Page 62 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

It was all Niclays could do not to wring the blockhead by the throat. Instead, he opened the gourd.

“Drink.” He pushed it between the bars. “The first woman took you to the theatre district instead of reporting you. It was her crime that landed you in Orisima. You must be able to describe her—her face, her clothes,something. Help yourself, Sulyard.”

A blood-streaked hand reached for the gourd. “She had long, dark hair, and a scar at the top of her left cheek. Like a fishhook.” Sulyard drank. “I think . . . that she was of an age with me, or younger. She wore sandals and a coat of gray cloth over a black tunic.”

“Offer this information to your captors,” Niclays urged. “In exchange for your life. Help them find her, and they may show mercy.”

“I beseeched them to listen to me.” Sulyard seemed delirious. “I said I came from Her Majesty, that I was her ambassador, that my ship foundered. None of them would listen.”

“Even if youwerea real ambassador, which you clearly are not, they would not welcome you.” Niclays glanced over his shoulder. The sentinels would soon come back for him. “Listen carefully now, Sulyard. The Governor of Cape Hisan is sending me to the capital while this matter is investigated. Letmetake your message to the Warlord.”

Fresh tears filled his eyes. “You would do that for me, Doctor Roos?”

“If you tell me more about your undertaking. Tell me why you believe Sabran needs an alliance with Seiiki.”

He had no idea if he would be able to keep his word, but he needed to know exactly why this boy was here. What Truyde had conspired with him to do.

“Thank you.” Sulyard reached between the bars and took Niclays by the hand. “Thank you, Doctor Roos. The Knight of Fellowship blessed me with your company.”

“I’m sure,” Niclays said dryly.

He waited. Sulyard squeezed his hand and lowered his voice to the barest whisper.

“Truyde and I,” he began, “we— we believe the Nameless One will awaken very soon. That the endurance of the House of Berethnet was never what kept him imprisoned. That come what may, he will return, and that is why his servants have been stirring. They are answering his call.”

His lips trembled as he spoke. Expressing the idea that the House of Berethnet was not what kept the Nameless One at bay was high treason in Virtudom.

“What led you to believe this?” Niclays asked, stumped. “What doomsinger has frightened you, boy?”

“Not a doomsinger. Books. Your books, Doctor Roos.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. The books on alchemy you left behind,” Sulyard whispered. “Truyde and I were planning to find you in Orisima. The Knight of Fellowship took me to your side. Do you not see that this is a divine mission?”

“No, I do not, you witless cabbage.”

“But—”

“You really thought the rulers of the East would be more sympathetic to this mad-born proposal than Sabran?” Niclays sneered. “You thought you would cross the Abyss and risk your heads . . . because the two of you leafed through a few books on alchemy. Books that take alchemists decades, if not lifetimes, to understand. If they ever do.”

He almost pitied Sulyard for his folly. He was young and love-drunk. The boy must have convinced himself that he was like Lord Wulf Glenn or Sir Antor Dale, the romantic heroes of Inysh history, and must honor his lady by charging headlong into danger.

“Please, Doctor Roos, I beg you, hear me. Truydedoesunderstand those books. She believes there is a natural balance in the world, as ancient alchemists did,” Sulyard prattled on. “Shebelievesin your work, and she believes she has found a way to apply it to our world. To our history.”

Natural balance.He was referring to the words scored into the long-lost Tablet of Rumelabar, words that had fascinated alchemists for centuries.

What is below must be balanced by what is above,

and in this is the precision of the universe.

Fire ascends from the earth, light descends from the sky.

Too much of one doth inflame the other,

and in this is the extinction of the universe.

“Sulyard,” Niclays said through his teeth, “no one understands that wretched tablet. This is guesswork and folly.”

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