Page 32

Lyr had Damon Darekul written clearly on his chest in Ur-Ambolk and some ritual marks on his limbs. But most of the runes were on his back. That writing Jemel had only glimpsed, but Lyr’s back was clearly covered in tiny letters, from his shoulders down to the edge of his hip cloth. The few words Jemel had been able to make out were Alios and some ancient words for a demon. A demon king.

King of the Earth, he thinks it meant.

And he knows The King of the Earth from Batreous’s writings. The ancient Bellator who made that deal with the mortal men to fight the fae.

But what does that being written on Lyr have to do with the reason Pershel died?

Clearly it is connected somehow to the great battle to come. So was Pershel part of the plot to defeat Ur-Durik?

When Pershel died she left Jemel her books, they were delivered to his cell in several crates and he treasures them. But he was familiar enough with Pershel’s rooms to understand that these were not all her books. Jemel had investigated and discovered that many of Pershel’s personal possessions had been taken to a storeroom beneath the temple cells. Jemel has made many clandestine visits to this storeroom once he discovered its existence. It is not well guarded and Jemel suspects anything of any real value may have been taken elsewhere.

But some of the things he took from the storeroom and keeps in the box are truly precious, a few more of her books, some papers and her veil. He keeps the veil beside his bed sometimes. It still holds a faint trace of her scent.

The first time he had held that veil over his face, memories of her had come back so strongly, his knees had buckled and he had fallen onto his bed, wetting the fine fabric with tears.

And the notion had first come to him that Pershel would never have taken her own life. Would never have left him alone.

But what could he do about it? Until very recently, nothing.

Six days ago when Gelen moved into Doroth’s old rooms, the richly appointed chambers of the High Word of Zai, on one of the upper floors of the Sarelik Temple, he had charged some of his acolytes to help him move his things from his old chambers in the enforcer’s wing. Jemel amongst them.

Jemel had not been expecting to find anything of interest among the personal belongings of Doroth that were being parcelled up to be sent to Ceruleum, but he had discovered amongst them a linden wood box, identical to the one Doroth had given Jemel to keep safe Batreous’s writings.

His first thought had been that this box might contain more of Batreous’s writings. None of the acolytes, busily packing and moving books paid Jemel any attention when he walked out with the box. But he did not add it to the piles of Doroth’s belongings. He walked swiftly past and around a corner. And then, he was simply a veiled acolyte of Zai carrying a wooden box. Of no consequence. He brought it back to his chambers, hid it under his bed, and swiftly returned to the Chamber of the High Word of Zai, unmissed.

That night when he returned to his room, exhausted from the day of manual work, he opened the box to find, not a sheaf of papers covered in the familiar hand of Batreous, but a single letter.

At the bottom of the letter is written the name Embel. The name of Pershel the Moon Truth’s Plumian servant. A woman who has not been seen in the Rose Palace since Pershel died. As for the rest of it. He knows not what it says.

It is written in Plumian.

Although Jemel can speak and understand Plumian well, he does not know the letters: strange little squares with circles inside and hashes on the sides, joining each to the next.

He has some papers and books written in Plumian he found in the library when he visited last night, but nothing that shows how it can be translated. He searched the library for some text written in Plumian along with some other language he knows so he could start to uncover what the letters mean, but found nothing of the like. He had given up ever uncovering what the letter said.

But now he knows a Plumian who could likely tell him what this letter says.

Could he possibly trust Xan to read this to him?

He’s tired his mind is hazy, perhaps that is the reason for where his thoughts go.

He thinks of asking Xan to help him with this and of Xan smiling one of his infuriating smiles and demanding his price.

And then, and then… with no resistance, his mind conjures an image of Xan holding him down on his bed. Xan’s wet mouth pressing to his bare shoulder. Xan’s thick fingers curled around the back of his neck, pinning him in place so he could…

He could…

Anything. Anything he wants.

Jemel jolts back to himself. His head is on his desk. Was he sleeping? He has not been sleeping well at night, but to fall asleep at his desk.

Was he sleeping?

He is roused. He curses. His body is so tiresome, its demands so endless. All of them impositions. Food, drink, sleep, coitus. He just wants to be left alone to think. To soar in his mind, free of this. At one with himself, with Zai.

He blinks.

Not Zai. Zai is no God.