CHAPTER 42
Butu and Lujo struggled, but their captors lifted them easily. A sordenu captain prodded them once or twice, and they started through the salt columns.
Shanubu, Butu thought again. Could things have gone any worse? Even if we escape, we can’t sneak past the Akdren again.
“Wait,” Philquek ordered when they were nearly out of earshot. “Return them to me.”
The sordenu obeyed, forcing Butu and Lujo to their knees, again. Philquek leaned forward between them boys’ heads. He smelled faintly of rotten meat.
“You don’t have to die, you know. Nor must harm come to the Ahjea.”
Butu craned his neck to look at Philquek, who continued speaking.
“We found Pisor. Mnemon would’ve destroyed it, if he could, but because he couldn’t, he made it impossible for an adult to reach it.”
The kluntra gestured at the block of crystal. A soldier looked to Philquek, who nodded once. The sordenu swung one of their confiscated swords hard at the crystal. With a spark and a crack, the sword shattered against it.
“Diamond made with Turun magic.” Philquek sat down on the throne, steepling his fingers as he leaned back. “If you help me retrieve it so I can bring it back to Philen, I will release you back to your clan the moment I am king.”
If Mnemon wanted to stop anyone from making a king ever again, Butu thought, why would he go to all the trouble of crossing the shanjin and searching for Urgaruna only to put it in the most obvious possible place?
Sorjot looked on the point of objecting, but thought better of it. He smothered a momentary smile. “You will make a just and merciful king, kluntra.”
He almost sounds sincere, Butu thought as he leaned closer to Lujo.
“If you touch the sword, he’ll kill you for being kingmaker,” Butu whispered.
As a soldier pulled them apart and slapped him, he saw Lujo’s grave nod.
At last. He understands.
And then, someone shouted, “Kluntra! It’s the kingmaker. She’s coming up the stairs.”
The widening of Sorjot’s eyes and the press of his lips told Butu everything he needed to know about who was responsible for the attack on Amber’s escorts.
You’re the one who betrayed Philquek so you could trick him into using your nephew. He probably knows it, too.
Philquek’s coughing grew at the news, though he waved everyone away and sat up, visibly trying to control himself. When the fit passed, he hid the kerchief but not before Butu saw the bloodstains on it. The kluntra brushed a hand over his hair, which did nothing to the flimsy strands.
And then Amber rushed in, breathing heavily. She glanced at Butu and Lujo but betrayed no surprise at seeing them. “Uncle Phil!” she squealed, practically throwing herself into the kluntra’s lap to kiss him on the cheek. “I came as fast as I could, but between the armies and the ladder and the tunnels, it was a long way to run. I hope you weren’t worried.”
Uncle? Butu thought.
Philquek’s face softened immeasurably. “I’m just glad you’re safe, Amber. They told me you were lost in the shanjin.”
“Oh, I was!” She wheeled to stare at Butu again. “But these sordenu and his squad saved me after the Clanless killed my escort.” Her expression turned pleading and she grabbed one of Philquek’s hands in both of hers. “I ... was frightened when I left them. They were nice to me, but they’re not Akdren, and I didn’t want you to hunt them down thinking they kidnapped me.”
Butu couldn’t suppress a smile. Amber returned it, blushing. Philquek frowned at Butu, but his smile returned as soon as Amber turned again.
He knows we’re here to steal Pisor, but he doesn’t think she does, and he doesn’t want to tell her. Butu felt disgusted. How many times did Blay hide the truth from us because he didn’t think we’d understand it or because he didn’t trust us to keep it a secret? It always made matters worse! We never told Amber why we were in the shanjin. I never told her the truth, and Philquek won’t, either.
“Amber, we were sent here to find Pisor,” Butu blurted.
She winked at him. “I knew that. I have eyes to see and ears to hear, and I can pretend to be asleep when I want to.” Then to Philquek, “Uncle, what were you planning to do with them?”
The kluntra weighed the question carefully before speaking. He couldn’t help but notice the expressions Butu and Amber shared. “The punishment for breaking the Treaty of Mnemon is death, my pomegranate.”
