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kitchens.
One slave headed for Korim’s table, bearing a tray laden with
saffron rice and curried lamb. Even from a distance, I smelled the
potent spices upon the dish. It was the perfect food to conceal a
vile-tasting venom.
    Kamal strode towards the kitchen slave and pointed.
The slave frowned, looking over his shoulder, and as he did,
Kamal’s hand moved. I saw the glint of a glass vial as he waved it
over the dish of rice and lamb, saw a splash of liquid fall upon
the food. It took an instant, and by the time the slave’s gaze
turned back, Kamal’s hands were back in place, but I had seen it
happen.
    That was the dish.
    Caina stopped her dance, her limbs glistening with
sweat, and looked at me.
    I murmured an excuse, got to my feet, and hurried to
Korim’s table.
    Kamal returned to the shadows behind Dinaka, and the
kitchen slave placed the dish before Korim. Despite the quantity of
food he had already consumed, the Hakim showed no sign of slowing,
and his eyes lit up at the sight of the rice and lamb.
    “Splendid,” he rumbled, taking a sip from his wine
goblet. “Splendid indeed. Dinaka, you must try some.”
    Dinaka did not even look at him, her expression
frosty.
    Korim shrugged and lifted his fork.
    “My lord Hakim, wait!” I said, coming to a stop in
front of his table. The watchmen nearby stiffened, hands dropping
to their sword hilts. “My lord, wait. Do not eat that rice!”
    Dinaka looked at me, her eyes narrowed, and I felt
Kamal’s cold gaze turn towards me.
    “Mistress Damla?” said Korim, blinking in
surprise.
    “My lord, I beg of you, do not eat of that food,” I
said.
    Caina moved closer. She wore sandals with
ridiculously high heels, their leather straps curling around her
calves, yet somehow she made no sound as she moved.
    “Why not?” said Korim, astonished.
    Briefly I wondered how he had managed to avoid
getting himself assassinated already.
    “The food has been poisoned, my lord Hakim,” I
said.
    Silence fell over the nearby tables, and I felt more
and more people staring at me as the guests realized that something
was wrong. Dinaka scowled at me with fury, while Kamal remained
motionless and expressionless.
    “Poisoned?” said Korim in astonishment. “Who would
poison me?”
    “That slave, my lord,” I said, pointing at Kamal. The
disguised Kindred assassin gave no reaction. “I saw him pour
something into your food.”
    “She is lying, my lord Hakim,” said Kamal in a quiet
voice.
    “Why should I do that?” I said. “Why should I make up
such lies?”
    “I…I do not know,” said Korim.
    “She is lying to you, my husband,” said Dinaka. She
had a lovely, musical voice, but fury burned in her eyes. “She
desires you for herself, so she has made up this ridiculous story
to gain your favor and approval.”
    Caina moved closer along the base of the mansion, but
no one paid any attention her.
    I thought fast. “The Hakim is an august and noble
man, and any woman would be honored to have him as husband.” A
little flicker of rage went over Dinaka’s face. “However, why
speculate when the matter is so easily put to the test, my lord?
Simply have Kamal sample the dish before you. If he is innocent, he
will do so without hesitation.”
    Kamal hesitated. “It is not proper for a slave to eat
from his master’s dish.”
    “Come now,” said Korim with a wave of his thick hand.
“There is plenty of food. Surely a single bite will not offend
propriety.”
    Kamal opened his mouth to answer, but it was Dinaka
who spoke.
    “This is ridiculous,” she said. “I will not tolerate
these brazen accusations. I am the wife of a nobleman and a
magistrate, and I should not have to suffer slanders from…from
whorish tradeswomen!”
    I saw an opening in the insult. “Forgive me, my lady
Dinaka…but I said nothing of you.”
    Dinaka opened her mouth…and then closed it again.
    Korim frowned, scrutinizing his wife as if he had
seen her for the first time.
    “My lord, I beg of