struggles with this conquest. But, those do not interfere with my duty, and they never will.” Basaal folded his arms and kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. “What else?” he asked.
Annan looked about them and stepped closer to the prince.
“The Vestan assassins will not let you step to the right or to the left,” he whispered. “This morning, a young horseboy told me that they mean to kill the Aemogen queen if she sways you from your duty to Imirillia. Even Drakta, after you roughed him up in Aemogen, has threatened that if you step away from the emperor’s expectations even one inch, he will see you are brought before Shaamil as prisoner, and he will take your post.”
“Drakta is a fool if he thinks he can outplay me when dealing with the emperor,” Basaal said, trying to quench the anger he was feeling.
“But the Vestan are not fools,” Annan came back, earnest and concerned. “They are ruthless, receiving little censure for their acts. Where Drakta does not have authority to bring you as a prisoner before the emperor, the Vestan do.”
“Yes, but even the assassins are bound,” Basaal argued. “They cannot kill a prince.” Basaal’s mood turned dark. “Only the emperor can do that.”
An uncomfortable remembrance settled itself in Annan’s eyes. “My Prince, already your unorthodox dealings with Aemogen have caused much suspicion, and you would do well to remember that your father is testing your loyalty to him and to the empire in this conquest. You will already need a silver tongue to explain the absurdity of the last six months,” Annan added, putting a hand on Basaal’s shoulder. “You must avoid any action that would appear contrary to your father.”
“I know,” Basaal said. “I’m afraid I’ve used up all the leniency he has to offer. If only Queen Eleanor had surrendered,” he added. “It’s all so foolish.”
“I think her military advisors rather clever.”
“It was clever,” Basaal agreed. “And it was her own scheme, not that of an advisor. But quick cleverness does not solve a long problem. You know, as I do, that my father will never let Aemogen rest now. He will take Aemogen’s defiance as a personal insult and grind the entire nation into the dust.” Basaal frowned. “It will be the Desolation of Aramesh all over again.”
As Basaal and Annan returned, walking back through the camp towards his pavilion, he saw two figures in dark purple: the Vestan, his father’s personal assassins. He could feel his father’s will, like a vice, tightening around his freedom. Basaal looked into the assassins’ eyes steadily as he passed, betraying no uncertainty. They bowed before him, and Basaal acknowledged them with a fixed nod.
When they had passed out of range of the assassins’ hearing, Basaal spoke again. “So, if the Aemogen queen were to escape somehow while in my custody—”
“She would be hunted by the Vestan and killed,” Annan said. “You would then be stripped of your post and sent as a prisoner to Zarbadast.”
Basaal knew Annan’s words to be true. They had just arrived at his pavilion, and Basaal, before entering, gripped his fingers around Annan’s shoulder.
“Annan?”
“Yes?”
“If I ever intend to speak promises to another living soul, stop my tongue. It’s an unruly business trying to keep them.”
***
Eleanor watched Basaal enter without ceremony. It appeared at first he would reclaim his table. But finding Eleanor there, reading through a few notes he had taken that morning from the Fourth Scroll, he passed her without comment.
Her shoulders tensed, as if he were a predatory beast she could not trust. “You did leave me here alone,” Eleanor said, defensive of her snooping.
“I didn’t say anything,” Basaal replied. Eleanor watched as he pulled a key from around his neck, inserting it into one of the large trunks, which Eleanor had already tried to open after Basaal had left the pavilion. The catch released with