Huutsuu frowned, then turned to Long Fist.

“Another finger?”

The shaman shook his head.

“Not yet, I think.” He turned to Balendin. “I am quite willing to take your body apart joint by joint. It would be a great sacrifice to Kwihna. If I leave you whole, it will be because there are things you can tell me whole that you cannot tell me in pieces. And so I will ask again, in the hope that this time you will tell me: Who sent you to kill the Emperor?”

Balendin hesitated, glanced down at the blood spurting from his severed finger, then spat.

“Ran il Tornja,” he said.

Valyn stared, uncertain that he’d heard the words correctly. “Il Tornja is the kenarang,” he said finally. “He was appointed by my father. It was the Chief Priest of Intarra, Uinian, who assassinated the Emperor.”

Balendin shot him a scornful glance. “Il Tornja pinned Sanlitun’s murder on the priest, you fool. Or did you really think a ’Kent-kissing cleric could get past the Aedolian Guard?”

“The Aedolian Guard isn’t living up to its reputation these days,” Valyn replied, trying to make sense of the leach’s claim. “Or maybe you don’t remember our meeting with Micijah Ut out in the Bone Mountains.”

“They were in the Bone Mountains because they were the ones il Tornja could trust. He couldn’t send anyone loyal to your brother because they wouldn’t kill your fucking brother. That’s another clue for you, if you needed more clues. Uinian didn’t control the Aedolian Guard. He couldn’t have sent Ut anywhere.”

“And you,” Valyn said slowly, the magnitude of the betrayal sinking in. “Il Tornja commands the Kettral.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Talal said, frowning. “Why send Yurl and Balendin when he could send Fane or Shaleel? Why not send the Flea?”

The leach shook his head, as though incredulous that they could be so stupid. His rictus of pain did nothing to hide the scorn. “Because the Flea and Shaleel serve the Emperor. Il Tornja needed new blood, a young Wing, loyal to him and only him.”

“Loyal,” Valyn spat, “is a sick word to hear on your lips.”

“You’re the one asking the questions,” Balendin snarled. “You and your newfound Urghul ally.”

Long Fist raised a finger and they all fell still.

“Why did your war chief kill your emperor? What does he want?”

“The usual,” Balendin said, voice tight. “To rule. Rule everything. The Emperor is dead. Everyone thinks the priest murdered him. . . .”

“And now the priest, too, is dead,” Long Fist concluded.

Valyn frowned. “The trial is finished?” The last he’d heard, Uinian was still in captivity. Of course, that news was more than a month out of date now.

Long Fist nodded. “The princess,” he said. “Your sister. She burned him.”