Anoor left her chambers and walked through the Keep quickly. Every time she saw an officer, she heard the click, click, click of the rack. At one point she thought she recognized the captain who had given the order on that ill-fated day in the Dredge. She was forced to press herself against the cloisters until he passed.
By the time she reached the library she was sweating.
“Miss Elsari,” Bisma greeted her with open arms. “You’ve missed two zines. I nearly sent a Ghosting to your chambers, but you know what? Couldn’t find one.”
“Hello, Bisma, how are you?”
“Well, you won’t believe what happens in the most recent tale…Abena discovers a Duster sent the letter to the imir and—guess what? Though I don’t want to spoil the ending…”
He rushed on before Anoor could respond.
“Abena had him arrested and he goes to trial.”
Anoor winced. Trial. That ridiculous farce wasn’t a trial.
Bisma reached down below his desk, his back creaking like a door, and pulled out the two zines. He pressed them into Anoor’s hand with a smile.
“Don’t worry about payment, a gift from me for doing so well in the Aktibar. I’ve been watching you.”
Anoor shifted her feet. It felt like the whole world was watching her sometimes.
“Thank you, Bisma. I might go sit and read some.”
He nodded deeply and waved her away. “Enjoy, enjoy, but come tell me when you get to the section when Abena’s ex-husband appears from the chest. It’s a shocker.”
The zines distracted her for some time, pulling her from the pressures of the Aktibar and her complicated relationship with Sylah.
—
“Sylah, this isn’t the most recent journal. This was from Uka Elsari’s first term as disciple.”
Skies above, that didn’t take him long. Sylah rolled over in the bed to find Jond hunched over the book in question.
“So?”
“So?” He was incredulous. “The Sandstorm gave you specific instructions, you didn’t follow them.”
Sylah felt her anger pound her heart like a drumbeat; it brought on the beginning of a tremor.
“It was the only one there.”
“Are you sure?”
“Maiden’s tits, Jond. Yes, I’m sure. This is it, this is my task fulfilled. Right?”
Jond tilted his head.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
“I don’t know, okay?” he said, matching her fever. “Master Inansi is very particular about this stuff, wants things to be carried out properly. There was something they needed in the journal, in that particular one.”
“Master Inansi?” Sylah repeated, and Jond jerked.
“Pretend I didn’t say that.”
Sylah hadn’t heard the name before, but she filed it away just in case.
“This is getting ridiculous, Jond.” Sylah slumped back on the bed. “I’m beginning to think you don’t want me back in the Sandstorm because I was always better than you.” The comment was snide, uncalled for, but it hit Jond in the stomach. She regretted it instantly.