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“Very well, Your Grace.”

“If Jareleezi has not taken refuge in Ik-Sundal we do not need to press our armies into the desert. I will change my offer to you Damon. I will tell you what I truly want from you, as my trusted nephew. Do not bring me Ik-Sundal. Bring me her. Find out where Jareleezi took her treasures and Warden of Vashti is yours. I will grant you any favour you wish. Your heart’s desire.”

Damon had not expected Selim to make him such a generous offer for this information. He cannot imagine how important those books must be that this is Selim’s price just for the location of Jareleezi. He nods. “You honour me, Your Grace.”

Selim picks up Damon’s sandals one by one and gently puts them back on, wet fingertips sliding over skin. Finished, he bends slowly and plants a kiss on the tops of each of Damon’s feet with a soft sigh. “No, you honour me, brave son of my brother.” Then he beckons his page to help him stand from the cushioned stool. The sturdy blond boy with a pale face steps forward.

Selim takes the boy’s hand and gets to his feet then touches the boy’s cheek. “You remember your uncle Damon, don’t you Umbert?”

Damon looks at the boy. He did not recognise him, but he has not seen Umbert since he was a babe. His half-sister Ferra’s son. The son of Chancellor Vindar. Umbert looks at Selim. He has that haunted look that all of Selim’s pages have. They spend much of their days in this tiny room, attending Selim, breathing smoky air and watching this ritual.

“He has grown.” Damon smiles at the boy. “I am one of your grandfather’s bastards.” The boy’s face changes with something like recognition. He might not know Damon’s face but he must know him by reputation.

Umbert holds out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Sire. Are you The One Man Army?”

“Yes.” Damon takes the boy's hand. “How is your fair mother, the Lilac Doe, my beloved sister?”

“She is still weak, uncle. But Zai watches over her. She wishes to join the Brides of Zai when she is well.”

“Indeed.”

Selim says, “Please, Master Damon, now you must leave me. I must return to my prayers.”

“Very well, Your Grace,” Damon says with a small bow. “Zai, hold your heart.”

“Zai, hold your heart.”

Outside the temple Damon finds Vindar waiting for him.

“Umbert seems to be growing well,” Damon says, as they start to walk back, retracing the route they took from the Public Hall.

Vindar shows little emotion at the mention of his son. “He is a strong boy,” he says.

Strong enough to spend his days sitting on a stool watching the Emperor chanting to his God, Damon thinks, before he says, “How is my sister? Umbert says she remains weak.”

“The Lilac Doe is still plagued by ill health, I am sorry to say. I worry for her.”

“As do I.”

“The physicians say she will not bear another child,” Vindar says, as they reach the hall of golden statues. Many of Damon’s ancestors are here. The statue of King Sarelik, in the centre of the hall, is twenty feet tall, with garlands of white flowers at his feet.

“I am sorry to hear that. Are you considering petitioning for another wife?”

“I have not asked Selim to grant it. Doroth Zain has declared that a second wife may only be granted to a childless union, and we have Umbert. Nevertheless, I may have to speak to him about this, I suppose.”

“Doroth Zain may reconsider.”

“Quite,” Vindar says. Although he says no more. Vindar rarely speaks frankly of his own family. They both pause by the statue of Sarelik and Vindar says, “I have received word of your brother Lukas.”

“Indeed,” Damon says. He swallows. It is hard not to assume this news will be bad.

Vindar puts a bony hand on the small of Damon’s back and leads him away from the statues towards the door. It feels as if he wants to move away from the statue of Sarelik for whatever he wishes to say next.

Vindar says, “Several moons ago, he was caught stealing in the vile markets of Lunatum.”

“Was he hung?” Damon knows the enforcers of Lunatum are brutal.

“He lives. My eyes in Lunatum tell me he only lost his hand.”