12. Nine

I didn't sleep, half expecting that if I did, I wouldn't wake. Worse would be if I woke in time to see Aryn's knife before it fell. It was a dangerous game to test his loyalty so deliberately, so painfully. He was my brother, my most dear and ardent supporter, but I had to know.

If Tarathiel had taught me anything, it was that the most effective blade was the one you never saw coming.

Aryn had pledged to kill me if I forgot myself, which meant he was loyal. Not to me, not to the words I spoke or the glory I promised. Not to power. His loyalty was where it belonged, with the mission. If I forgot or was drawn astray, he would kill me and that was a comfort. Every good leader needed a second like that. I was truly blessed by the gods to have him as a brother.

Aryn must not have been in a particularly vengeful mood, however, as no attempts were made on my life overnight.

When the slave came an hour before dawn, I was bent over my writing desk, reading a troubling missive from the camp medic that had come in the early hours. The slave regarded me with his usual hot anger, though his irritation seemed divided between me and Senna before I even spoke. Judging by the stiff way he walked, Senna had already had to give him the rod once or twice. I didn't acknowledge them as they came into the tent, but smiled a little at the sound of Senna barking orders, and the slave doing his best to follow them. He hadn't yet realized that Senna was asking him to do the impossible, giving him the work of three men.

"Pack that up," Senna would growl and then immediately, "No, not like that. Have you never packed a trunk before in your life, you idiot? Where is the water I told you to fetch an hour ago? If you take much longer, the mirza's breakfast will be cold because of you. That'll be the rod!"

Frustrated, the slave scurried about the tent, performing tasks he, no doubt, had never done before. It stood to reason he was a noble in Ostovan, which meant he had always had someone else draw his baths for him or fetch his meals. Serving was not something that came naturally to the slave, which was why he balked at it. He couldn't see that servitude was a leader's greatest strength, confusing service for submission. I hoped that would change. It would need to for my plan to come to fruition.