Race the Sands Page 39

  The casual indifference in his voice was chilling. The way they talked about him as if he wasn’t even there was perhaps even scarier. Yorbel thought of Shalla, asking if he knew the high augurs’ souls were pure, since no one could read them. I have been so very wrong about so many things. He met Gissa’s eyes, hoping against hope to see some drop of compassion, some hint that he could have misunderstood.

  More shuffling from the labyrinth beyond. One by one, the other high augurs entered the room, each greeted with the same phrase: “You are known to us.” At last, five of the eight chairs were filled.

  “We have before us Augur Yorbel,” High Augur Etar said. “He has graciously agreed to share with us the location of our errant kehok.” All the augurs present murmured their approval.

  Yorbel wet his lips and tried to think quickly and clearly.

  He would not lie to the high augurs, even knowing what he did about them now. But he also would not betray Tamra. “He’s well guarded. You will not be able to force him from his position. But there may be another way. If you confess the truth to the people, explain why—”

  High Augur Teron said, “You are ignorant of what is at stake here.”

  Gissa cut in. “Then enlighten him. Augur Yorbel is a good man, concerned with the future of Becar. He has already compromised his soul to protect the kehok; he may be willing to go further to protect all of Becar.”

  The high augurs regarded Gissa as if she were a unique bug specimen. Yorbel realized she was going out on a limb, defending him. He also realized it was likely he wouldn’t walk out of this chamber alive, and that no one would ever know. Either this ends in the death of my body or the corruption of my soul, he thought. He couldn’t see any other possible outcome.

  I should have left Shalla with her mother. If he never returned, what would happen to the girl? With luck, she would simply be sent back to the training temple when everything had blown over, her connection to this corruption deemed tangential at best. Without luck . . . He tried not to worry about her, or about other mistakes he may have made.

  There had to be a way he could still help them. And the people of Becar.

  “You favor this man,” another of the high augurs said. Yorbel didn’t know her name.

  “He is a good man,” Gissa argued. Sweat beaded on her forehead. He’d never seen her look so unsettled before, and he wondered what it was costing her to stand up for him. He knew, though, it was hopeless. He was dead the moment he’d walked into the maze. He just hadn’t realized it until now. “Becar needs such as him.”

  High Augur Etar spoke to Yorbel in a teacher’s voice. “Several months ago, Emperor Zarin came to me with a discovery. He had studied the ancient tomes, combed through old legends, and believed he had unearthed a long-lost secret: anyone can learn to read auras. It is a myth that an augur’s ability requires a pure soul. It merely requires the proper training.”

  Yorbel gaped. “But . . .”

  “Of course, we immediately realized the danger of such knowledge,” High Augur Etar said. “It would disturb the world order. Rip open the very fabric of our society. Becar functions because its people trust augurs to guide them—if they ceased to view us as superior, the result would be chaos and despair. So we had to remove the emperor.”

  He shook his head, as if he could shake out the horrible things he was hearing. “You murdered him. And had him reborn as a kehok?”

  Another high augur explained, “Given that it was possible he’d retain at least some of his memories, we needed to ensure he was reborn as the one creature whom no one would ever trust.”

  “I don’t understand how this revelation would destroy Becar,” Yorbel said. It didn’t sound so dire. Perhaps augurs were less special than he’d believed, but surely the world could adjust. “Yes, it would cause change. Our role would change.” The augurs would lose some fraction of their power. . . .

  Was that what this was all about? Power?

  Augurs weren’t supposed to covet power.

  Augurs aren’t supposed to be a lot of things. Like murderers.

  They killed Zarin to hide the fact that they themselves weren’t pure. To prevent anyone from suspecting their depravity, they committed an act of utmost depravity.

  They made a monster, in order to hide that they’re monsters, Yorbel thought. It was suddenly clear why the high augurs discouraged other augurs from interacting with kehoks—they saw too much of themselves in them.

