Page 148 of A Drop of Corruption

“You didn’t expect that Darhi would die, of course,” said Ana, “though that was a rather lucky break. But even if he’d lived, the goal would have been achieved anyway—for how could we believe such a liar when he claimed he wasnotthe killer of the body found in his litter? You’d win either way. We would think all the villains captured or killed, and all was safe—and we would relax, and relent. The hydricyst would dock in Yarrowdale and unknowingly load your weapon aboard. Then it would go to the Shroud, take the marrow, sail for the River Asigis…but then, somewhere out at sea, your weapon would finally unravel and destroy it all—yes? The marrow would be forever lost. The Empire would be dependent on the Shroud foryearsto come…and thus on Yarrow, and your rule.”

Still Pyktis said nothing.

“How small-minded it all was…” Ana shook her head. “You’d deny the imperial people so much healing, so much advancement. You’d rule over a nation of slaves and slavers. All for gold. For a golden crown, and a throne, and a little bit of money.”

“No,” said Pyktis. His voice was a cold and icy whisper.

“Then why?” Ana asked.

He was silent for a moment. Then he whispered, “It was…thesight of him. To lay eyes on him.”

“The prince?” said Ana. She cocked her head. “Or…your father?”

“I…I had never even seen him before,” whispered Pyktis. “I had asked once, before I went to the Shroud, to meet my father, my king, but was rebuffed. But after I deceived you all into thinking I was dead, I…I came here. Crept in like a thief in the night. Gazed upon him sleeping. He woke and asked me to fetch him his chamber pot. He thought I was my brother. But he was…he was soold,and soweak.Just a man. Just a doddering old fool. It had all been a…a story.”

“What had?” asked Ana.

“Kings.” Pyktis shuddered. “For so long I was told they were wondrous fathers, farsighted rulers touched by the divine. The natural rule of strength, of crown, of throne—a noble thing, unlike the Empire, so unnatural and invented. But when I looked upon my father, I saw they are just…men. Little men with muddy, ugly little minds, who fall to common corruptions just like anyone.” His face twisted. “Just like everyone in the Empire. Just like Thelenai.”

“Is that so?” said Ana.

“She is just like him, do you know that?” he asked. “She made tools of us, asking us to sacrifice ourselves, to risk our lives and minds for her own little treasure. Youalldo. The Empire weeps so grandly, and bedecks the dead with gold and lands, but…it is still the same as my father. You call it serving. But you are slaves, and your masters shall never know any consequence.”

“Are you so sure of that? For Thelenai shall see many consequences, and soon.”

“She will wriggle out of them,” said Pyktis bitterly. “It is the same in all nations of the earth. You are either a slave or a master. I had my chance. I made my choice.”

Ana nodded slowly, then tsked. “I see…Simple nihilism, then. How terribly unimaginative. With you being so brilliant, Pyktis, I thought your motivations might wind up being a bit more interesting! But now the game is done, and your fate is sealed. And it’s to bequite horrid, isn’t it?”

For the first time, Pyktis blinked. “What?”

“Oh—did you think we were going to arrest you?” said Ana, feigning surprise. “Haul you before your taxiarkhe? After the scene of slaughter in this throne room? That would not be a very diplomatic choice!”

Pyktis gazed about and seemed to realize for the first time that every green eye in the room was staring at him with a look of profound hatred; save for Pavitar, who stood beside the open chest, staring down on the corpse within.

“I…I am an imperial citizen,” Pyktis said. “I demand my rights to imperial justi—”

“No! No, sir,” said Ana. Her grin contorted into something monstrous. “Don’t you see? You are anabomination,Pyktis, and abominations must be dealt with. But even if we tried to arrest you, I doubt Yarrows here would let us—true, Pavitar?”

Pavitar swallowed very slowly, his eyes still fixed on the true prince’s corpse. “No,” he said hoarsely. “No, I would not.”

“No…for you have committedapavitari,sir. The murder of a king and a prince, done by their own blood to gain the throne.” She stood. “Thus, I shall excuse myself and leave justice to those who have been wronged.”

Pyktis stared at her, speechless. Pavitar took a deep breath, his short sword held tight in his hands, and began to walk toward the throne.

“No,” said Pyktis. “No, you can’t…you…” Then his face twisted, and his voice rose to a shriek. “You call me an abomination, but I know what you are! I have read it in your body, in your very movements! You disdain kings, butI know what you are!”

Pavitar drew closer to him, eyes still averted, short sword low at his side.

Ana yawned. “Hum,” she said. “How you bore me, child.”

The sword struck but once, at the base of Pyktis’s neck, the blade biting deep into his throat, then retracting: a swift, practical blow. As always with such wounds, the rush of blood was tremendous. Pyktisfell back into the throne and gazed up at the ceiling, choking once, a look of utter incredulity on his face, as if he simply could not believe this was happening to him. Then his neck grew limp, and his head lolled to the side, and he was still.

There was a long silence. Pavitar dropped his sword and dazedly stared about the bloodied room. “Get out,” he said quietly. Then, louder: “All of you, get out.Get out, now, now!”

“Prificto Kardas?” said Ana. “I believe now is a good time to make our exit.”

“Y-yes,” said Kardas, shaken. “I agree, Dolabra.”