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sow doubt in Jagun, and force him to pledge his oath. I have urged him to play upon the Kereyit’s jealousy. Tonight, or mayhap tomorrow, the Mahrkagir will send you to Joscelin Verreuil, the d’Angeline warrior. I want you to tell him-”
    No further than that, and his eyes widened, a child’s again. “Him!” he spat. “I hate him! He looks at me, and his face never changes. I would sooner go with Jagun-”
    “Imriel.” I took hold of his shoulders. “He is my consort. He won’t touch you.”
    His face worked; he was trying to make sense of it. “He came here... ?”
    “He came here with me,” I said. “Because I asked it of him, and because he swore a vow, long ago, to Cassiel, to protect and serve me. To damnation and beyond, that is what he swore. And that is what I asked.”
    “A Cassiline,” he echoed. “That’s why he never smiles.”
    I nodded. It was close enough. “Will you tell him what I have told you? On the night of the vahmyâcam, he is to drink no wine, only water. A quarter of an hour after the Mahrkagir retires with me, he is to go to the upper entrance to the zenana , and dispose of the guards. If he can procure other weapons, it is all to the good. If not...” I shrugged. “We will do what we can.”
    “I will tell him,” Imriel said. He hunched his shoulders and looked at me. “Do you think we will live?”
    “I don’t know,” I said steadily. “But we will try.”
    At that, he came off his stool, flinging his arms about my neck and burying his face in my hair. “I am glad,” he said in a muffled voice, “that you came here.”
    “So am I, Imriel,” I said to him, meaning it. “So am I.”

Fifty-Four
    ON THE third day before the vahmyâcam, the Mahrkagir knew.
    I did not need to be told. I saw it, the instant I entered the festal hall. His eyes, always bright, glowed like black suns. He was overjoyed. He was transcendent with it. His hands, when they took mine, were trembling; ice-cold and trembling.
    “Ishta,” he murmured, embracing me. “Ishta, beloved!” He took a step back and gave a radiant smile. “I knew, I knew from the first! I knew that you were special. Such a gift, îshta, such a gift you have given me. I sought, and knew not what I sought. I did not know it had a name, until Daeva Gashtaham told me.”
    I smiled back, my hands in his. “Everything I have is yours, my lord; everything I am. Of what do you speak?”
    He laughed, buoyant and joyous. “Not everything, not yet! Oh, but I cannot tell you. It is a surprise, the greatest surprise.” Embracing me again, he nuzzled my neck. These things, these tender niceties, I had taught him. “You will live forever, îshta, through me; for ten thousand years! It is the greatest surprise, I promise.”
    And so I smiled and smiled and pretended I could not wait for the great surprise, and the Âka-Magi smiled too, Gashtaham most of all, smiling at my innocent pleasure. It was the single greatest performance of my life. Even Joscelin smiled, cool and amused, his arm about Imriel’s waist while Jagun the Kereyit gnashed his teeth in fury. Imriel played his part to perfection, resentful and withdrawn, pulling away at every opportunity.
    In the Mahrkagir’s bedchamber ... Elua.
    Some things are better left unsaid.
    If there was anything to offset the horror of it, it was seeing the life return to Imriel’s features after the first night he was sent to Joscelin, the spark of defiance rekindled in his eyes. “Even the Drujani are afraid of him,” he said, gloating. “No one will touch me while the Mahrkagir has given me to him! And he says he will not let them, ever.”
    “Did you tell him our plan?” I asked.
    Imriel nodded, both feet hooked about the rungs of the stool. “He says you are as mad as the Mahrkagir, and we are all like to die.”
    I hadn’t expected anything different. “Will he do it?”
    “Yes.”
    And so our plan progressed. The palace of Daršanga boiled with activity. A dais was constructed in the festal hall, to the rear of the covered well where once the eternal flame of Ahura Mazda had burned. There were a good many new faces; Âka-Magi, their acolytes and apprentices, and bewildered others-parents, siblings, loved ones, the unwitting victims of the vahmyâcam-to-be. Negotiations continued, too, with the Tatar tribesmen, with a handful of fierce Circassians who arrived unannounced.
    The Mahrkagir could scarce contain his glee. If all went as planned, he told me, Drujan