  “This is pointless,” High Augur Nolak cut in. “The longer we wait, the closer the Raniran army marches. It is not altogether certain that the Becaran army can be repositioned in the time we have as it is. Emperor-to-be Dar must be executed, the kehok must be neutralized, and a new empress must be crowned. Delays cost all of Becar.”

  Gissa bowed her head, refusing to meet Yorbel’s eyes, and he knew it was over. Now Dar would die. And the decay in the heart of Becar would fester, unseen and uncured.

  The high augurs had become corrupt, or corrupted themselves. That much he understood clearly. And no one will know. I’ll die here, before or after Dar, and they will descend on Tamra, Raia, and what remains of Zarin.

  Great wrongs were being done here, in the name of good.

  Unless there was a better explanation . . .

  “I understand why you feel Zarin had to die.” He didn’t. But he would say so, if it helped. “Please just tell me why Dar must as well. He knows nothing of his brother’s discovery.”

  Gissa sighed heavily. “Emperor-to-be Dar was doomed from the moment Emperor Zarin died. You know this. At least with a public execution, his death serves two purposes: allowing the empire to continue, and allowing the high augurs to do their work.”

  He’s a scapegoat, Yorbel realized.

  Bad enough that Gissa had been assigned to assassinate Dar for the sake of succession, but the fact that they were falsely accusing Dar in order to hide their own crimes . . .

  None of them are worthy of being high augurs. Even Gissa.

  They had corrupted Becar with their thoughts and actions. They were a rot in the heart of the country he loved. They had to be stopped. Excised from the body of Becar.

  But what could he do?

  He thought of Tamra. And Raia, her almost-adopted second daughter. “The rider who accused you—what will happen to her?” Yorbel looked only at Gissa.

  “She’ll die in the riots,” Gissa said. “It is the simplest solution.”

  “We do not know what the kehok-emperor has been able to communicate to her,” High Augur Etar said. “She is a risk we cannot take.”

  He bowed his head. “And the trainer.”

  “I am sorry, Yorbel,” Gissa said quietly. “It is for the good of Becar. I know you are fond of the trainer woman, but our duty and responsibility is to the people and the empire as a whole.”

  High Augur Etar spoke again. “There is one alternative. If you could convince this trainer and her rider to bring the kehok to us, and if we are able to determine they have no knowledge of Emperor Zarin’s discovery . . . we may be able to spare them.”

  Yorbel’s head snapped up.

  He had an idea.

  A terrible idea.

  Gissa was watching him closely. “You know how to convince her to come to the temple, with both her racer and rider, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

  I do, he thought. But Tamra will never forgive me for it.

  There was one chance to stop the high augurs, to save the emperor-to-be and Becar. But it was a risk. It could end in the deaths of the ones he held dear. He couldn’t be certain that Tamra would understand what needed to be done. He had, though, read her soul, and he believed in her. Moreover, he believed he knew what she’d risk if she had to and . . . what she was capable of doing.

  “You will not be able to reach the kehok where he is without causing the kind of spectacle that I believe you want to avoid. But there is a way to convince Trainer Tamra Verlas to come to the temple.” He took a deep breath and said a
silent prayer to the Lady. For the good of Becar, he thought. “She has a daughter named Shalla whom she would do anything to protect. That daughter is in my quarters right now. Send a messenger wight to the racetrack stable, directed to Trainer Tamra Verlas, and tell her she must bring the lion here if she ever wishes her daughter returned to her. I guarantee she will come—and she will bring the kehok with her.”

  He prayed that Tamra would understand. And that someday she’d forgive him.

  “Thank you, Augur Yorbel,” High Augur Etar said. “High Augur Gissa was correct about you. You are a good man, and Becar thanks you for your service.” He nodded at Gissa.

  Gissa stepped forward and slit Yorbel’s throat.

  Chapter 31

  Raia crouched inside the lion’s stall. She kept one hand on his smooth metal mane, while Trainer Verlas strode through the stable. She was unlocking the stall doors and loosening the shackles of three of the nearest kehoks.

  “Are you certain that’s a good idea?” Raia asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Trainer Verlas said grimly.

