Page 29 of The Cradle of Ice
“Mayhap.” Pratik shrugged. “The Haeshan line did indeed destroy the Kastian clan five centuries ago, who wiped out every heir of the Rylloran tribe prior to their rule. Still, we should not underestimate the Shayn’ra, especially now.”
“Why’s that?” Kanthe asked.
“I suspect the attempt to grab Aalia was stoked by your father’s attack to the north. They likely sought to take advantage of the bombing to make their move. They must’ve hurriedly staged that overturned wagon in the streets to push us into their trap.”
Kanthe winced, remembering the toppled cart, the recalcitrant ox, and the men struggling to right it. I hadn’t even considered they were part of the attack.
“And even in their haste,” Pratik added, “the ambushers came close to succeeding.”
“All too close,” Kanthe mumbled, noting the sting of his wounds.
With a heavy sigh, Pratik shifted over to the steps that led down into the bath. Here in the palace, the Chaaen had shed his byor-ga habiliment and wore only a knee-length tunic and sandals. Apparently, even such clothing was too much to bear. Pratik shed out of his tunic and kicked off his sandals.
As Pratik stepped down into the bath, Kanthe looked studiously elsewhere—not out of shyness at the man’s nakedness. Kanthe had grown accustomed to the lack of modesty found indoors here. Instead, he was discomfited by the Chaaen’s disfigurement, by the lack of manhood between his legs. Not to mention the crisscrossing of white scars across his dark skin and the iron collar forever fixed to his neck. All were testament to Pratik graduating from the Bad’i Chaa, the House of Wisdom.
Kanthe had thought his own tutelage at Kepenhill had been stern and demanding. It paled in comparison. While his school had discouraged trysts, demanding purity, the House of Wisdom enforced it by clipping their firstyears. Worst of all, those who failed to move upward were executed. Those that survived were rewarded by being indentured to the imri class, to forever serve as chaaen-bound advisers. Most of the time, when Pratik was fully clothed, it was easy to forget the misery hidden beneath. Only now, that harsh history was undeniably bared.
It all served as a stark reminder that Kanthe was on foreign soil, about to marry into a culture that still appalled him in many ways.
Maybe the Shayn’ra have a point …
As the Chaaen settled into the steaming waters, he seemed not to notice Kanthe’s discomfort. Pratik’s features remained placid, as if he readily accepted such cruelties as a part of life. Instead, he remained focused on the matter at hand.
“That all said, the ambush on the street has me less concerned than the bombing to the north by Hálendiian forces,” Pratik reminded them. “If war breaks out, we’ll never reach the site of the Sleeper buried near Qazen.”
Frell crossed his arms. “Perhaps the assault upon the princess may serve us in the end. We may be able to use that attack to move up the wedding date.”
“How?” Kanthe asked.
Frell rubbed the shadowy stubble on his chin, clearly reappraising the situation. “Emperor Haeshan needs this wedding to take place. He’s already announced it. His will is considered that of a god among the people. He will lose face if the wedding doesn’t happen.”
Kanthe’s stomach churned queasily at the thought of rushing the marriage.
Frell continued, “We might be able to convince the emperor that if something were to happen to Aalia, the thwarting of her wedding would further denigrate His Illustriousness. Such a threat might sway him to move up the date of the nuptials.”
Pratik shook his head. “Such reasoning will fail. Emperor Haeshan has already reinforced her protection. He’ll keep her confined to the palace and under heavy guard. He’ll not risk the chance of a second attempt by the Shayn’ra.”
Frell frowned. “But—”
Pratik cut him off. “The winter solstice is too important. On that day, the full moon will shine high in the sky with the sun at its lowest point. It is a rare event, considered portentous among our people. Emperor Haeshan will want his only daughter married under such an auspicious moon. It will take far more than a failed kidnapping to move him off that date.”
“Then what will?” Kanthe asked, doing his best to hide his dread.
“I will need to ponder it further,” Pratik admitted. “But it might aid our cause if you could convince Rami to support this change of plan. Perhaps you should bed the prince, after all. It might help us. He is considered quite skilled, it is said.”
Kanthe’s face heated. “I … I’ve already agreed to marriage. Isn’t that enough?”
Pratik ignored him and turned to Frell. “If we do succeed in changing the date of the wedding, we must consider our other mission here in Kysalimri.”
Frell grimaced. “To search for what knowledge lies hidden in the librarie of the Abyssal Codex.”
Pratik nodded. “If the wedding date is moved up, we’ll have less time to accomplish that task.” He waved toward the door. “To that end, how did your audience with the Dresh’ri go this morning?”
Frell shrugged. “I met with Zeng ri Perrin, their head inquisitor, along with two elders. Over the breadth of the morning, Zeng pressed me about my past, my training, my lines of study, settling on the most important question: what knowledge I sought among their ancient tomes. I thought it best not to prevaricate, especially as I wouldn’t be able to hide my line of inquiry once I gained entry. So, I told them the truth—that I sought apocalyptic prophecies from the time of the Forsaken Ages.”
Pratik nodded. “It was wise not to lie. The Dresh’ri name means Forbidden Eye. It is said the eldest among them can read the truth in one’s words.”
“How did they respond?” Kanthe asked.
