Unhewn Throne 01 - The Emperor's Blades(137)

Talal considered the question. “If there was a great deal of steel present—as there would be on a densely packed battlefield—maybe. And if the structure was already flawed in some crucial way.” He spread his hands. “Then I might be able to manage it. Or I might not.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’m sorry, Valyn. I’m sure you were hoping for more out of your Wing’s leach. Aacha could have knocked down a stone gatehouse when his well was running strong. Same with most of the leaches.” He frowned. “Bad luck. I’ve got enough power to get me hanged, but not enough to protect myself. It’s why I had to get so handy with the blades,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder to the twin swords sheathed across his back.

That fact, more than anything else, carried the question for Valyn. Soldiers gravitated to their strengths, as much as their trainers tried to beat the tendency out of them. Annick carried that bow of hers everywhere, Laith preferred to be on the bird’s back, and Gwenna never seemed happy unless she was blowing something up. Deception or no, it was hard to believe that Talal would have devoted so much time to his blades if he had a powerful, secret well to draw upon. Anything was possible, of course, but sometimes you had to play the odds.

“What about Balendin?” Valyn asked cautiously. “Could he knock down a building?”

Talal nodded slowly. “He hides his full strength pretty cleverly, but I’ve seen him manage some things.…” His eyes drifted with the memory, then snapped back. “He’s dangerous, and not just because he’s cruel.”

“Any new ideas about his well?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you have any guesses?” Valyn pressed, wary and impatient all at the same time.

“I’ve had about a thousand of them.”

“He keeps those dogs of his close—”

“That’s the obvious thing,” Talal agreed, “but the obvious thing isn’t usually the right one. We’ve all got our masks and disguises.” He gestured to the stone amulet hanging around his neck, to the gold hoops in his ears. “And then there’s the whole business of intentional deception. Before I started flying with you, I would avoid using my well on random days, even if it meant losing an exercise or contest, just to keep the others off my scent.” He grimaced. “It’s a bad way to live. Always lying. Always trying to lead people on.…”

Valyn had never considered it that way. In the stories, the leaches were always the villains, the nefarious meddlers behind the scenes, the ones pulling the strings, the ones making the world dance their own unnatural jig. He had never thought that their power might force them to dance.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said finally, awkwardly.

“I always figured I’d tell someone eventually,” Talal replied. “You keep something like that hidden for too long—” He shook his head slowly. “—there’s no telling what it might do to you, no telling what you might become.”





32





There were no locks on the door, but for three days, ever since the dinner for Pyrre and Jakin, Kaden had been a prisoner in the clay shed. He had sneaked back just in time, slipping out of the dovecote with Pater, sprinting down the path, and sliding inside with barely enough time to light a lantern, slow his heartbeat, cool his skin, and compose his face before Tan arrived to check up on him.

“How was the dinner?” Kaden had asked nonchalantly. He yearned to question his umial about Pyrre’s strange behavior—if anyone else picked up on it, it would have been Tan—but, of course, if he let on that he’d been hiding in the dovecote, Ae only knew what sort of penance the monk would devise.

“Unremarkable,” Tan replied, looking over Kaden’s work. “You haven’t made much progress.”

“The process is the goal,” Kaden responded innocently, trying not to feel smug. It was about time one of those Shin maxims worked in his favor.

“You will continue the process tomorrow.”

“And tonight?” Kaden asked. “Should I return to the dormitory?”

Tan shook his head. “Sleep here. If you have to piss, use a pot. Someone will come for it in the morning.”

Before Kaden could formulate another question that might lead back to Pyrre, Jakin, and the evening meal, Tan was gone, leaving him in the narrow stone room surrounded by the silent shapes of the bowls and jugs. Kaden worked awhile longer—busying his hands helped to still the worries in his mind—and then curled up in his robe on the hard stone floor to sleep. He woke in the night, shivering so badly, his teeth rattled against one another, and moved up to a hard wooden bench. It was narrow and uncomfortable, but at least the cold didn’t radiate out of it.