  After she’d finished, she retreated to join Raia and the lion in theirs. She shut the stall door, secured the lock, and stood like a soldier at attention, watching while the three nearby kehoks yanked on their chains.

  SNAP.

  Crash.

  One after another, the three kehoks broke through their bindings and battered open their doors. They raced up and down the stable, screaming at one another. Raia cowered against the lion.

  “If someone enters who shouldn’t, they will regret it,” Trainer Verlas said.

  Raia knew she should feel reassured, but she just felt terrified. Outside, she could hear that the riots hadn’t calmed—there was still shouting and screaming. Every few minutes, she heard a loud crash, as if something large had collapsed. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “I know you didn’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Yes, it was. If she’d not spoken, if she’d found a way to quietly free the lion . . . She didn’t regret saving him. She just regretted that she hadn’t done it in secret.

  “The city was ripe for this,” Trainer Verlas said. “Honestly, I doubt it was your proclamation that truly sparked this anyway. We’ve never gone so long without an emperor, and it was wearing on everyone. You could tell. They were just looking for an excuse to explode. I bet that ninety percent of the people out there have no idea what you said or why the fights started.”

  “Do you think Lady Evara made it safely through?” Raia asked.

  Trainer Verlas snorted. “I think it would take an army to stop Lady Evara.”

  Raia smiled briefly, and then went back to worrying. If Lady Evara weren’t able to reach the emperor-to-be . . . If he didn’t agree . . . If the high augurs refused to cooperate . . . “I wish there were something we could do.”

  “Me too.” Trainer Verlas laid her hand on Raia’s shoulder.

  They waited, as the kehoks raged through the stable and the people of Becar raged outside. Raia thought this was worse than when she ran away from home. At least then she was doing something. But this . . . She hated this. The not knowing was like a constant pressure on her mind.

  She saw a flutter of white by one of the windows. “Trainer Verlas?”

  Trainer Verlas did not switch her focus from the kehoks. She was eyeing the three of them, clearly ready to restrain them if they tried to attack the lion’s stall or tried to force their way out of the stable. So far, they hadn’t. “Yes?”

  “The window. I think . . . It looks like a messenger wight!”

  The delicate white shape was fluttering against the windowsill.

  One of the loose kehoks, a muscular brute that looked like a cross between a bull and a crocodile, lunged for it, pawing at the wall. “It could be from Lady Evara!” Raia said.

  Trainer Verlas nodded once, then vaulted over the stall door.

  Raia saw her wince as she landed on the other side. But then Trainer Verlas straightened as the three loose kehoks all targeted her. They charged across the stable.

  Trainer Verlas, however, was having none of it. She raised her hands. “Stop.” She didn’t even raise her voice, and they skidded to a trembling halt. They pawed the ground and snorted, but none of them moved. She walked between them to the windowsill. Gingerly, she lifted the wight off the sill and unfolded it.

  She turned back toward Raia as her eyes flickered over the silken paper.

  Raia saw Trainer Verlas’s face harden.

  And then every kehok in the stable, all three hundred of them, screamed at once.

  Tamra read the ransom note.

  There could be no other interpretation for the message, despite all the flowery language. She crossed the stable, and the three loose kehoks cowered away from her. She handed the message to Raia, who read it, let out a gasp, and then read it again.

  “The high augurs have Shalla,” Tamra said flatly.

  She felt her throat close up as she said the words.

  Raia’s eyes widened in alarm. “Trainer Verlas! The kehoks!”

  Tamra pivoted. She fixed the three kehoks in their place. Slowly, they knelt and then lay down, submissive. Her will was implacable. She felt as if she were holding an ocean within her. “Tell me I read it wrong.”

  “You . . . you aren’t wrong. I trusted Augur Yorbel.”

  “So did I.” She felt as if her heart were being pierced by a thousand claws and talons. He betrayed me. And Shalla. And Raia, Emperor Zarin, and Prince Dar. Closing her eyes, she felt as if a sandstorm were battering within her.

  “How could they blame Dar?” Raia asked. “He didn’t kill his brother! They’re lying!”

