...freedom, I am told, is nothing but the distance between the hunter and its prey. -- Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous

It was all very well for Jalakanavu to say "guard all the doors". The logistics of that were much more complicated. And Zafadin was the one who had to sort them all out. In less than half an hour. With no prior warning. In the early hours of the morning. After no sleep at all, gods damn it-- He took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. Losing his temper in an emergency would not reflect well on him.

Worst of all was how huge the palace was. He had to run from one side to the other to deliver the message to the guards stationed there. The late and unlamented previous Iqui had installed telegraph machines in the palace precisely to avoid situations like this. It had been one of the very few sensible ideas he ever had. Unfortunately the only people who knew how to use the dratted machines were the specially trained telegraph operators. The gods alone knew where all of them were. None had come running when the alarm sounded. That could only mean they were somewhere in the city, likely in a pub and too drunk to be of the slightest use even if they did get back here quickly.

Half of the guards were currently hunting the grounds or chasing the would-be attackers. The other half were scattered throughout the palace. Zafadin sent a few of them to carry messages to more distant parts of the palace. The rest he had to deal with himself.

Never before had he so strongly resented the past Iquis who kept on extending and enlarging the palace. There was no logic in having such a ludicrously vast building. Especially when it didn't have a proper communication system.

It never occurred to Zafadin to worry that the escaped prisoner might still be in the palace. He would never stay somewhere he had been held captive. If he got free he would run for his life. Why would anyone ever do anything else? It also never occurred to him that a stranger in the palace would not be able to run for their life without getting lost. Even while he was grumbling to himself about the inconvenience of the palace's size he never realised it would be even more inconvenient for a complete stranger.

He wasn't on the look-out for an attack. That was why he was utterly unprepared when one came.

~~~~

Being a Reaper meant seeing many strange, extraordinary and downright illogical things in the course of an average week. Varan had collected souls in the most outlandish of circumstances. She'd witnessed many scenes that made no sense whatsoever. The one before her now outranked even the man with a goose perched on his shoulder as the most inexplicable thing she'd seen this week. How did Riyome get her grubby hands on Varan's scythe? How did she end up in Nirne? In the palace of the heir to the throne, no less? And most baffling of all, how was she speaking Nirnian?

Riyome was far, far older than Varan herself. She had been born, lived and died in a long-dead kingdom on a planet Varan had never visited, so long ago that even Death had forgotten the specific time and circumstances. There wasn't even the ghost of a chance that she could have learnt Nirnian in her lifetime. After her death? Possibly. But why would she go to the trouble of learning a foreign language?

An idea struck Varan. Perhaps she meant to go to Nirne all along. As soon as she thought of it common sense returned. But why?

Debating the whys and wherefores would only waste time. The important thing now was to catch Riyome before she disappeared again. Varan couldn't do it alone. She only had to think of the mayhem at the midnight battle to know she needed help. Preferably Death's help. That meant she'd have to explain how Riyome got her scythe. But how could she explain that when she simply didn't know?

~~~~

After spending any length of time in the Land of the Dead a person got to know when that tyrant or her lackeys were around. Their presence made the temperature drop and the air feel full of static. Riyome had already endured several false alarms when she mistook the natural atmosphere of this curious new land for the tell-tale warning of a Reaper's approach. At first she dismissed this feeling as yet another of those. But the longer it lingered the more alarmed she grew. Abruptly it disappeared all at once. None of the other feelings had done that.

She jumped to her feet. The scythe fell over and landed on the carpet with a far heavier sound than anyone would expect it to make. Both the mortals stopped their pointless argument and stared at her.

"I have to leave," she said.

Their stares became non-comprehending. Too late she realised she was speaking her native language again.

It was a very strange fact that the scythe allowed her to understand and speak the language of the people around her. She just needed to keep it close to her at all times. If it was too far away from her -- which clearly included when it was lying on the floor -- she couldn't understand anyone and they couldn't understand her.

What had possessed Death to give her servants' weapons a power that was so useless in the grand scheme of things? The gods alone knew. Yet for the first time in her entire existence Riyome was almost grateful to Death. Her stay here would be much more difficult if she didn't have the scythe.

That was when something dawned on her. She had never wondered before if the scythe's owner could tell where it was. The very thing that helped her might also be leading her enemies right to her.

She picked it up and began to explain. "I have to leave. Some of the Reapers will find me if I stay."

The blonde one shrugged dismissively. "Go ahead. Wait, what are these Reapers?"

The other one, the one who had found Riyome in the first place, gave her a thoughtful look. "You mean they could come here for you?"

Riyome nodded. She considered attempting to describe the scythe's powers. It was much less complicated to say only, "They can find me if I stay in one place for too long."

