The Sultan stepped into the room, trembling. His daughter, the foundation of his heart, stood there next to the bed, leaning heavily on one of the bedposts.

  Without a word, he swept in and gathered her in his arms.

  "Father, no," she said quietly, muffled by his generous hug. "I am still covered with filth from the battle."

  "I do not care about blood," he he said, his voice raw with holding back tears. "I care about my daughter. My precious jewel lives. That is all that matters to me."

  He hugged her hard for a time, then stood back and gazed at her in wonder. "Ah, my little babr-e mādeh, you fought to return to me. I knew you would."

  Fortney smiled. "I am fine, father. But I would sit for now."

  "Of course! Of course!" The Sultan fussed and helped until she was seated comfortably on the edge of the bed. "Once you can walk on your own, we will move you back to your room in the palace."

  "I thank you, father." She rubbed her short arm through the layers of linen, looking aside. She had so many questions, but she didn't know where to start. "What... has happened these last few weeks I have been... recovering?"

  "Oh, you don't need to fret about all that," he said. "No need. There's plenty of time for you to rest and--"

  "Please, father. I would know all that we have learned about the attack."

  The Sultan stilled, and his forced jollity slipped away. He looked older, somehow: his features more stern, the sprinkle of gray in his hair more advanced. He paused thoughtfully before speaking.

  "There has been much, and not enough," he said finally. "Your servant Dhruva is missing. We think she was working with the assassins."

  "She was," Fortney said flatly. The Sultan's face hardened.

  "We seek her, but have not found her. But we will. Those who would strike at the heart that held them close will find no mercy."

  Fortney frowned, conflicted. Traitors must be punished. This was tradition and the law. A long, messy, public execution was a powerful message to the people: an encouragement to the honorable, and a warning to the wicked. And yet--Dhruva had been her servant for years. Fortney was repulsed by the idea of her friend being handed over to the grisly butchers of execution. And yet--Dhruva had betrayed her into the hands of the hashashim. She looked down at her missing arm, now hidden in rough temple linen.

  She shook her head. She couldn't sort all this out now.

  "What else?" she asked.

  "The hashashim are all dead," he said. His face trembled, and his body shook. His face wavered as his emotions flipped between pride and terror. "My precious jewel had to fight three of them by herself." His chest swelled. "No one has ever survived the attentions of the hashashim, and my fierce daughter slew three."

  "What of Kadir?"

  "Kadir slew many hashashim. I would that we could have captured one, that we might hand them to the gaolers for answers. But you have both survived, and for that I will pour out my thanks and give temple offereings every day for the rest of my life."

  "How is Kadir?" she asked quietly. "I have heard that he is doing poorly."

  The Sultan's expression grew troubled. "He is wounded in his mind. Something has broken him. He wanders, lost in time." His face darkened. "The hashashim have much to answer for. And they will."

  Something in her father's tone caught Fortney's ear.

  "What do you mean by that?" she asked.

  The Sultan cut his eyes away from her. "Nothing of import."

  "Father." Her voice was terse, commanding. The Sultan slowly turned his eyes back to her. "You have tried to teach me the ruling of Namar?n. Do not hide things from me now."

  He stiffened a little, and stood straighter.

  "It is a minor matter. I only wanted to keep from distracting you with trifles." He cleared his throat. "I have sent the Amtaka to the city of Talnashir."

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  Fortney's mouth dropped open.

  "You what?"

  The Sultan straightened. "While you lay wounded, I swore that the hashashim would never again so lightly touch my family. I have merely done what as I promised."

  "Father, you sent the Amtaka north into Laiqar? They--they will see that as an act of war!"

  "The hashashim have long nested in Talnashir," he said, a little defensively. His chin came up. "After I cast them from Namar?n, they did not disperse, but found refuge in that wicked land. They have grown in numbers there, shielded by the people of Talnashir and the government of Laiqar."

  "But father, the armies of Laiqar are as thick as the fleas on a camel! They will respond!"

  The Sultan nodded slowly.

  "Perhaps. But the king of Laiqar is no fool. He is shrewd. I have sent the Amtaka, not our great armies. They have a single purpose. They will destroy Talnashir to its very foundations, then leave. He will see that we have no further interest in Laiqar, and may leave us alone."

  "You taught me that any challenge to a country's safety must be sternly rebuffed! He will have to counter-attack!"

  "This may be true. But the king of Laiqar will know what I seek. By sending only the Amtaka and not our armies, I make it clear that this is not an invasion. He may stage some raids, or a minor invasion, to settle his people. But then we can revert back into the peace we had before."

