Two

 

Well before dawn, Graciella stood in her farmhouse’s small kitchen kneading the dough for cinnamon-raisin bread in her strong, practiced hands, while the rest of the cottage’s inhabitants still slept. She had arranged her long dark hair in a single braid down her back, donned her plain muslin dress and apron, pushed the sleeves back, and set to work. The first batch of sourdough was already baking in the oven.

Elio appeared from around the corner, dressed for farm work. “Morning, sister. Is there hot water for tea?”

“Yes, ready in the kettle.”

He inhaled blissfully. “How long for the bread to come out of the oven?”

“Only a few minutes.” She smiled.

“I love bread-baking day.” Elio hugged her into his side and planted a brotherly peck on top of her head. He poured a splash of cream into his tea and stirred it. “Sister, are you happy living here at the farm? In general, I mean?”

“I suppose so. I don’t want to live here forever, though.”

Elio sipped his tea thoughtfully. “Farm life isn’t your first choice, is it?”

“No, but I’m thankful we have this farm.”

“I am as well, but…” He trailed off.

“But you’re thinking of giving up the farm?”

Elio sighed. “No offense to our parents, Gods rest their souls, but my heart is with Solange, and I want to be with her full-time, sharing her company, protecting her, being there for her when she needs me.”

“I wish the Royal Council would allow her to marry you.” Graciella pulled the large tray of finished sourdough out of the oven, replacing it with a tray of unbaked loaves.

“Solange turns twenty in a few days. After that, she doesn’t need their approval. She can marry whomever she pleases.”

Graciella chuckled. “I think I know whom she pleases.”

Her brother smiled, then grew serious. “I want to ask her to marry me, but I’m afraid, Gracie.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid she’ll think I’m beneath her.”

“Solange adores you.”

“I know, but marriage is a different matter. I’m a farmer. She’s the queen.”

“Elio.” Graciella broke off a hunk of the steaming hot sourdough, put it on a plate, and handed it to him along with a knife and butter. “Solange is crazy about you. Has been for six years. I know she wants to marry you and is dying for you to ask.”

His eyes lit up. “She said that?”

“Not in so many words, but a girl can tell when another girl is madly in love with her brother.”

Elio took a bite of bread, then spoke with his mouth full. “You think I should propose, then?”

“Yes. Absolutely.” Graciella popped a small piece of bread into her mouth, savoring it. “Mm, perfect. I love sourdough.”

“Me too, and you make the best sourdough in the county, sweet sister of mine.” Elio ate another bite, then took a sip of tea. “Some lucky man is going to feast on this bounty when you marry someday. He’d better appreciate it, too.  If he doesn’t, I’ll rough him up for you.”

Graciella laughed. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary, but thank you, brother.”

“You’re welcome.” He wrapped the rest of his hunk of bread in a dishtowel. “I’ll be in the barn if you need me.”

§

Yavi tapped lightly on Yajna’s bedroom door. “Brother, it’s me,” he whispered loudly. “I need to discuss a matter with you and Jiandra this morning.”

“Go away, you annoying bastard!” came Yajna’s sleepy-grumpy reply.

“It’s urgent,” Yavi insisted. He heard what sounded like Jiandra arguing with his brother softly.

“All right, give us a moment,” Yajna called out.

Yavi leaned his back against the wall and waited until his brother came to the door. Finally Yajna opened it, wearing a robe, and motioned Yavi inside. Jiandra had also donned a robe over her nightgown and stood beside her husband with her arms hugged around herself, her expression one of concern.

Yavi stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. “I’ve been thinking what that prisoner Bindar said about Uman being tipped off about the caravan’s route by one of our palace servants.”

“Who’s Uman?” Jiandra asked.

“The bandit leader,” Yavi explained. “He’s apparently the one who planned the attack on our caravan. We killed him at the campsite.”

Yajna set his lips in a line. “So we have a traitor living here with us.”

Yavi looked at Jiandra. “Can you use the Omaja to find the informant for us, today if possible?”

She reached up to touch the blue stone. “Consider it done.”

“Bindar referred to the servant as ‘he,’ though we shouldn’t rule out anyone until we know for sure,” Yavi said.

“Agreed,” she replied. “I’ll find out who it is and report back to you immediately.”

Yavi nodded. “I’ll be in the courtyard sparring all morning.”

“Need to relieve some tension, brother?” Yajna teased, sliding his arms around his wife’s waist.

“Something like that. You should join me, work on your sloppy aim.”

