A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes 2)

Changing the subject, of course. No wonder Elias was always so irritated by the Augurs. I force myself to look around. The house is unfamiliar.

"Mask Laurent Marianus. His wife, Inah." Cain nudges aside a charred beam with his foot and picks up a roughly carved wooden horse. "Their children: Lucia, Amara, and Darien. Six Scholar slaves. One of those was Siyyad. He loved Darien like a son."

Cain turns the horse over and gently sets it back down. "Siyyad carved this for the boy two months ago, when Darien turned four." My chest tightens. What happened to him?

"Five of the slaves tried to flee when the Scholars attacked with torches and pitch. Siyyad ran for Darien. He found him, holding his horse, hiding beneath his bed in terror. He pulled him out. But the fire was too swift. They died quickly. All of them. Even the slaves who tried to run."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the Empire is filled with homes like this. With lives like these. Do you think that Darien's or Siyyad's lives matter less, somehow, than Elias's? They do not."

"I know that, Cain." I feel chagrined that he would need to remind me of the value of my own people. "But what was the point of everything I did in the First Trial if Elias is just going to die anyway?"

Cain turns the full force of his presence upon me. I shrink back.

"You will hunt Elias. You will find him. For what you learn on that journey--about yourself, your land, your enemies--that knowledge is essential to the Empire's survival. And to your destiny."

I feel like retching at his feet. I trusted you. I believed you. I did what you wanted. And now my fears will come to life for my trouble. Hunting Elias--killing him--that's not even the worst part of the nightmares. It's the feeling inside as I do it. That's what makes the dreams so potent--the emotions that roll through me: satisfaction as I torment my friend, pleasure at the laughter of Marcus, who stands beside me, looking on in approval.

"Do not let despair take you." Cain's voice softens. "Hold true to your heart, and the Empire will be well served."

"The Empire." Always the Empire. "What about Elias? What about me?"

"Elias's fate is in his own hands. Come now, Blood Shrike." Cain lifts a hand to my head, as if offering a blessing. "This is what it means to have faith, to believe in something greater than yourself."

A sigh escapes me, and I wipe the tears from my face. This is what it means to believe. I wish it weren't so hard.

I watch as he drifts away from me, deeper into the ruins of the house, finally disappearing behind a scorched pillar. I don't bother following. I already know he's gone.

*

The Black Guard barracks stands in a Mercator section of the city. It is a long, stone building with no markings but a silver, open-winged shrike embossed on the door.

The second I enter, the half dozen Masks within stop what they are doing and salute.

"You." I look to the closest Black Guard. "Go and find Lieutenant Faris Candelan and Lieutenant Dex Atrius. When they arrive, assign them quarters and arms." Before the guard can even acknowledge, I move on to the next. "You," I say. "Get me every report from the night that Veturius escaped. Every attack, every explosion, every dead soldier, every looted store, every eyewitness account--all of it. Where are Shrike's quarters?"

"Through there, sir." The soldier points at a black door at the end of the room. "Lieutenant Avitas Harper is within. He arrived just before you."

Avitas Harper. Lieutenant Harper. A chill rolls across my skin. My torturer. Of course. He too is a member of the Black Guard.

"What in the bleeding skies does he want?"

The Black Guard looks surprised for a moment. "Orders, I believe. The Emperor assigned him to your task force."

You mean the Commandant assigned him. Harper is her spy.

Harper waits at my desk in commander's quarters. He salutes with unsettling blankness, as if he didn't just spend five days in a dungeon tormenting me.

"Harper." I sit down opposite him, the desk between us. "Report."

Harper says nothing for a moment. I sigh in open irritation.

"You've been assigned to this detail, yes? Tell me what we know about the whereabouts of the traitor Veturius, Lieutenant." I put as much disdain in the word as possible. "Or are you as ineffective a hunter as you are an interrogator?"

Harper doesn't react to the jibe. "We have one lead: a dead Mask just beyond the city." He pauses. "Blood Shrike, have you chosen your force for this mission?"

"You and two others," I say. "Lieutenant Dex Atrius and Lieutenant Faris Candelan. They'll be inducted into the Black Guard today. We'll call in backup as needed."

