Race the Sands: A Novel by Sarah Beth Durst

Author:Sarah Beth Durst [Durst, Sarah Beth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B07VK7765M
Publisher: Harper Voyager
Published: 2020-04-20T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Yorbel wondered if the emperor-to-be would have him executed for bringing such news. Certainly, others had met such a fate for far less throughout Becaran history. He fidgeted as he waited in the corridor for a guard to escort him in. He told himself that he had nothing to fear. Dar was reasonable and, more important, his friend. Friends don’t execute friends.

Stay calm, he told himself. Professional. Kind.

He hadn’t sent a messenger wight to Dar, or to anyone in the palace. The only one he’d sent was to the temple, for assistance in arranging transport for himself, the kehok, and the others to the old royal stables. In that message, he’d explained that he’d been asked to recruit kehoks to reestablish the royal stables, so that the emperor-to-be could sponsor racers in this season’s Becaran Races. It was not precisely a lie.

To Dar, he’d tell the full truth, of course.

And he would pay whatever cost he must. His soul was already paying for the falsehoods and deception that it had taken to come this far. Soon, though, that would be over, once the truth was out, and he could begin to make amends.

“His Excellence will see you now,” a guard informed him, and then opened the door.

Cautiously, Yorbel stepped inside, as if Dar would strike him down on sight. But Dar was at his desk signing papers. “One moment.”

Yorbel stood silently. He waited, and then he wondered aloud, “Why spend the time signing? Your signature carries no weight until you are coronated.”

“But once I am, there will be no delay for those who are in need.” Dar signed three more papers, and then stood up and faced Yorbel. “My brother will be found. The high council has informed me that they have doubled the number of augurs searching. And now that you have returned from your fruitless search, you can join them.”

There was a stiffness and formality to him that Yorbel had never seen. He’s afraid of what I’m here to say, Yorbel realized. And I’m about to make his fears come true. I’m sorry, Dar. “Can you ask your guards to sing?”

His face crumpled.

“I’m sorry.”

He sank back into the chair as if his legs failed to hold him anymore.

“Ask them to sing,” Yorbel begged. “Please.” His friend deserved the dignity of receiving the news in private, before the rest of the empire learned of it.

Dar shook his head. “Can’t stand their harmonies.” Then he mouthed: Be careful.

Either he didn’t trust his guards anymore, or he’d overused the singing-guard trick and knew it would alert the spies that something important was being discussed. Or both.

Yorbel chose his words carefully. “I believe the people will be thrilled when they learn you are reopening the royal kehok stables and sponsoring a racer in this year’s race. It is a wonderful way to connect with the people and show them you wish to be their emperor.”

“Neither my brother nor my father involved themselves in the races. You don’t think a break with

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