“This is really going to have an effect on your image.” Mala leaned against the door to the throne chamber. It barely muffled the din of the crowd gathering on the other side, and Kiri stepped close to understand Mala.

“What?” Kiri had heard her, but it didn’t make sense. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you sure you want to go out there as the Firebrand? The association with the Thief Lord-or I’m thinking Mistress of Thieves-can’t be good for your goody-good image.”

“I’m not going out there with the Thief Lord, or Mistress of Thieves or whatever,” Kiri said. “I’m going out there with the legitimate Lady of the Desert, having just helped her defeat a corrupt and ancient threat.”

“Oh, that does sound great for your image. Double life.” Mala winked. “I’ll have to keep those straight. Let’s get out there and make us look good!” Kiri moved to follow Mala through the other door, but Mala held out the Sceptre to block her. This made Kiri nervous; people should be more careful with death-Sceptres. “Wait. Let me go first. I’ll call you in.”

So Kiri stood in the open doorway, watching as Mala entered to the painfully loud cheers of the crowd. The throne room was obviously not made for this kind of use. The stone amplified the cheers to an ear-splitting roar. She could see the front rows of the crowd dutifully fall silent at a gesture from Mala. Mala called Ruilessa and Riular out, leaving Kiri waiting, resisting the urge to chew her nails as she watched Mala hand over the Sceptre to the two Eldan with a great deal of ceremony. The crowd’s silence was now as much shocked as respectful at the sight of long-thought-extinct Eldan in their midst. It occurred to Kiri that there might be some fall out from all this besides Mala running the desert and the Thief Lord’s network. But she didn’t have time to think about it, because now Mala was calling her and Neal and Garon, and she had to go stand with Mala on the dais.

Kiri stood aside as Mala heaped praise on the three of them, and she was sure she wasn’t imagining that everyone in the audience was staring at her. She was the Firebrand, and aside from the Eldan on the stage she was the most interesting person here. She hoped she looked dignified and not nervous like she felt. She was so busy trying to look out on the audience with dignity that it was a complete surprise when Neal launched himself across the stage. It wasn’t until he was lying in front of Mala with an arrow sticking out of his chest that she realized what was happening. Someone had tried to kill Mala, and Neal had taken the arrow for her. There was a commotion at the other side of the room as the guard and the crowd subdued the attacker.

Mala knelt down beside Neal. She started to reach for the arrow, then pulled her hand back. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Neal drew a shaking breath. His voice came out barely audible. “My fate. Better than I imagined it.” He said no more.

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Mala looked up at Kiri and Garon, who were standing close now. She licked her lips and her eyes scanned over the crowd. She stood and, even though her hands were clean of any blood, wiped them on her skirts.

“We must send word to Laed of these momentous events!” She called out over the crowd. “The Firebrand and her loyal companion are going to the King as messengers of the Desert. This new Eldan threat is the concern of all the Kingdom!” She moved her fingers in what must have been some sort of signal, because several members of the Order moved forward and began clearing an aisle in the crowd. Mala walked through it, and Garon and Kiri dutifully fell in behind her.

Kiri caught Garon’s eye. He looked just as confused as her. What was Mala doing? Kiri quickened her pace to whisper in Mala’s ear. “We aren’t ready to leave. We haven’t packed. I don’t have a Travelling stone.”

“Sshh.” Mala patted Kiri’s shoulder.

The crowd fell in behind them as Mala and her guards of the Order walked all the way from the palace front gates to where two horses waited, loaded with full saddle bags.

“You planned this?” Garon said, probably more loudly than he’d meant to.

“Have a safe journey!” Mala called, loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “Bring word to the king as swiftly as possible. Thank you for all you have done, Firebrand!”

“Firebrand!” Someone in the crowd yelled. And then they all took up the chant.

And so the Firebrand rode out of the city, against her will, to the cheers of the crowd.

EPILOGUE

Among the dunes of the high desert, incongruous against the sand and sage, the boulder field of the Giant’s Playground sits like a jumble of spilled toys. The smallest of the rocks are the size of a large dog, the largest as big as a manor house. A cluster of men, wearing loose light colored cotton clothes to ward off the heat of the day, worked among the stones, digging for hidden treasures. Nearby. Their tents stood in a tight circle nearby. The hard surfaces sent the tapping of the excavator’s hammers echoing in a confusion of sound that annoyed the man who sat in the whitest, largest tent.

The Thief Lord ground his teeth and tapped the tin cup with its stale-tasting water against the equally disappointing camp table that sat at his right side. The servant who had brought him the cup had no way of knowing why his master was so angry, but had been smart enough to duck out quickly and robbed the Thief Lord of a target. It wasn’t the mousey little servants fault that that deceitful Mala had stolen the Thief Lord’s palace, and this disgusting water had little to do with the thorn in his side that was the Firebrand, but somehow it all seemed at that moment to Useph to be related. At least he could comfort himself that Neal must be dead by now. It all came together, every wrong thing that led to him sitting in a hot tent with a tin cup in the middle of the desert. But it all would be remedied here. Those hammer taps, annoying and loud as they might be, were unearthing the solution. The power there would put it all to rights. It had better.

The Thief Lord raised the tin cup to his lips. The water was even worse this time. The servant ducked under the tent flap again, this time carrying a tray of food, and Useph let the cup fly from his fingers. It smacked the servant on the forehead and fell onto the tray. The Thief Lord sighed in disgust. Now his bread was soaked.

Mala will pay, he told himself. Her, and the Firebrand too.