Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(109)

Il Tornja smiled, and this time the smile was warm, human. “Is it so wrong for a man to want to ally himself with a brilliant, beautiful woman? There is a thrill in campaigning, sure, but the bombast and endless posturing of military men grow old after a year or ten.”

Adare dropped her eyes, tried unsuccessfully to slow her pulse. Uinian, she snapped at herself. You’re here to figure out how to deal with Uinian.

“Killing the Chief Priest won’t be as easy as you make it out,” she said, forcing her mind to the matter at hand.

Il Tornja watched her for a moment longer with that same intensity, then leaned back in his chair. Adare felt relief and longing at the same time as he moved away.

“Men tend to die when you slide steel beneath their skin and wiggle it around. Even priests.”

Adare shook her head. “He needs to die, you’ve convinced me of that, but you’re still thinking like a soldier. Soldiers may not blink when their comrades fall on the Urghul frontier, but Annur is not a battlefield. The empire has outlawed blood sacrifice. The entire city will sit up and take notice if someone murders Uinian, especially after the trial. The man was popular before.… Now, if anyone knows, if anyone suspects that I ordered the killing, there will be riots in the street.” She considered the matter for the first time from the perspective of the Chief Priest. “If I were Uinian, I’d be hoping we would try for something like this.”

“So we’re back to caution and waiting for Kaden?” he asked.

“No,” Adare replied firmly. “We’re thinking of a third path. Let’s go back to the trial. How did Uinian avoid burning?”

“I hope you’re not going to tell me that he really is the consort of some mythical goddess.”

Adare frowned. “You don’t believe in Intarra?”

“Do you?” Il Tornja spread his hands. “I believe what I can see with my eyes and hear with my ears. Men have won and lost battles for a thousand reasons, but never because a god came down to take part in the fray.”

“That’s not what the histories say. During the Csestriim wars—”

“The Csestriim are a child’s tale, as are the gods. Think about the look on Uinian’s face going into the trial.”

Adare nodded slowly. “He knew he was going to survive. He didn’t have a moment of doubt.”

“And if you were counting on the favor of a goddess no one has seen or heard from in a thousand years, even if you thought she was going to bail you out, don’t you think you’d be at least a little nervous?”

Adare stood up, her agitation demanding some form of physical expression. She paced to the far wall of the library, trying to sort and sift the facts and suspicions. Beyond the clear stone, the sun was setting over the city, and she could feel its rays warm on her cheeks and lips. When she turned, Ran was standing by her side, though she had not heard him approach.

“He’s a leach,” she said. It was the only explanation.

The kenarang considered the suggestion with pursed lips.

“I’ve read all the histories,” Adare pressed on. “Linnae and Varren, even that endless commentary by Hengel. This is the sort of thing a leach can do, if his well is strong and close.”

“It makes sense,” Ran agreed finally, nodding slowly at the idea. “If you could get the people to believe that, they would tear him apart themselves.”

“But how?” Adare said, fingernails biting into her palms. “The people believe that Intarra loves him. How do you distinguish between divine favor and some leach’s kenning?”

“It’s all kenning. There is no divine favor.”

“You believe that, but they don’t. The man has become practically a hero overnight. We can’t kill him without disgracing him first, without revealing his secret in a way that no one can doubt or deny. When we’ve shown him for a liar and a leach, then it won’t even matter what we do. He’ll be finished.”

“As you’ve already pointed out,” Ran replied, putting a hand on her shoulder as though to slow down the flood of her words, “Intarra’s rewards are irritatingly difficult to distinguish from a leach’s kenning.”

“I know,” Adare said, biting her lip. “I know.”

The sun had dipped under the horizon, bloodying the sky, but her cheeks still burned with the last rays or their own inner heat. There had to be a way. Her father would have seen it. If she could just come at the matter from the right angle, attack it from the proper direction. Every problem had a solution, if she could just …