‘He nearly betrayed mine.’
‘But he did not, my love.’
He gave her a curious look.
She blushed, because it was the first time she had ever said the words. She hid her embarrassment behind teasing. ‘Is it too soft to speak of love? Does this palace tolerate such emotion, or does Herzu keep a tight hand on us now?’
‘I care nothing for Herzu.’ He leaned down and touched his forehead against hers. ‘I am looking for another god. I have been reading an old book that belonged to Satreth …’
She looked up at him in surprise. ‘Mirra touched me with her grace in Nessaket’s garden. Perhaps it was a sign.’
‘Yes.’ He frowned.
She knew Mirra was the goddess of women and not easily embraced by men, but Mesema must follow through with the sign provided to her. ‘What is it?’
‘The Megra said something to me before she died – she said healing the Storm would be Mirra’s work.’
‘She did?’ Mesema smiled and leaned in to kiss him. ‘Is Azeem waiting for you? General Lurish?’
‘No.’
She kissed him once more.
Sarmin pulled away. ‘I should – the generals …’
But she drew him close. The truce would last just a few days, and they had this time, so she would use it. He returned her kisses, his breaths heavier, his touches longer, and she stood, untied her dress and let it fall. Now she stood naked before him. She had never done that before; she had always been too worried about how she might compare to the more beautiful concubines, what he might think of the loose skin on her stomach from when Pelar had been born. But now she wanted him to see her, as she truly was. He stood and let his own robes fall, showing his thin body, his wide, bony shoulders narrowing into his hips, his pale legs. Together they moved to the bed. Though war waited not far away, they took their time, and when she finally trembled and shook above him the palace had gone quiet.
He put a hand on her stomach and smiled. She rolled to his side and put her head on his chest. ‘Dinar and Arigu will use me to move against you.’
‘Because you are Felt.’
‘Because I have seen Banreh, because I am Windreader, they will paint me as the enemy. But I do not know if they will move now, or after the war.’
‘They will not move against me if they are satisfied, if they believe victory is at hand.’
She watched the wall and said nothing. Victory did not appear to be at hand. Banreh’s death would have satisfied Arigu, but it had been Arigu himself who had advised Sarmin to keep the chief alive. She would not be surprised to learn that had been a trick, designed to make Sarmin look weak.
At last she said, ‘We need to talk about the worst. If Yrkmir breaks through, if they get to the palace, we need to talk about that.’
He said nothing so she went on, ‘Your mother has pika seeds somewhere in her room. Probably hidden among her cosmetics. I would rather do that …’ She rose up on an elbow. ‘Grada should go south to guard Pelar. He will be the true emperor.’
‘Emperor of what? If we lose, what is he?’
‘Alive.’
He caressed her hair. ‘Do not take the pika seeds unless you are sure there is no rescue for you – even then—’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Even then, think carefully.’
‘I will.’ She sighed. ‘I am thinking of those slaves, taken from the Grass. I wonder if they are still alive, and whether they will live through this. I wish I had been able to find them.’
‘I wish so too.’ They lay in silence for a time, and then he said, ‘Show me that cut-up poem again.’ She sat up and reached for the book of poems, retrieved the bits of paper and scattered them over the sheets. Sarmin cocked his head one way and then the other. ‘Govnan is tricking the Storm because it can’t see true fire. Mogyrk Named all things, giving them symbols, and in so doing, gave his followers patterns to work with. But I think he did not Name everything, for he did not know everything.’
‘How could a god not know everything?’
Sarmin sat up. ‘The Megra said something else to me before she died: “Just a man” – that’s what she said to me, and I thought she meant Helmar, but now I think she meant Mogyrk. He was not a god, but a man like Helmar – a man who thought he could remake the world and failed.’
Mesema touched a ragged edge of paper. ‘And yet they worship him.’
‘A man can ascend to godhood – many of our emperors have done so. Except that Mogyrk never died. He is both dead and not dead.’ Sarmin frowned and looked towards the window. ‘Do you hear that? A buzzing sound, like a thousand bees, or a thousand people, talking far away.’