The Seven-Petaled Shield (58 page)

The
Shirah Kohav
had been Tsorreh’s favorite poetry. Where had she come by this copy?

As he handled the little box and watched the pattern of flame and shadow from the oil lamp, a part of Zevaron’s fury eased. As long as he felt himself surrounded by the people who had shattered his homeland, enslaved his mother, and sent him into exile, then all he could think of
was bringing ruin to Gelon. Here in this quiet place, in the company of strange instruments and the books that Tsorreh had loved, was the undeniable evidence that she had found comfort here. Something opened up inside him, like an island in a landscape of sorrow.

“My soul is a realm forsaken
…
”

He clutched his chest, kneading muscle and skin to ease the aching within. In the back of his mind, he heard Tsorreh’s whisper, speaking of love, trying to tell him something, begging his forgiveness.

“I will come back,”
he had sworn.
“I will save you.”

And she had answered,
“You have already saved what is most dear to me, my Zevaron.”

Her life was worth a thousand Ar-Kings. Ten thousand.

Gone, she is gone.

Gone as Maharrad his father was gone, and Shorrenon his brother, and Meklavar itself.

Cinath had done this thing. She was dead, and Cinath, may-he-rot-forever, had killed her. Even if he had not slit her throat with his own hand, he put her in that hole. He set the city against her and all her people. He gave the orders to march on Meklavar.

Cinath will pay.

Here, words failed him. It did not matter what happened afterward, if only he could reach Cinath and close his hands around the Ar-King’s wretched neck. Or slit his belly open and laugh as his guts spilled across the floor. Or cut off his ears and nose, then his testicles, savoring each scream, each whimper, each plea for mercy.

Gelon would pay. Gelon would burn. By all the gods of Gelon and Denariya, by the ancient powers of his people, by whatever monstrosity the wild men of the Fever Lands worshipped, he would bring down this accursed city, and every city in this thrice-damned land, and every single person in it.

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