The Emperors Knife (49 page)

“You have done well, my son.” His father sounded proud. Sarmin smiled in Mesema's arms. “Now you must leave the Knife and join yourself.”

“I'm in the Knife?”

“You put yourself there today, as you put me there another day, when Eyul came into the sand-city. You don't know your power, but you will, in the years ahead…” Tahal's voice grew indistinct. Sarmin heard other voices and smelled incense and wine. He opened his eyes and looked up at Mesema's face. He touched her cheek, and she smiled through her tears.

“I didn't know if you would open your eyes again,” she said. Sarmin sat up and looked around the room. He'd erased the marks from his courtiers—perhaps he had erased all the marks? He would know soon enough. He stood, feeling the power of those extra lives running through his veins and in his mind. He looked at the man at the bottom of the dais,

someone he hadn't noticed before. “What is your name?”

“Azeem, Your Majesty.”

“Azeem, send for Govnan in the Tower. There is much to discuss. And bring my mother to attend me.”

Azeem bowed and withdrew.

And Sarmin settled into his throne.

†

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my agent, Ian Drury, for believing in this book, and Jo Fletcher, for taking a chance on it.

I'm thrilled Night Shade Books is my U.S. publisher and grateful for Ross Lockhart's patient support. Thanks to Allan Kausch for his careful eye, Amy Popovich for her beautiful work, and David Senior for his remarkable map.

Thanks to everyone at Quercus, Jo Fletcher Books, and Night Shade Books who completed tasks both small and large to get
The Emperor's Knife
ready for publication.

The story of Sarmin and Mesema

continues in

KNIFE-SWORN

Book Two of Tower and Knife