In the Shadow of Swords (35 page)

HE LOOKED UP.

Only a trace of silver remained as the moon Isíll waned in the evening sky. Cencova sat on the highest tier of stone steps that surrounded a wide reflecting pool. This place had always brought him a sense of calm. He came here whenever his life seemed to be headed in a direction that required reflection and solitude. Had it really been only a year? Each new season had marked a change.

Tomorrow, the sun would shine and new life would stir. Cencova did not know what the future would bring, but he was glad this struggle was nearing its end. He was eager to see Marin Altaïr once again, but it would have to wait.

She was somewhere in Qatana. He hoped she was safe. Her plan to use the books as a bargaining chip to lead Ciris Sarn and Prince Malek out into the open was admirable, but Cencova knew Marin Altaïr well. He knew that if she could lure Sarn out, she would kill him.

Cencova had warned her that the books must not come into Prince Malek’s possession. It was plain Ciris Sarn would attempt to retrieve the books for Fajeer Dassai, with the purpose of continuing the lie. Cencova believed that Dassai’s meeting with the
majals
was further proof of a conspiracy. It had nearly succeeded.

Prince Nasir had gone back into hiding. It was still uncertain what the consequences of Dassai’s deception would be; therefore Nasir had slipped away shortly after Dassai uttered his last word. He’d told Munif where he could be found and then was gone.

Pavanan Munif, a man whose loyalty had been questioned, had proved in the end to be true. At first blamed for the failure in Tivisis, he’d ultimately prevented Fajeer Dassai’s plot from succeeding. Cencova had no doubt that, had Dassai won his gamble, he and Prince Malek he would have run Qatana into ruin.

The Books of Promise remained a secret from the world.

Cencova knew the heart of the secret was contained in the fifth book. The greatest lie ever—

No. Too many lives were at stake—including Marin’s. Whatever it was, opposing forces would do everything possible to keep it hidden. They would stop at nothing.

Perhaps that was for the best.

Although Cencova was proud of the stand he’d taken, he harbored serious reservations. The damage was already far-reaching, and he doubted it could be reversed. Now there was doubt where none had been before. Fajeer Dassai had been a clever schemer, true enough, but how could Dassai’s plot to remove the Sultan have even happened? Why had his greed not been squelched? Could it occur again with someone else? The effects of his actions would linger—and it would be some time before all was right again.

“I thought I might find you here,” a soft voice whispered.

Jolted from his thoughts, Cencova leapt out of his seat, nearly falling headlong down the rows of stone steps. A hand reached out and steadied him. Cencova turned to see Nasir standing at his side, his expression serious.

“Nothing is yet decided?” Nasir sat down beside him.

“Not yet,” Cencova said. “The
siris
will seek out any who shared Fajeer’s views.”

“And what is to become of Pavanan Munif?”

“He has proved both capable and loyal in the highest degree. Should he wish to remain, no one will prevent him.”

“Good,” Nasir said.

Cencova sighed. “I blame myself for failing to see through the false accusations that shadowed him for so long.”

“Don’t let it bother you.” Nasir laid his hand gently on the elder man’s shoulder. Then he stood. “Well it is goodbye for now, I must leave for Tivisis. We will speak again soon. I wish you the best in all of your efforts.”

“I wish the same for you,” Cencova said.

21

EVENING APPROACHED.

The first sun had dropped just below the highest peaks of the Soller Mountains, a cauldron of molten gold beneath dark gray clouds. The air cooled quickly as the afternoon faded into night. It would be weeks before the spring weather gave way to summer. People still wore warm garb as they wandered about the city of Cievv.

Ilss Cencova left his home and entered the city to dine with Pavanan Munif. The afternoon session of the Rassan Majalis had just ended, and he watched as robed and cloaked figures returned, scurrying in different directions. He was in awe of how they’d managed to come together and make swift, precise decisions.

Despite this, he felt sullen. He hoped to see Marin soon. A wave of guilt passed over him as he remembered the murder of her husband. Cencova had watched as Marin fell into a grief so deep he thought nothing would ever pull her out of it, and devoted her life to the sole purpose of exacting revenge on the assassin who’d killed her husband. She was like a star that shone too brightly and quickly burned out from within. She cared for nothing in the world except the death of a single man; she didn’t even care for herself.