Yajna gave him a meaningful grin. “My aim’s just fine.”

“Cocky bastard,” Yavi muttered, shaking his head.

§

Jiandra had already ruled out Liel the steward before heading upstairs to find Kitran. The washing girl was in Yavi’s quarters, stripping the sheets from his bed, when Jiandra came around the corner. Jiandra ducked out of sight behind the doorway, grasped the Omaja in her fist, and peeked around the corner. She focused Knowing on Kitran’s small frame.

Bodies were entangled, naked bodies, groaning and making love. Kitran pushed her gorgeous, muscular lover onto his back and climbed on top. Through Kitran’s eyes, Jiandra looked down at the man, and saw Yavi’s face looking up at her.

Yavi, take me! Kitran gasped, rubbing her pelvis against his.

Jiandra quickly shook her head to clear the scandalous scene. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, whether it had been a real event or just a fantasy on Kitran’s part. For the moment, she needed to get the girl’s mind off making love with Yavi if she was going to find out what she wanted to know. She stepped into the room, clearing her throat loudly.

Kitran whirled around, startled, and curtsied. “Your Highness!”

Jiandra smiled gently. She felt a little guilty for invading the girl’s privacy, and she certainly couldn’t blame her for what she was thinking about—after all, Jiandra was completely smitten with the other twin. “Good morning, Kitran. I have a question for you. Have you noticed any strangers around the palace in the past few days? Anyone looking for information, by chance?” She held onto the Omaja and focused Knowing again as she watched Kitran’s face.

Kitran blinked, looking puzzled. “No, Your Highness, I haven’t seen anyone like that.”

All Jiandra saw in the girl’s thoughts concerning her questions was a complete blank. And then Yavi’s handsome face reappeared, smirking. Blowing Kitran a kiss.

Jiandra shook off the vision. “All right. Thank you, Kitran. Back to work.”

Kitran curtsied again and turned to gather up an armful of sheets.

Jiandra headed down the large staircase, wondering if Yavi was trysting with the washing girl in real life. The possibility surprised Jiandra a little. He’d tearfully confessed to her and Yajna one night a few years ago after having a little too much wine that he had sworn off seducing women because of his guilt over Svana’s death at Gerynwid’s hands. No matter how much she and Yajna had tried to convince him that the Gerynwid’s own ravenous thirst for blood was the reason for Svana’s death, Yavi insisted otherwise, that Gerynwid perhaps wouldn’t have targeted the serving girl if the sorceress hadn’t been jealous of his attraction to Svana. Yavi felt he was being rightfully punished for the thoughtless way he had entered into romantic relationships up to then, and he’d sworn to Tejeshwar he would never seduce another innocent young woman. From everything Jiandra seen for the past six years, he’d kept that oath. He’d never shown any inclination toward the servant girls before, always seeming completely disinterested in any females in his vicinity as far as Jiandra could tell.

On the other hand, if Yavi was still as healthy and hot-blooded as Yajna, it was hard to imagine him staying celibate forever. And pretty, petite Kitran was definitely willing if he was, from the looks of it.

Jiandra stepped into the kitchen. Terijin was preparing a late lunch of lentil stew and boiled potatoes, and he looked up from his kettle when she entered.

“Good day, Your Highness.” He smiled, bowing. “Lunch will be ready in an hour.”

“Thank you, Terijin.” She quickly thought of an excuse for her visit. “Could I have a piece of the leftover bread from dinner last night to tide me over? I’m starved!”

“Of course, Your Highness.” He disappeared into the larder.

Jiandra seated herself at his worktable, quickly removed the Omaja from around her neck, and held it in her lap.

Terijin appeared with a stack of small, round, flat loaves wrapped in a cloth, then unwrapped them and picked up a knife to cut one of the loaves in half.

Jiandra focused Knowing, and the scenes came quickly. Terijin was speaking with someone outside the south gate, a shadowy figure wearing a hooded cloak. The cloaked person looked like a man, tall, with massive shoulders. He placed a hand on Terijin’s shoulder as they spoke.

Usurpers! Terijin said to his visitor. They’ll get what’s coming to them.

Jiandra saw Yavi and Yajna’s faces appear in Terijin’s thoughts, and through his eyes, they appeared to be grinning cockily, gloating over their newfound power in Nandala.

Terijin finished cutting the bread, placed it on a plate, then held up the knife. “Butter, Your Highness?”

