Part 26 (2/2)
”Tell Kheridh the truth,” Malaq instructed her. ”All of it.”
He waved the guards outside and followed them, resisting the urge to linger in the corridor and eavesdrop. When he returned a short while later, they were still standing opposite each other. The girl's face was swollen from crying, but Kheridh was pale and tight-lipped. As she turned to leave, he lifted his hand as if to touch her, but let it drop to his side.
When she left, he stalked into the garden. Malaq hesitated in the doorway, watching him gulp the night air like a drowning man.
Without turning, Kheridh asked, ”You knew?”
”That she was Xevhan's cat's-paw? Of course.”
”But you didn't tell me.”
”Would you have believed me if I had?”
Instead of answering, Kheridh said, ”The man who did this to her. Will he be punished?”
”No.”
”Because she's a slave.”
”Because the man who raped her was acting on Xevhan's orders.”
”And this, I suppose, is another lesson about the danger of being powerless.” At last, Kheridh turned. Moonlight made his face look as ghastly as a corpse's. ”What do you want?”
”I want to teach you. And learn from you.”
”To what end?” His voice cracked.
”Your gift is a wonder to me. Among our people, only the king, the queen, and the chief priests can access that power at will and only through the use of a drug called qiij. It frees the spirit while enslaving the body. I would free our people from this hunger.”
”You don't seem . . . hungry.”
”I use it rarely.”
”Did you use it to invade my dreams?”
”Yes.”
”Do you believe I'm the Son of Zhe?”
He should have suspected the girl would tell him of the prophecy. Hoping the darkness hid his surprise, he said, ”I don't know.”
”That's why I'm still alive?”
”It doesn't matter to me what you are.”
”But it matters to Xevhan. I didn't think he was that devout.”
”Xevhan is devoutly ambitious.”
”And what does he gain by proving I'm not the Son of Zhe?”
”The queen's approval.”
His eyes widened. ”She's behind this?”
”If you mean did she suggest that Hircha seduce you, no. But she wants to know the truth about you.”
”So do you. Isn't that why you sent the slaves to me after I spoke with the adders?”
”Yes.”
”So you and Xevhan aren't so different.”
”Believe that if you like. However, I've suggested to the queen that you are of value to us, regardless of your . . . paternity.”
”So if she thinks what I know outweighs who I am, she'll keep me alive.”
”That is my hope.”
Kheridh sank down on the bench. For a long while, he simply stared at the stone flags. When he raised his head, he looked utterly drained. ”There's no way I can win, is there? Some people want me dead. Others want me alive. I'm like . . . what's that game? With the ball?”
”Pelinq?”
”Aye. You're on one team. Xevhan's on the other. The queen watches from the seats. And I'm the ball kicked back and forth between the players.” His smile was bleak. ”The ball never wins.”
”Then be a player.”
”On your team.”
”Yes.”
”Even if the queen favors Xevhan's?”
”You could never join Xevhan.”
”Because of what he did to Hircha?”
”Because your spirit is clean and uncorrupted. Because you can fly with a bird for the sheer love of it, not for the power you gain over it. Because you are good.”
Kheridh took a long, shaking breath and buried his face in his hands. Malaq remained where he was, watching him fight for control. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were dry. ”Everything that happened . . .” His voice was a reedy whisper, as if all the life had been sucked out of him. ”I thought it was because I was bad.”
”No.”
His hands clenched and relaxed, then clenched again. ”I'll never go home again, will I?”
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