The Tower Broken(69)

When Azeem finished writing, Sarmin turned back to Didryk. ‘In the attacks we have seen, those who were patterned survived. This is also what General Arigu reported about the attack in Fryth.’

Didryk blinked. ‘Yes, that is true. Patterns act as a ward.’

‘I think you speak truly.’ Sarmin fingered the hilt of his dacarba – Tuvaini’s dacarba. ‘And so I see only one solution.’

Didryk curled his hands around the arms of his chair, waiting. He wanted something, Sarmin could see the longing in his eyes. Already he had been offered an alliance, even reparations. Perhaps it was the return of his friend he wanted. Maybe it was something even greater; something related to that darkness Sarmin had seen in his eyes.

Azeem stepped forward, his quill held aloft, listening.

Sarmin looked from one man to the other. ‘We must mark everyone with the pattern. Beginning with the palace and our soldiers.’





30



Sarmin


When Grada entered the room the next morning, Sarmin turned towards Ne-Seth. ‘Leave us, all of you.’

‘Magnificence,’ Ne-Seth intoned. The door shut behind the guards and Sarmin was left alone with his Knife. The tension that had kept him awake all night flowed out of him: he did not need to worry about appearances with Grada. He sat down at his desk and she sat opposite, though once they might have sat side by side. Grada stretched, lifting her muscled arms over her head. Her eyes were shadowed with fatigue. He did not ask her about his brother; if Daveed had been found she would have said so. The loss weighed against his heart.

‘Notheen is gone,’ she said.

‘He said nothing to me.’ Sarmin thought of the headman, his slow, steady voice and his calm.

‘His first responsibility is to his people in the desert. The wounds spread, pushing them south.’

‘But I did not expect him to run with all the others.’ I thought he was my friend. But Sarmin knew that the emperor did not have friends.

Grada placed her hand on the table, close to his, then withdrew it. ‘Did you read the scroll I brought you? I have been watching Lord Nessen’s house for some time. The empress had a vision—’

‘Yes, yes, I know about that.’ Sarmin lifted it and unscrewed the wooden ends. ‘But I did not know this scroll concerned Nessen.’ The man was a Mogyrk sympathiser – he might be harbouring austeres, perhaps even the first austere himself.

Grada leaned back in her chair, her eyes on his face. She could not read; she would listen as he read it out loud. Sarmin unrolled the parchment and sighed when he saw the first few lines.

My darling Fatima,

How glad I am to have visited you in the time of your confinement. No greater happiness remains to me than to see my daughter in good health. Now that I have returned to our estate I see that the roses are in full bloom and blackberries grow in profusion among the rocky places …

It went on in that vein for ten more paragraphs and ended with an affectionate note. Sarmin was not familiar with handwritten letters. He was accustomed to reading those penned by talented scribes, and so the odd spellings and dots of black ink interested him. Out in the world, people wrote letters to one another that were not copied by a dozen trained men and scrutinised for accuracy and penmanship. A person could write a letter out of affection and make mistakes. Sarmin put it down. ‘It is a letter between a mother and her grown daughter. Flowers and berries. Lord Nessen did not write it. The Grey Service must continue to watch the house – or find a way into it.’ If the austeres were indeed hiding in the house, he could no longer wait for them to show themselves.

Grada examined the writing. ‘It is very long to be about flowers and berries only,’ she said.

‘Have you ever heard the Old Wives talking? There is no end to it,’ said Sarmin, putting the scroll aside. He meant it as a joke, but Grada frowned at him.

‘Speaking of Old Wives, I think my mother has gone to see Arigu in the barracks. If she is not returned yet, I think she will need a … discreet way back to the palace.’

‘I am your Knife,’ she reminded him with an ungentle tone. ‘Perhaps you could send one of her guards.’

‘A royal guard in full armour will attract attention. I need you, Grada.’ When she stood he felt regret. ‘But not yet,’ he said. ‘Please, sit with me a while longer.’

She sat. ‘We have seen no one come in and out of Nessen’s house save for his servants. We have been watching for weeks – we would not miss an austere.’

‘I do not think you would.’ He took a breath. His brief spurt of confidence had disappeared. Adam and his rebels had their run of the city. Yrkmen laid their patterns and he had not caught a single one of them. And now the first austere himself might be in Nooria. He had lost the counsel of Notheen and Govnan just when Dinar was taking a special interest in his decisions. The high priest would be angry to hear Banreh was not coming his way. If Sarmin made one false move, if his alliance with Duke Didryk did not fulfil their hopes quickly enough, there would be trouble with Herzu.