The Killing Moon (Dreamblood #1)(41)

“And perhaps we never were brothers?” the Prince asked. His voice was soft and sober in the dim chamber. “So I was right. You don’t understand. Or forgive.” Ehiru said nothing, and the Prince sighed. “There were those who would have used you and the rest of our siblings to sow chaos throughout Gujaareh, Ehiru. Think: your mother was Kisuati sonha, from an old and well-connected lineage. Would her son not have been more palatable to the nobles than the son of a commonborn dancer, as Prince? Even a daughter from a good lineage could have been used to foment unrest, for Gujaareh has had female Princes in its past. I did what was necessary for peace—though I’d never intended for our mothers to suffer. They were supposed to be set free, not killed.” He sighed heavily. “That was an error, and the men who committed it were punished.”

The vision was gone, but in its place Ehiru discovered a flicker of anger, swiftly growing. He fought to keep it banked and his eyes on the floor. “Death is always difficult to control,” he said, very softly. “I live that truth every night.”

“Then perhaps things would have gone better if I’d had a Gatherer’s discipline.” He paused, gazing steadily at Ehiru. “I kept expecting you to come for me, you realize. As soon as I heard you’d been chosen as the next Gatherer-Apprentice, I thought, ‘Now I will face justice for my crimes.’ But you never came.”

Ehiru forced himself to shrug. “Heirs have assassinated their way to the Aureole since Gujaareh began. Even the Hetawa accepts the cruelty that is necessary to gain and keep power—so long as a Prince uses it to maintain peace from there on. Over time my brothers”—he put the faintest emphasis on the word—“have helped me to understand this.”

The Prince made a sound of disgust, which startled Ehiru into looking up at him. “The Hetawa. You truly have become theirs, Ehiru. How they must love having another of our lineage in their thrall.”

The anger grew by another measure, and Ehiru discarded protocol. “Explain.”

“Ah, so I’ve offended you. But I won’t ask your pardon, my Brother, for I am unrepentant in my hatred of your adoptive family. As should you be.” The Prince gestured toward the rogue’s yoke; Ehiru flinched. “It was they who unjustly put that on you, after all.”

“The Superior said you commanded it.”

“I commanded your removal, Ehiru, before the Superior could end your life. Not this humiliation.” Abruptly the Prince gestured to one of the Guardsmen. “Find the key for that monstrosity he’s wearing. I can’t stand looking at it any longer.” The Guard snapped a bow, banged a pattern on the door of the chamber, and exited when the door opened.

Ehiru’s fists, already sweaty and cramped after hours in the yoke, tightened further. “Explain.”

The Prince regarded him for a long moment. Then said, “There is indeed a Reaper in the city, Ehiru. It killed quietly until lately—men in the prison, elders whose deaths could be made to look natural, and the like. I’ve known of it for months.”

“And you said nothing to the Hetawa?”

“They already knew.”

Ehiru’s jaw tightened. “I do not believe that.”

“Of course you don’t. And I have no way to prove my allegations to you. Nevertheless, they have kept the news of this Reaper quiet for reasons only the Superior and his highest subordinates comprehend. I’ve been trying to find some means of proving the Reaper’s existence, to force them to act—but there have been other matters distracting me lately. This Kisuati spy, among many.”

Ehiru nodded. “Then the commission came from you. You sent me to Gather her. For political reasons.”

“I did indeed. She threatens this city. Why didn’t you kill her?”

“Gathering is not assassination!”

The Prince rolled his eyes. “Have you never questioned your commissions before, Ehiru? The Kisuati woman would not have been the first.”

Ehiru caught his breath and stared at the Prince, too revolted to respond. In the intervening silence the Guardsman returned. He moved to kneel at Ehiru’s side but the Prince abruptly rose from the cot, brushing him aside and taking the key. He knelt in front of Ehiru. The Guardsman gasped and immediately removed his front loindrape to lay on the ground for the Prince to kneel upon. The Prince waved it away, never taking his eyes from Ehiru’s.

“Remember that I freed you, Brother,” the Prince whispered, “while your Hetawa locked you away. Remember that much, if nothing else.”

Ehiru blinked out of his shock and stared as the Prince deftly undid the locks and buckles of the rogue’s yoke. He pulled it off Ehiru’s arms and threw it into a corner, where it landed with a loud clatter. Ehiru jerked at the noise, then turned his eyes back to Eninket—the Prince—with an effort.

“Why?” he asked, meaning many whys.

The Prince smiled. “I can’t tell you everything. You wouldn’t understand anyhow, isolated as they’ve kept you. Suffice it to say that the Hetawa is corrupt; your brethren are dangerous to you now. I’ll do what I can to clear your name and expose their crimes, but you must do something for me in return.”

The Hetawa was corrupt. Ehiru shook his head, unable to absorb such a monstrous concept. “What?”

“The Kisuati woman. She cannot be permitted to reach Kisua, Ehiru, or there will be war. My men believe she is still in the outer city, the Unbelievers’ District. Find her. Complete the Gathering. Do this and I will see to it that you can return to the Hetawa in honor instead of shame. By our holy blood, I swear it.”