Imbri was the first to break the silence that followed. “Either that’s a lie, or you really are planning to kill us,” she said. “You don’t let that kind of secret leak out.”

“Everyone who matters already knows,” Piridur said, not taking his eyes off Ram’s. “And the ones who don’t wouldn’t believe you. Blackbands know all sorts of things the general public doesn’t. If you really want to argue your way into summary execution, that’s your business, but I don’t see why.”

“I know I wouldn’t believe that story, whoever said it,” Darun casually opined. “It’s moronic. Who’d want Ram to be Ensi?”

“Nobody,” Piridur agreed. “That’s the entire point. This whole business is nothing more than a crude and sloppy extortion scheme, cooked up by an emotionally disturbed twenty-one-bloom-old boy who knows nothing of the world outside his temple.”

“Extortion,” Ram repeated. It fit with the tone of what Zasha had said. “How?”

“I’m afraid that will take some explaining. First off, you’ve got to understand that, as much as the outside world thinks of the ensis as divinely guided, most of the time they’re just lonely young men under a lot of stress.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Then you know stress does bad things to a young man’s mind. Part of every lugal’s job is to keep his ensi from going out of control and doing something terrible. Sometimes, that means extreme measures. An ensi has enormous power, Ram, but he’s still mortal. He can be killed as easily as any other man, the moment he lets his guard down.”

“Not that easily,” Ram corrected, “if he’s anything like me.”

“Possibly, but plenty of ensis have died of knife wounds in bed, all the same. Do you understand? The ensi can command every fire, every handmaiden. He could be a monster, with that kind of power, in that state of mind. We do our best to keep him content and his mind settled, but if he breaks—and this one has—the only thing keeping him reined in is the fear of assassins. That’s why he made you. With you next in line and safely hidden out of reach, ready to avenge him, we’d have been tied up instead.”

“Then why isn’t he in control now?”

“Because he botched it. He needed to have you secure and hidden before he showed his tiles. Instead we figured out the whole thing days after the bloom, before he’d even had a chance to get you out of the pyre. He’s been afraid for his life ever since. I don’t imagine he’s getting much sleep.”

He was talking about casually murdering the single most important man in the pyre. It turned everything he knew upside down. “But … if we both die … “

“The pyre would start a new lineage at the next bloom, indwelling men more or less at random. It’s happened before, once or twice, and we got through it. You only really need one indwelt man left alive for the kindling, after all—but naturally we’d rather have a nice, clean, ordered succession.”

“And if we both survived?”

“I don’t know if he thought that far ahead. Possibly he wouldn’t care who came after him. Possibly he was planning to dispose of you, once he got us out of the way. I only spoke with him once, for a few minutes. He’s not thinking clearly.”

Was that any wonder? Ram didn’t trust this man and his neat answers … but still, there was no denying that he’d gotten precious little help from the Ensi. Stay alive and out of the way, Shennai had said. He’d been assuming that he was awaiting further orders, even as he wondered how those orders were supposed to reach him. What if there were no further orders to give, because staying alive and out of the way was really all he was needed for? Or if the people in charge had no idea what orders to give him?

And he’d always wondered why he’d been chosen for something so important. He knew nothing, after all, had no important friends or special skills. The only unusual thing about him was his relation to Mana. He’d been thinking the two of them had some kind of rare gift, some secret magical power in the family, or at least special favor from the God.

Now he saw there was a simpler explanation: he was related to a handmaiden, so he wasn’t out of place at the Temple, or being recommended for conspicuous honors like flamekeeper candidacy. But the handmaiden was an idiot child from an insignificant hearth, which made him hard to view as a threat. The candidacy was only a joke to be laughed off, not the first step in a conspiracy. And he was so far out of his depth there was no risk he’d tell anyone, or be taken seriously if he did. He was the perfect expendable tool.

Some part of his mind had become suddenly and obsessively aware of the passage of time, and his inability to slow it. His time to live was running away even now, as he thought. Three blooms was not very long. Just how old would he be, in thirteen? Younger than Mother was now. He’d agreed to militia duty, and then to serve the Ensi, knowing that both were likely to get him killed. But he’d been counting on cheating the odds. A hard, unbreakable limit on his lifespan seemed far more brutal.

He abruptly realized that Piridur was still talking: “… one way or another. I’m sorry, son. We can’t help that now. But if you come back, we can make those thirteen blooms as comfortable as possible. The pyre can afford to spend a good deal taking care of you, believe me.”

He was struck by a ludicrous vision of a pudgy acolyte putting a diaper on him, then giving him to a handmaiden to nurse. It jarred him out of his terror, for the moment. “But why?” Ram said, finding his voice. “Why should I believe you?” He wasn’t sure if he honestly had any doubts; even as he said it, the fear returned, and he thought of other niggling details that made too much sense. The man’s words reminded him of Lashantu’s—but what had been the point of that Lashantu test, if not to prove he could resist just this kind of offer? “What’s to keep you from killing me, once you have me in custody?”

