 to recall the specifics, though the emotions might linger."
Gaotona shivered. "I do not understand. The stories I have heard... I have not studied the arcane. They claim that a soulstamp on a person rewrites their personality entirely."
"Those are exaggerated," Shai said. "If I did that to you, there's no way the seal would take. It would be too unnatural. The person you were would reject the changes outright. To create a stamp that affects a person, you need to make it seem like that person could have been that way all along. You are you, with a past brother and a love of the color green. Everything else is the same." She took out a second stamp. "We try something new next."
She stamped him, and the minute of transformation that followed changed his skin tone, made him taller, gave him a younger face and a larger frame. A good impersonation of Ashravan.
She questioned Gaotona, then had him move around and speak in Ashravan's voice, which she had made lower in pitch. As soon as the minute ended, he changed back.
Shai jotted down some notes. Her work over the last few weeks had not been in vain. "One more," she said, "for a different test."
She reached for her last stamp, but Gaotona stayed her hand. "What will this one do?"
"It will change how you think about a few things."
"That doesn't seem as dramatic."
"Implying that you want to be dramatic?" she asked, smiling. "This one will be much more so, trust me."
He nodded, extending his arm again. She hesitated. What she planned to stamp this time... it felt uncomfortable to her. More personal.
He nodded for her to continue.
She pressed the seal against his skin. The stamp sank in as always, making the familiar transformation. It was odd, seeing the seal on his darker skin; it did not show up as well, like a drop of dark red wine splashed on black cloth.
Zu walked around to watch as Gaotona's form shimmered, changing again to look like Ashravan. This time, Shai could tell that her stamp had taken far better; it felt more secure to her.
"Arbiter Gaotona?" Zu asked.
"Yes?"
"No," Shai said. "Ask him, 'What do I call you?'"
"What do I call you?" Zu asked.
"Captain Zu," Gaotona said. "What has gotten into you, man?"
That was not the normal address. Gaotona almost always called his guards by their full names. Shai leaned forward. "Tell me, your grace, what of that woman you were dating a few years back?"
Zu frowned, looking at her. The emperor and his guards never spoke of such things.
But the man on the chair sighed. "The most vexing woman I've ever met. And I've met a few, Captain, if you know what I mean!"
She had expected that part to work. It had been a stab in the dark, but the official reports had mentioned that Ashravan preferred the company of men when it came to intimacy. A surprising trait for someone who had fathered three children.
"Do you wish you could have kept her?" Shai asked. "Gave up your wife for her?"
"The throne comes first," the emperor said, sighing again. "But... yes, I do wish I could have found a way. Nights, but that woman was a blaze. Made a man feel like the only person in the world."
Shai leaned back. The personality was still that of Ashravan, as were the memories, but they now came through a filter. She had inserted a fragment of Gaotona's personality into the Forgery. A subtle fragment that might go unnoticed by the emperor's friends. And yet, if this seal had been made permanent, Ashravan would have begun to act very differently.
It was a wonder to Shai that something so small as an outlook on life could alter the entire feel of a soul. The way Gaotona saw the world, it was as if the ground itself was stable. People changed, but in that change, there was still stability. A core, an essence to Gaotona that would not transform. With the emperor, everything was ephemeral. Everyone died, even emperors. And so what was the point? Eat, drink, and indulge in whatever pleasure you could.
Those attitudes infused everything a person did, no matter how subtle, and colored how that person reacted to any given event. Change something so fundamental, and it became a simple thing to change a person's entire nature.
This time, she let the stamp last for more than a minute, observing the transformation. After another two minutes had passed, the seal puffed away into the air. She wrote down her results.
Gaotona settled back in his chair, looking troubled. "That was fascinating."
"I know."
"It was also..." He shivered. "Nights, Shai. To think that someone might do that to me."
"They won't," she said. "The stamp was created for one man only, and that man is dead."
"But someone else could do it. Make a stamp for me."
"Yes," she admitted. "You'd need someone like me, but it could be done." She turned the stamp over in her fingers. "Fortunately for you, most Forgers with talent of my order are also moral and restrained individuals who would never do something so horrific as to Forge a living person."
"But not you?"
Shai looked him in the eyes.
"I should have you executed anyway," he said.
"No," Shai replied. "You should not."
"You are not as terrible as I assumed," he said. "You're no monster; you're not even inhuman. And yet, in you I see a monster of potential. What would you do, given a hundred lifetimes to live? What would you do with all that skill of yours? How much of a danger do you represent, if left free?"
"The same amount of danger that I represent right now," Shai said. "I'm a person, Gaotona, not a piece of artwork. You can't trap me on a wall to be stared at, lest you risk me escaping. You cannot control me, not completely. There is always risk. And right now, you need me far more than I need you."
He nodded to that, sighing. "Thank you for the test. Will it be the last?"
She nodded. "The next time you come, I should be ready."
"Good," he said, standing.
"Your grace?" she asked.
He looked to her.
"What if..." She found it hard to ask. She would never have expected to have such trouble with something like this. But there were the reports she'd read, the official biographies.
"What if I told you," she said, "that there was a chance to make Ashravan even better? A true emperor, a man of strength. But that to do so, I would need your help, and you would need to... experience some uncomfortable moments."
"You wish to stamp me?" he asked. "To prepare for the emperor's stamp?"
"No. Not to prepare it. But perhaps to help me prepare myself."
