Aralim sweated a lot that day, as he sat in the amphitheatre of the Third Court and listened to merchants discussing prices with his fellow Selected. He had slept well, at least, but now had the length of one day to determine if the royal consort, Zarru, was going to accompany Vaenuth and her caravan. If he failed, he would be back to the first step in determining a way to save her life while convincing Ovoe he had killed her.
He thought a lot about Hayan’s performance that day, to pass the time. He paid attention to the citizens seeking audience with the Third Court in case any might stir his interest—but he was fascinated by the stage play. Hayan had exaggerated his disappointment over being cast as the Stable Master, a key role in the play.
For the first act, the Stable Master served as a mentor to the two brothers, Ghanam and Paraclar, seemingly aware of the growing tension between them and attempting to alleviate it.
When Paraclar killed Ghanam, the Stable Master remained absent for the second act. As Paraclar ran from the law, the audience began to realize that all of this options hinged on the advice of the elusive servant, only to watch him fall inevitably into the Stable Master’s company for the final act. Ultimately, Paraclar was delivered into the hands of the law by the manipulative old man, who was awarded the gemstone that had spurned the whole fight.
In his final lines, Hayan had revealed that the Stable Master had owned the gem for many years, and used it to increase his wealth and influence. His speech suggested the gemstone’s true value was not its monetary value but the sway it held over lesser men.
Aralim admired the Stable Master’s insights, and respected Hayan’s performance of it—to be cast in a role so fitting for a follower of the Path. While the murder at the end of Act One had bitterly reminded him of Vaenuth’s speech about the corruption innate to their world, the Stable Master’s heroism and the apparent coincidence of Hayan’s casting had reinforced his own stance.
Hayan had chuckled when Aralim spoke with him about it late last evening. He had assured the Walker that most of the audience viewed the play as a tragedy, and the Stable Master as the scheming villain.
Little did he know, but Aralim’s day would revolve around a different scheming villain.
After the Third Court was dismissed, Aralim walked north to the Evening Lion. The brothel was much busier than most days he had visited it, probably because of the hour. He had to wait with a line of men, most of whom were watching a dancer on the balcony above to pass the time. When eventually he reached the front desk, he spoke with the same administrative woman he had the first time. Before she could ask what sort of companionship he sought, he interjected with, “I’d like to speak with Zarru again. And again, about business.”
The woman shook her head and folded her arms in front of her. She wore a full dress, violet in colour, though many portions were simple lace instead of an opaque material. “Zarru isn’t here. Hasn’t been in a week.”
Aralim blinked. That’s horrifying, he thought. It could mean many things though, and he needed to know more. “To where was her last trip?”
“We were told to keep quiet about it,” the young woman said. “And all her other selective clients have received the same answer.”
She’s gone into hiding… Aralim stumbled back out of the line, and walked down the street guided the glow of the setting sun and the tap of his unilluminated lantern staff. He’d have to light it soon, once the mountains to the west blocked the setting sun. The last place he could guess as to her whereabouts was the Iron Palace, where he had suggested she ask the Emperor if she ought to trust the Walker of the Path.
He returned to the Palace, where he had spent most of his day. He would need to consult with someone, to get a clue. The Emperor’s Blade stood on guard, of course, along with a handful of other guards and the Aura. Always, the Aura. The Emperor was aware of everything, through his many-sided orange cloak. Aralim approached one metaphoric corner and asked, “Could I speak with Ovoe the Keeper?”
The Aura, a young man with short, straight hair, led the way without question or delay. The Emperor had told him to join the rivals, and going to speak with the Emperor at this point would show Aralim’s hand to Ovoe too much. Going to Ovoe was risky, but going to the Emperor would guarantee an outcome that was only a risk in his current strategy.
Aralim was guided to Ovoe’s office area. The white-haired man stood at an easel a few feet from his desk. He was making marks on a map that spanned from Numa’nakres to Radregar. He paused at the sound of footsteps and gave Aralim a quick glance. Then Ovoe went back to work. After a moment, Aralim broke the silence. “A friend of mine has gone missing,” he said, stepping closer to the map.
