"Long have I waited," Jahim al-Zarif muttered. "Many plans have I made. Often have I wished for anything, an opening only as wide as a fingernail, to wedge into and enact my vengeance." He grinned. "And here the Sultan simply... opens the door for me."

  He walked in a circle around the man kneeling on the floor. They were in a dark, dingy room. The walls were cheap mud, flaking and cracking, and the floorboards were warped and unsettled. The kneeling man was dressed all in black. His clothing was plain, but tightly wrapped around him. Nothing was loose or easy on his frame. His eyes were hard, glittering.

  "The Sultan does not understand strength," Jahim snarled. "Fourteen years ago he cast me out. Me! The strongest and greatest Captain of the Royal Guards that Namar?n had seen in generations. Because of what? Other people's mistakes." He bent down. "One madman crept into the palace, past all my guards. I was not even in that part of the palace, but all my years of service, all my skill and power were dust in his eyes."

  "You might as well explain it to a rock, Jahim." Rami Al-Sahir, a dark-skinned man with crystal-blue eyes, leaned against the wall nearby. He grinned, as though enjoying a joke that only he could see. "The hashashim care for only two things: killing, and their reward."

  The hashashim on the floor did not move, but his eyes slid over to regard the blue-eyed man.

  Jahim ignored the interruption.

  "The Sultan is weak," Jahim continued. "Sentimental. So attached to his wife. So attached to his daughter." Jahim scoffed. "A man in his position should have a dozen wives, a hundred heirs. But he clung to his barbarian queen, like a child." Jahim sneered at the hashashim. "And for what? To be nice. To cast out his loyal servants. To cast out the likes of the hashashim. Why should we not serve Namar?n as well as any other man?"

  Rami sighed, and dug a small pouch out of his robes. The hashashim on the floor fixed his eyes on it with rigid intensity. The blue-eyed man grinned. "I tell you, Jahim, they do not care."

  "They must know the why of what they do!" Jahim hissed.

  "Their 'why' is right here," Rami replied, swinging the little pouch around. Those glittering eyes followed it unerringly. He addressed the hashashim. "Gather your men. Prepare." And he tossed the little pouch to him.

  The man snatched the pouch out of the air and darted away. He vanished in an eyeblink.

  "You do not explain politics to a soldier, Jahim," Rami concluded. "It is a waste of words."

  "Then I will explain it to you. The Sultan is ineffective and weak, but his daughter is a threat."

  Rami grinned easily. "Eight hashashim, though? Money slips past you as the river slips past the ferryman. One assassin is enough for any purpose."

  "Normally, yes. But the princess is protected by Kadir Almarid."

  Rami's smile stayed on his face, but his crystal blue eyes hardened, and something ugly lurked within them.

  "Aha," he said. "The Butcher of Baradon. We know his name well in Laiqar. Surprising that the Sultan would put a rabid ape so near his daughter."

  Jahim sneered.

  "The Sultan thinks to avoid even any attempts at assassination. Who would risk it, with such a man guarding her? The Sultan thinks himself clever." Jahim chortled darkly. "He's a blade so sharp he'll cut his own throat."

  Rami shrugged. "Very well. You have your assassins. We shall see if the legendary Kadir is worth his name. But with so many hashashim, it hardly matters how talented he is. Or this princess he protects."

  Jahim's eyes lit with excitement.

  "Eliminating her is striking two birds with a single stone," he said. "We burn out this threat, and the sentimental Sultan will simply disintegrate. He'll be too busy weeping over his lost heir to worry about rebellion. Then, when Baradon is weakened enough--"

  "Yes, yes, I know. We sweep in and take the capital city. And with it, the whole of Namar?n."

  "The Sultan's strange obsession with making a treaty with these outlanders, these Ardenians, has opened the door to weaken the city through rebellion. Laiqar is too small a country to take Namar?n on directly, but once they hold the capital, the rest of the country will fall in line. Then I will rule Baradon. I will have all the power in the city."

  Jahim's gaze turned to his compatriot.

  "And what of you, Rami? You choose dangerous allies, living in the city as you do. What reward would you have, for so great a risk?"

  The blue-eyed man kept his grin and shrugged. "Oh, I'd be fine as a vizier or an advisor," Rami said. "I'd rather be behind the throne than on it. Too many daggers pointed at the man in the seat."

  "Very well. You will have all that you desire. Serve me well, and you will be richly rewarded."

  "As you say. What's next?"

  "We have prepared to weaken the palace," Jahim intoned darkly. "Now we will prepare to weaken the city."

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  Fortney sat at dinner with her father. Her focus was entirely on her food as her mind churned. She unconsciously shoveled food into herself.

  "The desert in evening is cold and still," the Sultan said, "as is the Jewel of Namar?n. What burdens your mind, my daughter?"

  Fortney glanced up at her father and smiled thinly.

  "Nothing is wrong," she said, and went back to eating.

  The Sultan's brow wrinkled with concern.

  "The tutors tell me you are doing very well with your lessons lately," he said, inviting conversation.

  Fortney grunted, her eyes focused on the table.

  "The Master of the Hunt is especially pleased. He says your archery is coming along very well."

  Fortney nodded.

  "And the Master of Languages is ecstatic that you are learning Ardenian. I am glad to see you advancing in your studies."

  Fortney did not respond. The Sultan munched on a date, thinking.

  "How is your training with Kadir going? I know you love the training hall."

  Finally, Fortney's eating slowed. She rose out of her thoughts and fixed her gaze on her father and his worried smile.

  "It is a harder thing Kadir teaches me now than anything I have ever learned," she said quietly, and began to sink back into her fugue.

  The Sultan's countenance darkened.

