The Straits of Galahesh loa-2

by Bradley P. Beaulieu

  “Now,” Father said, motioning to Vaasak, “finish what you were saying.”

  Vaasak bowed his head. There were empty glasses before Atiana and Ishkyna. Vaasak took up a blue bottle of vodka and poured healthy servings for them both. “I was saying, Your Highness, that the papers are nearly ready. I’ve been dealing closely with Siha s, and I believe that they’re nearly ready for your signature. Only one obstacle remains.”

  Father straightened himself in his chair. “And what would that be?”

  “The Kamarisi wants an additional tribute of gems each year. One thousand more of each.”

  Vaasak and Grigory watched closely as Father considered these words. Atiana could tell he was tense. The forefinger of his right hand tapped against the inlaid mosaic of the table. Atiana was not privy to all of the numbers from the mines, but a thousand more of each would be nearly impossible. They could barely conduct trade with such a hit to their yearly totals, much less fend off the Maharraht and their incessant attacks, especially considering how viciously they’d been attacking Bolgravya and Nodhvyansk.

  “A thousand cannot be allowed,” Father said. His voice was breathy, as if he were speaking only to himself, as if he knew exactly what this demand meant.

  Vaasak was already nodding his head. “Of course, Your Highness. I pushed him. I tried to maneuver to half that. I offered windships, iron, gold.” Vaasak lowered his voice and leaned in toward Father. “I even offered him his choice of brides, but Siha s would have none of it. On this the Kamarisi is adamant.”

  Father’s chair creaked as he slumped further into it. He stared at the table, mesmerized, while continuing to tap his finger. “He knows we have no choice.”

  “You can’t be considering this,” Atiana said. “The Kamarisi is setting a trap.”

  Father turned to her calmly, his heavy eyes weighing her before he spoke.

  “Your mother told me of your warnings, but what if you’re wrong?”

  “What if I’m right?”

  “If you’re right then I may very well be making a poor decision this day. But if you’re wrong, and we pull away from the table, we will not be able to find our place at it again.”

  “He will take you, Father, or kill you.”

  “We are not enemies, Atiana. He has a war raging to the west. He has unrest brewing in the north. He has discontent festering in places he thought to be his most loyal. He has nothing to gain by attempting to retake something that has been out of the Empire’s reach for generations.”

  “If he can gain the islands, he will have more than enough resources to win to the west, to stifle whatever uprising might be brewing in the north. With a victory over the islands, discontent will turn to satisfaction. Do not risk yourself-”

  Father pounded his fist on the table, rattling the bottle and tipping over one of the glasses of vodka. As the vodka pattered onto the carpet, he spoke with an intensity that shocked Atiana. “I must risk it! We are dying, daughter! Vostroman, Bolgravyan, Khalakovan. Mirkotski and Rhavankan. We are being dragged beneath the waves. By the blight. By the Maharraht. By the wasting, still, no matter what your beloved Nikandr might think he is doing for hearth and home. We are pulled low as the tide rises. Yrstanla makes demands. They wish for stones. They wish for wood. They wish for liquor.” He looked at her closely. “They wish even for our daughters. And what am I to do?”

  “We can fight!” Grigory said.

  Father snapped his head toward Grigory. “Mind your tongue!”

  “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I will not! Send the ships across the downs. If they’re not needed, I’ll return them home.”

  Atiana knew what he was speaking of, but she thought it complete folly. He spoke of a path from Nodhvyansk to Yrstanla’s mainland that windsmen called the downs. Before reaching it, ships would need to cut northward across some of the deepest waters in the ocean. It was a dangerous path he suggested taking, but it was the implications that made her back straighten. He was suggesting they circle around and secure Galahesh from the north, where their ships would be unhindered by the wild currents around the straits. More than this, he was suggesting they take the Kamarisi captive. With the northern end of the island secured, it would be all too easy to sweep in from the south and take Baressa.

  Atiana had never seen Father so angry. His eyes were bright with emotion, and his jaw was clenched so tight he was shaking. His chest pumped like a child working a blacksmith’s bellows.

  But then he collected himself. He began to breathe easier, and his jaw relaxed. “The riots have begun again, Grigory. They’ve become more organized, even in these last few months. If we do not have ships to sustain order, we may fall to them, never mind the Empire.”

  Grigory made a face and waved toward Vaasak. “What order can there be with demands such as these? We won’t last two years, Your Highness. Never has the Kamarisi come so close to our shores. This is a chance we must take.”

  “We cannot,” Vaasak said.

  “Why can’t we?” replied Grigory. “They’ve as much as declared war on us already.”

  “If we take Hakan, a new Kamarisi will come, and he will bring with him the whole of their might.”

  “Grigory’s right.” Atiana turned, stunned, at these words from Ishkyna. She had been so hostile to Grigory when they’d first arrived, and here she was supporting his foolhardy plan. Ishkyna continued to stare at the tabletop, as if she were still working all of it through, and then she nodded to herself, apparently satisfied. “The Kamarisi is begging us to do it.”