Jiandra shook herself, realizing she was staring at his face too long. “Ah—yes, that would be lovely.”

His gaze dropped to her neckline, where the Omaja stone should have been hanging. His eyes widened, then he darted a glance to the side, as if looking for an escape route.

“Thank you for the bread,” Jiandra faked a warm, innocent smile and reached for the plate of bread with both hands, leaving the Omaja stone hidden in her skirt pocket.

He glanced at her hands, seeing they were empty. “Yes. I’ll—ah—fetch the butter right away, Your Highness.” He disappeared into the larder again, returning with a small container of butter. He set that down in front of her and hurried out of the kitchen toward his quarters.

Jiandra jumped up, replaced the chain of the Omaja around her neck, and ran out of the kitchen. She darted into the Great Hall and hurried to the back of the large chamber, and then followed the rear hallways out into the courtyard.

Yavi was vigorously driving his sparring partner back toward the portico, swinging his scimitars in well-synchronized slices back and forth.

Jiandra’s voice came out in an out-of-breath shout. “Yavi! Stop! It’s Terijin, and I think he’s planning to escape!”

Yavi turned to his sparring partner. “Farrin, alert the southern gate guard. Go!”

Jiandra followed Yavi into the palace, struggling to keep up with his long-legged sprint. He rushed through the Great Hall, through the kitchen, and into the cook’s quarters and found them empty. The back door to the outside was left open, and Yavi headed through it with Jiandra at his heels.

They rushed across the barren side yard, around the gardener’s hut, and headed for the southern gate. Two gate guards had caught Terijin there, the red-faced cook spitting curses angrily as he struggled to free himself from their grasp.

Guard Captain Harshad bowed to Yavi and Jiandra as they approached. “Emperor Yavi, Your Highness.” He nodded to his guards, and they shoved Terijin forward, then tossed a heavy money bag at the cook’s feet. The bag bore the royal ruby symbol of the emperor embroidered into the black velvet fabric. “We caught him trying to leave the palace grounds with this.”

Terijin again turned to flee, and Yavi leapt forward to catch him by the front of his vest.

“Easy there,” Yavi warned, raising him up on tiptoe. “Not so fast.”

Yajna appeared, out of breath from running to join them. “You betrayed us, Terijin?”

“You two are the traitors. Usurpers!”

“The House of Zulfikar ruled Nandala for centuries before Thakur’s grandfather took the throne,” Yajna retorted. “Thakur’s family were the usurpers.”

Yavi tightened his grip on the cook’s vest. “We trusted you, Terijin. Supplies were wasted, lives lost because of your treason. You will pay for this crime.”

“Do what you want with me. Uman will protect me.”

“Uman is dead,” Yavi grated.

“I doubt it,” Terijin laughed stiffly.

Yajna folded his arms across his chest. “The arrow I lodged in his throat last night would suggest otherwise.”

Yavi shoved the smirking cook back toward the guards. “Take this prisoner down to the dungeon until we decide what to do with him.”

Once the guards were out of earshot, Jiandra addressed the twins. “Why would Terijin think this Uman could protect him from the two of you?”

“The ravings of a lunatic.” Yavi scooped up the money bag and turned back toward the palace.

Jiandra and Yajna followed him inside. When they made their way to the lower levels and opened the palace’s vault to replace the money, they found two other large bags of coin missing as well. Jiandra’s heart sank. That money represented everything they had earned with last summer’s crops. Now they were starting from scratch again in rebuilding the palace savings.

“We’ll get that fool talking, find out where our coin went,” Yavi swore.

Yajna examined the lock on the door. “And how he was able to break in here.”

§

Jiandra, Kitran, and Shandri managed to put together a meal for the palace’s inhabitants that evening, but it was almost midnight before they were finished serving the meal, storing the leftovers in the larder, and cleaning up. Yavi and Yajna helped gather up the dishes and haul water in for washing them.

Jiandra pushed a stray strand of hair out of her flushed face as Yajna came in from dumping the last of the used dishwater over the palace’s vegetable garden outside. She placed her hands at the small of her back and leaned back in a stretch. “Whew. We have to get more organized in here tomorrow. That was a lot of work.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “You’re beautiful when you sweat, Lahdli,” he whispered near her ear.

Jiandra grimaced, then gave him a half-smile. “Thank you, but no, I’m not.”

“You are to me,” he insisted, grasping her waist and pulling her against his firm body.

“Brother,” Yavi interrupted from behind them, “if you’re finished flirting with your wife, I’d like you two to join me in my study upstairs for a few moments before you retire for the evening.”

Jiandra cleared her throat and backed away from Yajna, hiding a smile.

Yajna rolled his eyes and turned to face Yavi. “For your information, I’m not finished flirting with my wife.”

“Yes he is, Yavi. For now at least.” Jiandra chuckled as she noted Yajna’s feigned-hurt look. “I’m headed upstairs to get out of this bedraggled dress and clean up. I’ll meet you two in Yavi’s wing in half an hour.” She gave her husband a wink and left the kitchen.

As she sat in a shallow tub of tepid water in her own quarters, scrubbing away the day’s grime, she thought about their predicament of losing their cook as well as two large bags of coin from the palace treasury. Traitor though he might be, Terijin had been skilled at producing three meals for the entire palace on a daily basis, with only minimal help from the other servants. After tonight’s experience with dinner, she wondered how they were going to manage the kitchen without him.

With the treasury extremely low after his apparent theft, they would have a hard time paying the salary of a new cook. That person would have room and board, of course, but it was going to be difficult to find someone with Terijin’s level of skill who would be willing to work for free until they could complete fall harvest and sell another crop or two. And that was assuming the summer crops were successful, which wasn’t guaranteed.

There was a light tap at the door, and then a soft female voice called out to her. “Your Highness, a letter has arrived for you.”

“Very good, Shinza; you may slide it under the door, please,” Jiandra replied loudly.

There was the sound of parchment brushing against granite, and then Shinza’s footsteps retreated. Jiandra rose from her tub, dried on a towel, and wrapped herself in her robe. She slid her feet into her slippers and went to retrieve the folded parchment from the floor.

It was a letter from her sister, Gracie.

 

Dearest Jia, I have missed you terribly during the last few weeks. I miss you always, but it has been harder lately because I’ve been cooped up inside with the chilly weather, with nothing to do but clean and bake. Spring is almost here, however, and you promised to have me come to Nandala for a visit when the weather is warmer up there. I have saved up enough coin to pay my own coach fare, so just say the word, and I’ll be on my way.

 

Jiandra stopped reading and looked up. Why not have Gracie come to stay with them at the palace for a few weeks and run the kitchen while they sort out what to do about finding the money to hire a new cook? She would have to make sure Gracie didn’t mind working while she was here, but knowing her good-hearted, energetic sister, Jiandra guessed she’d be more than willing to help out. And no one, no one made better porridges, stews, cakes, and breads than Graciella Stovy.

Jiandra quickly donned a clean muslin dress, braided her hair over her shoulder, grabbed a candle, and headed for Yavi’s wing in her slippers. Reaching his study, she rapped lightly on the door. “It’s me, Jiandra.”

A few seconds later, Yajna opened the door. “Hello, beautiful wife,” he grinned, escorting her inside and shutting the door behind her.

Yavi was standing at his sideboard pouring a glass of katsuri. “Care to join us in a drink, my lovely sister-in-law?”

“Yes, please.” She followed Yajna to the couch at the far end of Yavi’s study. Yajna picked up his half-empty glass of katsuri and sat down next to her, resting an arm along the back of the couch behind her.

Yavi brought her a drink, then retrieved his own glass from the low table and sank into the armchair facing her and Yajna. Jiandra noticed dark circles under his eyes, no doubt from a lack of sleep in the past forty-eight hours.

He sipped his drink, then set it down on the low table and leaned back in his chair. “Yajna and I plan to interrogate Terijin tomorrow, find out more about his connection with this ‘Uman’ fellow and where the stolen money went. And we’ve called an assembly of the nobles to decide Terijin’s punishment tomorrow night.”

Yajna caressed her shoulder. “We want you to read his mind with the Omaja while we’re talking to him, but out of sight, so he doesn’t know you’re there.”

“Yes, agreed,” she nodded. “I think that’s a good plan.”

“Another question for you, Jiandra,” Yavi said. “After the robbery, does the treasury have enough money to hire a new cook?”

“Well, not really. I wasn’t able to provide food and clothing to all the returning refugees who arrived last month without dipping into reserves. The only crop that came in strong enough to make any profit this winter was the burdock root, which we sold a caravan full of to Villeleia. With those two bags of coin gone—we’re close to broke.”

Yavi rubbed a hand over the shadow of a beard on his jaw. “Then we will have to make do without a cook until we either find the stolen money or find some new income.”

