Then Nahadoth stepped back. He spread his arms wide, revealing the black void of his body, and waited.

I stepped inside him and was enfolded in darkness. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed warmer this time.

19

Diamonds

YOU ARE INSIGNIFICANT. One of millions, neither special nor unique. I did not ask for this ignominy, and I resent the comparison.

Fine. I dont like you, either.

* * *

We appeared in a stately, brightly lit hall of white and gray marble, lined by narrow rectangular windows, under a chandelier. (If I had never seen Sky, I would have been impressed.) At both ends of the hall were double doors of polished dark wood; I assumed we faced the relevant set. From beyond the open windows I could hear merchants crying their wares, a baby fussing, a horses neigh, womens laughter. City life.

No one was around, though the evening was young. I knew Nahadoth well enough by now to suspect that this was deliberate.

I nodded toward the doors. Is Gemd alone?

No. With him are a number of guards, colleagues, and advisors.

Of course. Planning a war took teamwork. I scowled and then caught myself: I could not do this angry. My goal was delaypeace, for as long as possible. Anger would not help.

Please try not to kill anyone, I murmured, as we walked toward the door. Nahadoth said nothing in response, but the hall grew dimmer, the flickering torchlit shadows sharpening to razor fineness. The air felt heavy.

This my Arameri ancestors had learned, at the cost of their own blood and souls: the Nightlord cannot be controlled. He can only be unleashed. If Gemd forced me to call on Nahadoths power

Best to pray that would not be necessary.

I walked forward.

The doors flung themselves open as I came to them, slamming against the opposite walls with an echoing racket that would bring half Gemds palace guard running if they had any competence. It made for a suitably stunning entrance as I strode through, greeted by a chorus of surprised shouts and curses. Men who had been seated around a wide, paper-cluttered table scrambled to their feet, some groping for weapons and others staring at me dumbly. Two of them wore deep-red cloaks that I recognized as Tok warrior attire. So that was one of the lands Menchey had allied with. At the head of this table sat a man of perhaps sixty years: richly dressed, salt-and-pepper-haired, with a face like flint and steel. He reminded me of Dekarta, though only in manner; the Mencheyev were High North people, too, and they looked more like Darre than Amn. He half-stood, then hovered where he was, more angry than surprised.

I fixed my gaze on him, though I knew that Menchey, like Darr, was ruled more by its council than its chieftain. In many ways we were merely figureheads, he and I. But in this confrontation, he would be the key.

Minister, I said, in Senmite. Greetings.

His eyes narrowed. Youre that Darre bitch.

One of many, yes.

Gemd turned to one of his men and murmured something; the man hurried away. To supervise the guards and figure out how Id gotten in, no doubt. Then Gemd turned back, his look appraising and wary.

Youre not among many now, he said slowly. Or are you? You couldnt have been foolish enough to come alone.

I caught myself just before I would have looked around. Of course Nahadoth would choose not to appear. The Enefadeh had pledged to help me, after all, and having the Nightlord looming behind me like an overgrown shadow would have undermined what little authority I had in these mens eyes.

But Nahadoth was there. I could feel him.

I have come, I said. Not entirely alone. But then, no Arameri is ever fully alone, is she?

One of his men, almost as richly dressed as Gemd, narrowed his eyes. Youre no Arameri, he said. They didnt even acknowledge you until these last few months.

Is that why youve decided to form this alliance? I asked, stepping forward. A few of the men tensed, but most did not. I am not very intimidating. I cant see how that makes much sense. If Im so unimportant to the Arameri, then Darr is no threat.

Darr is always a threat, growled another man. You man-eating harlots

Enough, said Gemd, and the man subsided.

Good; not wholly a figurehead, then.

So this is not about the Arameri adopting me, then? I eyed the man Gemd had silenced. Ah, I see. This is about old grudges. The last war between our peoples was more generations back than any of us can count. Are Mencheyev memories so long?

Darr claimed the Atir Plateau in that war, Gemd said quietly. You know we want it back.

I knew, and I knew that was a stupid, stupid reason to start a war. The people who lived on the Atir didnt even speak the Mencheyev tongue anymore. None of this made any sense, and that was enough to make my temper rise.

Who is it? I asked. Which of my cousins is pulling your strings? Relad? Scimina? Some sycophant of theirs? Who are you whoring for, Gemd, and how much have you charged to bend forward?