"I will consider it," he said. "The possibility does make me uneasy."
"Of course. I understand completely. But consider it, please."
He nodded, then took his leave. Shai sat for a time, alone but for the two guards at the doorway.
Then she took out one of the histories she had of Gaotona, and she began to read.
***
[ Day Sixty-Nine ]
"Shai?"
Shai looked up from her notes. Captain Zu stood in the doorway of her room.
"You need to sleep," the guard noted.
She waved a hand at him. "I'm fine."
He stepped inside; he did that sometimes. He was never fully at ease unless he could watch her with his own eyes, instead of relying on the other guards to do so. His people believed that an oath was most binding when given with one's eyes upon the thing of focus.
His steps brought him beside her desk; he looked over her shoulder. She had twenty-four finished soulstamps in a box here. She'd tried over a hundred different variants, but she thought she was finally nearing the correct pattern for the emperor's soul. She had other notes too, on separate sheets of paper. These had notes on her theories of what had made the emperor the way he was, why he had made the choices he had. She thought she'd worked out the man's soul as well as she could have without knowing him herself.
"Do you ever wonder?" Zu asked. "About right and wrong?"
"Often," Shai said, dipping a new stamp into her inkpad, then pressing it against the desk. She held it there, feeling the impression make contact with the wood, watching as it sank down just slightly.
"Should a man feel pride in killing an enemy?" Zu asked, stepping back.
"No," Shai said, lifting the stamp. Red smoke rose from the impression.
"You will say that so quickly," Zu said, "but the truth is not that simple, is it?"
"Of course it is. You killed because it was necessary."
Zu nodded. "Is what you do necessary?"
She turned to him with a frown.
"Isn't your stamping the emperor a little like killing a man?" Zu asked. "You are ending something."
"I'm saving something."
"You are rewriting what was, destroying a soul, and creating a new one."
She snorted, holding up the stamp she'd just used. "This is a piece of rock. I cannot kill what was never alive. I make something new, that is true, and in doing so I change things. But the original Ashravan is already dead. No one is killing anyone here."
"Even the ancients thought that a man had more than one soul," Zu said. "Which one do you murder?"
"Please," Shai said. "You aren't going to start lecturing me on philosophy? A man like you?"
"Does my profession somehow make me unworthy of thinking? Is the only way to become an educated man to sit in a room and write down the thoughts of others, without ever doing anything of note yourself?"
She found herself smiling, despite herself. "Captain Zu, is that a hint of wit I hear?"
"Perhaps I have been around you too long." He walked to the door. "You should rest."
She eyed him as he opened the way, then she nodded to herself and began to pack up her things. Her bed was only a short walk from her desk, so it was hard to tell when "night" was and when she was supposed to sleep. Particularly as she generally awoke long before Zu thought she did.
She'd learned to sleep like a fox, awaking at the barest of sounds. It was a skill that had served her well while infiltrating palaces, and had allowed her to avoid the embarrassment of being seen practicing in the early hours of the morning. She took out a small cloth bag from beneath her cot and—checking to make certain Zu was watching the other way—spilled its contents on her bed.
Five Essence Marks. Her soul.
She carefully picked one out of the five. The rest she returned to their hiding place beneath her cot. Shai removed her glasses and closed her eyes, then pressed the stamp against the inside of her arm. She had long ago memorized the location to press; it would sink into the skin and put its mark on her very soul.
She breathed in, then felt the transformation. It was always difficult to describe. She'd once compared it to slipping on a perfectly fitted glove after keeping your hand exposed to the cold for hours. That wasn't quite right, but it was close. The stamping warmed her. She could almost feel the ink as it seeped into her and changed her.
She opened her eyes and regarded the room. It appeared different now. Her body moved in a familiar, comfortable way. Her hand rose, flexing, inspecting itself.
A new soul. A better soul.
The stamp's ink vanished from her skin as the Essence Mark vanished, becoming part of her, hidden somewhere within her. She was no longer Wan ShaiLu. She was...
Liar, she thought.
She smiled, but then frowned, looking to the side. Something was off. Was the stamp not working correctly? She could tell... She could feel that it had slipped for a moment. The first time that had happened. What did it mean?
She forced herself to move in a familiar way, her body adopting the practiced grace of a dancer. It had been so long since she'd been able to dance; it had been months since she had allowed herself to use this particular Essence Mark. She wore it at night, when she was certain no others would see. She could not afford to let them realize that she could Forge her own soul so profoundly. It would make them too worried.
This was a mark she rarely used, even at other times in her life. She loved this Essence Mark, but hated that she did. That made using it difficult.
She stood up, feeling the balance in her body, the rhythm of her breathing. She spun, dancing between table and bed. No leaps—she'd need an open space for that. Her muscles remembered; they knew how to flex and when. Nights, she felt alive after so long being trapped in that cell of a room. She shouldn't risk this, but she couldn't help herself.
She took one of the candles, lit it, then spun again. Dancing around the flame, she waved her hand along its length. She had to be careful with that gesture; it was dangerous, if the candle was too tall. She made a fist at the end of the pass, pretending to seize the flame, snuffing it with a quick motion.
She stood still afterward, eyes closed, breath coming in gasps. This body... she almost felt as if she had stolen it. A thought that always bothered her. But then, she had created this body, in a way. Was it any different than the body she had been born with? It was as much a part of her, perhaps, as that one was.
