The Silver Sparrow

In the Name of Rashar

"All four of them?" Jarem looked up from the parchment on his desk.

"Yes, Commander," confirmed the man in a nondescript black cloak. "They seemed to be working on the plan laid out by Deo di Amarra. The Lady Zahara, from what I heard, has just joined them tonight."

"I see." Jarem placed down the documents and leaned back on his chair. "Tell me what you've heard, every word, exactly as it was said."

The spy reported his findings, which revealed the details of the plan and those involved in the conspiracy. When he was finished, Jarem paid him for a job well done, and then paid one of his officers to kill the man on his way out of the Tower. A pity, given how skilled the spy was, but loose ends couldn't be untied, not now and not for what was at stake.

It was a problem—a huge one, in fact—that Jarem hadn't expected. A conspiracy this large formed by none other but Deo di Amarra before he conveniently relocated himself out of reach was bad enough without all these influential figures in play. The salahari alone, being a regular patron of most temples in Rasharwi, had enough priests on her payroll to start a crusade. Now, with Amelia whose ambitious merchant father could move large funds at will without having to pass the Tower's scrutiny, the conspiracy was rock solid in foundation. The fact that the salar had yet to name an heir also made Azram the most reasonable successor, being both the oldest of the living sons and one of the salahari. And now, with Zahara in the mix, things could easily get out of hand even with Jarem knowing all their plans.

Something had to be done before all hell broke loose. It would, however, mean dealing with all four of them at roughly the same time. And the right time.

The salahari couldn't be killed—there was too much at stake for that given her father's political power and her involvement with the priests. Azram, however, could be exposed together with Amelia and then both eliminated for treason. They might even be able to pin the same crime on Amelia's father and seize all his assets before executing him, or press the man into giving up his fortune to the Salasar in exchange for his life. It would benefit the salar and his projects immensely. But before all others, Zahara, being the most immediate and biggest threat to the throne, had to be the first to go. The question was how to do it without getting half the people in the Tower killed—himself included—for a death declared off-limit by the salar.

He would need a goat for this, Jarem thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. The death would have to be accommodated by someone outside the Tower. Someone with his own motive that couldn't be traced back to him. Someone the salar wouldn't think twice about killing.

"Imran," he called.

The door opened and in walked General Imran izr Imran, pausing to execute a crisp salute two steps into the room. The General had been with him since the massacre of Vilarhiti—the only man, in Jarem's judgment, whose loyalty couldn't be bought. "Commander."

"Put together a unit of a hundred men. They are to be stationed here in the Tower waiting for my command night and day. Replace all the guards around the royal family, make sure they do not leave the Tower until I say so for their own safety. I want a full report of everyone coming in and going out of the Tower on my desk every morning starting tomorrow," said Jarem, rising from his chair to put on a robe. "Get me a horse. I will have a talk with Yakim, wherever he is right now."

***

The girl whimpered as Yakim wound his fingers around her hair, pushing himself deeper into her mouth. He usually preferred girls with more meat on her bones and more spirit to break. This one—just shy of eighteen and sent to him from the countryside by a pious couple—had been brought up almost too well where faith was concerned. It didn't take much to convince her to surrender completely to Rashar, to be blessed by the god's embodiment on earth such as Yakim himself. Then again, such a plain, insignificant life should find it a blessing to be of service to a High Priest of the god. She would live in comfort and luxury here, in the temple of Sangi, if she served Rashar well. Her parents, of course, would also reap the benefits. After all, rewards should be given to poor farmers who sent their daughters to serve in the house of Rashar.