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away from her.
To her credit, she imitated the rocking motion Marek used and hummed an approximate version of one
of Nilik s favorite songs. The boy s cries softened but continued.
 Your mother made a name for herself on the Senate floor today. She popped her eyes wide at Nilik
the way he liked.  That s right! Politics are never boring when you have the proper flair. But those bad
men won t let Mother run for reelection.
 Why not? Marek asked. The Senate, from what he could tell, was a larger version of his own village s
Council. A basic grasp of Ilion political factions could come in handy if he ever escaped.
 All because she s a woman, Basha said to Nilik, as if the baby had asked the question.  Women can
finish the terms of their dead husbands or fathers but can t be elected on their own. We weak females
aren t made for such taxing duties. She released a high titter, though Marek didn t understand the joke.
Nilik let out a full-throated wail.  My reaction precisely! she exclaimed, then turned a brilliant smile on
Marek.  At least he knows I exist.
She waved her hand at Petrop, and he departed silently. Carrying Nilik, she shifted over to the wolf
carving.  Do you like this one, Marek? You re a Wolf, right?
He nodded, though now it seemed only a half truth.
 Which animal would I be? she said.  If I had one of those Spirit Guards.
 Guardian Spirits.
 Don t correct me. Which would I be?
He thought of a cockroach and stifled a bitter laugh.  If you re good at politics, you might be a Fox.
 I m very good at politics. Recognizing who wants what and what they ll do to get it. People
underestimate me because I m young and female and pretty. She stroked the wooden fox s head with
her littlest fingernail.  It s a useful weapon.
 May I ask another question?
She thought for a moment, then tilted her head indulgently.  Speak.
He gestured to the artwork displayed around the room.  You seem to have a fascination for my people.
Even though we re the enemy.
 Even though you killed my husband? I can t blame you for that. We invaded your lands what were
you supposed to do, welcome us with open arms and let us take everything you d worked so hard for?
She tucked Nilik s blanket under his chin.  That whole campaign was ill-advised and undermanned. It
was destined to fail. All the oracles said so.
 You consult oracles? I thought Ilions didn t have magic.
 The gods have magic, of course, and they lend a bit of it to their priests and priestesses. It s one way
they keep Ilions in power, where we belong. She scoffed.  Some individuals are overly superstitious,
though, and can t buy a loaf of bread without consulting the oracles. I like to use my own mind. Nilik s
cries faded into coos at last.  My turn to ask questions. Did you fight in the battle at Asermos?
 Not exactly. I was a a scout. He decided not to mention how he d decimated the Descendant
cavalry by sedating their horses the night before the battle. No doubt his actions had made him infamous.
 They captured me. He replaced the feather in the ink bottle to avoid snapping it in his fist.  They
tortured me.
 Tortured you? How?
He glanced at the guard standing by the door.  They beat me, left me in the sun.
 How long?
 Hours. All morning.
 My healer said you had no scars. What did they beat you with?
 Their feet and hands.
A high titter escaped her throat.  That s not torture. They just roughed you up and let you bake a bit.
Torture is having your skin peeled off in strips or having your fingernails ripped out.
He gaped at her.
 There s much worse, I m told, she said,  but not fit for a woman to hear, whatever that means. You re
lucky they didn t deploy a torture detail in the Asermon campaign.
He ran his thumb over his fingernails and had to agree.
 How s your magic these days? she asked him.
He didn t want to reveal any weakness, and since it was daytime, she couldn t ask him to turn invisible.
 It s fine, though I don t have much use for it here.
 Interesting. What s my cook making for supper?
A test. Marek sniffed the air but could only perceive a vague odor.  Meat.
 What kind?
 Poultry, he said, keeping the uncertainty from his voice.
 Good. What kind of poultry?
He guessed her favorite.  Duck.
 Sorry, it s pork. Your powers are fading, like some of the others. I wonder why? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]