Her people had a special name for the dance she had just performed. It meant to dance in the form of your passion, your secret self. MaiPon, her homeland, had long had a fascination with hidden selves.
Shai sat down, and made herself think as she stretched. She could not risk dancing further, and the flame trick was always too much of a risk, even if it hadn't been long. She needed to focus, for tomorrow she was going to stamp the emperor. She would need to be strong, clever, quick. She couldn't risk leaving any hint of herself or her desires in him.
No, not tomorrow, she realized. Dawn was coming. She would do it today.
She stretched again, loosening the muscles of her dancer's body. It was tempting to remain in this form. She loved the stability of this woman, the sense of purpose, the rhythm and beauty to her life. She was so much better than Shai. Better in almost every way. So why was it that this woman was just another mask, when the face that Shai had been born with had always felt fake?
The dancer stood and crossed the room to where the discarded Essence Mark lay on the bed. It was customary to have someone else remove the mark when you were finished with it, but she had to be careful about who saw her use these.
She hesitantly picked up the stamp, then pressed it to her skin. Again the warmth, and suddenly it was Shai's soul instead of the dancer's. It was always such a letdown. That sense of disappointment in herself returned. She was back to being someone who was never satisfied. Someone who felt a constant need to change. Someone she couldn't stand, but whom she also didn't know how to stop being.
She hesitated for a moment longer, the stamp in her hand, then used her other hand to reach under her cot for the box where she kept the other Essence Marks. Should she do it now, and get it over with? It had been some time. But no, she had to sleep for a few hours. And she wouldn't sleep if she did it now.
She forced herself to put the stamp away. She lay down on the cot, shoving the box back beneath, and closed her eyes. She hated feeling weak like this, hated feeling as if she couldn't trust herself.
Well, she didn't like much of anything about herself. But at least she had gotten this far. She would see her escape through. She was Shai. And Shai didn't fail.
***
[ Day Seventy ]
Shai stood, looking down at the emperor, a chisel and mallet in hand.
He lay on a soft white mattress, looking peaceful. He'd been propped up so that she could stamp him easily, his arms and hands folded at his lap. He was an older man, though by the standards of the Grands he would not be considered particularly ancient.
She had come to the palace's Imperial Wing, and had been allowed into the emperor's own rooms. It was a suite of four large rooms in the northwest corner of the palace. The emperor's bedroom itself was an enormous room, with a high ceiling, ornate walls of yellow-and-gold inlay in a geometric pattern, and a bed that looked fit for ten men. The four poster was cut from the deepest red hardwood Shai had ever seen, with curtains of fine silk and sheets of a quality that might buy a village in her homeland.
They'd taken everything from Shai when she'd arrived at the palace—her weapons, her possessions—everything save the box of her Essence Marks. They'd allowed her that box, and only that, because of what they found inside. For some reason they hadn't confiscated the crude wooden seal she'd carved to help fool them about her escape, and she hadn't mentioned it.
She still wore it now, strapped to her leg in its hiding place, beneath her dress, tied on with leather straps. The others might call her mad, considering what the Bloodsealer had done to her, but she hadn't been able to help herself. She couldn't leave it behind. It was an awful carving, and she couldn't Forge herself into thinking otherwise, but it was hers. She'd carved it while locked away, her first attempt to make something wonderful from nearly nothing. It reminded her of the good work she'd been able to accomplish, and how it had happened in a dark prison cell, even though nobody believed she could do it.
Frava stood beside the bed, along with two of the other arbiters. Gaotona stood with Zu near the doorway, as if he couldn't bear to come close and see what they were doing. As if this were some horrible, terrible act.
In truth, this was not an abomination to Shai. This was life. It was art. This was her entire purpose.
She reached out and placed one hand on the emperor's brow; she'd washed the ink from her right arm in preparation, but had left the arm bare. She felt no shame in the nudity. Her people had far more liberal sensibilities about the body than these prudish Grands.
She pushed away that thought and her faint feelings of inadequacy. They didn't matter now. The emperor's skin was soft beneath her fingers. She felt his soul, faintly, like warmth radiating from a stove. This close, she could feel something more, like a whisper of wind against her skin. She hadn't often been able to feel the souls of those she stamped. She had assumed it to be a sign of her skill that she was now able to.
The whispers seemed frightened to her, as if cowering away from her, frightened by what she would do. Could that be the man himself, trapped somewhere inside that empty skull? She hoped it wasn't. If that were so, this would be very cruel.
She took a deep breath, then uncorked her ink jar. It was true squid ink, of course, not a simple substitute. She painted the symbol on the back of the dead emperor's hand. The box of her stamps was at her side. Twenty-four. Could she do with twenty-four what a thousand might barely be enough to accomplish?
It had taken all she could do, for the last seventy days. But she was not here by chance. She was here because she was good. In that moment, she felt the truth of it. She knew she could do this. She had been born to do it.
She reached into the box. Time slowed. It always did at this moment, like a drop of water spreading on the surface of a lake.
She touched the first stamp, the one with the most fundamental changes, and placed it on the back of the emperor's hand. Then she pressed down.
A shock passed through her. She held her breath as the stamp sank down into the skin, smoke rising from the mark. It seemed to take forever for the seal to make an impression.
Shai let the stamp go.
