The Emperors Soul

later. He was emperor. He might have a temper, but so long as he was not enraged, he was good at covering what he felt. He turned to her, and living eyes—eyes that saw —focused on her. “Who are you?”
    The question twisted her insides, for all the fact that she’d expected it.
    “I’m a kind of surgeon,” Shai said. “You were wounded badly. I have healed you. However, what I used to do so is considered . . . unsavory by some parts of your culture.”
    “You’re a resealer,” he said. “A . . . a Forger?”
    “In a way,” Shai said. He would believe that because he wanted to. “This was a difficult type of resealing. You will have to be stamped each day, and you must keep that metal plate—the one shaped like a disc in that box—with you at all times. Without these, you die, Ashravan.”
    “Give it to me,” he said, holding his hand out for the stamp.
    She hesitated. She wasn’t certain why.
    “Give it to me,” he said, more forceful.
    She placed the stamp in his hand.
    “Don’t tell anyone what has happened here,” she said to him. “Neither guards nor servants. Only your arbiters know of what I have done.”
    The cries outside sounded louder. Ashravan looked toward them. “If no one is to know,” he said, “you must go. Leave this place and do not return.” He looked down at the seal. “I should probably have you killed for knowing my secret.”
    That was the selfishness he’d learned during his years in the palace. Yes, she’d gotten that right.
    “But you won’t,” she said.
    “I won’t.”
    And there was the mercy, buried deeply.
    “Go before I change my mind,” he said.
    She took one step toward the doorway, then checked her pocket watch—well over a minute. The stamp had taken, at least for the short term. She turned and looked at him.
    “What are you waiting for?” he demanded.
    “I just wanted one more glimpse,” she said.
    He frowned.
    The shouts grew even louder.
    “Go,” he said. “Please.” He seemed to know what those shouts were about, or at least he could guess.
    “Do better this time,” Shai said. “Please.”
    With that, she fled.
    She had been tempted, for a time, to write into him a desire to protect her. There would have been no good reason for it, at least in his eyes, and it might have undermined the entire Forgery. Beyond that, she didn’t believe that he could save her. Until his period of mourning was through, he could not leave his quarters or speak to anyone other than his arbiters. During that time, the arbiters ran the empire.
    They practically ran it anyway. No, a hasty revision of Ashravan’s soul to protect her would not have worked. Near the last door out, Shai picked up her fake chamber pot. She hefted it, then stumbled through the doors. She gasped audibly at the distant cries.
    “Is that about me ?” Shai cried. “Nights! I didn’t mean it! I know I wasn’t supposed to see him. I know he’s in seclusion, but I opened the wrong door!”
    The guards stared at her, then one relaxed. “It isn’t you. Find your quarters and stay there.”
    Shai bobbed a bow and hastened away. Most of the guards didn’t know her, and so—
    She felt a sharp pain at her side. She gasped. That pain felt like it did each morning, when the Bloodsealer stamped the door.
    Panicked, Shai felt at her side. The cut in her blouse—where Zu had slashed her with his sword—had gone all the way through her dark undershirt! When her fingers came back, they had a couple of drops of blood on them. Just a nick, nothing dangerous. In the scramble, she hadn’t even noticed she’d been cut.
    But the tip of Zu’s sword . . . it had her blood on it. Fresh blood. The Bloodsealer had found that and had begun the hunt. That pain meant he was locating her, was attuning his pets to her.
    Shai tossed the urn aside and started running.
    Staying hidden was no longer a consideration. Remaining unremarkable was pointless. If the Bloodsealer’s skeletals reached her, she’d die. That was it. She had to reach a horse soon, then stay ahead of the skeletals for twenty-four hours, until her blood grew stale.
    Shai dashed through the hallways. Servants began pointing, others screamed. She almost bowled over a southern ambassador in red priest’s armor.
    Shai cursed, bolting around the man. The palace exits would be locked down by now. She knew that. She’d studied the security. Getting out would be nearly impossible.
    Always have a backup, Uncle Won said.
    She