Piridur spread his arms. “What’s to keep me from killing you now? And why would we want to? We’d just have to replace you. I don’t mean to be blunt, son, but nobody wants your job. Most ensis are not happy men. They’d get out of it if they could. But they can’t, and neither can you. The question is, would you rather spend the rest of your life being cared for and tended to, or running from us and every blackband killer we can hire?”

“Kamenrag sure seemed like he wanted me dead.”

“Kamenrag had no idea what you were, Ram. Neither did we, until we heard you were carrying his sword. Ensis have tried this gambit before, but always with men they actually knew. Indwelling a virtual stranger is just crazy.”

“Then why did you send him after me?”

“We were reasonably sure he had indwelt an acquaintance, and was preparing to sneak him out of the hearth. He’d singled you out for honors—he would have made you a flamekeeper, if you hadn’t dropped the sword at the critical moment. And we would have let him, just to keep him happy.”

“I only dropped it because—“

“Yes, Ram, we know that now. But at that moment, we saw an ensi who was up to something, and a man with blackband experience and family connections to that ensi’s favorite handmaiden. A man he’d just tried to get into the flamekeepers. We assumed you were there to help smuggle his chosen en out somehow.”

“And the assassins on the bank?”

“Were trying to kill you before you got out. I’ll admit that. Tempers ran hot, in those first few hours, and you’d just killed several flamekeepers. There were rumors of a militia uprising, and half of the Lugal’s council thought you were planning to spearhead it. By the time we knew better, you were gone. I realize you haven’t been treated fairly, Ram. We’d like to make things up, if you’re willing.”

This was exactly what Zasha had been afraid of, and taken such brutal measures to avoid. Possibly this man could smooth things over with fifty gold or so—but possibly he couldn’t, and Ram couldn’t risk telling him. Whatever the Ensi had done, whatever the truth was, going along with this was out of the question. How was he supposed to refuse, though? He caught Darun’s eye; she shrugged.

“You could do worse,” she said, then turned to Piridur. “So, Ram gets to live like a lugal, and we get our business back? Win-win.”

And that, he supposed, was that, where Darun was concerned. Imbri shook her head, and said nothing. Bal, of course, would never venture an opinion, but it did seem like Ram could do no better than get the man killed here, if it came to a fight. “Let me out,” he said.

“Pardon?” Piridur said with a friendly smile. He was very good at seeming earnest and sincere. Probably why he’d been chosen for this job, more than any tactical cunning or personal connections.

“I can’t think in this damn black pit. Let me out to look at the sun, would you? It’s an island, I don’t know my way around this pyre, and I can’t swim. I won’t run away.”

“That seems reasonable,” he agreed, and stepped aside with the suggestion of a bow.

The fresh air and clean light made him feel far better than they should have. He walked slowly to the flash-fired clay floodbank that ran around the edge of the island, and stood a while watching the water ripple and break against it. When that, too, reminded him too strongly of the passage of time, he lifted his head to look at Pilupura’s temple instead. It might have been even taller than Karagi’s, but was built in the same general style. More importantly, the fire was just as warm and pleasant.

Are you a prisoner in there too, Ensi, or do you have real power of your own? Am I one of you now? Is this man telling the truth?

The temple light gave him no reply. But he had no link to it; possibly it couldn’t even hear him. So he turned north instead, to the spot, far past the horizon, where he knew Dul Karagi lay. It had been calling his name again, louder and louder with every mile he went away from it. Was the cage trying to lure its bird back? Maybe Ram could spend the next kindling and change breathing heavily in dark rooms. He’d figured the man was sick. Maybe that was just how someone in his position kept himself from going insane.

You might as well kill yourself now, you crazy selfish bastard. Because they’ve got me, you hear? They’ve got me, and if they don’t kill you I will, for what you’ve done to me. It was a perfectly stupid thing to say—Ram could no more hurt the Ensi than Beshi could hurt Ram, and if he did he’d only shave a kindling off his own life. But he felt a little better for saying it. Hey! You hear me? You’re a dead man now.

The pyre was still and silent, and no awareness stirred within it. Ram wasn’t that surprised. It was a long way away now, after all, and it wasn’t as though Ram was really that important to the man. To hell with him, then. He took a few moments to concentrate on taking deep breaths. He’d faced death before, and getting angry wasn’t helping.

A quiet tapping sound came from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Imbri shuffling his way, cane in hand. Piridur and one of his men stood on either side of the door; the other man had an enormous crossbow loaded and pointed in Ram’s direction. It seemed unnecessary to him, but what did he know?

Imbri stopped next to him. She was still wearing the full Moonchild getup she’d had on inside, plus a pair of leather gloves. “Aren’t you hot in all that?”

“I’m used to it. The sun’s bad for my skin. Do you feel like talking?”

“With you?”

“Or in general. Whichever.”

“I don’t know.” She seemed to accept that, and stood patiently beside him until he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “I’m sorry about all this.” It sounded pathetic, inadequate, but it was all he had.

She shook her head. “We all are. It doesn’t matter now. I’m more concerned about what comes next. Are you going to go with him, or what?”

Ram checked behind him; Piridur was still in place beside the door, out of earshot. “You don’t think I should, do you?”