She gasped. A thousand things at once, all crashing into her. The memories weren't hers, yet they tried to convince her that they were. They weren't part of the stamp, they were part of the man, and she could feel them, as if they were her own. She looked into eyes that were not her own, seeing herself bending over the emperor.
The eyes closed. They opened again. They were no longer vacant, no longer devoid of life.
Shai stepped back, dazed. She could see it in his face, his posture. This was not the empty shell they had been keeping these last seventy days. She had done it. She had done it! She had resurrected a man from the dead.
"Emperor Ashravan," she whispered.
He frowned, looking about himself.
Frava gasped, raising fingers to her lips. "He is alive!"
Gaotona hurried forward. "Your majesty!" He looked to Shai, then frowned. "Wait... you can't..."
Shai blinked, then looked back at the emperor. Yes, something was wrong. His memories, his past, all were in place, but there was a disconnect between them and what had just happened. He had to assume that he was who he remembered being. The last few moments had to make sense to him.
"Arbiter?" the emperor asked. "Where are we?"
She couldn't explain now. The room itself would help a little, but she needed to rewrite these last few moments.
Shai pulled out another stamp. "It will take a moment," she said, taking the emperor's hand.
She did not need to press her stamp to him to change what had just happened. Instead, she used the stamp on herself, rewriting the few moments of her own memory. In her mind, the events she'd just seen transformed. She hadn't spent the last year in prison, hadn't just spent the last seventy days trying to resurrect a dead man. No, instead, she and her master had come to this land as guests. The emperor had grown ill, and Shai had used her magic—known as Forging—to heal him.
The stamp, like all of her Essence Marks, would not last more than a day or so, and could only be used once a week at the most. It was one of the first she had ever crafted, and she did not fully understand it. She'd created it in desperation, back when her uncle Won had decided she was old enough to be sold in the markets.
She stepped away from the emperor, now seeing reality in a new light, knowing herself to be a loyal Forger, a faithful servant of the empire.
The emperor sat up, looking about himself. "I... I can remember now. I was ill." He looked to Shai. "You healed me. Thank you."
"She did," Frava said, her face covered with a mask of shock, wonder, and glee. "Your majesty, I cannot believe that this has happened! I confess, we had lost hope. I feared you would never again be yourself."
"Where is Sulean?" the emperor asked. "My wife?"
He remembered her, Shai thought with relief.
Frava and the others glanced at Shai. They did not seem to know what to do.
"She is resting," Shai said, kneeling down beside the emperor. She met his eyes, using one of the many techniques her aunt Tia had taught her. "Your majesty, you were sick. You must be weak. Rest."
"I... Yes, you are probably right." He settled back.
"We should leave him," Gaotona said, his voice strained. "Your majesty, servants will be in to attend you soon."
The emperor nodded, closing his eyes. Gaotona ushered the other arbiters from the room, Shai included. Outside in the opulent sitting room, the arbiters glanced to each other.
"Emperor Ashravan lives!" Frava whispered.
"Thank the suns!" one of the others said.
"You," Gaotona said to Shai. "Come with me."
"Of course," Shai said, bowing. The others remained behind as Gaotona and a watchful Captain Zu led her out of the suite. Gaotona stopped just outside the doorway, in the grand hallway.
"How?" he asked.
"I..." Shai found herself unable to form a proper response. It all seemed vague to her. What had she been doing for the last months? She was a Forger. She was... she was here in the Imperial Seat to study, as were all Forgers of her nation.
And yet, it seemed so far away, like something out of a dream. The stamp she'd used was an early one, and wasn't terribly stable. It worked well enough on her, but could never have held against someone who knew her well. The arbiters would begin to remember how she had come to be in the palace, and the truth would return to them. In an hour, she suspected, they'd remember that she was a prisoner and had been the one to heal the emperor.
That would be problematic. For now...
She looked back at the door to the emperor's chambers. It felt right for him to live. She'd saved him.
It was wonderful. Her work had such potential, such power. If she could do this, could she bring back someone she had lost?
A friend? Her mother?
"Tell me," Gaotona said urgently, leaning in. "Shai, is this permanent? He is back forever?"
"No." It was the one thing she could be certain of. "He is not. I will have to renew his stamp each day."
"We will arrange it. But... it works! We have succeeded!"
She hesitated, then nodded, smiling. Yes, she had succeeded.
"Amazing," he said. "I have difficulty thinking of you as anything but our salvation."
Salvation... Yes. That felt right.
"You'll have to be watched closely," Gaotona said. "You're too important to lose." He glanced to Zu. "I will assign men to guard her, to make certain nothing happens to her."
Shai nodded, feeling a thrill at how important she was becoming to these people.
"For now," Gaotona said, "we have work to do. Come, you will accompany me to meet with the Glory Faction." He waved to two of the soldiers standing watch at the emperor's doorway. "Stay at your posts. Guard our miracle. Guard Shai."
She found herself blushing as the soldiers bowed their heads to her. She had done something incredible. Yes, it would wear off, but she'd be able to renew it, wouldn't she? It could last!
Gaotona led her from the emperor's hallway. He spoke in a quiet voice. "I am glad to see that you are still you."
"I am a person," Shai said. "Not a thing."
"No, you are very much a person," Gaotona said. "Far too much of a person. A woman of many masks."
She stopped in place. Those words...