  Fortney ran her hand through her hair, gritting her teeth in frustration.

  "It is not worth it," she said. "All this is not worth it. I survived. There's no need war on my behalf!"

  The Sultan's face hardened.

  "I will not justify my actions!" he barked fiercely "Laiqar has given home to the hashashim. They have invited this. They attacked my daughter. They will pay the price, whatever it may cost Namar?n. The Amtaka will burn out this nest of hashashim. I will hear no more on the matter."

  Fortney sat back, mystified by her father's unexpected hardness. Slowly she bowed her head.

  "As the Sultan says," she replied carefully.

  Jahim al-Zarif leaned over the table, resting his face on his clasped hands.

  "Rami, are you certain of all this?"

  The blue-eyes man bowed deeply.

  "The Amtaka had already been marching three days by the time I left Baradon," he said gravely. "They will likely be in Talnashir in less than a week."

  Jahim frowned.

  "You could not have come earlier? This news did not feel important enough to speed to me?"

  Rami bristled.

  "It is not so easy to find an excuse to leave the palace of the Sultan. He's no fool. Do you not think I would look suspicious, departing the city as soon as the Amtaka did? I rode without sleeping throughout the night! I nearly killed my camel!"

  Jahim nodded.

  "Very well." His saturnine features drew in as he turned things over in his mind. "Frankly, I find the performance of the hashashim very disappointing. I had been assured that only one would be needed to eliminate the princess. And yet, a double handful of hashashim failed." He stared levelly at Rami.

  "The Butcher of Baradon has been training the princess," Rami sneered back, "teaching her martial skills. I assume the hashashim were caught by surprise. Nevertheless, she was gravely wounded, and the Sultan is furious beyond all measure. Rather than folding up, as I had been assured he would, he storms around the palace, breathing thunderings and threats. He says anyone who was involved will be dismembered piece by piece, then dipped upside down into a trough of water, over and over until they are drowned."

  The two conspirators fell into deep thought.

  "It is a disaster, no?" Rami said, breaking the silence. "The death of the hashashim, and now this invasion? What, then, is left of our plans?" He looked morose. "I have a cousin in Mirashan. Perhaps I can flee there for safety. Though I do hate the jungle."

  Jahim scoffed.

  "Rami, you are far too easily startled. Like a bird in a field of tall grass, you are flying up, inviting the net, when silent watchfulness would save you." Jahim frowned. "This can all be turned to our advantage. If the Sultan is angry, let him be angry. An angry man is controlled by his heart. And let the Amtaka take Talnashir. This invasion will give us the weight we need with with king of Laiqar to launch our attack on Baradon."

  He sat back.

  "Our twofold goal was to weaken the palace and destabilize Baradon. With Sultan Nurani frothing, he will not think strategically. We can continue our attacks on the granaries, and with the Amtaka on the march, Baradon has only her regular armies to defend her." He rubbed his hands together. "This may work out better than my original plan. I'd hoped to keep the Amtaka busy suppressing unrest in the city, but now that they've gone, all the unrest will have to be handled by the local guardsmen." He chortled. "Our army may hardly have to fight at all."

  "And what of the hashashim in Talnashir?" Rami asked. "Do we let them know of the doom that marches for them? Even legendary assassins won't stand before the might of the Amtaka."

  Jahim's face drew in as he considered his options. He was silent for a long while.

  "Let's warn them," he said finally. "I like the idea of the hashashim carving their way through the Amtaka, but wisdom suggests we not throw away any tool. Flawed as they are, they may still prove useful." He grinned. "And I very much like the thought of Sultan Nurani smashing an entire city for nothing. All his prey will escape, and he will have opened hostilities, to no benefit." Jahim nodded. "Yes, that is what we shall do."

  Rami bowed his head with an expression that made it almost, but not quite, mockery.

  "Very well, Jahim," he said. "Our path is set. We will warn the hashashim. They can flee the city. Let it all burn, then attack Namar?n."

  "Rami, my friend, you have a gift for brevity."

  "What about this princess?" Rami asked. "Should we finish her off?"

  Jahim stared thoughtfully into the distance.

  "We should. She's an unfinished task, and if we want to keep the Sultan pinned to his fury, we'll need to sever his favorite daughter."

  "In that case, there's one more part of the Sultan's plans you should know," Rami said. "Something I learned right before I left the palace." He fixed his crystal-blue eyes on Jahim and spun out his news.

  When Jahim heard it, he laughed and laughed and laughed.