City Without End (48 page)

Quinn tottered back to his bunk. Once the whole Entire had been on the lookout for him, combing the cities and midlands for any sign of the man of the Rose. Now that they had him, no one was impressed, not even his guards.

He slept, cradling his bad arm, hoping to be wakened by Oventroe’s voice, fearing to hear Demat’s, instead.

Cixi saw the darkling asleep on a pallet by the wall. She half expected him to stink of blood, but the fabbers had cleaned him up, no doubt. Even prisoners did not escape Tarig fastidiousness.

She nodded for Shuyong to hold well back. The clerk was the only other visitor allowed in. He carried a box of pens and scrolls, standing ready to record anything of note that Cixi said. That, however, had been for show. He would hear nothing.

She leaned toward the bars of light that stretched from ceiling to floor.

“So, bastard son of Yulin.” He sat up. Swaying slightly, he struggled to his feet, squinting toward her.

She growled, “So you come among us again.”

“Cixi . . . High Prefect.” He bowed.

His address was presumptuous, but she ignored the lapse. He had done worse. “If you touch the bars, your hands will burn, bastard son of Yulin. Do be careful.”

A crooked smile. “Thank you, Your Brilliance, I will.”

His wounds were healed, those that she had heard about. But when he approached, she saw that his right arm hung stiffly.

She noted that his face had changed once again. Would the man never cease transformations? It was so much easier, over time, to hate the same face. “Before they kill you, I would know Yulin’s part in your lies at court.” She needed no confirmation of Yulin’s treachery, but listeners might expect her to ask.

A long pause. “Yulin knew.”

“And his supposed niece, Ji Anzi.”

He smiled again. “I assume her greater sin is having married me.”

“True.” She gestured for him to come closer. When he did, she spit in his face.

Slowly, he wiped his face on the sleeve of his good arm, his expression turned as cold as any she’d seen from a Tarig.

Having performed the necessary drama, she brought her hand to her belt and activated a small jewel. The prisoner followed her movements with extreme focus.

“For a few moments we have privacy, darkling.” She hoped that was true.

Such engines of science as she had were small and carefully hoarded. The Tarig bestowed little knowledge, but they couldn’t keep it all. “I would know why you’ve come; why Hel Ese is here. Tell me the truth and I will give you a small reward. Tell me lies, and I leave you to the lords.”

Hesitating only a moment, he said, “I followed Helice here to stop her.”

Then, with growing openness, he told more; and why not? He was in desperate circumstances. Confidences might appeal.

“She’s come to offer the lords a quick burning of the Rose. In exchange, she wants them to allow her to live here. Her and a group of her human friends.”

She saw him teeter. He was weak, and his right arm looked immobile.

Had they taken the arm off during his march through the streets? Cixi thought it had not come to dismemberment. In any case, the arm was attached now. “The lords would never allow it.”

“She’s found their access to the Heart. The way they go home.” He snaked a look at her as though checking to see if she understood what he meant. “She wants to control it. Maybe she already does.”

By the bright, the door was at the Tower of Ghinamid! “Did you know, Titus Quinn, that the Tower of Ghinamid suffered a small fire? Hel Ese’s doing, then?”

He nodded.

The Tower of Ghinamid stood the highest of any of the pinnacles in the Ascendancy. Of course no one saw Tarig moving to and from it . . . it would all be hidden in passageways. Despite this portentous revelation, she must focus on her questions. One was terribly dangerous to utter. “How does Sen Ni fare?”

“My daughter?” Frowning at this unexpected question, the man of the Rose said, “She’s Mistress of Rim Sway. You knew?”

“Of course I knew! Tell me what else.”

“She has done well; she faced down the Tarig in the streets.”

Cixi snorted in disgust. He would not divulge secrets unless she did so first. Very low, her lips barely moving, Cixi whispered, “She is my daughter.

My daughter of the heart. I have . . . comforted her.” She let that ultimate secret settle on him.

By the look on his face, he doubted her.

Cixi hissed, “Why would I give you proof of my treason? I do not lie. She is my dear girl. We have been united against you. Take no offence. You brought it on yourself.”

“If you were her friend, why did you let them put her in slavery?”

“Why did
I
?” She decided to let that despicable comment pass. “No one could have stopped them. There was an advantage for her to exploit with the Inyx. I sent a warrior to protect her.”

He seemed stunned. “Mo Ti?”

“Where is Mo Ti, darkling?”

“In hiding.” He came very close to the bars, speaking rapidly. “Mo Ti was helping Sydney to raise the kingdom. And you, Cixi, I think you were helping them. If you are, I’m on your side. I’ll give her the kingdom; I’ve already told her I will. But first, I have to eliminate Hel Ese.”

“She’s with the lords; too late, I expect.”

“Help me, Cixi. Helice has a controlling device brought over from the Rose. She’s using it to threaten the doors to the place where the lords go to renew themselves. I need to take control of those doors. You should help me, because if I control the lords, I’ll give them to Sydney. If Helice does, it will be for herself alone.”

She stepped back, fending off the idea that she would ever align herself with this man.

“Cixi, listen! I’ve promised the Entire to Sydney. I don’t want it.”

She snorted at this claim.

“I don’t want it, I’ve never wanted it. It’s all to protect the Rose.”

Cixi sucked her teeth, considering. But, no, it could not be done. “I cannot help you, darkling. Hel Ese is welcome here. The Rose must die for us to live. I am not opposed. She is already released from confinement, conferring with the lords.”