The stamp on her soul failed, crumbling away like ashes blowing from an old hearth. Shai stumbled, memories flooding back. The lies. Oh, the terrible lies. She'd done it, and—
"Shai?" Gaotona asked, turning back to her. He extended a hand. "What is wrong?"
She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She could feel her old self returning, her real self.
"What have you done?" Gaotona demanded.
"I needed to know," she said softly. "I needed to know I'd done it."
"You... you tricked your own soul?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"It's complicated," Shai said.
"You could have destroyed us all!" he whispered. "If it hadn't worked, the emperor..."
"I had to be certain it would work."
"And you did it," Gaotona said. "Nights, woman! You're mad."
Shai smiled in reply. The guards still bowed to her, as she had not told them that the stamp had failed her. It would soon become obvious that she was not their savior.
But they had bowed.
A part of her, a large part, still believed the lie. That Essence Mark had been one of her most powerful creations; she could feel its tatters clinging to her.
What was truth?
"I can see the wheels in your mind," Gaotona said. "You mustn't think that this gives you the advantage. You have saved us, and we will honor you for that, but you are not in control."
"We shall see," she said, smiling as he led her toward the imperial court. "We shall see."
***
[ Epilogue ]
Shai hummed to herself as she walked down the hallway, two Striker guards escorting her. She wore a far more modern dress now, of a simple cut that left her arms exposed, a soft brown color. The maids had tried to put her in something frilly—Grand women had an affection for ribbons and fluff that Shai found mystifying—but she'd put an end to that quickly enough.
She carried a box with her, her twenty-four soulstamps nestled inside. The emperor had been revived three days ago, and she'd renewed the seal on him each morning since, as agreed. He remained vital and alive, though his memory remained spotty in places.
She entered her new workroom, in the palace proper. It was large, with a fireplace and comfortable furniture. There were no guards inside, but only Shai was allowed beyond this point. Even the emperor was not allowed to see her at work.
He wouldn't care. He'd been given his throne back; the Glory Faction had been caught unprepared. The Heritage Faction now held a stronger position than it ever had, and rumor said that even some of the factions outside the main two—the ones who almost never got a chance at influence—were speaking of switching to the Heritage side.
A handsome young man sat in her workroom, bent over her desk, a sketchpad out. He turned, and though he had the golden skin of a Mulla'dil man, his face and figure were not quite right. He was too delicate, too... pretty, for a Striker. He smiled at her, eyes twinkling.
Shai froze, then growled softly, stalking forward and snatching the pad from him. A picture of her was sketched on the topmost sheet. He'd caught her expression of shock well.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Oh, that's how you greet me?" the man said. "After I've worked so hard to win you free? I'm hurt."
She threw his sketchpad onto the desk.
He rose, walking around the desk toward her. He did it with such ease, as if he owned the place. He wore a Striker uniform, though without the armor.
"They actually fell for it," Shai said. "I didn't think they would."
"You thought the palace guard would recognize me," he said, "and assume I was an impostor. Fortunately, we'd made quite sure that no guardsmen had ever gotten a good look at me. That, plus some choice bribes, and I'm just another handsome soldier."
"Who are you guarding, then?"
"My future bride, of course." He bowed with a flourish. "The Fool, at your service."
She sighed. "Why are you here?"
"Because you are here, my dear," he said, clasping her hands in his. "I need you. This place would be dreadfully boring without you."
"I thought you didn't need me. I seem to remember you selling me out for your freedom, back in the gallery."
"I could have left you to the wolves," he said, wagging a finger at her. "Instead, I worked my way into their trust so that I could help you."
"By taking the treasure for yourself."
He sighed, flopping down into the chair. "I'd hoped that the fact that I left you the original scepter would make up for that."
It hadn't, though she could see the argument. They'd taken the fake, which would be discovered eventually, and would never know that another fake had replaced it. It was a masterstroke.
"How did you get them to trust you?" Shai asked. "You are, after all, a thief, a liar, and a con man. They hate such people."
The Fool tapped the side of his nose. "I let them think that I hated those things more than I actually did. I played up their prejudices. I'd never dare try the same trick on you, my dear."
He stood up again and took her hand. He really did have wonderful eyes. "I did come to rescue you," he said. "They'd have let you rot. I did bribe your guards. I had a hand in you getting this place, the room, and the guards. It took me forever to figure out what you'd done, and even longer to get into the meetings where they were discussing what to do with you! You made them nervous. You even worried the Bloodsealer."
She pulled her hand back, though she sat down in the other chair, opposite him.
"You're going to have to forgive me my sins, Shai," he said, perching on the edge of the desk. "You know you're going to."
"I could walk out right now, leave you to them."
"They wouldn't believe I'd been an impostor. I'd be executed."
"Perhaps you should be," she said. "You did leave me there."
"I thought you could talk your way out!" He leaned in. "You always do, my love."
She looked away. It was hard to stay annoyed with him, as much as she wanted to. She did have a fondness for him. That didn't mean he wasn't an arrogant, greedy fop. A handsome fop.
"I am going to kill that woman," the Fool muttered.
Shai started, looking up at him.
"Frava," he spat. "She is having Ashravan write up the adoption papers, making the man his son."
"And so she will rule the empire," Shai said. "How did you get the emperor to do that?"
"Oh, he's a changed man. Much more amiable. Apparently, he's even begun talking about granting greater rights to the Mulla'dil." The Fool sighed. "I hate to say it, but this change has been good for the empire."
