he said with satisfaction. “Even better for me.”
He was broad-shouldered and powerful in the manner of the Ahdath. With her arms twisted behind her, there was no way Elena could overcome his strength. He shoved a knee between her legs; Elena spat in his face. He slashed his blade across her torso; she fought back a scream of fury. The wound bled freely, darkening his hands, but it wasn’t enough to defeat her.
This wasn’t Jaslyk—she could fight him. She just had to wait for her moment. She sagged in his arms, forcing him to take her weight.
Another man entered the cupola and she groaned. One she could fight off. Two or more, and it was over.
“Who do you have there?”
“Join me,” the first man grunted. “She’s not one of the Khanum’s doves, but she’ll do.”
“Do you know who you’re speaking to?”
The Ahdath who’d slashed her across the torso swiveled halfway around, his right arm blocking her throat. He stiffened as he recognized the newcomer. “Captain, she’s a Basmachi fighter—she bears the signs of the Usul Jade. I was bringing her to the Wall.”
The captain’s eyes stayed on his man. “So it seems.”
The Ahdath relaxed at the captain’s note of humor. He shrugged. “I have no access to the Gold House.”
“Nor I,” the captain said. “Let’s have a look at her, then.”
“She’s not much to look at,” the Ahdath said.
“No,” the other man agreed.
A horn sounded in the street behind the cupola. Though she should have been thinking of herself, Elena’s heart sank. Had they captured her sister as well? Both men turned at the sound, and Elena seized her chance. She bit down on the Ahdath’s arm, sinking her teeth to the bone.
He dropped his arm with a roar of pain. Elena brought up her knee to shove him in the groin. She connected, but his leather was too thick. He slammed her back against the wall with both arms, her head crashing into brick. Stars danced before her eyes. A moment later she was slumped on the ground.
She didn’t see what happened next. Instead, she heard the sounds of movement: the ring of steel, a hiss of surprise, a thud. Then the sound of something being dragged.
For a moment the world was suspended upside down. Elena felt herself raised as easily as a child; she smelled sweat and felt the scrape of a man’s rough beard against her face. She was tossed onto his shoulder and carried away from the mausoleum, into the shadows of the Hazing.
Behind the mausoleum, the captain of the Ahdath set her down on a broken tombstone.
Her head reeling, Elena muttered, “Is it your turn now?”
“Take a moment,” the captain suggested, “before you lacerate me with your tongue.”
“I’ll scream,” she warned him, unable to see his face in the shadows.
“Then you’ll bring a patrol right to your sister’s hiding place.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Elena went still. It couldn’t be. Of all the Ahdath who could have tracked her to the Hazing, it couldn’t be the one who knew she’d rescued the First Oralist from the Gold House, delivering one of the Khanum’s doves to this Ahdath in her stead.
The man stepped out of the shadows, showing her his face. A pang of terror struck at her heart—she had walked into an ambush. This Ahdath had come for their heads, using her to trap her sister.
But the captain from the Gold House spoke to her with unexpected kindness. “It’s not what you think, Anya. I came with Larisa to find you.”
Elena stood up, backing away from the man. She gave him a careful nod, wondering if she could outrun him even with the knife wound at her ribs. “Captain Illarion, you’ve made a quick return from Black Aura. I’d appreciate your escort to the Gold House.”
Illarion smiled at her, a rueful smile that didn’t lighten his cold blue eyes in the least. “So you can cut my throat on the way? I know who you are, Anya. Larisa asked me to find you—that’s the reason I’m here.”
Like a tiger of the Shir Dar, Elena sprang at him. Her hand snaked to the knife at his hip. A second later it was at his heart. “What have you done with my sister?”
He stood still, his arms at his side, his palms spread wide. “She’s safe, I swear it to you.”
Elena pressed the tip of the blade through crimson armor. “Liar.”
Illarion was much taller than she was. He seemed bemused by her actions, staring down at her, his blue eyes wide. “Anya—”
“Where is she?”
“Here, Elena, I’m here.”
Elena didn’t move at the sound of a new voice. She switched out of the Common Tongue to the secret language of the Basmachi. “Is this a trap?” she asked.
“No, let the Ahdath go.”
Larisa jumped down from the rock wall behind the double cupola, one hand on the sword at her hip, the other shielding her face from the white glare of the moonlight. She was unfettered and alone. “Let him go,” she said again.
Elena shook her head. She pressed the blade deeper into the Ahdath’s breastplate. His breath hitched in his chest. He held the same nonthreatening pose until Larisa moved between them, removing the knife from her sister’s hand.
“The only good Ahdath is a dead one,” Elena said, not taking her eyes off Illarion.
“I know. But he’s not Ahdath. He’s … something else.”
Illarion fingered his ruptured breastplate.
“Don’t be stupid. With Araxcin dead, Captain Illarion is now Commander of the Wall.” Elena’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s take him. Let’s ransom him for some of ours.”
It was Larisa’s turn to shake her head. “You know the Ahdath won’t ransom our fighters. They’re on a killing spree even now.”
Elena’s face tightened. “Then why did you call me to the Hazing? And why did you bring him with you? You’ve put us both at risk.”
“I need your help, Elena. I need to break a prisoner out of Jaslyk.” She said this in the Common Tongue despite Elena’s furious glare.
“What madness causes you to share your purpose with the enemy?”
“We have to hurry,” Illarion cut in. “It won’t take them long to find us.”
Elena’s rage boiled over. How dare this Ahdath speak of himself as one of them when he knew they shared no common cause? The violent urge to bury her blade between his ribs renewed itself. She spun around to face him. “Why aren’t you at Black Aura, Captain? I saw you leave for the capital myself.”
He
