carry it. And beneath it, a wall stand of silver with the sigils of

order and chaos worked in marble and bloodstone. Idaan passed the blades

and cloaks to the men.

"The servants will only know of the wall stand. "These others we can

give to Oshai to dispose of once we have him," Idaan said. "The smoke

pitch we can use to frighten the armsmen at the cages. The bows and

blades are for those that don't flee."

"Idaan-kya," Adrah said, "this is madness, we can't. .

She slapped him before she knew she meant to. He pressed a palm to his

cheek, and his eyes glistened. But there was anger in him too. That was

good.

"We do the thing now, while there are servants to swear it was not us.

We do it quickly, and we live. We falter and wail like old women, and we

die. Pick one."

Daaya Vaunyogi broke the silence by taking a cloak and pulling it on.

His son looked to him, then to her, then, trembling began to do the same.

"You should have been born a man," her soon-to-be father said. There was

disgust in his voice.

The tunnels beneath the palaces were little traveled in spring. The long

winter months trapped in the warrens that laced the earth below Machi

made even the slaves yearn for daylight. Idaan knew them all. Long

winter months stealing unchaperoned up these corridors to play on the

river ice and snow-shrouded city streets had taught her how to move

through them unseen. They passed the alcove where she and Janat Saya had

kissed once, when they were both too young to think it more than

something that they should wish to do. She led them through the thin

servant's passage she'd learned of when she was stealing fresh

applecakes from the kitchens. Memories made the shadows seem like old

friends from better times, when her mischief had been innocent.

They made their way from tunnel to tunnel, passing through wide chambers

unnoticed and passages so narrow they had to stoop and go singly. The

weight of stone above them made the journey seem like traveling through

a mine.

They knew they were nearing the occupied parts of the tunnels as much by

the smell of shit from the cages and acrid smoke as by the torchlight

that danced at the corridor's mouth. Thick timber beams framed the hall.

Idaan paused. This was only a side gallery-little used, rarely

trafficked. But it would do, she thought.

"What now?" Adrah asked. "We light the pitch? Simulate a fire?"

Idaan took the pot from its hag and weighed it in her hands.

"We simulate nothing, Adrah-kya," she said. She tossed the pot at the

base of a thick timber support and tossed her lit torch onto the

blackness. It sputtered for a moment, then caught. Idaan unslung the bow

from her shoulder and draped a fold of the cloak over it. "Be ready."

She waited as the flames caught. If she waited too long, they might not

be able to pass the fire. If she was too quick, the armsmen might be

able to put out the blaze. A deep calm seemed to descend upon her, and

she felt herself smile. Now would be a fine moment, she thought, and

screamed, raising the alarm. Adrah and Daaya followed her as she

stumbled through the darkness and into the cages. In the time it took

for her to take two breaths of the thickening air, they found themselves

in the place she'd hoped: a wide gallery in torchlight, the air already

becoming dense with smoke, and iron cages set into the stone where

prisoners waited on the justice of the Khai. Two armsmen in leather and

bronze armor scuttled to the three of them, their eyes round with fear.

"There's a fire in the gallery!" Daaya shrilled. "Get water! Get the watch!"

The prisoners were coming to the front of the cages now. Their cries of

fear added to the confusion. Idaan pretended to cough as she considered

the problem. There were two more armsmen at the far end of the cages,

but they were coming closer. Of the first two who had approached, one

had raced off toward the fire, the other down a well-lit tunnel, she

presumed towards aid. And then midway down the row of cages on the left,

she caught a glimpse of the Galts' creature. There was real fear in his

eyes.

Adrah panicked as the second pair came close. With a shriek, he drew his

blade, hewing at the armsmen like a child playing at war. Idaan cursed,

but Daaya was moving faster, drawing his bow and sinking a dark shaft

into the man's belly as Idaan shot at his chest and missed. But Adrah

was lucky-a wild stroke caught the armsman's chin and seemed to cleave

his jaw apart. Idaan raced to the cages, to Oshai. The moon-faced

assassin registered a moment's surprise when he saw her face within the

hood, and then Oshai closed his eyes and spat.

Adrah and Daaya rushed to her side.

"Do not speak," Oshai said. "Nothing. Every man here would sell you for

his freedom, and there are people who would buy. Do you understand?"

Idaan nodded and pointed toward the thick lock that barred the door.

Oshai shook his head.

"The Khai's Master of Blades keeps the keys," Oshai said. "The cages

can't be opened without him. If you meant me to leave with you, you

didn't think this through very well."

Adrah whispered a curse, but Oshai's eyes were on Idaan. He smiled

thinly, his eyes dead as a fish's. He saw it when she understood, and he

nodded, stepped back from the bars, and opened his arms like a man

overwhelmed by the beauty of a sunrise. Idaan's first arrow took him in

the throat. There were two others after that, but she thought they

likely didn't matter. The first shouts of the watch echoed. The smoke

was thickening. Idaan walked away, down the route she had meant to take

when the prisoners were free. She'd meant to free them all, adding to

the chaos. She'd been a fool.

"What have you done?" Daaya Vaunyogi demanded once they were safely away

in the labyrinth. "What have you done?"

Idaan didn't bother answering.

Back in the garden, they sank the blades and the cloaks in a fountain to

lie submerged until Adrah could sneak back in under cover of night and

get rid of them. Even with the dark hoods gone, they all reeked of

smoke. She hadn't foreseen that either. Neither of the men met her eyes.

And yet, Oshai was beyond telling stories to the utkhaiem. So perhaps

things hadn't ended so badly.

She gave her farewells to Daaya Vaunyogi. Adrah walked with her hack

through the evening-dimmed streets to her rooms. That the city seemed

unchanged struck her as odd. She couldn't say what she had expected-what

the day's events should have done to the stones, the air-but that it

should all be the same seemed wrong. She paused by a beggar, listening

to his song, and dropped a length of silver into the lacquered box at