"He's a fake!"
"He's the same man, with his memories intact," the Fool said. "He's just a slightly better version of himself. And as far as the empire is concerned, he is the emperor. I, for one, won't be complaining about the Heritage Faction losing its prejudice against the Strikers." He grinned, obviously imagining his own position at court.
Shai turned away. That... wasn't completely unattractive. A chance at legitimate power, wealth, the life of an Imperial wife?
"I should leave," she said. "I've done what they want of me. They'll never let me walk free, knowing what I can do."
"And where would you go?" the Fool asked. "Back to being a thief? You can be better than that. Stay, rule at my side, my Empress of the Eighty Suns."
Shai met his eyes again. "You're a fool if you think I'll accept. They'd have me watched at every moment."
"And if you go back to thieving, you'll be watched then too." He hesitated. "Actually, I might be able to help with that. It is, admittedly, one of the things I'm good at."
"You're a charlatan and a scoundrel, who has repeatedly betrayed me."
"Yes," he said, "and you're a saint, Shai. So virtuous. It's one of the things I like about you."
She glared at him.
"You're a criminal," he said. "So am I. That is how we survive in this empire, which cares not a fig for the little people like you and me. At least here you'll have a little respect. And me."
Shai snorted.
"You don't believe I'm sincere? I've come to rescue you, haven't I? Besides, you are the only person I know who is as devious and cunning as I am. How could I not fall for you?"
He made a good argument. That frustrated her to no end.
He rested his hands on the sides of her chair and leaned in to kiss her, and she found that she didn't mind.
He did make a good argument.
Perhaps... perhaps she could work with him. Be the power behind the throne. That wasn't a bad sort of lie. Perhaps she would find a way to be content. Her work on the emperor would need to remain hidden, but so long as she had him to stamp each day...
He pulled back. "You're still thinking of leaving."
"I will be your wife, if it comes to that," she said. "But we're going to do one more job first. Something for me. For old times' sake."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, hush," she said. "You'll find it is in your interests as well, and you'll enjoy it."
"I will?"
"Oh yes," Shai said. "After all, it's not every day you get to steal the empire itself." She smiled. "Starting with the Moon Scepter."
***
[ A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR ]
I've often mentioned my affection for short stories. They're the perfect little playgrounds for the imagination—places where I can experiment with a new idea, a new world, a new character.
They're also wonderful tools for teaching. Reading and analyzing a short story in an English class takes much less time than doing the same with a novel, and students can be taught some very complex concepts through short fiction. One of the things I've been asked about over the years is whether I'd consider doing an illustrated work, with annotations explaining how stories and characters come to be. When I saw an opportunity to do something like this in the future, it spurred me to start working on some stories to use for that purpose.
I wrote this story, The Emperor's Soul, as one such example. It's a novella set in the cosmere, and indeed it takes place on Sel—same as Elantris. However, you should be able to read the story without any prior knowledge of either the setting or cosmere.
In this volume, I've included not only the story, but also a special second version, which has my annotations, comments, and thoughts. It's something that I hope will be useful to students and scholars alike, but is also written with my regular readers in mind, those who often write to me asking for behind-the-scenes glimpses at how my worlds are put together. The notes will, I hope, give insight into how I approach story construction, from plotting to character development. At the end of the book, I've included the original version of the first scene and have written an explanation of my revision process, so you can see how a piece is edited.
I hope this book will be illuminating for those who are interested in the craft of writing, but most of all I hope that the story itself can entertain you. So please, sit back, turn the page, and enjoy the journey.
***
[ The Imperial Fool ]
Shai paused, hidden in the shadows just inside the large banquet room. The spacious hall was lit with candles, which shone on the glazed tile mosaics that made up the walls. The artistry was impressive, the tiles making a flowing pattern that she'd originally assumed depicted a stylized wind current. She was beginning to suspect that it was actually meant to be a map. In this, the hundred and twelfth year of his regnal rule, Emperor Ashravan's obsession with maps had become extreme.
That obsession might make for a difficult job, but Shai was ready. The mission was finally on, and she would need to be quick if she was going to succeed. She would have only moments. Fortunately, the best Forgers always worked on a deadline.
Shai wore a gown of deep red, embroidered with gold thread at the hems and neckline. It wasn't the clothing of a court lady; that would have drawn too much attention, and this mission required her to slip through crowds without making a fuss. So instead she wore the clothing of an artist, commissioned to paint scenes of the banquet for some lord or another.
No one would look at her twice. She wore spectacles and a distracted expression; they would think she was too caught up in her art to be worth bothering. The clothing was cut like a formal robe, but far less ostentatious. It would help her blend in during the event. The empire of the eighty suns had hundreds upon hundreds of subcultures, each with its own style of clothing, music, and art.
That was, in fact, the entire point of the banquet tonight. A grand festival where people from all over the empire came to share their art and culture with the emperor himself, hoping to impress him. Music from all corners of the empire filled the air in the banquet hall. Scents too, from the tangy spiceweed bread of the western peoples to the pungent yellow fruit that Shai had once tasted during a mission to the far south. She had no idea what the stuff was called, but she'd found the taste refreshing, if a bit sweet.
She did so love sampling the various cultures. In another life, perhaps, she would have traveled the world and enjoyed each new culture without the stress of trying to blend in, trying not to be noticed.
In this life, she was the most notorious Forger in the world.