Jiandra sipped her katsuri, feeling the burn of the sweet alcohol in the back of her throat. “I have an idea for a temporary cook.”

The twins waited.

“My sister Gracie has been begging to come for a visit for some time, and I promised to invite her to come stay at the palace for a few weeks this summer. But I can send for her a little early, tell her we need help running our kitchen until we can afford another cook. I’m sure she’ll be more than glad to help.”

Yavi shook his head. “We can’t expect the girl to spend her visit here working in our kitchen. She should be comfortable and at ease while she’s here.”

Jiandra chuckled. “Gracie’s a farm girl, like me. She’s never had a life of comfort or ease, especially after we lost our parents. She’s worked in our kitchen since she was seven, started baking bread at age ten.”

“Still,” Yavi frowned, “we can’t expect such a young girl to manage a palace kitchen. How old is she? Fifteen or sixteen?”

Jiandra laughed. “Oh, Yavi. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen her, hasn’t it? She’s just turned twenty a few weeks ago.”

His eyebrows raised. “Twenty? Little Graciella is twenty?”

Yajna spoke up. “It’s not a bad idea, brother. When Jiandra and I went to visit Stovy Farm last year, Gracie clearly enjoyed cooking for us and serving us her delicious meals.”

Jiandra leaned forward to emphasize her point to Yavi. “Gracie loves to be in the kitchen. Before I left home, she daily fed a household of seven, plus two farmhands and their families, efficiently and cheerfully. She knows how to make do with very limited resources, and she won’t need a lot of fancy meats or rare ingredients to feed us all very well. And give her a sack of flour and some yeast, and you’ll have the best bread supply you’ve ever had in your life.”

“It’s true, brother,” Yajna chimed in. “The woman can cook. I think it’s a great idea.”

Yavi studied them both. “I just don’t think it’s fair to burden our young sister-in-law with such an onerous task during her visit.”

“It would only be for a month or two, and I can promise you she’ll jump on the chance to come stay with us and lend a hand,” Jiandra assured him. “All I need do is say the word.”

Yavi released a sigh. “All right, let’s invite her to come for a visit, but don’t mention our need for a cook. When she arrives, she works in the kitchen only if and when she really wants to. I’ll wash the dishes myself if need be, and Yajna can peel potatoes and boil them. I would like for your sister to enjoy her time with us, not be our servant.”

Jiandra smiled. “I appreciate your consideration for her, Yavi. But I can guarantee that she will be more than thrilled to be of service while she’s here. You’ll see.”

§

The next morning, Jiandra finished writing her sister back, asking her to come for a visit as soon as she could. She summoned a courier to take the message along with a small bag of coin to help pay for Gracie’s journey north. The letter instructed Gracie to tell her hired coach that she would be meeting a palace guard escort at the border with Nandala who would accompany her the rest of the way to Darpan. Jiandra wasn’t taking any chances with the bandit gangs that had been plaguing the highways of Nandala, their attacks now on the increase since a few goods and meager coin were just starting to flow again.

Once the courier was gone, Jiandra joined the twins in the dining room.

They rose to greet her as she entered. Yajna grasped her waist and kissed her forehead. “Good morning, Lahdli. We found a bit of cold lentil stew in the larder for breakfast.”

“Yajna figured out how to boil water for tea,” Yavi added, toasting her with his cup.

“Wonderful,” Jiandra chuckled, taking her seat at the table. “I’ve just sent off a letter to Gracie. She should be here in less than a fortnight. With any luck, we’ll be dining on her delicious soups, pies, and baked breads soon.”

After breakfast, they headed out of the back of the palace, to the dungeon entrance. The guard on duty unlocked and swung open the heavy door to let them in. He led them down the steps, where they entered a darkened hallway. The guard lit a torch and took them to the block of cells where Terijin was being held, in solitude. He was the palace’s only prisoner.

“He’s in the last cell on the right, Mahajin,” the guard told the twins, handing Yajna a key.

“Good. Stand watch here by the entrance,” Yavi ordered. He motioned Yajna and Jiandra to follow him down the long row of cells.

Yajna motioned her to wait, out of sight, while he and Yavi unlocked the door to Terijin’s cell. Jiandra listened from outside the door as they strode inside and addressed the prisoner.

“One false move and you’re a dead man,” she heard Yavi say.

Terijin laughed. “I’m not afraid of you, usurper.”

Yajna’s voice interrupted brusquely. “Face the wall.”

