Chapter Twenty-Five: The Sentence
In which Saya Ursula shows Ian a quiet sayada passageway that leads to the emperor’s prison–and some unwelcome news.
Low voices drifted from down the corridor, and Ursula peeked around Ian. She grimaced. “The sayana and her aides,” she said. “She won’t approve of us speaking this way. Come.” She took his hand and led him back in the direction they’d come.
He glanced down at her dark hand around his own. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
He frowned. “Saya—”
“Shh. Just walk.”
As the sun set outside, shadows deepened in the sayada corridors, and it seemed to Ian that Ursula looked for the darkest, quietest passages to lead him through. She didn’t let go of his hand, and he didn’t mention the oversight.
The plain gray stones of the interior corridor stopped, and Ursula began to walk down a staircase, at last dropping his hand so that she could hold her robes over her feet. “The emperor allows the sayas to visit the sick and needy in the prison,” she said in a low tone. Even the quiet voice echoed, so she dropped her voice further. “And there’s more. The prison—”
“Saya.”
Ursula stopped and mumbled something Ian didn’t understand. He looked up.
A dark man walked up the stairs toward them, heavy footsteps echoing off the marble. He wore light linens and silks, and he had no visible weapons, but something about him set Ian on edge. His eyes flicked over Ian in assessment, and then he settled a cool smile on Ursula’s face. He lit a wall torch with a candle he carried and gave Ursula a small bow. “I rarely see you in this wing, saya. What brings you here?”
Ursula’s body stiffened, so Ian took a step up to stand next to her. “We have guests, elder. I thought our Eiryan visitor might like to see the frescos on the lower walls.”
The cool smile settled on Ian. The man tipped his head. “Eiryan. What brings you to Espara?”
“Wool. I’m a trader.”
“Ah.” The elder’s gaze returned to Ursula. “Not too late, saya. It wouldn’t do for your superiors to believe you were entertaining inappropriately.”
Ursula flinched. She inclined her head. “Of course, elder.”
The man inclined his head again and walked past them up the stairs.
Ian leaned closer to Ursula. “What was that about?”
“It doesn’t matter. I can take care of myself.” She sighed. “You wanted to know why I wish to leave? I’ve heard it’s better in the west—in Eirya. I’ve heard a woman can own property there. Is that true?”
“Yes. And more. Women can inherit and own their own businesses as well.”
She closed her eyes. “Do you know what I want?”
Ian waited.
“A farm. Just a little farm in the hills somewhere—a place where I can have a garden and chickens and olive trees.”
He chuckled. “Olives don’t grow on Eirya.”
“Apples, then. Or pears. Do you have pears?”
The sweet timbre of her voice and the innocence of the question tickled his ears, and his hands twitched to touch the soft curve of her neck. He crossed his arms. “We have pears,” he said.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. “Tell me about Eirya. Will I like it there?”
“It’s cold. You’ll have to get used to wearing wool, even in summer. And the soil is rockier than it has a right to be, so there are places where nothing grows. But we have pears and red sheep and gemstones and silver, and you can’t turn around without hearing a stream or a pond with fish in it. In the winter, the nights are long and cold, but there are flashes of stormlight in the sky that draw even the most stubborn men outside to watch. We stand huddled together in furs, drinking oiska for warmth, and we watch the lights while snow melts on our bare heads.”
She laughed. “Snow. I’ve only heard of such a wonder. It’s real?”
“Far too real for some tastes.”
Silence settled around them for a long moment. Her eyes stayed locked on his. “You’re very kind for a royal.”
He grinned. “How did you know I’m a royal?”
“Your air. And the way you spoke of your sister and your home.” She grinned back. “It’s the way I feel about Friqqur.” She finally stepped back and took a deep breath. “The prison.”
“You’re taking me to the prison?”
She nodded, stepped around him, and started to walk down the stairs again. He fell in behind her. “The prison is just across the wall on the palace grounds. If your friend is in the palace, and if he’s in trouble with d’Tarjian, that’s where he’ll be.”
“And you can get me in to see him?”
“Yes. If you’re quiet and let me speak.”
The stairs stopped far below ground. Ursula picked up a torch from the wall and stepped toward an iron gate set in a stone wall. A man approached from the other side. “Saya.”
She inclined her head and affected a winsome air. “Warden. May I enter?”
“Now? What’s your business?”
She chuckled a low, sweet laugh. “Now, warden. You know better than that. The sayas need not divulge matters of a religious nature.”
He grunted, glanced at Ian, and looked back at Ursula. “What’s he doing here?”
“He comes from the kirok in Eirya. I’m not at liberty to say what his business is.”
The guard hesitated, but finally pulled out a set of heavy keys and unlocked the gate. “All right. But make it fast.”
“We need to find a man named Xian Ji’Ing Akmun,” she said. “A Tal’Amuni.”
He barked a laugh. “Oh, him. Good thing you came tonight.”
Ian’s throat went dry. “Why is that?”
“He angered Lord d’Tarjian. He’s scheduled to be executed at dawn tomorrow.”