The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(72)

“What is this place?” I asked.

“We’re below the palace proper, actually in the support column that elevates us above the city.”

“The column is hollow?”

“No. Only this space here at the top.” He watched me, his eyes trying to gauge something I could not fathom. “You didn’t attend the celebration yesterday.”

I was not certain whether the highbloods knew about the servants’ celebration and ignored it, or whether it was a secret. In case of the latter I said, “I haven’t been in a celebratory mood.”

“If you had come, this would be less of a surprise to you.” He gestured toward the grate at his feet.

I stayed where I was, suffused with a sudden sense of dread. “What are you talking about?”

He sighed, and abruptly I realized he was in an ugly sort of mood himself. “One of the highlights of the Fire Day celebration. I’m often asked to provide entertainment. Tricks and the like.”

“Tricks?” I frowned. From what I knew, scrivening was far too powerful and dangerous to be risked on tricks. One miswritten line and gods knew what could go wrong.

“Tricks. Of the sort that generally require a human ‘volunteer.’ ” He gave me a thin smile as my jaw dropped. “Highbloods are difficult to entertain, you see—you being the natural exception. The rest…” He shrugged. “A lifetime of indulging all manner of whims sets the bar for entertainment rather high. Or low.”

From the grate at his feet, and the chamber beyond, I heard a hollow, strained moan that chilled both my souls.

“What in the gods’ names have you done?” I whispered.

“The gods have nothing to do with it, my dear.” He sighed, gazing into the pit. “Why were you looking for me?”

I forced my eyes, and my mind, away from the grate. “I… I need to know if there’s a way to send a message to someone, from Sky. Privately.”

The look he gave me would have been withering under ordinary circumstances, but I could see that whatever was in the oubliette had taken the edge off his usual sardonic attitude. “You do realize spying on such communications is one of my routine duties?”

I inclined my head. “I suspected as much. That’s why I’m asking you. If there’s a way to do it, you would know.” I swallowed, then privately chided myself for allowing nervousness to show. “I’m prepared to compensate you for your trouble.”

In the strange gray light, even Viraine’s surprise was muted. “Well, well.” A tired smile stretched across his face. “Lady Yeine, perhaps you’re a true Arameri after all.”

“I do what’s necessary,” I said flatly. “And you know as well as I do that I don’t have time to be more subtle.”

At that his smile faded. “I know.”

“Then help me.”

“What message do you want to send, and to whom?”

“If I wanted half the palace to know, I wouldn’t ask how to send it privately.”

“I’m asking because the only way to send such a message is through me, Lady.”

I paused then, unpleasantly surprised. But it made sense as I considered it. I had no idea how messaging crystals worked in detail, but like any sigil-based magic their function simply mimicked what any competent scrivener could do.

But I did not like Viraine, for reasons I could not fully understand myself. I had seen the bitterness in his eyes, heard the contempt in his voice on those occasions that he spoke of Dekarta or the other highbloods. Like the Enefadeh, he was a weapon and probably just as much a slave. Yet there was something about him that simply made me uneasy. I suspected it was that he seemed to have no loyalties; he was on no one’s side except his own. That meant he could be relied upon to keep my secrets, if I made it worth his while. But what if there was more benefit for him in divulging my secrets to Dekarta? Or worse—Relad and Scimina? Men who served anyone could be trusted by no one.

He smirked as he watched me consider. “Of course, you could always ask Sieh to send the message for you. Or Nahadoth. I’m sure he’d do it, if sufficiently motivated.”

“I’m sure he would,” I replied coolly…


The Darren language has a word for the attraction one feels to danger: esui. It is esui that makes warriors charge into hopeless battles and die laughing. Esui is also what draws women to lovers who are bad for them—men who would make poor fathers, women of the enemy. The Senmite word that comes closest is “lust,” if one includes the variations “bloodlust” and “lust for life,” though these do not adequately capture the layered nature of esui. It is glory, it is folly. It is everything not sensible, not rational, not safe at all—but without esui, there is no point in living.