Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [117]
“He didn’t care about the money?” Yasmeen said doubtfully.
“Of course that would have been of great use to us, but he did not lose money. He lost war machines—and as you must see, he already has more than most men could ever use. What are two or three more?”
Like Yasmeen’s puddings. Like an extra five thousand livre. Archimedes couldn’t ever recall falling into hysterical laughter, but he was afraid it might be coming. His brain felt as if it would soon explode. “So there was no debt?”
“Oh, there was a debt. But it was of obligation, an explanation.” She gave him a disapproving glance. “You ought to have come to us. Every assassin we sent had the same message: come to us.”
Now he did laugh, on a memory of slashing knives, quickly drawn guns. “I never let them get round to it. And I have spent ten years trying to find something of value enough to replace the money.”
“If there was no debt, why did you steal the sketch?” Yasmeen asked. “It wasn’t necessary.”
“It was necessary to save his life,” Nasrin countered. “One of those assassins would have eventually killed him. His luck cannot last forever . . . though I suppose with you at his side now, he does not need luck to protect him. And I knew that he would come for the sketch, so Temür and I let others know that we had it.”
“Why didn’t you just send him a letter, requesting him to come?”
Nasrin smiled faintly. “A request from Temür Agha is an order—and an obligation fulfilled under order is not one truly fulfilled. So my seeing him in Port Fallow was a happy accident, an opportunity opened to give him reason to come. I took it.”
“Then you weren’t there to kill him.”
“Not at all.” She looked to Hassan, and her smile was sharp. “I was only there to see why our friend Hassan was selling his jewelry.”
That announcement killed any further conversation. Though Yasmeen could clearly read the resignation on the older man’s face, there was not much to be done. Nasrin told them they would meet with Temür Agha after he’d spoken with Hassan and left for his audience with Temür. Yasmeen and Archimedes were escorted through the open, airy palace to a chamber that looked much like her cabin aboard Lady Corsair—though with many more pillows, a breeze that blew the silk curtains over the bed, and live birds singing in a small private garden.
“Are they going to kill us?” Archimedes wondered.
“I don’t know,” Yasmeen said. “It will all depend on Hassan, you realize.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think he was a true friend to Temür?”
“From everything I’ve witnessed between them, yes.”
Yasmeen smiled faintly. “Then that might make Temür more lenient, or make the betrayal seem that much worse. It is impossible to know.”
A serving girl bustled in, pulled a chain over a large marble tub. A clanking echoed through the floor, and a tile opened, spilling steaming water.
Yasmeen began unbuckling her jacket. “And it appears that if we are going to our executions, we are to be clean.”
“Anything else would be rude. I hope we are also fed,” he said and joined her.
Though she kissed him in the privacy of their bath, she dared not lose all awareness and make love. They were fed flaky pastries filled with beef and spices, a peppery stew over couscous, breads stuffed with honey and almonds. Yasmeen tasted each for poison, then for flavor, then his mouth after they drank the mint tea with rosewater.
She dared not do more, so she lay against him on the pillows, thinking of how she might possibly kill Temür if the man did intend to execute them. She would have to be quicker than Nasrin, to take the woman by surprise. After Temür was dead, she didn’t know how quickly Nasrin would also fall. Hopefully it would be quick. Hopefully, if the woman had time to strike at all, she would only have time to strike at Yasmeen—and Archimedes would live.
“I ought not have come here with you,” she told him.
He frowned. “What?”
She sat up. “We could have left Hassan somewhere safe. We didn’t have to bring him back to the city. You know why we did: Kareem al-Amazigh