The Court of Broken Knives. Anna Smith Spark

six dhol, I’m not sure you should trust a word they said. At that price, I’ve probably ordered them to tell you a pack of lies then throw the money to the nearest beggar.’

      ‘Ah, but they give me special rates. They all know me so well, after all.’ Their eyes met for a moment, like they were going to start really arguing. Ah, Darath. Moths’ wings flickering around his hair. ‘You don’t want me in. Fine. But I’ll find out. I might even be forced to take steps against you. Tell someone.’

      Pause. Orhan’s heart pounding. You wouldn’t, he thought. You couldn’t. Even after everything. No. Please.

      ‘God’s knives. I’m sorry.’ Darath lowered his gaze from Orhan’s face. Read things there Orhan wasn’t sure he wanted him to see. You’re sorry. I’m sorry too. ‘I didn’t mean that. But I want in. In. Come on. I can help you. You know I can. God’s knives, you can trust me, Orhan.’ He looked vaguely embarrassed. ‘Despite what I just said.’

      ‘I’m tired. This isn’t exactly a private place to be talking. Neither of us is exactly sober. I really don’t want to do this now.’

      ‘I’ll contribute to the funding, even. You can’t ask fairer than that. Don’t tell me you couldn’t do with some financial support here. You’re poor and Tam’s a skinflint.’

      This is turning into a farce, thought Orhan. Change the date, change the cast list, get financial contributions towards it like it’s a family wedding and the bride’s parents need help with the cost of the food. Shall we just change the target too? It’s in motion, Darath. It’s all in motion and you want to turn everything upside down because you’re bored and nosey and—

      He sighed heavily. Knowing he was making a mistake. But whatever way he went, he’d regret it. Why did you have to find out, Darath? You just complicate bloody everything. And it’s dangerous. Orhan sipped his drink and felt the hatha further clouding his mind. Shouldn’t have come. If he hadn’t come …

      ‘Give me a few days to think about it. Then we’ll talk again.’

      ‘Think about it? I know what you’re doing and in a few days I’ll know when and how. I’ll wager you three thalers I’ll know when and how, in fact. And you’re hardly going to think about it and say no, are you? Unless you’ve sunk so low you’re planning on knifing me too to keep me from talking.’

      Orhan shuddered. Don’t say that. Not … not like that. Not from you to me. You put it so crudely. There are so many reasons. You know some of them. We used to talk about this, after all. But I don’t want to put it on you. Tam can stomach the guilt. Live with it. But not you.

      ‘A few days, Darath.’ He sighed again and chewed a candied date. Sticky and cloying in his mouth. We eat sweets and drink wine and plan murder in the dark. The pinnacle of urban sophistication. The great cities are built on this. Barbarians come with fire and the sword, yelling obscenities; we smile and sip a drink and laugh as we discuss killing a man.

      ‘A few days. I’ll tell you everything in a few days. Once things are settled. Not here.’

      Darath smiled. ‘Three thalers says I find out before you tell me.’

      We are incapable of taking anything seriously, Orhan thought sadly. So inured to everything, we’ve forgotten a world exists beyond our walls. Darath waved down a servant to get them another drink. Bil flitted past in a tinkle of bells, laughing.

      He sipped his wine again, felt lumps and spat. A moth had blundered into his goblet and drowned there. A clear sign he needed to go home.

      ‘Suit yourself.’ Darath laughed, drank, looked down and fished an insect out of his own cup. ‘This really wasn’t the best place to sit, you know. All your plans thought through?’ He licked his fingers. ‘I’m going on to Faleha’s, myself. I’ll kiss something pretty for you.’

      Always knew how to make him hurt.

       Chapter Five

      A few days later.

      Bil was already seated at the table in the breakfast room, eating flatbread topped with almonds and honey. She smiled at Orhan as he joined her. Breadcrumbs and beads of honey stuck to the scar tissue erupting from the corner of her mouth. Orhan wondered sometimes if he would ever cease to notice.

      The room opened onto the east gardens, one wall a sweet-wood trellis overgrown with jasmine. The flowers were out, the scent almost overpowering. The thick mass of their leaves cast a green tinge to the light, making the room seem smaller and more elegant than it really was, hiding the scuffed floor and the old damp stain on the wall. A pleasant room. Orhan helped himself to an apple from a silver bowl in the centre of the table, indicated to the waiting servant girl to bring him some bread. The perfume of the jasmine made the food taste almost flowery. He drank a cup of water drawn from the well in the corner of the garden, a coppery tang to it that lingered in the mouth.

      Bil finished eating and dabbed her mouth with a silk napkin. The honey smeared across her scars, gleaming slightly, as though she were dusted with pollen or powdered gold. She wore a loose yellow dress, embroidered with a design of peacock feathers in dark blue and green. Like a hundred little eyes looking at him.

      ‘I need to tell.’ She looked at him curiously, with a mixture of eagerness and fear. ‘I’m pregnant.’

      ‘Pregnant?’ Orhan stared back at her. ‘You’re sure?’ he said at last. His heart beating fast.

      ‘As sure as I can be, this early.’

      ‘How early?’

      ‘Three months, maybe. It won’t be born until well into next year. Around the Emperor’s birthday, perhaps, Janush thinks.’

      One serving girl present, standing inconspicuously in the corner, watching her mistress with big dark eyes. She presumably knew most of Bil’s doings, and the nature of his marriage and his and his wife’s lives was hardly a secret. But no reason to allow the household too much free rein. A man must have some dignity, in his own home. Orhan waved her away sharply and she retreated beyond the green walls of the jasmine. Sat back in his chair and smiled warmly at Bil.

      ‘Well done, Bilale,’ he said loudly, addressing the green leaves of the jasmine. ‘An Emmereth heir.’

      ‘You’re pleased? Truly?’ Bil came over and stood next to him, her face flushed and bright.

      As if he didn’t have enough to worry about. ‘Of course I’m pleased.’ He looked at her gently. Why else did I marry you? his eyes said to her, cool and honest. Why else would I marry at all, yet alone you? The fact that you’re rich was useful, of course, but we both know what this marriage is about. Bil got a title that reopened doors closed to her by her disfigurement. He got a wife who expected nothing more from him than his name, and who would magic him up an heir with enough discretion no one would ever know where it came from.

      ‘We should go to the Temple,’ Bil said. ‘Give thanks. It’s a child sacrifice tonight, so it’s propitious.’

      Orhan frowned. ‘Is it? Yes, of course, I suppose it must be. If you want, then.’ If he was going to do this, he’d have to do it properly, no half measures. A child would certainly merit a public show of prayers, and probably a generous offering. He’d need to find the money for a name day feast too, later. An expensive business, children.

      ‘I’ll go and change,’ he said, for need of something to say. He was aware of Bil looking at him, seeing his thoughts in his face. It was odd, how well in some ways she knew him. ‘You’ve got some honey around your mouth, you should probably wash it off.’

      ‘Janush says I should eat honey every day. To make the baby sweet-tempered.’ She sounded happy. She wants this baby, Orhan realized. She wants to be a mother and to have a child. She has wanted this for a long time now. She knew him, but he knew so little about her.