Ovoe chuckled. “I had heard that,” he said. He looked at Aralim again, his dark complexion expressionless, and put down the piece of chalk he’d been using to mark the map. He crossed to his desk, giving Aralim an opportunity to observe the map unobstructed. Ovoe had marked an ‘x’ through Sheld, but had circled Saanazar, a city on Var Nordos and Varravar. There were also some lines drawn toward the Eye of Maga from south and northeast.
“Do you happen to know where she went?” Aralim asked, turning to face the Keeper of Information. “We were halfway through a rather important conversation.”
Ovoe paused behind his desk and leaned on his chair. He was a middle-aged man with a lean build and fit muscles. He wore a sleeveless tunic of bright blue cloth. “Zarru came here. She spoke with the Emperor,” he told Aralim. He smiled. “Then she shouted with the Emperor. It seems there were some concerns about her safety. I’d rather have listened to your ‘rather important conversation’ than that… marital dispute.” He pulled out his chair and sat down, propping his bare feet up, onto the desktop.
“Trouble in paradise,” Aralim muttered. “There’s no point in telling you about an incomplete conversation. If you’ve no other information to help, I suppose I’ll see if Emperor knows where she got to. I’d hate to leave something unfinished.”
“Unfortunately for you, you did leave something unfinished,” Ovoe murmured. “Zarru refused the Emperor’s overprotective demands. She left him, despite his wishes.”
The spy casually dragged opened one of the wooden drawers in his desk and tossed its contents across the floor. A rolling shape, a head. It took Aralim a moment, but by the time the head came to a stop, he knew who’s it was. Zarru’s. “It’s fortunate for me,” Ovoe said, “But I think you should probably go.”
Aralim blinked and stepped toward the grisly body part. “How… efficient of you…” Aralim said. Despite the dread and disgust, he carefully picked up Zarru’s cold head with his free hand and looked at it as he sat down at a chair across the desk from Ovoe. Her expression was not one of pain, but distress and sadness. Frozen that way until she was food for the worms. “I had merely hoped to gain some information about the Emperor before the murderous deed. I suppose that was folly, but we’ve lost a very unique viewpoint.” Aralim set the severed head on the top of Ovoe’s desk.
Ovoe clenched his teeth and drew his mouth into a tense frown. “I don’t care about your Path, Aralim. I told you to hurt the Emperor, not learn what his favourite deed is. In either case, you’re free to pursue such viewpoints at your own leisure.” He picked up his quill and dabbed it in an inkwell. “Now, you’re welcome to leave. I am, as always, quite busy.”
“I’m not the Aura—you cannot dictate my every move. In the end, I made the opening you needed. Or would you have murdered her in the in amidst her guards? I didn’t delve straight into the suicide mission you laid out, but you got what you wanted,” Aralim snapped.
Between raised hands, Ovoe gave Aralim a look of condescending bewilderment and indifference. “Don’t be a child,” he sneered. “I don’t care about the whore, except she’s making a mess on my desk. It was a test. Besides, you had most of a month to lure the whore out and kill her and you didn’t even try to.” He rose to his feet and planted his fists on either side of his desk. “First, I was planning on having you killed because you botched this trial, but your clever little jibe about perspectives and information amused me. Please, don’t bungle this too. Just go.”
Aralim looked at Zarru one last time and then left. He knew better than to push his limits with Ovoe. He clacked his lantern staff as he walked and paused on the steps down from the Iron Palace to watch the last bit of sunlight drop below the tall, rocky horizon. He leaned his staff against one of the iron pillars long enough to fumble with his flint stone and ignite the oil lamp inside.
As he walked quietly down the steps, he stopped a passing Aura and said, “I’d like to discuss a change of plans with the Emperor. Will you let him know?” The serene woman only bowed and carried on up the stairs. When the Eternal Emperor wanted to respond, he would.