Jiandra heard what sounded like a brief scuffle, then Terijin yelped in pain, cursing in Nandalan. His voice sounded muffled, as if he were being pressed against something.

Yavi appeared around the door to the cell and motioned her to come inside. She entered carefully, holding the Omaja in her palm. Yajna was twisting Terijin’s arm behind his back, forcing his cheek against the wall of his cell, face turned away from the door so he couldn’t see Jiandra come in.

Yavi went to place himself in Terijin’s line of sight. “We have a few questions for you before you stand trial tonight. The sentence for treason is death, and you’ll face your executioner on the morrow if you’re convicted.”

“I’m not telling you nothing!” the cook spat through gritted teeth.

Jiandra focused Knowing.

Uman is all powerful. He’ll show these two bastards up for the usurpers they are.

“Who was Uman? Who did he work for?” Yavi demanded.

Terijin made no response, but Jiandra was reading his every thought with the stone.

He’s a free agent, a powerful force to be reckoned with on his own. He needs no master. Jiandra saw Uman’s face through Terijin’s eyes, a terrifying, cruel face lit by torches. White skin was stretched over his gaunt cheekbones and marred by angry red scars, his teeth were sharpened into points and stained black, and thin, greasy-looking gray hair was slicked back over his skull.

Terijin was at some kind of ceremony. Uman seemed to be standing over an altar in a stone fortress, surrounded by followers. Five men knelt before him, chanting an oath in Nandalan while Uman grinned wickedly.

Yavi glanced at Jiandra, who gave him a quick nod to continue.

“Where did the treasury money go? We know you stole two bags from us.”

For an answer, Terjin snarled, “Usurpers!”

Jiandra saw Terijin hiding a bag of money in his cart, the one he took to market once a month to buy supplies. At the market, he handed it over to a shifty-eyed fellow who stowed it under a blanket in the back of his own cart. She tried to see where the second cart was headed, but lost the picture as Terijin started imagining himself hanging from the gallows in the morning. Strangely, he seemed to be gloating over his own death, looking forward to it. Uman’s face appeared in the torchlights again, handing Terijin a vial of some dark, inky liquid. Terijin drank it down as Uman chanted over him and the others.

When Terijin looked up at Uman, Uman’s eyes had become solid black disks, soulless and frightening. Jiandra almost gasped aloud, but managed to keep quiet. She pressed her lips together and nodded at Yavi.

“How did you break into the palace vault? There is only one key.”

That’s what you think, you dolt, Terijin thought. Jiandra saw him hiding the key under a corner of the rug in his room.

“Where is the key now?” she asked aloud, still focusing Knowing.

Terijin tried to jerk around to look at her, startled to hear her voice behind him. Yajna twisted his arm a little higher, and he yelped in pain.

“She’s reading my mind with that blasted stone, isn’t she?” Terijin snarled.

“Where’s the key?” Jiandra demanded.

A picture flashed through his mind, of himself dropping the key into the planter just outside the back door leading out of his quarters before trying to make his escape.

“Got it,” she told the twins.

Terijin struggled to free himself from Yajna’s grasp, spitting obscenities in Nandalan.

“Let him go for now, brother,” Yavi said. “Come, Your Highness.” Yavi grasped her elbow to escort her out of the cell before Yajna released the cook. Yajna followed, and they slammed shut the door, locking the padlock to secure it before they left.

“Let’s head up to my study,” Yavi suggested as they headed back inside the palace.

Once there, Jiandra closed the door and told them what she’d seen. “Uman was some sort of wizard or magician. He had a group of followers who met with him inside an old stone fortress. Terijin seems to have sworn some kind of death-pact with Uman, because I saw him drink a potion while Uman prayed over him, and Terijin is looking forward to his own death. I think he thinks he’s immortal or something.”

“Fool.” Yavi shook his head. “And the stolen money?”

“He handed it over to a stranger in the market. I couldn’t get an identity on the man, nor see where his cart was headed. Perhaps he was connected to Uman’s little group as well. Oh, and Terijin’s extra vault key is in the planter outside the back door to the kitchen.”

“Good work, Jiandra,” Yajna said proudly, caressing her shoulder. “Brilliant as always.”

§

In his cell, Terijin chuckled to himself. It didn’t matter that the queen had read his thoughts. They could never defeat Uman anyhow. By executing Terijin, the usurpers would only be playing right into Uman’s capable hands. And they would be giving Terijin exactly what he wanted.

The transition to new life.