“He’d better be in there,” Dagan whispered.

Gala had told Iltani that Uruku bathed in the bathhouse we now crouched behind to attempt to heal his piercing headaches with the steam, and that Gala himself escorted him there almost nightly.

“There is a reason there are four guardsmen outside this bathhouse.” I willed calmness into my bones, resisting the urge to chew the rest of my thumbnail off my hand. It was worn down to a nub at this point. “I’m remaining hopeful.” I ran my fingers over Dagan’s arm. “Do you think the ensis will come through?”

He shifted back on his heels. Stared at his hands. “Ensi Puzu told me he’d convince them, but I suppose we’ll see. I’m having trouble believing in anyone right now.”

Moonlight fell over Dagan’s noble features, illuminating the grief in his eyes. I rubbed his knee. “It will be all right.”

He offered me a half smile. “I’m just wondering about Gudanna.”

“We’ll have to find her later. She has no power once Uruku is off the throne anyway, since she wasn’t born to reign.”

Humusi spoke softly, her round eyes watchful. She was even jumpier than usual, fidgeting with her bracers. Touching her battle-axes over and over again. “So the guardsmen fall asleep, and we go inside the bathhouse and secure Uruku. We question him about Shiptu’s whereabouts, and then kill him. Then we ride to Laraak to gather the rest of our army. When the day breaks, Ummi leads the warriors in with Arwia at the forefront to claim the throne.”

My knee bobbed. “Yes, that is the plan.”

When she put it that way, it seemed too easy. Much too easy. But there were so many people involved. So many things that could go wrong. We didn’t have time to wait any longer, though. If Ummi failed to unite the Manzazu army, Higal’s troops would try again, bloodshed on their minds. Either that, or Sarratum Tabni would hear of their failed coup and would send reinforcements. We had to act, now.

After what seemed to be a full hour, the laughter of the men died away and Iltani peeked through the brush like a wraith, a wicked gleam in her eye. “They’re all asleep like fat babies after they’ve drunk their mother’s milk. Let’s go!”

“They all drank the brew?” We stood and slunk toward the bathhouse. “Each one of them? Even Gala?”

“I made it a game and they were all too enamored with Gala’s ‘fiery little wife’ to turn me down. The idiots. Come on. They’ll be awake soon enough.”

We crept around the wall, darting as quickly as we could to the entryway of the bathhouse where the guardsmen once stood. All four were in a deep slumber at the doorway, a look of death heavy on their features, two of them with their eyes wide open, staring into the Netherworld.

Maybe I mixed too much?

I stooped, feeling along their throats for that unmistakable surge of blood in their veins. They were alive, though Gala’s pulse pounded wildly. We dragged two of them behind some potted tamarisk trees, but propped Gala up at the doorway as if he’d simply fallen asleep at his job, in case anyone came by. Iltani kicked him over, hard, and Dagan pulled him back up, a look of consternation on his face. As we crept into the shadowy interior of the sandstone building, the air was noticeably more humid inside. The feel of the Boatman’s riverboat beneath my feet came back into mind as a draft of salty, wet air washed over me.