That brought a grim look. “She won’t let Sydney raise a kingdom of sways. She won’t share power. She’ll betray Sydney to the lords.”

Well, perhaps she would. But Cixi didn’t trust either of them. “Leave that, darkling. Our time is done. I cannot save you or your Rose Earth, nor could I bear to see you rise high.” Cixi put her hand over her belt, waving her clerk forward. “I have not the power to save you. We are done.”

He blurted out, “Send Lord Oventroe to me, Cixi. I beg you for a last favor.”

Ah, so they
were
in alliance. Or had been. “He is suddenly out of the city.” The man’s chagrin was easy to read. “But I will give you a small favor; a visit from a friend.”

Shuyong approached. Cixi went on, “If this man is your spy, you may work your strategies through him. He will have a few minutes with you alone. I have instructed him to write down—for promulgating to the Mag-isterium— your abject apology for your degradation of the court when last you came among us. Use your time wisely.”

She backed away from the cell. “Goodbye, Titus Quinn. I have hated you too long to change now. Do not expect I have esteem for you.”

“I would never presume on your esteem, High Prefect.” As she reached for the door she heard him say: “Please! One thing more. A favor, High Prefect, easy for you to grant. The life of a steward named Cho. They say he is interred.”

The steward Cho had long outlived his usefulness. “Dead, I regret to say.”

Quinn nodded slowly.

The clerk, whose real status was mort, and whose real name was Li Yun Tai, came up to the bars of Quinn’s cell.

Cixi bowed, just the slightest tip of her chin. Titus Quinn was a worthy adversary. Unlucky, perhaps, but worthy.

For the second time in his life, Tai looked on the man of the Rose. Tai’s artless question in the Magisterium had drawn attention, and before he had quite understood his mistakes, he’d found himself answering to the High Prefect herself. Although he admitted nothing, she had deduced that he was an operative of Titus Quinn. To his surprise, she said she might help him.

Standing before Titus Quinn now, Tai was exceedingly nervous. This was politics well beyond him, and beyond his instructions from Hel Ese.

“I am Tai, a servant of Hel Ese.”

Titus Quinn’s eyes grew wary.

“Hel Ese is here, too, of course! It is all arranged, Master.”

“Call me Quinn.”

Tai wasn’t sure he could manage that, but he nodded, pretending to write on the scroll, in case anyone was observing. As he did so, he said, “It is all arranged. Hel Ese is working on your mission. A great enterprise of the Rose, she said. She’s been sick, and I cared for her. I can’t talk to her because she’s with the lords, but she’d want me to help you. If I can, I will.”

“Do you know how to get me out of here?”

“No. The high prefect gave me nothing. Only permission to see you.”

Titus Quinn came closer, fixing Tai with a riveting gaze. “Helice has lied to you. She and I aren’t together. But I’ll tell you the truth, if you want it.”

Dumbly, Tai nodded. Hel Ese had lied?

His Excellency—Quinn—went on then, telling him a profoundly different story than the one Hel Ese had related. As the awful words slid out of the man’s mouth, Tai grew sick with shock. Could he have been so wrong about the woman of the Rose? Was he to believe Hel Ese or Titus Quinn? But could there really be a doubt? In his heart, Tai admitted he didn’t like Hel Ese, that she had always treated him with contempt. He had been duped.

Quinn’s mouth quirked in sympathy. “She’s fooled the best of us. You couldn’t have known.” He continued, telling—oh, telling such terrible things—how Hel Ese wanted safe passage to the Entire for a few, and then the Rose would be gone.

Gone. Tai’s throat felt glued shut. Gone. Was it possible that the Rose could die? That he had been helping it die? He broke into a sweat beneath his heavy clerk’s robe. It was monstrous. She’d used him. Promised him a terrible promise: to go to the Rose. Which would be dead.

A steward appeared at the door to the anteroom of Quinn’s cell. The Chalin steward fixed Tai with an authoritative gaze. “You are to leave now, Shuyong.”

When he received Tai’s nod, he departed.

Desperately, Tai leaned toward the activated bars. “How can I help you, Master Quinn? I will do anything, even if I die for it.”

“Give me a parchment, Tai. And something to write with.”

Though Tai worried they were being watched, he obeyed. He fumbled among his box of supplies and retrieved a small paper and an inked pen, passing them through the bars.

“What will you do, Master?”

Quinn tucked them in his jacket.

“Tai. Take a message for me to Zhiya the godwoman. Ask for her in Rim City, and her people will eventually find you. Tell her that I’m going to try to go home. That I found no . . . help . . . in the Ascendancy, and that I’m going home to stop Helice’s plans. Would you do that for me? I want someone to know what became of me. I want my wife to know.”

“Yes, Master Quinn, anything. I’ll find her.”

The man of the Rose glanced toward the door. “Do you know the names of the Tarig who are currently among the ruling Five?”

Tai shook his head. He had never paid attention.

“Are they all assembled here? Do you know if they’re all in the Ascendancy?” “I . . . don’t know, Master. I’m sorry.” Tai was now experiencing a growing horror as his past actions began to sink in. “There must be something more I can do!”

Titus Quinn murmured, “If you believe in God, pray for me.”

Reluctantly, Tai left the room. He wondered if Titus Quinn was a religious man, or if he was just that desperate.

As he hurried to join Cixi’s entourage still winding its way through the great plaza, he stifled little moans of dismay and terror. He considered his foolish, rash actions. Hel Ese had used him without pity, if the man of the Rose was to be believed.

And oh, Tai believed him.

CHAPTER THIRTY