The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(30)

If this was his attitude, it was possible that he could be trusted. But trustworthy or not, it was clear only the truth would deter him from killing her.

Sunandi took a deep breath, straightened, then made a show of setting her knife on the bed. “Lin.”

Lin looked at her incredulously, but the girl had learned long ago not to question her in front of others. With visible reluctance she set her knife down as well. At this the youth relaxed somewhat; the Gatherer did not. He lowered his hand, however, which Sunandi took for a positive sign.

“Explain,” the Gatherer said again.

“This is not the best place for a discussion, you realize. The royal family’s quarters are on the floor directly above.”

“There are no listening-holes in this chamber. That would be foolish, since you might find and use them yourself.”

And her enemies would be far more interested in what she did outside the guest suite, anyhow. “Very well. Perhaps you’re not assassins—or at least, not knowingly. The end result is what matters in this case, rather than the intent.”

“Not to us.”

She resisted the urge to swallow at the menace in his tone. He still intended—no. He still believed wholly in the rightness of killing her.

“You say that someone named me corrupt. Who?”

“I do not know.”

“Do you know why? What evidence they gave?”

“You were accused of spying, corrupting influential citizens of Gujaareh, and attempting to foment war. I do not know the evidence given. That was evaluated—and accepted—by the Superior of the Hetawa.”

“Hananja’s Crusty Eyes.” For a moment she was tempted to laugh, until she noted the affront on their faces and recalled her careless blasphemy. Silently she berated herself; now was not the time for amateurish mistakes. “—Apologies. I shouldn’t be surprised. I have been spying, of course.”

“Then you acknowledge your corruption?”

“Spying, as the Prince has spied on me, and as the ambassadors of Bromarte, Jijun, Khanditta, and every other land in spitting distance of the Narrow Sea have spied on one another for centuries. It is the job of an ambassador to spy. If there’s corruption in that, then you’d better Gather a few other people in this palace tonight.”

“Do you refute the other charges?” His expression was implacable.

“Corrupting highcastes and fomenting war? Let me see. I had a meeting with a highcaste who revealed to me one of Gujaareh’s darkest secrets. He did it unbidden and uncoerced, and his intention was to prevent war. How would you judge that, priest of Hananja?”

“I do not judge.”

“Then you had better start.” She was growing angry herself in response to the tension of the moment and the Gatherer’s obstinacy. “There is a Reaper in this land, priest, and I have seen the proof of it. I believe you and your brethren know of this abomination and conceal it.”

The youth frowned in puzzlement. The Gatherer went rigid. “There is no Reaper in Gujaareh,” he said. “There has been none for centuries.”

“I told you of the corpse I saw.”

His jaw worked, and abruptly the affront in his face was eclipsed by something she hadn’t expected to see: shame. “Sometimes Gatherers err,” he said. Beside him the youth’s scowl deepened, though the look he turned on his mentor was somber. The Gatherer fixed his eyes on the floor. “When that happens, we do penance. But I’m no rogue. Nor are any of my brothers.”

“Twenty men have died like the corpse I saw, at the prison. Do Gatherers err so often?”

The man was already shaking his head, but in disbelief. “Twenty? No, that cannot be. Someone would’ve reported it. One or two mistakes the people can accept, but never so many, so quickly—”

“They don’t know,” Lin said suddenly. Sunandi looked down at her in surprise. Lin’s pale eyes were narrowed at the Gatherer, though she spoke to Sunandi. “Someone in the Hetawa probably does, but not these two. Maybe none of the Gatherers know.”

The Gatherer looked from one to the other of them, confusion plain on his face; his voice wavered with uncertainty and tension. “There’s nothing to know. What you suggest is… is…” He faltered silent.

Sunandi snorted. “At least one of the Gatherers knows. Only Gatherers become Reapers.”

“There are no Reapers in Gujaareh!” The Gatherer’s composure shattered so suddenly that it startled them all. He glared at them, nostrils flared, fists clenched, body trembling with rage. Only his voice remained under control; he had not raised it, though he’d snarled the words with such vehemence that they might as well have been shouted. “That would be an abomination beyond imagination. We are tested regularly. When the signs begin to show, we give ourselves to Her. We all know our duty. To suggest otherwise is an attack upon the Hetawa itself!”

The youth looked genuinely alarmed now, and Sunandi felt the same. The sense of unease that she had felt from the beginning redoubled, joined now by an instinctive certainty. Something is wrong with him.

“I mean no insult,” she said, carefully neutral. “It could be some new poison, whose effects mimic Reaping-death. Or a plague. There’s no way to know for certain.” She spread her hands, moving slowly and deliberately so he could see she meant no harm. “But if there’s no rogue in the city, then someone certainly means to suggest that there is. Would that not also be an assault upon your brotherhood?”