  "Does he demand too much? Does he push the jewel of my heart too far? Does he abuse my daughter?"

  Fortney slammed a fist down on the table.

  "Nobody abuses me!" she barked. She raised her fist and shook it. "I wish people would stop asking that! If they tried, I would destroy them!"

  The Sultan sat back.

  "I ask pardons of you, my daughter. I only want to make sure you are protected."

  "I can protect myself," she growled. "Of all things, I can protect myself."

  "As you say, my daughter." He ate quietly for a while, thinking. "I am glad of your new focus on your studies. I am glad of Kadir's tutelage for you--it is good to strengthen your body."

  Fortney scowled at her hands.

  "Kadir, he--he no longer trains my fists. Now he trains my heart."

  "Ah," the Sultan said, a smile growing on his face. His tension unwound completely as comprehension settled on him. He clasped his hands over his breast. "The greatest and hardest lessons of all. This pleases me. Kadir's heart is strong and noble. His lessons will serve you well."

  Fortney gave her father a wry look.

  "As you say, father."

  He smiled, pleased for the first time that evening.

  "Well, we can talk of other things, then," he said expansively. "Let us discuss the kingdom. You will someday rule in my stead. You should take an interest in what is happening."

  "Father, someday I will be married to a prince, and he will rule."

  "Ah, the Shazedah will become the Malakeh, but the heart of the Malakeh guides the hand of the Sultan. You will have more influence over the kingdom than you realize." He smiled fondly. "Your mother guided me and helped me well."

  Fortney bowed her head.

  "As you say, father. What news, then, of the kingdom?"

  The Sultan sighed with satisfaction.

  "The ambassador from Arden will be visiting again this week. We are beginning to discuss trade routes." He gave her a meaningful look. "Perhaps you would like to attend? It would help you see how we negotiate, and give you a chance to practice your Ardenian."

  Fortney considered for a moment, then nodded tightly.

  "I will, father."

  "Wonderful. It will be an education." He nodded to himself, as though checking something off a mental list. "Internally, Baradon continues to grow. Our people multiply and thrive. But the walls of the city are bursting, and our people have begun to settle outside the walls."

  "That's... good?" Fortney said hesitantly.

  "In a way. We need our people in the plains and provinces, working the land. We want to encourage them to farm and raise the crops that feed our kingdom. But the people love Baradon. Besides being our capital, it is the center of trade of government. People will always seek to be close to money and power."

  "Thieves, especially," she growled.

  "Thieves, yes," the Sultan said, "but also families. Merchants--those who cannot afford a stall in the market square--have begun to set their tents outside the city walls as well."

  "So Baradon grows," she said, nodding.

  The Sultan nodded. "Yes. The governor of Baradon wants to dig two new wells outside the city."

  Fortney looked thoughtful.

  "That could be useful. Where does he want to dig them?"

  "One over by the Moon Gate, to the east, and one near the Sun Gate to the west."

  Fortney stiffened.

  "By the Sun Gate? Outside the city? Is he a fool? Namar?n has rebuffed countless invaders over the centuries at the Sun Gate. He would try to dig a well through a graveyard?"

  The Sultan smiled. "He is ignorant of our history. He does not believe all the stories."

  "He would, as soon as the first spade pierced the ground. They would dig more skeletons than dirt." She scoffed. "The Sun Gate."

  "There is a deeper consideration," the Sultan said. "Consider: where did all those bodies come from?"

  Fortney shrugged. "Every surrounding kingdom. Damasar and Laiqar, mostly. Also Mirashan, Kaliraj and Qarashan. Bandit hordes. Probably other countries, whose names are lost to time."

  "Yes. Baradon sits in the crook of the Shiqu River, and across the main trade route between the West and the World Rim. Many have desired the city."

  "Many have died desiring our city."

  "They have," she Sultan said. "But have other countries ceased to desire Baradon? When next an attack comes, what will happen to people outside the city? Do we close the gates on them? Or do we let them in and overcrowd the city during a siege?"

  Fortney frowned. "Why worry about that? There has not been a siege on Baradon in a hundred years or more."

  The Sultan gave Fortney a long, serious, look.

  "This is because of the wisdom of the sultans of Namar?n and the luck of the heavens. Do not think this is a natural state of things. Peace never is. It could turn faster than a bolt from the sky."

  Fortney shrugged. "We are strong, our enemies are weak, and the people are satisfied. What is there go wrong?"

  "It is impossible to know every catastrophe that awaits us," the Sultan said. His expression was so dire that Fortney bit back a flippant reply. Instead, she nodded.

  "I will keep thought on this, father. But I do not see how it could come to pass."

  "Have you considered these rebels?"

  Fortney stiffened. "What of them?" she asked.

  "They tell lies to the people, try to agitate them, to lead them to support their cause."

  "What cause? How can they be silenced?"

  "The cause is irrelevant. Yesterday it was the threat of the Damasar. Today it is the treaty with Arden. Tomorrow it will be something else. But you do not silence a rebellion. You starve it."

  Fortney stared at the table, her thoughts in turmoil.

  "I do not understand," she said finally.

  "I have many little mice that bring me whispers," the Sultan said. "The rebels are few in number, and the people do not yet embrace them. Rumors abound, but the people are satisfied, overall. Our granaries are full and the Amtaka are strong." He tapped the side of his nose. "Rebellion is a dangerous, messy business. A man whose family is safe and whose belly is full will never rebel."

  Fortney nodded.

  "I would still see these rumors crushed," she said, "along with the roaches that carry them."

  "Naturally," the Sultan said, "and we will burn out these nests of falsehood as we find them. But keep thought on them. There are many ways a kingdom can fall. Never assume all is safe."