughed and sputtered. “What will happen to me, Your Grace?”

“The safest thing for both of us would be to cut out your tongue, have you branded on both cheeks, and sever your thumbs before depositing you on the Ursalan border. You’d avoid execution, in any case.”

Taki went pale. “P-please, Your Grace…”

“Luckily for you, another option has presented itself. For now, you’ll simply need to wait…and to not do anything stupid.”

Taki dug his nails into his palms. His knees wobbled, and he found it impossible to stand.

“I hope you understand my situation. I’m not a monster.” With that, Amilia rose from her seat and pointed to the door.

Taki lowered his head and stared at the tiles on the floor. They formed a mosaic of Orestes tormented by the Furies: punishment for the murder of his betters. And yet because the deed had been instigated by a god, Orestes had been unable to even take shelter in any temple. Until he’d made impossible amends, his fate was always to suffer. Rendered in exacting detail with tiny precious stones, the ancient hero’s face was caught in an eternal scream.

Hecaton stood at the highest point of the Mitripoli, letting the wind whip her hair into disarray. Her prayer robes had been dumped on to a beggar in a side alley, and now she sported a gold-accented tunic that she’d swiped from Amilia’s chambers. Wearing it was treason, but edicts were meaningless atop the fort’s steeple. Athenaeum also smelled slightly better where she was.

“
Udaan uulzsangui shuu, Sirin,
” Chronicler said. He perched on a buttress nearby, just out of arm’s reach.

Hecaton tensed for a moment to hear her sworn nemesis speak her truest of names. Had anyone else addressed her with such familiarity—such intimacy—she’d have struck him down where he stood. Chronicler, however, was no stranger. She let out a sigh of resignation and continued to stare out over the city. Of the two of them, Chronicler was always the more physical, and trying to run from him would only result in more taunting. It was always better to cut the man down with words, anyway.

“I’ve made precious few mistakes in my life, Shastirch,” Hecaton said, using the name deepest-graven on Chronicler’s heart. “But marrying you was the worst by far.”

“Have a care for my health, Sirin. Setting my heart aflutter like that is bad for my qi.”

“Aren’t you a little old to be scrambling on the rooftops like some idiotic basang?”

“The same could be said for you. That gray hair of yours is far too dignified. A head of shocking pink might fit better.”

“You looked better wearing it, Shastirch
.
Now, are you done wasting my time, or have you come for some sort of useful purpose?”

Chronicler blinked. “Actually, I just wanted to talk you again. In person. Without the inconvenient need to slaughter each other on sight.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Hecaton said. “Aren’t you sick of my face?”

“Do you know how many years I searched for you? How many years of humiliation I had to endure for mere fleeting glimpses and missed chances?”

“You brought that on yourself. I never wanted you to come after me. Our romance was over a long time ago.”

Chronicler laughed. “It wasn’t out of sentimentality, I assure you. I wanted to take you back to the Ring for judgment. But now, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“I had my reasons. And I find it hard to believe the Sarang would allow you to abscond simply to look for me.”

“Perhaps I wished to escape my service as well.”

“Then we’re both traitors without any right to return.”

“So, what do you plan to do from now on, Sirin? Continue being a sellsword?”

“I’m thinking about carving out a swath of land for my own. You know, crown upon a troubled brow and all that. If you wish, you can be my consort. But no sex. I’m too dried out for that.”

Chronicler laughed. “The offer sounds tempting, though I know you are merely mocking me.”

“I really wasn’t. How about you, Shastirch? Will you continue to be the padishah’s dogsbody until senility?”

“I like to be on the winning side. And I have no intention of staying as a dogsbody.”

“Hah! Now, that’s the man I once knew. So when are you planning to assassinate your master?”

Chronicler shrugged. “I wasn’t. I find him fascinating. He’s certainly charismatic, as far as centuries-old demons go. He was actually around during the Fall, you know. Now he feels like it’s his responsibility to lift mankind from the ashes. Through conquest, of course.”

“Come, Shastirch, you’re not saying you believe in his cause? World domination? How
trite
.”

“It’s not trite when he has the power to actually achieve his goal.” Chronicler’s eyes flitted from side to side. “He’s set his sights on the Ring, and I intend to help him take it. Against his armies, even a thousand twice born don’t stand a chance. And again, I want to be on the winning side.”

Hecaton glowered. “What did he promise you in exchange for betraying our home?”

Chronicler shook his head. “I want to save it. I will rule in his stead there and make sure that what happened to us never happens to others.”

“So, a dogsbody to the end.”

“Call it what you want. I’ll ask you one final time, Sirin. Will you join me and bring order to the Ring?”

Hecaton turned away. “No. You embark on a fool’s journey. Try not to die on the way.”

“The same to you, my dear. I advise you not to get in my way.”

With that, Chronicler leapt off the top of the steeple and was gone.