Page 107 of City of Stone and Silence

What’s it like? I ask Silvoa.

What?

Dying.

Oh. Her ghost-image smiles brightly. It really hurts.

We make a strange procession out of the Cresos pyramid, heading for the central obelisk and its plaza. It’s just after dawn on the day I’m going to walk into Prime’s lair.

A messenger, one of the Cresos clan’s servants gifted with Rhema, has already made the dangerous nighttime journey to the Minders’ ziggurat and back. As I hoped, Gragant was willing to listen, and his delegation should have set out at the same time we did. The Cresos know this, which makes them nervous, especially Lord Toranaka. Catoria, dressed in well-tailored traveling clothes, waits with more patience than I would have given her credit for, while he exhausts himself ranting.

“—and furthermore,” he says, beginning to run out of steam, “this is exactly the kind of matter on which you need the considered advice of the elders of the clan.”

“It seems like I require your advice on all matters, lately,” Catoria says, making a show of inspecting her gloves. “I am seventeen, Uncle. Not a little girl any longer.”

“And yet you rush into foolish meetings with our enemies!”

“I don’t think the Minders are your enemies,” I put in. “Especially not when there’s walking corpses attacking both of you.”

“If I was interested in your opinion, I would have asked for it,” he says icily. He’s wearing archaic wooden armor, like the guards last night, which makes him look blocky and heavyset. The helmet, face mask carved into a snarling demon, is under his arm. To Catoria, he says, “I thought that we had resolved this matter yesterday evening.”

“Lady Gelmei presented me with some additional information,” Catoria says. “I changed my mind.”

“And are the rest of us going to be privy to this remarkable revelation?”

“No,” Catoria snaps. “I am the heir to the Cresos, Uncle, not you. I rule here. Unless you wish to contest that?”

There’s a strained moment, while a variety of emotions cross Toranaka’s face. He glances at the rest of the clan, the Imperial mage-bloods and their servants standing ready, and I wonder if he’ll try to make a play for their loyalty. Judging by the way people are looking at Catoria, I don’t think much of his chances.

Maybe he sees it, too, because he just bows his head. Catoria nods, satisfied, and gestures imperiously. We depart—a column of Cresos nobility in their antique armor, followed by their servants from a hodgepodge of nations, haphazardly armed. And beside Catoria, of course, myself and Shiara, me in my Soliton-made leather armor, Shiara having traded her kizen for a lighter, sturdier robe. It could be a bad theatrical production, mixing costumes from various times and places and hoping the audience won’t notice.

“He doesn’t look happy,” Shiara says, sliding in beside me as we set out. She nods at Toranaka. “Do you think he’ll make trouble?”

“You’d know better than I would,” I say. “But I’m more worried about Catoria and Gragant.”

And Meroe, though I don’t say that out loud. She is not going to be happy with this plan.

It takes longer than it should to reach the obelisk, since the Cresos in their armor aren’t well-suited for maneuvering through the underbrush. Several of them, including Toranaka—to my secret delight—trip and have to be righted by their companions, like errant turtles. By the time we get there, the Minder contingent has already arrived, a dozen monks in brown robes. I recognize Gragant and the huge, brooding Harak.

“This could be an ambush,” Toranaka says. “Be cautious, my lady.”

“Tough to ambush someone when you have a quarter as many men as they do,” I say. The Cresos party is considerably larger than the monks’.

Toranaka is about to say something cutting, but Catoria interrupts him. “Gragant is many things, but a liar is not one of them. He will not attack us if he has given his word.”

“Did he not lie to you when he took Silvoa to Prime?” Toranaka says.

“No,” Catoria says quietly. “Silvoa did that herself.” She shakes her head. “Stay here, Uncle. Isoka, come with me.”

“But—” Toranaka sputters.

Catoria is already moving across the courtyard, toward the obelisk. Seeing her advance, with only me for company, Gragant comes to meet us with just Harak at his side. He smiles when he recognizes me, but his expression becomes more solemn as he turns to Catoria.

“I admit that I was surprised to receive your message,” he says. “It’s been five years since you’ve wanted to talk to me.”

“I was determined it was going to be the rest of my life.” Catoria glances at me. “But it has been suggested to me that my anger is misplaced.”

Gragant raises an eyebrow. Catoria takes a deep breath.