It was a title she was proud of. She took a deep breath, centering herself, feeling the texture of the brush she held in her left hand. Then she slipped out of the darkness, making for the edge of the room.
She immediately passed a man in a white robe, speaking loudly to those near him about his work as a poet. He had a small, dark spot on his cheek. Shai had noticed that some of the Mulla'dil—the people from the west, who had darker skin like she did, but had curly hair—put little dark circles on their cheeks or foreheads. She hadn't yet worked out what they signified. One more cultural quirk to research, once her current mission was complete.
The large room was packed, shoulder to shoulder, with various artists and artisans. One group of musicians near the side played loudly, but nobody seemed to be paying attention to them. People far preferred to listen to themselves speak.
Shai kept her head down and moved with a careful, timid step. In the middle of the room was a large table piled high with food from dozens of cultures. Near the back of the room, she caught sight of her target. Emperor Ashravan was meeting with people and looking over various pieces of art, from paintings to sculptures. He was a large man with dark skin, as so many of the Grands were. He wore a deep purple robe that left his arms and shoulders mostly bare. He was a handsome man, his long black hair only faintly touched with grey, his square face betraying his strength of character.
And, more important to Shai, he wore a pendant around his neck. The Moon Scepter. It was made of gold, with a small ruby set at the end of the handle. She could see the ruby glittering as the emperor moved.
She eased in toward the back wall, trying to stay out of everyone's way. She took a deep breath, tasting the air. So many emotions. Eagerness. Pride. Frustration. This was a place of wonder and dreams.
As was the gallery nearby. And, she knew, the Imperial Gallery contained some of her best work.
She took out her small pad of paper and began to sketch the room, not looking where her brushstrokes were going. The lines took form, precise and confident, despite her inattention to them. She'd had long practice. A little while of this, and people would start ignoring her. She might be pretty enough to draw eyes, but a woman with spectacles, who was painting, and who was pointedly ignoring everyone else? Boring.
Her goal was to wait until the emperor had passed through the room and moved on to the gallery to view the paintings and sculptures there. That was where she would make her move.
She continued to sketch, doing a passable reproduction of the tile mosaic, though she got the map wrong, turning a continent into a large body of water. She didn't care; it wasn't her art that would get her into the gallery.
Finally, the emperor left through the side door, moving on to the gallery, a large group following him. Shai waited for the right moment, then fell in step with the crowd.
The others had been showing off their works, hoping to impress the emperor, but in the gallery he was the one who wanted to impress. He led the way as he moved between paintings, extolling each one and often giving a short history of the artist or the painting. He knew his art, that was for certain.
Unfortunately, he also had guards. The gallery was well supervised. That was why she'd come prepared.
The crowd entered one of the larger rooms of the gallery. The emperor launched into a history of the painting displayed at the back, one of several dozen works depicting the Lord of Emotion himself.
Shai moved into place. She slipped her hand into a pocket and touched the wooden stick there.
Time seemed to grow slow around her as she let her training take control. The emperor's voice drew quieter. She barely felt herself moving as she slipped along the wall and took up a position beside an exquisite vase. She raised her brush, making it look as if she were painting the vase and not paying attention to the emperor. A guard glanced her direction, but did nothing more. She waited, and the moment came. The emperor was looking at a painting, back to her, the guards glancing about the room.
Shai dropped her pad of paper, letting it tumble to the floor, pages fluttering. She cursed in a theatrical fashion, dropping her brush and reaching out to catch the pad. In so doing, she "accidentally" brushed the arm of the guard to her left. Her other hand came up and brushed the emperor across the arm as if she were trying to keep her balance.
She turned her motions into a stumble, managing not to step on the pad of paper. She knelt down, hurrying to gather her things.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said to the guard, voice humble.
"Careful, woman," he said, still eyeing her. He glanced at his emperor, but Ashravan was still speaking. Fortunately, her touch had been light, and her body between them.
The guard grunted at her and turned back to his watch.
Shai retrieved her pad of paper and stuffed it into the pocket opposite the wooden stick. Her other hand went to her mouth, and she made a show of putting away her brush. In reality, she popped a small candy into her mouth to cover any possible taste from what she had just done.
The Moon Scepter was a forgery, its soul overwritten. As she'd stumbled, she'd palmed the replica, which she'd hidden in her hand after slipping the stick into her pocket. The swap had been difficult, even with all of her practice, but she'd grown up on streets filled with cutpurses. A little palming was nothing to her.
She had the replica in her hand, and she didn't dare return it to her pocket yet; if someone saw her making the movement, they'd grow suspicious. So she held it in her hand and continued to sketch with her other hand, the picture of the perfect artist. Lost in her own world. Barely aware of the people around her. Certainly not someone who could possibly be a criminal.
The group began to move on. Shai rose and joined them, sketching the emperor. The guard eyed her, but she kept her eyes on her pad and did not make eye contact with him. After a moment, he stopped paying attention to her. The group entered a long hallway, and finally she saw her chance. The emperor stopped to read the plaque beneath a large sculpture. The guards in the room relaxed; they'd checked everyone for weapons when letting them into the gallery, and everyone was accounted for. Nobody would be able to steal the art with the emperor's personal guards watching.
Shai slipped up beside the emperor and made a show of continuing her sketch. In the same motion, she hung the replica scepter on its hook, just below his neck.