He was never certain if he’d made the right decision to send her away, but in the end he’d let her go. He felt that she needed to go in order to save herself. Perhaps she had.

The random slaughter was both cruel and brilliant. Fajeer Dassai had known exactly what he was doing by creating terror among the people. Still, Cencova shuddered when he considered the manner in which Dassai had pursued his goals.
Why are the innocent always the victims?
He knew the answer as soon as the
question came to him:
Because it was the easiest course to take—and one that would have the greatest effect upon others
.

He found Munif already seated at the coffeehouse. Cencova was saddened to think that he’d once doubted the man. He wondered where they would all be now if he’d allowed himself to be guided by his intuition and dismissed the charge against Munif. Perhaps he would have discovered Dassai sooner, and the events that followed could have been prevented.

In reality, he knew that this would not have stopped those who were corrupted by power. It was useless to wonder at all the possibilities. Heartache and turmoil were behind them, and it was time for Cencova to move on. He was unsure of what he would be moving on to, but he would cope with it as it came.

The same could be said for Pavanan Munif who had, at last, bested Fajeer Dassai. Cencova sat across from him, still struggling with emotion.

“Do not be so downcast, Ilss. My face will heal.” Munif grinned.

Cencova laughed, his mood lightening immediately. “Of course it will.”

“I hope you feel better, now that this is over.”

“I am sorry not to have trusted you from the beginning. I have no excuse.” Cencova shook his head sadly.

“Ilss, stop it! It’s not going to help if you let this dominate your thoughts. Fajeer is dead.”

“You’re right… and I know. Still, it’s a weakness of mine.”

“It’s understandable. There were so many webs of deception—you could not possibly have been expected to be certain which of us had been turned. When such news comes through distant sources, it becomes even more confusing, I’m sure. Don’t worry any longer. I would have done the same thing if I had been in your place.” Munif leaned forward. “There’s another thing to consider. Ciris Sarn’s role in all this.”

Cencova had to consider that. How much did Sarn actuallyknow about what was happening? Did he have any clue as to what Dassai had been perpetrating—or was he merely another pawn in the game? Cencova suspected the latter. Although he did not know Sarn personally, he knew the man was intelligent enough to avoid being taken in by deception. And if he did realize what was happening, he would demand a much higher price. Cencova suspected that this was the case with Sarn.

A life wasted
.

“I wonder about this myself,” Cencova said, pressing his fingers together under his chin. This familiar gesture seemed to comfort Munif, and he leaned back in his chair. “It would not surprise me to learn that Fajeer tapped Ciris Sarn to kill Prince Malek and the Sultan as part of his plan. A bit of blackmail, if you will.”

“So the
Kingslayer
is innocent?” Munif asked.

“A man like him is never totally innocent, but something like that.”

“It’s possible. I guess,” Munif said. “But Sarn will execute Fajeer’s orders only if in the end it serves his purpose.”

“True. Killing the Sultan may give Ciris Sarn his freedom. Perhaps then he will disappear, never to be seen again.”

“Unless Marin finds him first.”

Cencova fell silent, his thoughts turning toward Marin.

22

DONNÒ GALLIRESSE WAITED.

He crouched in a narrow passage off the Royal Road in the Gardens Quarter of Tivisis, away from the prying eyes of passersby and the ill-fated lovers who rendezvoused amid the shadows.

He wasn’t sure why he thought of fate now; he’d always believed himself to be a rational man. Yet here he was, soon to have a direct role in the way it acted on the world. Galliresse stillcouldn’t fully believe what he’d been told, what he must now do. Fate had turned her head, and justice must be done.

“You alone?” a gruff voice asked behind him.

Galliresse nodded.

“Here is the official sanction,” the man said, setting the letter in Galliresse’s hand. “I’m to make sure you acknowledge the bearer’s authority.”

Galliresse broke the seal and unrolled the parchment. As he read, his eyes narrowed and he sucked in his breath. Though he’d known what the letter decreed, he gasped at the enormity of it.

