Guided and masked by the folk of the hidden realm, Arkana penetrated Aridatha Singh’s headquarters undetected, flying post and all. The general was alone. He had collapsed of exhaustion an hour earlier. Solicitous subordinates had put him to bed. They had left sentries outside his door to keep him from being disturbed.
Arkana got in through an open window, lying flat upon her post. She was not especially nervous. She was confident that she could manage any trouble that came her way, at least for the moments it would take her to escape.
She had been instructed to flee at the first sign of trouble. She believed in those instructions with the fervor of a new convert.
Once inside she dismounted and turned her post so she could get away without any delay. She kept herself tethered to the post so it could drag her out even if she was not in the saddle. Even if she was unconscious. Maybe even if three guys were hanging onto her, trying to keep her from going.
She found a lamp and lit it. Then she awakened Aridatha Singh.
The general did not waken quickly. But he did so quietly and cautiously, understanding that he was in a dangerous situation. Maybe it was the Unknown Shadows. The sense of their presence was strong. Because they were all around.
Singh rose into a cross-legged sitting position. He moved slowly, keeping his hands in sight. He asked his question by expression alone.
Arkana strained to ignore his looks. She had been warned . . . She was not an idiot like Gromovol. “The Captain wants to know if you received the Annalist’s messages. The Captain wants to know if you’re ready to spare Taglios the agonies of further conflict.” She enunciated carefully, having no desire to be misunderstood.
“Of course I do. But how do I get you people to go away?” He could not tell much about his visitor because of the Voroshk clothing.
“Here’s an idea. You can have your soldiers lay down their arms.” As one of the Voroshk that sort of statement directed at an outsider would not have troubled Arkana at all. But here, tonight, she was just another refugee and freelance. And a very young one at that, with limited confidence in herself. Maybe Croaker’s confidence was misplaced.
That clever old man. He had set her up so she would risk her freedom rather than let him down.
That was a characteristic of old men. All old men in her experience, anyway.
Aridatha said, “There’s little I’d like more than to end this fighting before even one more person gets hurt. But I have no control when it comes to making the choice between war and peace. I’ve undertaken obligations. I’ve given my word. Right now Taglios is in the keeping of the Great General. If he gives the order to stop fighting I’ll do so instantly.”
And he said no more. That was as clearly as he could speak. Even that much clarity troubled his conscience.
“That’s your firm response, then?” Arkana’s confidence had begun to swell.
“There is no other position open to me. Your Captain will understand.”
“Your honor could get you killed. And there’d be no one to sing your praises.” Arkana departed before Singh could figure out what that meant. He thought it sounded like something foreign that did not translate well.
Aridatha was a little less exhausted than he had been before he collapsed. But he did not fall asleep again for a long while, and not because of the potent sense of alien presence still filling his bedroom. He kept hearing the visitor’s last words and remembering his father. Narayan Singh. A man of high honor, within his own world. Now without a soul to sing his praises. Unless maybe his beloved Goddess sang him lullabies within her terrible dreams.
And Narayan’s murderer was still hiding somewhere inside the remains of the Palace.