  “Of course they’re lying. But even if they were saying the sky is green, it wouldn’t matter to the people. Trusting augurs is our national pastime. As soon as the riots die down, everyone will remember how much they revere the high augurs. They’re the purest of the pure—or so they told us,” Tamra said, opening her eyes again. Her hands were clenched so hard that her nails bit her palms. Even if she were to show this message to anyone, it was written cryptically enough that it wouldn’t be proof of anything. The high augurs were too clever for that. “You were right. They killed Emperor Zarin, and they’re using Emperor-to-be Dar—” She stopped. He wasn’t emperor-to-be anymore. “They are using Prince Dar to cover their tracks.”

  The lion and Raia . . . We’re loose ends they want to tie up.

  “I believed in them,” Raia said. “The high augurs. They’re supposed to guide us. They’re the heart of Becar, within the Heart of Becar—that’s what my teachers always said. Do you . . . do you think they’ll kill Shalla if we don’t go?”

  “I think they’ll kill us if we do,” Tamra said.

  She felt cold, as cold as the metal in the black lion’s mane. She felt as if silver were flowing through her veins instead of blood, hardening her.

  Raia swallowed but did not cry. She merely trembled as she reviewed the message once again, as if on a third read, it would give her different answers. “It says we need to come by sundown. Maybe . . . Maybe they’ll make the trade. Me and the lion for Shalla. Maybe we should make that trade. I . . . had my freedom. I raced, and I had everything I ever wanted. Shalla . . . she should have a chance to live. If this is the only choice . . . Trainer Verlas, is this the only choice?”

  Tamra sank onto the floor of the stable, her back to the stable wall. The three loose kehoks were staring at her, their golden eyes unreadable. She breathed. That was what she did. She drank in the moment. And the moment was this:

  The high augurs had souls worse than kehoks.

  The high augurs were the monsters.

  “I don’t believe they’ll honor the trade.” Tamra felt the truth of it as she said it. “I think they’ll kill us all. Shalla included.” It’s what a monster would do. It was the practical solution. If they wanted to hide their sins, the logical choice was to destroy every bit of evidence. “They’ll say we died in t
he riots. Or at the claws of the kehok.”

  “You think it’s a trap.” Raia’s voice shook but didn’t break. And she wasn’t asking.

  The augurs never failed to act “for the good of Becar.” It was their excuse for choosing Shalla’s future for her. It was their excuse for continually pushing to take Shalla from Tamra. It had been their excuse for how they’d treated Raia, first taking her from her family then tossing her back like unwanted garbage. “I’m not letting you sacrifice yourself,” Tamra said.

  “But your daughter . . .”

  “We set her free.”

  Tamra stared into the golden eyes of the kehoks. Brave words, but how could she free Shalla? And Prince Dar? And keep the lion and Raia safe? How could she fight people who were monsters inside . . . ?

  “How?” Raia asked. “They’re the high augurs!”

  Her back twinging, Tamra pushed herself to standing again. An idea was forming in her mind. A terrible idea. “We fight monsters with monsters.” Her hands were curled into fists.

  So the high augurs wanted her to bring a kehok. Oh, she’d do that. And so much more. Tamra turned to face Raia. “You can stay here, if you want. Stay safe.”

  Raia shook her head. “You can’t attack the temple alone.”

  Tamra smiled, stretching her scar. “Oh, I won’t be alone.”

  Kneeling, Raia whispered to the black lion. She tilted her head as if listening to the lion reply, which Tamra would have thought was impossible, except she would have also thought it was impossible for the high augurs to be this corrupt.

  She wondered what other atrocities the high augurs had committed over the years. There’s rot in the heart of the empire. It must be rooted out.

  “He wants to save his brother,” Raia said. “He . . . told me.”

  Tamra didn’t question it. There would be time to wonder at the miracle of that later. And she had no interest in wasting time arguing—Raia was old enough to make her own decisions. Besides, Raia could help. I can’t do this alone. “I will go for Shalla. You and the lion free Prince Dar. Can you do that?”

  “Yes,” Raia said.