Stands a Shadow Read Online Free Page B

in which to live.
    ‘This is why, when the order first seized Q’os in the Longest Night, it disposed of the girl-queen and the old political parties of nobles, yet still maintained its democratic assembly. And this is why the citizens of the heartland and the Middle Empire vote for the High Priest of their city, and those lesser administrators of their districts, in an act which we call the hand of complicity, the hand that allows the people a small say in the governing of their own lives, or at least the appearance of it. This is the secret of our success, though it is hardly a secret. This is what allows us to rule so efficiently.’
    Ché’s lips twisted at that. He knew it took more than the two-handed way for Mann to maintain its grip on the known world. He was a Diplomat after all, part of the third hand, the hidden way. As were the Élash, those spies and blackmailers and plotters of coups and counter-coups. As were the Regulators, the secret police; those who watched the masses for signs of dissent or organization, and who claimed everything a crime that ran contrary to the ways of Mann.
    He noticed that Deajit too was smiling as he listened. For an instant Ché felt the vaguest of connections with the man. Perhaps he was also involved in the third hand. For the first time he wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate as this, for his handler had said nothing save what needed to be done.
    But then Deajit turned and stepped towards the doorway, and it was time.
    Ché took a step forwards so that the priest brushed past his arm. In a flash, Ché grabbed the man’s wrist and spun him around so that they faced each other. A look of shock crossed the priest’s blunt features.
    Without warning, Ché planted his lips against those of Deajit, smearing them together in a harsh kiss.
    The priest shoved himself backwards with an angry gasp. He glared at Ché, and from the wrist he was still gripping Ché felt a shudder run through his body. ‘You should not betray the trust of your friends so freely,’ Ché told him quietly, as instructed, and released his grip. His own heart was beating fast.
    Deajit wiped his lips with the back of a hand and retreated from the room with a single glance cast back at Ché.
    For several moments he waited as those around him nervously avoided his eye. He turned his back on them, and took another vial from his pocket, and emptied some of the black liquid into a cupped palm. He washed his lips clean then rubbed his hands too. With the last of it he rinsed his mouth then spat it onto the floor.
    In the corridor outside, Deajit was nowhere to be seen.
    Like that, he cast the priest from his mind entirely, as though the young man was already dead.
    Boom, boom, boom .
    The Acolyte lowered her gloved fist from the massive iron door of the Storm Chamber, and stepped back to leave Ché standing alone as it swung open.
    Confronting Ché stood an old priest that he did not recognize. He’d heard that the previous portal attendant had been executed for mistakenly allowing the R ō shun into the Storm Chamber during their recent breach of the tower. It was said that the long crawl over the Crocodile had been his fate, and then the slow press of the Iron Mountain.
    With a moment’s hesitation, Ché stepped through the threshold into the chamber within.
    The Storm Chamber was much the same as the last time he had been summoned here, all of – what – one month, two months ago? He couldn’t recall. He’d found that his linear memory of time had become oddly scattered since his return from his diplomatic mission against the R ō shun, as though he no longer wished to remember the order of his everyday life. The chamber was empty tonight, though every lamp glowed with a bright, sputtering flame within a shade of green glass.
    ‘The Holy Matriarch will be with you shortly,’ declared the old priest, and then he bowed and retreated into a room next to the entranceway. Ché folded his hands within