Her eyes widened in genuine shock, but her voice was firm. “Show mercy to them, for my sake.”
“How can I refuse you anything, Amber?” Philquek’s free hand brushed her cheek.
He can’t, and she knows it, Butu realized suddenly. She is his kingmaker. The king is the sword, but the kingmaker is the sordenu who wields it. The king must do what his kingmaker wishes, for the king’s life is tied to the life and whim of the kingmaker.
“Then you will release them and treat them as honored guests?”
“Of course, shining jewel of my brother’s son.” If it pained Philquek to submit to her, he hid it well. “But until I am king, I can do no such thing. The treaty forbids it.”
“Tell me what to do.”
The kluntra made a motion with one hand, and the soldiers holding Butu and Lujo released them.
She’s amazing, Butu thought, smiling in sheer exuberance.
Philquek touched the block of crystal again, and Amber stepped up to examine it. She crouched down, peering into it, one hand wiping away the salt dusting it.
“Is that ...?”
“Yes, my dear. It’s Pisor.” He took a step back. “Take it from the stone and present it to me. If the legends are true, that will be enough to bind us together as kingmaker and king — granting me the magic of a child.”
Amber nodded curtly and walked around the block until she faced Butu and Lujo. She reached out her hand confidently, but her fingers struck the diamond with a click as one of her nails cracked against its hard surface.
She expected to pass through the crystal without resistance.
Amber frowned at it, and the Akdren kluntra’s frown matched hers.
“Try a chant,” Lujo suggested.
She glanced up at him for a moment before turning her attention back to the crystal. Amber put her hands on the stone and closed her eyes, whispering a chant. Butu’s feet hurt from standing up by the time the crystal cracked. The sword tumbled onto the floor with a hollow clatter.
Pisor was a plain sword — nearly a perfect match with Butu’s own, but it had no blade decoration. I could make something that simple in a few minutes of chanting. It matched the legends perfectly, though, in that it had no pommel, just a plain steel hilt not even wrapped in leather.
His breath caught. It’s right there. I could seize it and run before anyone could stop me, and then I could turn myself invisible and sneak outside.
He could sense the soldiers leaning in to watch, too distracted to remember their prisoners.
But they are faster than me, and they’ll catch me, unless my magic works. The instant he thought it, Butu regretted thinking it. I can’t trust my magic, right now. Even if I escape, they can track my footprints in the salt.
In the moment of hesitation, Amber picked up the sword. “Sorry,” she mouthed silently at Butu, turning around.
Philquek rose to his feet when she faced him, his eyes following the blade, wrinkles deepening. Her hands shook, and Butu was sure she meant to do something unexpected — strike down Philquek, make the wrong person king, break Pisor with her magic. He gulped, throat suddenly dry.
After a thousand years, you’d think the first kingmaking would be more interesting than this.
Amber reversed the sword and held the hilt out to Philquek.
The words came out in a single breath. “Philquek al’Akdren, kluntra of the mightiest Turun clans, I, Amber el’Akdren, daughter of Melik el’Akdren, son of Piquel al’Akdren, brother of the kluntra, Philquek al’Akdren.” She inhaled loudly and the
n paused as if stuck.
A great uncle, Butu realized. I thought he looked too old to be just an uncle. It was common enough for Turu to call great uncles, great great uncles, and great great great uncles simply “uncle” — just like most people didn’t bother distinguishing one generation of cousins from another. Turu lived so long that anything else wasted too much breath.
Apparently no one told Philquek it’s a waste of time, though.
After a long moment of concentration, Amber continued. “... Do choose you and make you King of Turuna, granting you all the power and ... responsibility of that position.”
Her face contorted in the ensuing silence. Philquek held out his hands but didn’t take Pisor, which shook in Amber’s nervous hands.
She’s going to do something, Butu thought, leaning forward eagerly.
After a minute of silence, Sorjot spoke in her ear. “May your rule,” he prompted.
Relief flooded her features. “Oh, yes. May your rule be long and filled with wisdom, and may your power bring unity and order to the clans.”
“I accept this burden you offer me, Amber el’Akdren,” Philquek said impatiently, grabbing the hilt.