They heard a soft thump and a moment later, Tamar jogged back to them.
“Did you kill him?” asked Ehri.
“I just dropped his heart rate. He’ll stay unconscious and wake up with a headache.”
Mayu saw what Tamar was wearing and gasped. “Where did you get that? You have no right to wear—”
“I can’t enter this place as a Ravkan soldier. And I have every right. I am Grisha. My people are being tortured behind those walls.”
Mayu tried to push aside her outrage. Tamar had dressed in the black uniform of the Tavgharad, her short hair hidden by the tilted black cap, the carnelian falcon at her shoulder. Mayu knew these things, these symbols of honor and tradition, shouldn’t matter to her anymore. But they did.
She tried to peer past Tamar in the dark. “Are they in there?”
“Queen Makhi’s messenger arrived about fifteen minutes ahead of us. He’s already gone. The lights are on, but there are no windows on the ground floor. They may be mobilizing the khergud for action or they may wait until morning. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into. Ehri, we may be headed into a combat situation—”
“I was trained to fight.”
“I know,” said Tamar. “I sparred with you myself, and I know you can hold your own. But the khergud are a different kind of soldier, and if something happens to you, all of our plans will come to nothing. We’ll have no leverage against Makhi. So stick to the plan and if something goes wrong, get out. Get away and get back to Nagh and Zihun.”
Ehri nodded. “All right.”
Tamar gestured to Mayu. “Let’s go.”
Flanking Princess Ehri, they strode right up to the front doors.
“You there!” called the night watchman, holding his lantern high. “Identify—oh!” He bowed deeply. “Princess Ehri, we heard you had returned to us, but … we … forgive me, Your Highness, but we were not told to expect you. Or at such an hour.”
“You received my sister’s messenger?”
“Only moments ago.”
“There is a change to the queen’s orders, and I must deliver it.” She held up a scroll marked with a blot of green wax.
“May I see that?”
“I beg your pardon?” Ehri seemed to grow six inches. Her brow arched. Her voice was cold. Despite her pointed chin and diminutive stature, she was the very picture of Queen Makhi. And it was a good thing too, because that green wax seal bore no royal stamp.
The night watchman looked like he wanted to find a deep pit to jump into.
“Forgive me, Your Highness.” He fumbled for his keys.
The door slid open on a shadowy entry. Two men were seated at a table. One wore military dress and the other the blue robes of a doctor. They looked a bit bleary, as if they’d been woken from their rest. They had a stack of papers before them—and a vial of some rusty orange liquid.
“Princess Ehri Kir-Taban brings word from her most exalted sister,” said the watchman breathlessly.
The soldier and the doctor rose and bowed, but their expressions were confused.
“My sister has had second thoughts about deploying the khergud for this particular mission,” said Ehri.
The doctor raised the vial of liquid. “We haven’t woken them yet. Should we scrap the whole thing?”
Ehri clasped her fingers together and Mayu knew it was to stop herself from fidgeting. “Yes. Yes, scrap the whole thing. But, while we’re here, we’d like to have a look around.”
The men exchanged an uncertain glance.
“My sister said I would be most impressed by the work you’ve accomplished here.”
“The queen spoke of me to you?” the doctor said in surprise. “I’m honored.”
Ehri smiled her warmest smile. “Then will you show my guards and me your remarkable project?”
The soldier eyed Tamar and Mayu in their black uniforms. “It might be best if they remained here. This is a top secret facility.”
The princess gave an amused laugh. “You think my sister doesn’t know that? She would never send me here without my guards.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why would you ask me to make myself defenseless?”
“I … I would never—”
“I have enemies in the government. All of the Taban do. Perhaps you see this as an opportunity to strike at my family?”
“We should take him in for questioning,” said Tamar.
“No!” The soldier held up his hands. “I have only loyalty for the Taban. Your guards are most welcome.”
Now Ehri smiled again. “Very good.” She gave a wave of her hand and the doctor scurried to a big metal door that had no business in a barn.
Mayu felt a chill move through her as the door creaked open. The room beyond was large and dimly lit.
“What is that smell?” Tamar asked. It was sweet, cloying.
“The sedative we use. It’s necessary to control the volunteers once they’re under the influence of parem. But they cannot do the work of creating khergud without it.”
The volunteers. He meant Grisha.
“We also use it on our khergud. They tend to get restless at night, since they have no real need for sleep anymore.”
What did he mean? Why would Reyem have no need for sleep?
The former dairy had been divided into three large areas. On the left was a kind of dormitory, a row of bunk beds and washbasins. Most of the occupants rested atop their blankets, their wasted chests rising and falling in rapid pants, their bodies little more than bones and waxen skin.
“How long—” Tamar swallowed. “How long can the volunteers be kept alive like this?”
“It varies,” said the doctor. “The older subjects have a harder time of it, but sometimes it just seems to be a question of will.”
A young man on a lower bunk lifted his head and looked at them with hollow eyes. He had flaxen hair, ruddy pink skin. He didn’t look Shu at all. Mayu nudged Ehri.
“Where do they come from?” Ehri asked.
“Oh, that’s Bergin. He’s from Fjerda.”
“And he came here willingly?” Tamar asked.
The doctor had the grace to look sheepish. “Well. Willingly enough after his first taste of parem.” He gestured to Bergin and the Grisha rose. He wore a kind of uniform—loose gray trousers and a tunic of the same fabric. Mayu saw desperation in his face, the same helplessness the other prisoners shared. But there was something else there too: rage. He was still angry. He was still fighting. “Bergin was a translator working for a shipping concern in Fjerda, but when his powers were discovered, he tried to flee the country. Our troops intercepted him and offered sanctuary.”
Fury flared in Bergin’s blue eyes. Mayu doubted the doctor’s story bore much resemblance to the truth. Bergin had probably been dosed by Shu troops and taken captive to serve as a “volunteer.”
“We’ve had him working on Locust.”
“Locust?” asked Tamar.
“The conversion from ordinary soldier to khergud is incredibly complicated, so we pair each volunteer with a soldier candidate for the duration. Of course, sometimes the volunteer dies before the work is complete, but we’re getting better at managing doses to prolong their lives.”