“He is at the Hajjirin Masjid. In the library. Make sure he is dead.”

Galliresse was still shaken. Over the past few weeks, his appetite dissapeared and he’d become frail. Galliresse was a shell of a man, gaunt and hollow. He knew that they would take action because of his failures. Eventually they would seek him out. All his thoughts were consumed by this reality. They would make him carry out the task himself, just to prove his worthiness.

Could he really do it?
I am no assassin
.

Galliresse was trapped in a maze of lies and deceptions woven by others. He had no control over the outcome. The way was chosen for him.

“Yes, I know how this works. I have signed such orders myself.” It was unlike Galliresse to lose his temper or his faith; and right now he was dangerously close to losing both. He felt the heat rising in his face, but he was not afraid.

Galliresse heard the man behind him cough and then ask, “Do you not believe? I sense some doubt in this. We have provided you with the truth. If you cannot carry out your duty, tell me now. The King in Givenh and the Rassan Majalis will find another to take your stead.”

The words hit Galliresse hard, and he felt his jaw clench. Doubt had managed to get the better of him. Again. “No. If it must be done… it will. And it will be done by me,” he said.

“Think very carefully about what you are planning to do. We know the struggle that must be going on between your head and your heart. But you cannot falter in this. Our future, yours, mine, the citizens of Tivisis, and all Mirani depend on it. Do not let your legacy go to waste.”

“I… understand…” Galliresse’s words trailed off, leaving him alone with his thoughts. For all he knew, the messenger would soon be his executioner. “It will be done tonight.”

“Very good,” the man said. “Meet me back here at midnight. Bring proof it has been finished.”

“I will,” Galliresse said.

23

THE LIBRARY was empty.

Prince Nasir sat on the soft cushions. A stack of books lay on the table before him. His mind was filled with trepidation; the return to Riyyal would be long and dangerous. But the treachery facing him after that would no doubt be even greater.

Though his father was ill, he still commanded considerable authority. His brother Malek would be difficult as well—Nasir’s hope rested in Marin and the others’ ability to stop him. But Nasir would bring an army along with the knowledge that would change the course of history, and right a wrong that had for too long been a burden upon his people and all others in Mir’aj. This knowledge would give him strength and carry him through to the end.

After visiting with Ilss Cencova, he’d left for Tivisis. Nasir needed to learn about the mistakes made in the city which led to the horrific events that followed. He hoped to speak with Donnò Galliresse—the Suffet of Tivisis, a man Nasir met a decade earlier. He wondered if Galliresse would remember the Prince. He wondered if Galliresse was still an honorable man. Afterward hewould leave for Nahkeel and there meet Pavanan Munif. It was good to have a friend to share the journey, and Pavanan was close to him now. He would need him again before long.

Their last conversation was still clear in his mind. “Get some rest,” he’d told Munif. “You are going to need it. We will wait in Janeirah for word of my brother’s fate. Regardless of whether he comes back, I will gather our allies to return to my home and face my father.”

“And if Malek is there?” Munif asked.

“If my brother is there, I will deal with him,” Nasir said.

Soon, for the first time in more than eight years, he would stand in his father’s presence. But not to kneel with tears on his cheeks in front of the frail old man. No—it be to see an injustice finally righted, to see his father one more time before he died.

Prince Nasir stood and sighed. He needed to feel the cool night air and clear his mind. As he moved past the table he stopped suddenly, startled by the sight of Donnò Galliresse standing close by. “Your Honor. What brings you here? This is a surprise.”

“No, it is me that is surprised, Prince Nasir. When I learned of your return, I did not think it possible and had to see you before my own eyes.” Galliresse’s frame partially blocked the exit, and Nasir was struck with instant foreboding.
Something troubles him, I can see it in his eyes. This—

Nasir saw the blade in Galliresse’s hand as he stepped forward, grim-faced. “I have no choice. Please forgive me.”

Nasir took a step backward, but it wasn’t enough.

Galliresse was on him quickly. The struggle was fierce but brief. Minutes later, Nasir was sitting upright in his chair, as still as a statue. His eyes were open, and his tongue lolled from his mouth. His pure white robe was splashed with red.