Jacen tersely asked Ogden, “Why are you here?”
“I’m a physician,” said Ogden, as if that explained anything.
Jacen looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes in exasperation. “Seth?”
Seth sat on a window ledge, unbothered by the three-hundred-foot drop behind him. “My dear wife-to-be told Ged everything.”
“I reported to my direct superior in the Guard,” Saraida said. “As is my duty.”
Seth snorted. “Spare me. You’re plotting a coup with him.”
“His interests are mine.” Saraida’s tone took on a touch of pity. “I’m not in love with you, Seth, and I’m not loyal to you. You knew that.”
Seth did not respond, but Jacen sensed his brief pang of shame as Saraida went on. “We’re all here because we agree something must be done about the Harvest.”
“Bad for your grandmother’s business, is it?” Seth said acerbically. “My grandmother is not involved in this, nor will she interfere. Ged and I have quietly seized her assets and placed her under comfortable house arrest.”
Saraida’s demeanor was cold, arms crossed, green eyes distant, but Jacen sensed no deception. He recalled the sceneNeri had caused at the offering ceremony, accusing Lady Ancarath of cheating the Harvest. Perhaps it had triggered a moral crisis in Saraida. Whatever her reasons . . . she believed in this cause.
But Seth studied his betrothed with skepticism. “So, you’re suddenly loyal toGed? Over your last living family?”
“My priority,” Saraida snapped, “is justice.”
“Captain Ancarath can be trusted,” Ged said. “As for you”—he looked at Seth, then at Jacen—“I intend to liberate this city by any means necessary, and I will not allow the two of you to interfere with my plans again. If I have to send you to the deepriver prisons to get you out of my way, I will.”
“Yourplans,” Seth said through gritted teeth, “hinge on allowing a monstrously powerful demon to possess an eleven-year-old boy.”
“Damir is doing his part in the canyon.” Ged went on as if Seth hadn’t spoken. “He’ll get Neri to the weapon while we do our work here.”
“What exactly is this plan of yours?” Seth ticked off questions on his fingers. “How do you know you’ll be able to make Neri do anything once he’s in control of that abomination? How do you know he’ll be able to control it? How do you know it won’t kill him?” He looked at Jacen with an air of utter exhaustion. “You’re the exorcist. Make him see reason. How do we know this thing won’t kill us all?”
“I don’t know,” Jacen said truthfully. Uselessly.
“It’s a risk, but it’s necessary.” Ged slashed an impatient hand through the air. “What’s more, Neri agreed to this. He knows my plan and my expectations for him.”
“You know that boy would do anything for your approval, no matter how stupid,” Seth snarled.
“He’s my son,” said Ged. “Not yours. This was never your decision to make, and you ought to be glad he has more courage than you.”
Seth dragged a hand down his face. “If you had spoken to me beforehand—spoken toanyone?—”
“What’s done is done,” Saraida cut in, with poorly suppressed annoyance. “For now—we prepare. We mobilize our loyal Guardsmen. We fan the flames in the Knots, encourage their superstitions.”
Ogden spoke up. “We may not have to wait much longer. My contact says the voice in the desert has gone silent.”
Everyone in the room turned toward the old man.
The voice in the desert. The red thing. What waits below.Jacen had heard a score of names for what might have been one legend or a dozen different ones. A chill settled over him.
Seth’s gaze, however, had never left Ged. “Your plan—I want details.”
Ged watched him for a moment, then replied, “In the White Cathedral depths, there is a room. All Zivora’s infrastructure is controlled from there—cooling, irrigation, the dock elevators . . . I suspect, even the polyhedra. It’s where all citizens are registered and consecrated. My father has a ring that grants him access.”
Jacen had been to that room. Every citizen of Zivora had, though few remembered it—usually in their first year, to be named and consecrated to the gods. All they had for evidence was a small scar, no wider than a thumbnail, on their forearm.
Jacen had a sudden urge to scratch at his own mark, almost invisible after nearly three decades. He failed to restrain himself.
“I’ve been paying attention,” Ged went on. “Tracking his every move. He visits that room, usually with Akkani, whenever he’s called to speak to the gods. I believe it’s through this room that they enter Zivora, and unless they materialize out ofnothing”—he spoke as if he found the very notion preposterous—“there must be a back door. There are secret passages throughout the Citadel, some leading to the deepriver caves below. We need a map.”
