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permitted myself a smile, tinged with bitterness. “My weak and craven gods.”
    Kaneka regarded me. “You must love one of them very much,” she said. “Either your gods, or the boy’s mother.”
    I laughed, at that-I could not help it. “Fedabin Kaneka,” I said, dragging my hands through my disheveled hair, seeking to regain my self-control. “Let us end this dance, because I do not have time for it. In nine days ... nine days! ... the Âka-Magi of Drujan will hold their sacrifice, the vahmyâcam. And unless I am very much mistaken, which does not happen so often as you might suppose, I fear it is their intention that the Mahrkagir make me his offering. You see,” I said, holding her gaze, “he has learned, against all odds, to love. And if he is allowed to offer that upon the altar of Angra Mainyu, he will take on such power as makes everything that came before seem as child’s play.”
    Being dark of skin, Kaneka could not blanch; instead, she turned grey. Still, she did not look away. “You do not propose to let him.”
    “No,” I said, looking at the top of her head. “I propose to borrow your hairpins.”
    Kaneka’s hands, laced between her knees, trembled. “You would kill Lord Death.”
    I could not say it. I only nodded. At that, Kaneka did look away. Tears stood in the corners of her eyes. “What becomes of us?” she asked. “What becomes of the zenana ? What vengeance ”-the word was a harsh one, in zenyan-“will his followers wreak?”
    “None,” I whispered, “if they are dead or incapable. Kaneka, listen to me. The power of the Âka-Magi flows through the Mahrkagir. If he is slain, it leaves only the soldiers. And if the zenana helped ...” I swallowed, “... if they did, if they hoarded their opium, if the cook who is enamored of Nazneen the Ephesian rendered it into a tincture, and the women of the zenana served it to the garrison in kumis and beer and wine, on the night of the vahmyâcam, when there is bound to be feasting ... Kaneka, we could take Daršanga.”
    “We.” She looked back at me, mask-like, ignoring her own tears. “A handful of unarmed women. A boy.”
    “And Erich. And the Akkadians, who have knives. They will fight, I know it.”
    “You are so very sure,” she murmured. “Little one.”
    “No.” I swallowed again, trying to consume the lump of fear lodged in my throat. “I am so very desperate, Fedabin, because I cannot do this alone, and I think if I fail, we are all dead. You and me and Imriel, and everyone in the zenana , and I do not know where it will end, because if I fail, I will be dead at his hands, and if that happens, I cannot see anyplace on this earth where Angra Mainyu’s power will be halted, and I think, although I am desperately afraid I may be wrong, that this is why my gods have sent me here. Fedabin Kaneka, I have told you only true stories. If I place that which I hold dearer than life in your hands, will you lend me your hairpins?”
    Kaneka looked at me without speaking, and in a single, abrupt gesture, removed the twinned ivory pins from her hair, placing them in my open hands. I gazed at them, the long shafts tapering to dagger-points, and closed my hands upon them. They retained the warmth of her. It was the one thing I had not been able to conceive-how to get a weapon capable of killing past the guards.
    “I was scared,” Kaneka said shortly. “Too scared to try it.”
    I nodded, understanding. “He would have killed you if you had. Fedabin Kaneka, I will keep my bargain. There is one other weapon that we have. They tell stories about him in Skaldia, too.”

Fifty-Three
    THE DAYS that followed were among the most terrifying of my life. As hard as it had been to bear my secret alone, it was worse to have it shared, rendering so many of us vulnerable. The whispering was constant as the conspiracy grew. I was sure, at any instant, someone would speak carelessly in front of Nariman, and all would be lost.
    None of it would have been possible without Kaneka. Bullying, cajoling, threatening-it was she who converted the others to our cause, convincing them to surrender their precious allotments of opium. Not all, but many; enough. Drucilla assumed charge of it, carrying the growing ball of resin in her physician’s basket. When it was the size of a man’s doubled fists, she gauged, it would be sufficient to affect the entire garrison.
    Rushad too proved an invaluable ally. Although the prospect of it rendered him pale