It was one thing to discover that Ran il Tornja, the general who had murdered Kaden’s own father, was one of the Csestriim. The claim was shocking, but not beyond belief. To learn, however, that il Tornja was not bent simply on the overthrow of the Annurian line, that he had murdered gods in the past and aimed now at the murder of others, that his ultimate purpose was the annihilation of humanity itself—that was a thought almost too large to comprehend. Kaden had tried for a while, and then, overwhelmed by the effort, by the implications, set it aside. For now, it was enough to know that il Tornja and Adare were the enemy, that they were to be defeated. Whatever the unknown details of il Tornja’s plan, he clearly needed control of Annur, which meant Kaden’s goal was to deny him that control. He could effectively consider a problem of that scope, although considering a problem and solving it were two different things.

Over and over again he had followed the same trails of thought, always arriving back at the same grim starting place: his enemies had the political power, the military might, and the coin, leaving Kaden with two burning eyes and the clothes on his back. It didn’t seem like much, but Triste was convinced he could make use of those eyes.

“You’re the Emperor,” she insisted. “People can see it if they just look at your face. Everyone can’t be part of the conspiracy.”

“Tarik Adiv is part of it,” Morjeta said. “You said so yourself. And the kenarang left him in control of the Dawn Palace.”

“Then you go take it back!” Triste exploded.

Kaden shook his head. “How? What would I do? Walk up and pound on the Godsgate? Throw back my hood and display my burning eyes?”

“Yes!” Triste said. “Exactly!”

“No,” Kaden replied. “Adare and Adiv are not stupid. Il Tornja is not stupid. They have considered this possibility. They have prepared for it. I would be admitted, ushered in with as little fuss as possible, escorted somewhere dark and discreet where men with knives would finish the work that Ut and Adiv began. You heard what Kiel told us: this is more than just a coup against my family. It goes beyond politics. Far beyond.”

Kiel nodded. “Tan’is has taken a great risk in acting so openly. He would not do so without the possibility of an equal reward.”

The thought chilled Kaden, and so he did not allow himself to linger on it. Il Tornja might be immortal, implacable, bent on an almost inconceivable level of destruction, but the problem facing Kaden remained a political one, political and military, almost commonplace in its outlines.

“I can’t go back to the Dawn Palace,” he said. “I won’t.”

“So . . . what?” Triste demanded. “You’re just going to give up? You’re going to let her win?”