“I don’t think he means to give you a choice; I’ve been stuck with him for over a month now. He wasn’t sadistic, oafish, or a pervert. He takes his job very seriously. I’d trust him farther than most of the pyre-piggies, but that’s still not very far.”

“And, if I go, will you be coming with me?”

“We probably won’t get a choice about that, either. He’ll drag us all back to Dul Karagi to straighten this out and keep us from blabbing. But if you’re expecting me to get you out of this, you can forget it. I’m an interpreter, Ram. That’s it.”

“Darun thought different. She said you knew about magic.”

“Hmph. Darun thinks a lot of things. What she doesn’t know, she makes up, and believes it herself. You should know that, if you’ve spent any time with her at all. Anyway, I was about eight when Mom died; there’s only so much you can teach to someone that young.”

“The old man, then. He’s still around here, right? He seemed smart.”

“Shazru spends most of his time praying to his fish-mommy to avoid having to face the situation here. He stops by twice a day to bring me food and check on me. He’s not going to swoop in and save you, and neither is anyone else. I’m sorry, Ram, but it’s not happening.”

“Well, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even seen the sun. At least, I don’t remember it. But I’m not trying to convince you everything’s okay when it’s not, here. If you’re dumb enough to believe that, you deserve whatever happens to you. Nothing about this is right.”

“Then what are you trying to do?”

“Salvage the situation. I had a good life with Dad—better than the life I had before, anyway. But it’s gone, and I’m not getting it back. Don’t apologize again, Ram. I can hear you taking a breath. I’m not waiting for you to say you’re sorry. That’s not going to fix anything.”

Ram shut his mouth.

“Thank you. As I was saying: the Damadzus were Dad’s scheme, and needed him to work. Shazru won’t lead, Darun can’t be trusted, Bal’s mostly insane, and nobody important will negotiate with a blind witch-girl. I don’t know where I’m going from here, but step one is going to be getting off this damn island and out of Piridur’s hands. At least for me, and maybe for you too. That’s your business, not mine.”

Ram checked behind to see if Piridur was still keeping his distance before leaning over to murmur, “I can’t go back. My family will die if I do.”

“Okay, that’s something to consider,” Imbri said, in the kind of voice Ram would have used with a very emotional child. “But it’s a long way to Dul Karagi from here, and most of the places on the way are easier to leave than the Gods’ Creche. Can you get it together, and keep it together, long enough to convince that man you want to go back with him? You don’t have to be enthusiastic. Just get us out of here, for now.”

“Maybe.” If his parents were safe, would he be ready to go along and spend the remaining half of his life locked up and pampered? It couldn’t possibly be as rosy as Piridur was painting it, or the Ensi wouldn’t have rebelled in the first place. Even so, it might have been for the best that he didn’t have to find out, just that moment, how low he could sink, or how unattached he was to his pride after all. “I wish I’d had you with me from the start, instead of Darun.”

“You don’t seriously think I’d have helped you with this mess, do you? Once I’m free and clear again, we’re done, Ram. No hard feelings, but I’ve got my own problems. I don’t know how I’d even begin fixing yours. Assuming they’re fixable at all.”

“Right.” He took a step towards Piridur, then paused. “What about on the way? If I can escape, will you help me or—“

“Bit of advice, Ram? Don’t try to come up with a big fancy plan right now. You’re not going to be thinking clearly yet, and anyway, you don’t really know what’s going on.”

“And you do?”

“No. But I’m not the one who just got all that dumped on him. My head’s straight.”

“Maybe it is.” He trudged back to Piridur, still waiting patiently by the door. The man with the crossbow kept it on him, eyeing him with increasing wariness the closer he got. Even Piridur looked somewhat put off; Ram followed his gaze, and realized he was still holding Beshi, bare and ready to kill, in his hand. He flipped it around to hold it by the blade instead, and Piridur smiled.

“You ready to go, son? If not, take your time. I know this takes some getting used to.”

“What if I didn’t go with you? What would happen?”

The smile faded. “I’d put you down like a mad dog, is what would happen, if I couldn’t take you alive. I know my duty.”

“No, I knew that. I mean, what if you weren’t here, and there was nobody to stop me? What if I forgot the pyre, and ran off to live somewhere else? What would happen?”

“Assuming the Ensi offered himself normally, you’d have a little less than three blooms feeling like you do now. Then you’d inherit all his power, and you wouldn’t be able to forget the pyre if you tried.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know all the details, but as I understand it, if the next kindling rolled around and you didn’t light the fire, every single Karagene haranu would consume its host, then die itself. Including yours. Basically, you’d burn alive from the inside out, wherever you were, whatever you were doing. You just wouldn’t save the pyre in the process. Tens or hundreds of thousands of people would die. Does that answer your question?”

“I guess it does.”

It had taken them four tetrads to get here from Dul Karagi. They would need at least five to get back upstream, assuming Piridur didn’t just fly them up. He would have that long to escape, or find some other way to save Mother, Father, and Zemni. And then? He had no idea what would come after.

But, he thought with shamefaced relief, Imbri was right: all that could wait. He turned Beshi around once more, and presented it to Piridur, hilt-first.