The old Mang nodded, but Ngangata hung back stubbornly.

“I will watch Perkar,” she assured him. “I'll watch him.”

After a moment the half man nodded curtly and followed Brother Horse from the yekt.

Hezhi approached Tsem and laid her hand on his massive ribs.

“I've never seen you cry,” she whispered.

“I don't mean to,” he wheezed. “It's just that… why can't they leave you alone!”

“Shh.”

“I saw how the priests hurt you, in Nhol, and I could do nothing. I saw the horror that never left your face, after you went down into that place, that place under the sewers. And then I could do nothing. Finally—”

“Finally you helped me escape the most terrible fate anyone could imagine.”

“Yes, and had to be carried away from Nhol on my back. I know who saved whom back in Nhol, Princess.”

She knelt, and hot tears were starting in her own eyes. “Listen to me, Tsem. You did save me, just not the way you think. I almost …” Became a goddess? Razed Nhol to its foundations? Would that have been so bad, looking back?

“I almost became something terrible,” she finished. “You saved me.”

“I don't remember that. How could I have done that?”

“Just by being Tsem. By loving me.”

“Ah. I thought you wanted me to stop crying.”

“I don't care if you cry,” she soothed. But she did. Even wounded, Tsem had not seemed so feeble to her. He had always been her wall, her strength. Wounded, he had merely been awaiting repair, being rebuilt to be her tower again. But this struck her down to the bone, all the way down. She was really alone here, in this place. She had to be her own strength, and even Giants couldn't protect her now.

She hated herself, but she wished he hadn't cried. She wished he had kept it in, wept to the wind later. But he hadn't, and now she knew, and she loved him enough not to tell him what he had done: that he had made it all worse.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We have to get ready to go. The world awaits us.”

XVIII On the Barge

A bright clattering of gulls blew through the door as the old man stepped into the darkened cabin. He stood for a moment, silhouetted in a rectangle of sunlight, a breeze that smelled like water and iron seeping past his body. Ghe motioned him in.

“You,” Ghan grunted. “What do you have to do with all of this?”

“My father has more influence than I ever told anyone,” Ghe answered, secretly amused by his joke. In his heart of hearts, his father was the River.

“Enough to command the use of a royal barge? Don't lie to me, boy.”

Ghe sighed and stood politely, smoothing the hem of his dark green robe. He motioned for the librarian to sit on the pillows heaped about the cabin. Ghan ignored the motion, stubbornly continuing to stand on the slowly rocking deck.

“Yes, then, you've seen through me,” Ghe admitted. “Please sit down. Have a measure of coffee.”

“I don't intend to stay.”

Ghe shook his head. “As you imply, you and I are in the grip of powers greater than ourselves. The emperor's soldiers are still outside, and I doubt that I can persuade them to leave.” Ghe was amazed at the strength of the old man. He could sense the cloud of fear and uncertainty about him, and yet his face and manner betrayed no such sentiments. A worthy opponent and a needed ally.

“But you know what this is all about?” Ghan asked, eyeing him critically.

“Indeed. As do you, I expect.”

“Hezhi,” the old man said dully, reaching to pinch the folds of his brow with one hand.

“Hezhi? Not ‘Hezhinata’?”

Ghan's only answer was a glare.

“She is in danger, you know. Master Ghan, she is in deadly danger.”

Ghan folded his thin arms across his chest like a hedge of bone, protecting him. “Danger.”

“Please sit down, Master Ghan. I tire of standing myself.”

Ghan pursed his lips in undisguised frustration and then, with a slight nod, settled onto one of the felted pillows. He appeared uncomfortable, sitting without a desk in his lap, a book splayed open before him. Ghe smiled reassuringly, bent, and poured coffee from a silver urn into twin porcelain cups. He offered one to Ghan, who took it almost without seeming to notice. His attention was focused entirely on Ghe, as if he were trying to peer through his clothing to the lies they hid, through the scarf about his throat to the impossible scar.

“Tell me what danger,” Ghan demanded.

“From whom else? From the priesthood.”

“The priesthood?”

“It has come to the attention of the emperor that the priesthood plans an expedition to search for her.”

“Search for her? Why?”

“Who knows what purposes hide behind their robes and masks? But the emperor believes that it has to do with the Royal Blood.”

“Away from the River, she is no danger to them.”

“I know little of these matters, Master Ghan. I am only the son of a merchant, an engineer at best. What I do know is that what is true or false is of no consequence to the priesthood. Set in motion, they are like a stone falling. What remains beneath them is crushed. For whatever reason, we know they seek her. Furthermore, we believe that they know where she is.”

“They could not.”

“Couldn't they? They have been sending out spies for the better part of a year. They have been working their sorcery, watching the stars.”

“All of this the emperor told you.”

Ghe held out his hands. “I did not, of course, have an audience with the Chakunge himself. But his minister spoke to me, after I made my concerns known.”

“Your concerns?”

Ghe nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. The priests talk, and the careful ear ensnares their words. I have heard things.”

“Why were you researching the temple?”

“A false trail. I believed that they actually had her captive in their sanctum.”

“They do not.”

“You seem certain of that,” Ghe observed.

Ghan tightened his mouth, realizing that he had said too much.

Ghe leaned over the coffee urn and spoke intently. “The emperor knows, Master Ghan, that you helped his daughter escape the city. He has been watching you, hoping for some sign that you know her whereabouts.”

“And you were the spy?”

“One of them, Master. Please understand, it was from my concern for her.”

Ghan frowned sharply. “What is this all about? If you wish me to confess some crime, I will not. I have no patience for these courtly games.”

“This is no game, Master. In the morning, this barge swims upstream to search for the daughter of our emperor. Unlike the priesthood, we have no idea of where she is, save north and away. You can help us.”

“I do not know where she is.”

“You do. Assuredly, Master Ghan, you do.”

“Torture it from me, then.”

“The emperor won't do that. At least, he said he would not. He wants your cooperation and your loyalty. You are dear to Hezhi, and it is important that she believe in our good intentions when we do find her.”

“You aren't—” Ghan's face registered shock for the first time. His mouth actually dropped open. “You aren't really suggesting that I go with you on this mad search?”

“But that is precisely what I am saying.”

“Out of the question! The library—”

“The emperor has actually been considering sealing the library. It has been the center of much trouble, of late.”

“Sealing the library?”

Ghe sipped his coffee, let the implicit threat sink in. A mask of fury settled on Ghan's face and then quickly vanished.

“I see,” he clipped.

“Perhaps only temporarily, until you return.” He regarded his coffee cup once more. “There has also been talk of restoring certain names in the capital, of ending certain exiles.”

Ghan was nodding his head now. The sweetmeat and the rotten pear were both on the plate before him. Ghan's family was in exile and had been for decades; only his intense love of the library kept him in Nhol. The simultaneous threat to close the library and promise to reinstate his clan had to be a powerful combination.