The White Song (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 5) by Phil Tucker

Author:Phil Tucker [Tucker, Phil]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2017-10-03T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 20

Kethe

Urgency seized Kethe as she left the Hall of Light. She could tell the others wanted to talk to her, knew that she should stop, coordinate, organize the Consecrated and a thousand other plans. But only one thing mattered to her. Only one name pounded in her mind to the rhythm of her heart: Asho.

Akinetos led the way along a broad, glorious hallway toward the convoluted descent to the Temple of the Virtues, with Mixis and Synesis a step behind. Consecrated trailed them, followed by the remnants of their honor guards and numerous courtiers, nobles, and bureaucrats.

Any moment now, Akinetos would turn, gesture for her to join him, ask her opinion on what had just happened, embroil her in conversation and duty.

“Excuse me,” Kethe said, stepping out of the flow of traffic to the side of the hall. The others turned, surprised, but Kethe didn’t give them a chance to question her. “I’ve got to see to something. Excuse me.” Then, with an apologetic smile, she turned and hurried back.

She could feel their stares burning between her shoulders, and she knew their confusion and indignation were right — demons could attack at any moment, the very fate of the Empire was in doubt, and here she was, haring off after a Bythian Sin Caster who was no doubt unconscious, who wouldn’t know that she was at his side — but she didn’t care.

He was Asho, she loved him, and she needed to see him.

Picking up speed, she raced through the Palace of the Ascendant until she spotted a man who might have been a chamberlain of sorts. Ignoring all the others who bowed as she passed them, she hurried up to him and reached out to catch his arm before he could kneel.

“The Sin Caster, Asho. Do you know where he is?”

“Your Virtue, I — yes, of course. May I have the honor, unworthy as I am, of escorting you to his quarters?”

“Yes,” she said, fighting for dignity and gravitas. “Please hurry.”

He bowed low, then turned and, with a look of exaltation and sublime pride, swept out of the hall, head flung back, one arm in front of him as if he were about to part a curtain. He strode quickly, but not quickly enough. Glancing back, he must have noted her impatience, for his face paled and he hiked up the hems of his voluminous robes so he could hustle over the magnificent carpets. Kethe easily kept pace, and soon he was noticeably sweating and fighting for a dignified run-walk, turning corners and angrily brushing away subservient and questioning looks.

“Here, your Virtue, he is within,” he said at last, stopping before an undistinguished door.

“No guards?” asked Kethe.

“My gravest apologies. I am sickened, absolutely sickened by this oversight. Perhaps the exigencies of the situation will excuse this gross negligence...?”

“Yes, very well, thank you. You have done me a great service.”

The man bowed, regaining much of his composure at the compliment, and edged backward.

Kethe knocked, then opened the door. The

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