Heart of Steel - Meljean Brook [119]
And a request from Temür Agha was an order. Yasmeen was not foolish enough to defy it. “And after he is not aboard the ship?”
The corners of his eyes lifted slightly. “Do as you like.”
“How long will the siege last, do you think?”
“Not long. They will have no reason to stay, and their demands will shortly mean nothing. I am bringing down the tower tonight. Or rather—” He glanced to Hassan. “My friend will, after he steps into my place.”
Shock silenced them both. Tears glistened in Hassan’s eyes, sadness—the weight of responsibility.
He was a good man to bear it, Yasmeen thought.
Archimedes shook his head. “Truly?”
“Yes,” Hassan said. “We are going out into the courtyard shortly, where we will make the announcement. I wanted to extend an invitation for you to see.”
Yasmeen nodded, then glanced to Nasrin. “And you? What will you do afterward?”
“We will go somewhere. We have not decided yet.”
“But for safety, and because it would not be expected, we would like to be aboard your ship,” Temür said.
Yasmeen laughed. A rich, powerful man, planning to relocate using only Ceres? “She’s a small ship. She can’t carry much. She could probably not even fit your collection of robes.”
“We will not take anything but what we wear.”
“And perhaps we will read the wooden blocks in Goryeo,” Nasrin said. “We will walk the flowered temples of Khmer, and bathe in the sacred river.”
Yasmeen’s throat tightened. Her eyes filled. She could not hear a word of Lady Khojen’s tale without being overwhelmed—and it was more than a request. The iron in Temür’s hair said that he would have more years, but they could not number many.
“All right.” She nodded, then realized, “And your man is already putting the provisions aboard the ship. The one you sent as a guide for my steward.”
“Yes. Your steward was very glad not to pay for anything.”
So was Yasmeen. But that didn’t mean she would take this job for free. “The price of passage—to wherever you like—will be Archimedes’ sketch.”
“Of course.”
She glanced at him, saw his grin, and whispered, “Fifty percent.”
“You will have it,” he promised.
As the sun set, Yasmeen sat with Archimedes at her side, watching from the palace roof as the tower fell—not with an explosion, but pushed over by a squat war machine, under Hassan’s first order.
Inside the courtyard, outside—the cheers rose over the rumble of the war machine and the crash of stone, just as Hassan had hoped. Then the people themselves rose up, sparked by the tower’s fall—which Hassan had predicted, too.
But perhaps he hadn’t anticipated the speed with which they would come for Temür Agha.
Yasmeen and Archimedes had cheered with the rest, but as the tenor of the cheers and the chants began to change, she rose uneasily to her feet. A crowd had started toward the palace, where the former governor stood at the entrance with Hassan’s council.
She turned to Archimedes. “We need to get to Ceres. Quickly. Nasrin and Temür will have to catch up.”
They returned to their chamber, where the sketch still lay in Archimedes’ converted glider. He scooped it up and strapped it onto his back, and by the lady, Yasmeen was glad that he was a fast man, a strong man. He did not need to stop and rest as they raced through the palace. Behind them came shouts, the sound of stone shattering. They reached the palace wall, and he did not hesitate—not climbing the laurel tree as quickly as she, but just as surefooted.
The gardens behind the palace were quiet. They were on the eastern side of the kasbah, and the mob at the west courtyard. Still, it would not be long before they would spill all through this area, searching for Temür.
A crash made her look around. The war machine loomed over the palace, giant arms swinging, breaking it open for looters. Also under Hassan’s order? Probably not. But perhaps it would fulfill the same need as destroying Temür Agha. Cannons fired, crushing sandstone walls. People shouted over the rumbling,