The blonde woman did not look as if she liked this idea. "Then you'd better go quickly. Nice to meet you, I'm sure."

The other woman continued to look thoughtful.

~~~~

Riyome took the scythe with her when she left. No point in drawing Death directly to the people who had helped her, after all. She threw it in a hedge-row as soon as she thought she was far enough away.

The longer she stayed in the Land of the Living the less she looked like a corpse. By now she appeared to be only a very pale woman who moved somewhat stiffly. No one gave her a second glance as she passed them.

The first thing to do was find a safe place to hide. After that, learn the language and customs of this place. And then... Well, not even Riyome knew what would happen then. Her plan of taking Death's place had never been much of a plan at all. Now she knew it was completely hopeless. She would have to figure everything out as she went along.

~~~~

"I must say I don't appreciate you bringing some lunatic home with you," Losradan said scornfully. "What do you think this is? The local asylum?"

Rualnim bit her tongue to prevent making a sarcastic remark. "I thought she might be of some use to us."

Losradan scoffed. "I can't imagine what use she'd ever be to anyone."

~~~~

If Hailanyu thought about it he could make a very long list of things he had never expected to do yet somehow ended up doing on this twice-damned mission. Now he could add yet another entry to it.

There should be room somewhere at the bottom of page seventy-four, he thought sarcastically.

Kidnapping was certainly not something he ever expected to do. His parents would be horrified. And yet here he was, struggling to tie the wrists of the man Kiroshnoy had just punched. Kiroshnoy herself was still clutching her hand to her chest and whimpering in anguish. It turned out that punching someone in the face was much more painful than it ever seemed to be in theatrical performances and books. Their prisoner himself was still conscious but too dazed to do anything to fight back.

In spite of the enormous and rapidly purpling bruise that covered half his face, it was obvious that he was someone fairly important. Mere commoners didn't wear a silver diadem. They certainly didn't carry a gold emblem that -- if Hailanyu remembered correctly from Empress Qihadal's ill-fated attempts to teach the assassins the basics of life in Malish -- could only mean they had been entrusted with some official duty.

Hailanyu finished tying the makeshift handcuffs. It was a difficult job, especially since he had no rope and was forced to use his handkerchief instead. "What do we do now? Leave him here?"

Someone would find him eventually. Probably quite quickly. Within a few hours at most. The fact they'd almost literally bumped into him running down this hallway suggested that it was regularly used.

Kiroshnoy finally stopped whimpering. "I think I broke a finger," she lamented.

She looked at the prisoner. He was still staring into space with the dazed expression of someone not fully aware of their surroundings.

"Hey, it's that man! The one who nearly caught me!"

Her shout was what finally seemed to rouse the man from his daze. First he looked at her. Recognition flashed across his face, along with a vicious glare. Then he looked at Hailanyu. The glare intensified.

"I should have killed you both and never thought about questioning you."

Of all the things Hailanyu had expected to hear, that wasn't one of them. Never before had someone wished death on him. He hoped no one ever did it again. It was deeply disturbing.

Kiroshnoy acted as if the man hadn't spoken. "Who are you?"

He was silent for several minutes, a grim look on his face. At last he spoke. "I am the emperor consort. If you harm me in any way your entire families will be slaughtered."

Hailanyu almost burst out laughing. "You? The emperor consort? You can't expect us to believe that!"

A little voice piped up in the back of his mind. It's no less ridiculous than a Nirnian princess with magical powers.

His smile faded. Yes, it sounded like a particularly unconvincing lie. But what if it wasn't? A thousand possibilities sprang into his head. If this really was the emperor consort then they could hold him hostage. They could force Jalakanavu to sign a peace treaty or admit defeat or whatever it would take to end the war at once. Why, they might not have to assassinate the empress after all! But on the other hand he might be lying. If he was just a servant and they tried to hold him hostage, they would be killed and the mission would be a catastrophic failure.

Kiroshnoy knelt down and pulled something out of the prisoner's sleeve. It shone when her light caught on it. It was a knife with a curious ornate handle. "Don't move or we'll kill you."

The man, whoever he was, said nothing. Kiroshnoy and Hailanyu held a short whispered conference.

"Do we believe him or not?" Hailanyu asked.

Kiroshnoy shrugged. "It sounds silly. But if he was lying he'd have chosen a better lie."

They both thought for a minute.

"We could tell him to lead us to the empress," Hailanyu said. "If we can just get into her office we could... we could... Oh, I don't know. Forge her signature or something."

He grimaced. When spoken aloud that plan sounded even worse than in his head.

"If we let him go free he'll tell all the guards where we are." Kiroshnoy rubbed her forehead as if she was getting a headache. "Well, we'll bring him along anyway. Even if he's lying he could still show us how to get out of here."