"I do not recognize the names. Generally, Shrike, inductees are chosen by--"

"Harper." I lean forward. He will not have control over me. Never again. "I know you're the Commandant's spy. The Emperor told me. I can't get rid of you. But that doesn't mean I have to listen to you. As your commander, I order you to shut up about Faris and Dex. Now take me through what we know of Veturius's escape."

I expect a retort. Instead, I get a shrug, which is somehow more infuriating. Harper details Elias's escape--the soldiers he killed, sightings of him in the city.

A knock comes at the door mid-report, and to my relief, Dex and Faris enter. Faris's blond hair is a mess, and Dex's dark skin is ashen. Their singed capes and bloodied armor are evidence of their activities the past few days. Their eyes widen when they see me: cut, bruised, a mess. But then Dex steps forward.

"Blood Shrike." He salutes, and despite myself, I smile. Trust Dex to remember protocol, even when faced with the shattered remnants of an old friend.

"Ten hells, Aquilla." Faris is aghast. "What did they do to you?"

"Welcome, Lieutenants," I say. "I assume the messenger told you of the mission?"

"You're to kill Elias," Faris says. "Hel--"

"Are you prepared to serve?"

"Of course," Faris goes on. "You need men you can trust, but Hel--"

"This"--I speak over him, lest he say something that Harper can report back to the Emperor and the Commandant--"is Lieutenant Avitas Harper. My torturer and the Commandant's spy." Immediately, Faris clamps his mouth shut. "Harper is also assigned to this mission, so beware of what you say around him, as it will all be reported back to the Commandant and Emperor." Harper shifts uncomfortably, and a bolt of triumph shoots through me.

"Dex," I say. "One of the men is bringing in the reports from the night Elias escaped. You were his lieutenant. Look for anything that might be relevant. Faris, you're with me. Harper and I have a lead outside the city."

I am thankful that my friends accept my orders stoically, that their training keeps their faces blank. Dex excuses himself, and Faris follows to procure horses. Harper stands, his head tilted as he looks at me. I cannot read his expression--curiosity, perhaps. He reaches into his pocket, and I tense, remembering the the brass beaters he used on me during my interrogation.

But he only pulls out a man's ring. Heavy, silver, and embossed with a bird, wings spread, beak wide in a scream. The Blood Shrike's ring of office.

"Yours now." He takes out a chain. "In case it's too big."

It is too big, but a jeweler can fix that. Perhaps he expects me to thank him. Instead, I take the ring, ignore the chain, and sweep past him.

*

The dead Mask in the dry flats beyond Serra sounds like a promising start. No tracks, no ambush. But the moment I see the body--hanging from a tree and bearing clear signs of torture--I know Elias didn't kill him.

"Veturius is a Mask, Blood Shrike. Trained by the Commandant," Harper says as we head back to the city. "Is he not a butcher like the rest of us?"

"Veturius wouldn't leave a body out in the open," Faris says. "Whoever did this wanted the body found. Why do that if he doesn't want us on his trail?"

"To throw us off," Harper says. "To send us west instead of south."

As they argue, I mull it over. I know the Mask. He was one of four ordered to guard Elias at his execution

. Lieutenant Cassius Pritorius, a vicious predator with a taste for young girls. He'd done a stint at Blackcliff as a Combat Centurion. I was fourteen then, but I kept one hand on a dagger when he was around.

Marcus sent the other three Masks guarding Elias to Kauf for six months as punishment for losing him. Why not Cassius? How did he end up like this?

My mind leaps to the Commandant, but it doesn't make sense. If Cassius angered her, she'd torment and kill him publicly--all the more to build her reputation.

I feel a prickling on my neck, as if I'm being watched.

"Little ssssinger . . ."

The voice is distant, carried on the wind. I whirl in my saddle. The desert is empty but for a tumbleweed rolling past. Faris and Harper slow their horses, staring back at me quizzically. Walk on, Aquilla. It was nothing.

The next day of the hunt is equally useless, as is the one after that. Dex finds nothing in the reports. Runners and drum messages bring false leads: Two men killed in Navium, and a witness swears Elias is the murderer. A Martial and a Scholar reportedly checking in to an inn--as if Elias would be fool enough check in to a bleeding inn.

By the end of the third day, I'm exhausted and frustrated. Marcus has sent two messages already, demanding to know if I've made any headway.