The switch was so seamless, nobody saw.
He continued his walk down the corridor, and nobody noticed that Shai no longer had the scepter in her hand. Her heartbeat began to slow, her breathing even out. It had worked.
The scepter hung on the emperor's chest, indistinguishable from the original, even to the touch. Its gemstone was duller than the original, but the cut and shape were precisely the same. Its gold was painted, not real, but nobody would know that without testing it. In fact, even close examination would be unlikely to reveal the switch. The scepter she had forged was so precise, so nearly perfect, that the change had a very good chance of going unnoticed. If nobody was looking for a swap, it was possible that the fake could hang there for years before anyone discovered it wasn't real.
If that happened, she'd have finally done it. She'd have created a forgery so good that it had replaced an original. She would be in every history book in the world. She might not be able to tell anyone what she'd done, but she would know. And her reputation, at least among those in certain circles, would grow.
She followed in the emperor's shadow as they continued their walk through the gallery. They turned down another side corridor, and Shai was the last into the room, right behind the emperor. Here, several sculptures stood, including a few of her favorites.
The emperor continued to expound, but Shai stopped beside her favorite of the pieces: a statue of a young girl carrying a box, face looking toward the sky. She rested her hand on the statue's base, which bore her mark. One of the most famous Forgers in the world, and nobody knew who she was. Only the five arbiters of the empire—and one other man—knew her identity. She'd forged this statue over a year back, and had broken in to make the swap. Since then, nobody had discovered her deception.
It was her most famous work. Well, aside from what she'd just done.
The emperor stopped beside her, perhaps curious why one of his entourage had lagged behind. "A fascinating piece, isn't it?" he asked. "One of the newest acquisitions."
She hesitated, then decided that it would be impolite to remain silent. "Yes, it is quite breathtaking. It has an almost ethereal look to it, as if you can't quite believe it is real."
The emperor nodded. "I feel as if I have seen the girl somewhere before."
Shai smiled. "Perhaps. I have met her."
The emperor turned toward her.
"I grew up near a small farming village," Shai said, still in character. "I used to see her every day in the market." She'd studied the history of the girl in this statue intensely, though she had never actually met her. The statue was a lie, but she knew the girl well. It was the only way to forge art properly; she had to know the soul of the work, what it meant, how it was created.
The emperor looked at the statue, and Shai's breath caught. Did he realize? Did he know what she was? He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.
"Is something wrong, my lord?" one of the guards asked.
"No," Ashravan said, turning away. "It is nothing. Come. We should be getting to the sculpture hall. I'm certain all of you are eager to see your works on display."
The emperor continued on, but Shai remained, feeling a momentary stab of panic. What had he been about to say? Had she been careless? How could he know?
She shook herself free of her concerns and joined the crowd moving down the hallway. In another few moments, the tour ended and she was able to slip back toward the banquet hall, her job done. The swap had worked. Nobody was going to notice.
She passed the man with the black cheek dot again; he was laughing uproariously with some friends as they compared the poetry they'd written. She left the banquet room, walking out into the night air of the Imperial Complex. She hesitated, then removed a small handkerchief, wiping her face as if fanning herself to keep cool. As she did so, she made her swap. The wooden stick was long enough to stick out of her pocket, and she replaced it with the scepter, now coiled in the handkerchief, so anyone who happened to be watching would not be able to see the transition.
It all worked perfectly. She tucked the handkerchief and the scepter inside her robe and smiled. She was far from free, but she'd done it. She'd made the swap.
"You will forgive me if I don't clap," a voice said. "I wouldn't want to draw attention to either of us."
Shai turned toward a man standing in the shadow of one of the ornately trimmed hedges. He stepped out into the light, grinning, dressed like a fop, his coat a garish yellow, his shoes long-toed, the tips curling up in front. He had light brown skin, hair worn long, and a magnificent pointed mustache and goatee. The Fool. One of the five most notorious criminals in the entire empire, and the man she had arranged to meet her here. Her buyer for the Moon Scepter.
He sauntered over, his boots clicking on the stone walkway. "I was watching the entire thing," he said, his voice an excited, conspiratorial whisper. He took her by the arm, turning her toward the walkway.
"Did you see him hesitate?" Shai whispered back, nodding toward a pair of passing servants, as if she and the Fool were having a simple conversation while taking a stroll. "The emperor?"
"I did."
"You think he suspected?"
"No."
She glanced at the Fool.
"He suspects nothing," the Fool said, waving one hand. "The old codger probably had gas, and worried you would smell it."
"Be serious."
"Seriously? I'm always serious."
Shai snorted, looking over her shoulder.
"Oh, calm yourself," the Fool said. "You're fine. You're not just a thief, Shai—you're an artist. Nobody looks twice at a person who has paint on her fingers. Besides, I am very, very good at creating distractions. Not as good as you are, mind you. I'd never dare do what you just did. But good enough."
He was good, unfortunately, which meant that she needed to watch herself very carefully. He hadn't shown her the payment yet. She continued down the pathway, the Fool at her side, his coat flapping open dramatically as a wind blew across the top of the hill, bringing with it scents of the flowers that had been cultivated to bloom in the Imperial Complex's extensive gardens. She led the way off the pathway and down the hill, moving between the hedges.
The Imperial Complex was an enormous network of buildings in the middle of the city of Zijin, capital of the empire. At its center was the Imperial