There are two categories into which a rune can belong. The first, elementary runes, consist of objects that have been (1) appropriately marked with inscriptions in Ancient Pertheist, and (2) imbued with and hence containing power from the epperstrom; which when correctly stimulated, triggers the effects of the inscriptions and power in question. Amulets and charms fall under this category.

—Of Runes and its Crafte, by Remminsk

21

↝ THE REVOLUTIONIST ↜

Aldir poured her another shot of jin. 'You're wearing the porcelain.'

'You mean I'm wearing you.' Isla had been pacing around the chamber as she recounted her meeting with Rajini Chei. A trace of mud marked the passage of her boots; dark prints on Sir Edric's otherwise spotless floor.

Sir Edric checked the window, despite them being three floors up in the guest wing. And Whitebill could dine on that wretched owl with one bite if it dared come close.

'I don't understand how you're both so calm!' She took the glass from Aldir's hand and downed it with a toss of her head. 'I tell you! It's Chei.'

'We don't know that for certain,' said Aldir.

'Weren't you listening? All those cryptic threats about some ... early-bloomer she once knew? Trying to catch me out in a lie? Even her comments about my pronunciation? She called me foreign!'

'If she's figured you out, why didn't she kill you there and then?'

'That's what I'd like to know!'

'Look.' Aldir rose and guided her to his now unoccupied seat. The flask of jin stood upon the table besides, Pepper curled around it. 'Whitebill will keep watch while you –'

'Come, Aldir. Why not drape your banners under my windowsill while you're there?'

Sir Edric stepped in. 'Would you not agree that our priority now is to find your sister?'

'That's always been the priority!'

'Right. That has not changed. Now, we only know who to look out for whilst we search.'

Isla drew in a deep breath. It was not fair for her to lash her fears out onto the two men. 'I'm sorry. It's just ... I've looked everywhere. Dhvani's estate, the Water Palace ... and Aldir's checked the dungeons here. Could you have missed something?'

'The palace dungeons burrow three levels deep. I personally saw every stone of it. It's kept for the hardest criminals in all the kingdom. None of them women.'

'If Chei's keeping Tamma down there, she'd disguise her well.'

'Not well enough to fool a thousand other inmates. Two dozen of whom would have to share her cell.'

'She'd keep her in isolation.'

'The dungeons haven't got the luxury for isolation.' Aldir shut the chest by the foot of Sir Edric's bed and sat. 'Maharaj Kiet was a thorough guide. He shared every concern he had. I'm telling you – it's no place for secrecy.'

Kiet could be lying. It wouldn't be the first time. 'I suppose I'll just have to search Chei's estates.'

Sir Edric lifted a hand to appease her. 'We must remember – though we are here for reasons of our own, our actions may carry momentous consequences.'

'I take it regicide is out of the question, then.'

'We find your sister, and then we leave,' Sir Edric said before Aldir could lecture her on so reckless an idea. 'That is our one and only purpose, now. You understand why no blood must be shed. If Surikhand suspects even the slightest involvement on our part, it will incite a war.'

Prince Dariel would not be pleased with that. Sir Edric had already been court-martialled before. There will be no warnings or titles left to strip, this time.

    
❖ ❖ ❖
     

It was late into the night and the gaslight posts had been lit. The asraam doors were shut, as it should be, but they opened at a touch. Pepper chirruped into light, revealing the winding stairs across the foyer, and Phrae just at its feet.

'Where have you been all night?' The girl asked, turning at Pepper's sudden glow.

The nerve she has, to question me. Isla pushed past her.

Sir Edric had not said a word when she told him about Phrae, and Aldir was only half jesting when he suggested Isla accidentally throw her out their bedchamber window. Only Pepper had the decency to act appalled on her behalf. Presently, the element hissed at Phrae over Isla's shoulder.

'It went well, thank you for asking.' Phrae shadowed her up the stairs.

The wood creaked as they ascended. Isla reflected on Aldir's words and allowed a brief image of Phrae flying back towards the hard tiles. The stairs were narrow enough to warrant a lethal fall.

'He's a charming young man, though a bit slow.' The sweet waft of rice wine secreted off Phrae when she spoke. 'I see why Tran's smitten. He'd be an easy husband to have.'

'Of course you're the expert on his character, especially after one meeting.'

'One very intimate meeting.' Isla heard the laughter in her voice, and a more pronounced drawl. It wouldn't be hard for a girl to stumble in the dark, especially with a bit of drink in her. 'He leaves Kathedra next turn of the week. And plans on taking his bride.'

'I'm sure you know who that will be.'

'We're to meet again at the Grand Palace gardens tomorrow.'

'You must be so pleased with yourself.' They had rounded the first floor and were well on their way up the second.

Phrae laughed, her voice carrying through the stairwell. 'I couldn't have done it without you. I'll be sure to recommend you to some of his eligible friends.'

Isla turned, Phrae stumbling back at the sudden movement. 'Let's be clear. What you did was detestable.' What I did was detestable. 'I want nothing more to do with you.'

'Oh, please.' A door creaked open somewhere above, and a gaslight hissed into life. Phrae's face had lost any of its playfulness. 'You can't wait to be rid of me. It would be the best thing to happen to you. You act as if you're the image of virtue. I see the way you look at us. Like we may as well be whores. I don't know what a nobleman ever did to you or your family, but for some of us, they're the only hope we have of a better life. You think you don't need them just because you're a second-rank, and that – what – that makes you better than me?'

'What's going on down there?' A voice called from the landing. Lamplight danced above them. Isla shielded her eyes and felt Phrae roughly brush past her.

Isla jumped into the stranger's mind and coaxed her away, full of sleep and disinterest. She spent a good moment fuming in the resumed darkness, accompanied only by Pepper's soothing glow. Its warmth calmed her, somehow. Brought her back to Noi's sitting room. Drinking with her by the fire. The days when their greatest woes were the monthly accounts. How did it lead to this?

She tried not to think of Phrae's accusations. Absurd claims made by an envious child. But one thing she said was true enough. Isla could not wait to be rid of her.
      

❖ ❖ ❖
     

In her dream, it was summer. They were aboard a small ship, roasting fish over an open fire. Bartol was laughing at something Aldir said, Noi scolded Eshe over spilt wine, and no one but Isla seemed to notice Haana fanning the flames with a wicked smile on her face.

The fire spread and still no one noticed. Isla tried to move, but her feet were fusing into the deck. The heat grew closer, hotter, drenching Isla in her own sweat. Bartol's cracking laughter filled the air, merging into the sound of cackling fire.

The ship faded into her own bedchamber, the flames into Phrae's bed, and Noi's shouts into a chaos of screaming girls.

Isla jumped off her bed, stumbling over the sheets that twisted around her legs. She tried to make sense of the scene. Phrae screaming on the floor, her chemise burning; Tran stomping wildly at the flames.

What's happening? The sleep had not entirely left her yet, and she was still struggling to comprehend the bonfire that was Phrae's bed.

Someone had already opened the window, out of which smoke billowed like a chimney. A dhayang had opened their door, and soon more girls came bearing buckets.

Isla took the water jug from her bedside table and doused her sheets before spreading the slopping cover over Phrae's bed. Between coughing and stumbling, she managed to pull her chambermates outside. The heat was unbearable ... pot after pot of water came pouring in, but still the fire raged.

'Move!' A dhayang shoved into the room, her hands coaxing the air until a fog snaked in from the window. It danced to the tune of her fingers, slowly congealing into a rivulet before collapsing onto Phrae's bed in a blanket of water.

Steam hissed, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief.