Steel Dominance (30 page)

“Can you begin? Do you need notes?” The emperor-bey stood beside her, looking up at the warrior.

“I don’t need notes. It’s up here.” She touched her forehead. “But yes, I can begin, Your Serenity.”
Of course I can
. She shut her eyes for a second. The facts and many diagrams she’d done shuffled to the forefront of her mind.

“Then do so.” He retreated to the glass wall, and the four guards stepped up.

Concentrate. Begin
. The first step in the process. The color code of the mosaic. But before that—the first key. She climbed onto the plinth, searched for, and found the place among the spines of his head. She turned this first one no more than a fraction of an inch, then did another spine, then the next. All precisely as foretold. The last time, a spine clicked and turned a full circle on its base.
Yes. Oh my God. It’s working.

She climbed down, only shaking a tiny bit. Then with a slow deliberate step, she went around the periphery of the warrior, pressing at the correct colored tiles. They moved where they never could have before. A loud
clunk
sounded from within the warrior. Something spun with a metal-on-metal click.

“There. Follow my instructions.” She waved the men forward.

At her direction, they turned a segment of an arm. The warrior leaned backward by half a foot. The watching crowd gasped.

Within half an hour, she had lowered him until his back was only a few degrees from fully lying on the ground. The manipulations had left the guards sweating, the crowd restless, and she was almost sure her eyes would be glowing.
Amazing
and several swear words had popped up inside her head every few minutes. Nothing went wrong. Nothing.

The warrior lay flat on his back. The sword had lifted from inside his torso and ran horizontally, having revealed another several foot of its length.

I’m right. I am so damn right
. “The last permutation,” she announced, proud her voice barely trembled.

From the massed crowd, Sofia picked out Tansu. The woman looked so grim.
Poor woman. I have to talk to her
. If only she could be freed. The contrast between their circumstances had become so vast it left a chasm inside her soul.

Slavery was a cursed thing. She liked being able to choose.
I can walk away, though. Tansu cannot
. The terrible realization cast a shadow on the ceremony.

But this is why I am here
. She tore her thoughts from Tansu’s plight.
I must finish what I began.

The emperor-bey came forward and peered at the warrior. “I never thought this would be the result. What will happen? What will this next step reveal?”

Sofia swallowed, her throat dry, her heart beating fast enough to outpace a gazelle.

“I don’t know. I only know the steps.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Then I will wait outside. Xiang will stay to watch.”

He thought it could be dangerous. That had never occurred to her.
I suppose…it could be possible. No. I finish this
. She didn’t really believe there would be danger.

The last manipulation was hers. The hands still clasped the pommel of the sword. She ran a finger over the cool metal and stone, then took each hand and turned them outward at the same time. The vibrations of whirring clockwork joints came through to her fingers. Slowly, the sword slid an inch, two inches, three, toward the feet of the warrior, and a cavity rose from within the warrior’s chest. Inside the cavity lay a small pale blue book on a silver-colored metal grill.

The hands clicked and halted and refused to turn any farther.

Done. I have done it
. Grinning, she looked back at the awestruck crowd, then waved to the emperor-bey.

Xiang leaned in, peered at the book, and sniffed. “Is that it?”

“Should I pick up the book? Or would you rather?”
It wasn’t smoking or ticking, was it?

“This?” Casually, Xiang reached in and plucked the book from its little shrine. She paused as if waiting to see what would happen, and when nothing did, she tossed the book to Sofia.

She fumbled but managed not to drop it.

“Is that it?” The emperor-bey’s question echoed Xiang’s.

“Yes, Your Serenity.” Palms together with the book lying across them, she reverently held out the book.

“Well.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Read it, then. Are there plans for more warriors? Real ones? Not just”—he waved at the Clockwork Warrior—“ones who lie there. You know, I thought there would be some proper soldiers.” The querulous rise in his voice alarmed Sofia.

What fools these are. A centuries-old puzzle is solved after mountains of work, and they dismiss it
. She bent her head and opened the book, turned the pages. One hundred pages.
Poetry?

“Well? Are there diagrams?”

“No.” She looked up. “No, Your Serenity. This is a book of poetry. There is a chance this may conceal more clues however. Might I copy this? So I can study it when I return to my university?”

He regarded her steadily for seven or eight seconds. “Yes. You may. Now.” He beckoned, and the janissary approached. “I wish this area to be cleared. I will officially reward Miss White at the Garden of Audiences in one hour. Thank you for your work, Miss White.” He smiled. “You have done well.”

Have I?
It didn’t seem as if anyone appreciated what she’d done at all. She sighed.
Blast. At least I get a copy of the book to take home with me. And I get the prestige of having solved this.

And…she got to go home with Dankyo. That seemed a far larger reward than she deserved. The fates had been kind to her in at least one aspect.

The one disappointment was that when she arrived at their room, Dankyo had already been taken away to bathe. The efficiency of the palace meant she had to wait to see him at the Garden of Audiences.

She sighed and looked around the empty room. He’d know she had succeeded with the Clockwork Warrior and she’d wanted to tell him herself.

Can’t be helped.

She shrugged off the inconvenience and managed to still have a smile on her face as they led her up the granite steps to the high plateau of the audience area. A brisk wind swept across, rattling the trees. Opposite her, at the end of a corridor of armored warriors, the emperor-bey sat on his throne. To his left, Xiang stood beside the throne, resplendent in armor and black.

Dry leaves skittered across the path before her as she took the final step.

To the right, behind a tall metal fence that resembled a giant bird cage, Henry’s copy of the Clockwork Warrior had been installed. As the hour rang on some distant clock, the warrior came to life and began a series of tremendous sword strikes. The rush of the air split by his sword sounded like the tearing of silk, or the swoop of a giant bird’s wing.

She recognized one of the katas Dankyo had taught her—a precise sequence of moves, perfectly executed by this clockwork automaton. Spectacular. Joints creaked and spun, machinery whirred, but for something so big, he was terribly quiet. Henry had designed him to change the katas each hour. She could see the attraction for the emperor-bey—this nineteen-year-old man who’d had his childhood cut short by the demands of his office. Truly, this was an appropriate gift for the ruler of a nation.

She smiled down the long corridor of men at the emperor-bey. He raised his hand and smiled back. Something about the set of his mouth and eyes jolted her. Even at that distance, she saw the grim satisfaction—it was the sort of smile you expect on a man who sees something he’s always wanted on sale for the first time in many years.

A hand clamped around her right wrist. The guard there held her. The grip was tight enough to hurt.

“Hey!” She turned to remonstrate with him. While she was in midturn, her left wrist was captured. With an angry hiss, scowling, she glanced to the other. “You can’t—”

The man behind her came up close and jammed something hard and rod-like across her mouth, forcing it between her teeth. She spit and tried to throw her head about, but they held her. Though she struggled and screamed as much as she could, they dragged her to the throne.

Panting, her hair in wild strands across her face, with spit dribbling past the metal gag, she glared at the emperor-bey.

He leaned forward and examined her, smiling. “You’re pretty. Though not so much when you get yourself all disturbed. But, I think I’ll keep you.”

“Your Serenity—” Xiang took a pace forward.

“No.” He held up his hand. “I’ve decided. You get the man. It is enough.”

Though she hesitated, Xiang bowed. “Yes, of course.”

The hate in Xiang’s eyes shocked Sofia into stillness. She wanted to do something. Anything. This was ridiculous, but she couldn’t speak. While she’d fought, she must have cried, though she hadn’t known it. Now her nose was blocked and threatened to run. She sniffed, listened to her racing heart and the scouring drag of her breathing past the metal. And couldn’t even wipe her nose, because they held her.

Not good. Oh God, this is
so
not good.

What was happening? Why? Had failing to give the emperor-bey what he wanted caused this?

“Over there. Tie her down.” He pointed to the right.

Sofia tried to choke out a word. Her tongue touched the bit, and the sound came out as a half grunt.

“What?” He put his hand to his ear.

Hand on the pommel of her sword, Xiang leaned in. “I think she is saying
why
, Your Serenity.”

“Ahh.” He flourished his hand. “Well. You must explain, then.”

With tremors rippling through her, and her wrists still held by the guards, Sofia waited. This was important. Perhaps, if she knew, she could tell them how wrong they were. This was some awful terrible
stupid
mistake.

In three casual strides, Xiang came to her, then poised a fingernail under her chin and made Sofia lift her head. “The reason is this. You remember the man I could not decide whether to kill or take to my bed?

Oh God
. She knew this was headed somewhere bad. Not Dankyo. It couldn’t be. She tried to drop her gaze, but Xiang took her chin in a cruel grip. Her fingernails wedged in and cut.

“No. Look at me! Your Dankyo is the reason. He left me to die many years ago. Deserted me after he promised…” Red suffused Xiang’s face. Her teeth showed as she spat the words. “He promised to be with me, to help me, to keep me from harm! He left me to die.

“I will. Make. Him. Suffer.” The anger made her eyes seem to glisten and swell from their sockets.

Then she released Sofia’s chin and went to step back.

Now or never
. Something made her do it. She kicked Xiang in the crotch, her toes glancing off hard-muscled thigh. It mightn’t have done much, but she grinned around the gag and slobbered out, “Gotchu. Ha-ha.”

The sword appeared as if by magic before her. The point quivered an inch from her mouth.

“Don’t!” The emperor-bey’s voice. “Don’t. Have her stripped and tied down. Now!”

There wasn’t much else she managed to do after that, though she tried and threw herself about as much as she could. She was one woman against many men. Despite using every muscle she could bring to bear, they tore off her clothes and bound her with her arms above her head to a curved metal bench.

While she was still sucking in air, gasping and choking, Xiang’s face loomed in above, blocking out the sky.

“There. Better. You are lucky. Instead of me torturing you endlessly, you are to become one of the harem. Your lover is coming here now.” A ring of gold sat on her fingertip, glinting. “All you have to do is sit still and get this put in.”

She swallowed.
What is it?
Realization dawned.
A clit ring
. She strained against the straps, but nothing gave. Trapped, legs splayed and tied.

“I will enjoy this if you scream. But I will savor his agony forever.”

Her petty terrors shrank, and this new one clamored for attention.
Dankyo is coming. No, oh no.

Whatever Xiang planned to do to him, it would be far, far worse than what would happen to her. Her heart threatened to tear open from the rawness of her pain.
No. Please. Let him escape. Please.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Sofia’s last kiss on his cheek, and the feel of her little body snuggling into him—those memories burrowed down into Dankyo’s stomach. They were painful, like a screw twisting tighter inside, because the signs were around him. The wrong signs.

The air clung like the smell of a lost battle.
Betrayal
. Some primeval part of his mind warned him. Long ago he’d somehow worked out a way to warn himself of oncoming badness. With a hundred and more vicious fights in his past, he just knew.

Betrayal. Had to be. Here in the palace, surrounded by thousands of people who bowed to the emperor-bey, what else could it be?

Something had gone amiss in the solving of the puzzle. But what?

They’d made him undress completely. Everything was gone—his knife, even the key he’d carried about his neck for all these days. Then, after he’d been bathed under the watch of a quintet of guards and a bevy of women who soaped him while they giggled, he’d been given a plain white tunic and pants to wear. No shoes even.

No shoes.

That rang the alarm bells the loudest. Despite his pretended indifference, the guards had known. The subtle shift in their stance, the way their eyes focused on him, the drift of their hands toward their weapons—yes, they were ready for trouble.

He could kill some of the men, maybe all, if he had an opening and got hold of a weapon. His chances of making it out of the palace were slim, but not impossible. There were ways. He knew the least-watched routes and two or three possible exits through, over, or under the outer walls.

And he couldn’t do any of it. Because he’d never leave Sofia.

If he left her here, he might not be able to return. This was not his country, and he could not rely on his own country, the Hellene Nation, taking enough of an interest in a single citizen—not when such interference might start a war. If he left, she might be killed. They might do so and then simply pretend she had ceased to exist, and he’d never know why.