  Atiana could not remember a time when her father had been indecisive. Ever. He had always been a man who knew just what to do no matter what the circumstances. But sitting before her now was a man on the brink of defeat. The mantle of the Grand Duke had burdened him heavily ever since he’d taken it up, but never had it made him seem small. It did now, and she felt for him-caught between difficult choices, none of which seemed likely to save the Grand Duchy.

  His gaze moved between Ishkyna and Atiana, to Grigory, and then Vaasak. “You have dealt with Hakan the most. How do you weigh him?”

  Vaasak looked nervous to speak. He knew his words would determine much. “In truth, he has seemed earnest. Perhaps too much so.”

  Father digested these words. He picked up his heavy glass and downed the last of his vodka. As he set the glass down on the table with barely a sound, he turned to Grigory. “Return to your brother, Grigory. Tell him to send the ships.” He stood and looked down upon Atiana. “And you, daughter.” She had not felt so much the child in years. “There’s no time to spare. Find what Arvaneh is about.”

  With that he and Grigory and Vaasak left, leaving Atiana alone with Ishkyna.

  Ishkyna stared at her glass of vodka, which she hadn’t touched once. “Dangerous business, sister.”

  Atiana hadn’t touched her drink, either, but she took it up now and downed it in one big gulp. “ Da,” she said, setting the glass onto the table, rim-side down. “Best we get to it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  A s snowflakes the size of petals fell over Baressa, Atiana strode along the edge of a pool that had not quite frozen over. A thickening blanket of snow was building around the edge where ice had formed, but in the center, white snowflakes fell against the water’s black surface, melting in the blink of an eye. They looked like souls falling against the aether, slipping through the dark to the other side, and it made Atiana wonder if this was indeed what it was like when souls reached Adhiya and when they returned once more to Erahm.

  How might she go? How might Nikandr?

  Would it be quick, like these snowflakes? Or might it be slow and painful and filled with misery, like those dreadful hours on Duzol after she’d been shot in the chest?

  The sound of approaching footsteps, muffled by the snow, pulled her attention away from the pool. Walking down the path between two broken buildings was Irkadiy.

  “My Lady Princess,” he said bowing his head. “Please, come.” />
  She followed along a path that led her down a row of stone buildings that were now little more than gutted shells. They were deep in the Shattering, the swath of Baressa that had been left as it was after the greatest and final battle of the War of Seven Seas. It was a land that had been considered fouled, for it had been one of the few great battles the Empire had lost over its long, grand history.

  They followed tracks in the snow that were already becoming obscured by the heavy fall. They came to an area that was not nearly as devastated as the one they’d just come from. They made for a depression circled by columns. Many of the columns were intact, whole, but those nearest Atiana were broken, little more than white fingers clawing skyward. As Atiana and Irkadiy walked through it she realized it had been a celestia, which made it clear that this had once been an area where Aramahn had lived.

  Beyond the ruins lay a stone building that bore the mark of the Yrstanla stonemasons from centuries past-it was grand, but it was also stark and serious. Inside, the light was dim, and at the northern end the roof was broken, snow swirling within and piling in the corners. At the other end stood three streltsi in dark gray cherkesskas and kolpak hats, and between them, sitting on the ground, was Ushai, the Aramahn woman who had been treading the dark the last time Atiana had been searching for Arvaneh. She did not cower, but she watched the men closely as Atiana approached. Then she seemed to recognize Atiana, and her eyes went wide.

  As Atiana neared, the bruises and cuts on Ushai’s face came clearer. Ushai stared up at her defiantly, but she shivered as she did so, and not from the cold.

  Atiana turned to Irkadiy. “What have you done?”

  Irkadiy bowed his head. “My Lady Princess, she tried to escape.”

  “So you beat her?”

  “ Most important, My Lady. Those were your words.”

  Atiana lashed out and slapped him.

  The muscles along his jaw worked, but his eyes were impassive. “We do what we must.”

  It was a common saying among streltsi. “We are not at war with the Aramahn,” she said.

  He bowed his head. “As you say, My Lady.”

  “Go,” she said.

  Irkadiy looked back to the broken section of the wall where they’d entered, but didn’t otherwise move.

  “Go!”

  “Forgive me, My Lady Princess, but your father said never to leave your side.”

  She swallowed, wishing she’d shown more self-control. “You can watch from the entrance, but I will speak with her alone.”

  She waited as he stared, perhaps calculating just how far he could push his orders, but then he nodded to his men and they trudged away, leaving her alone with Ushai.

  “Ushai, I’m sorry.” Atiana kneeled and stared closer at her wounds. There were abrasions along one cheek, a cut on her lip. One eye was red and swollen. It would blacken within a day. “Did you resist them?”

  Ushai’s jaw worked. She stared over Atiana’s shoulder to the streltsi beyond. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  Atiana’s head jerked back before she could think to stop it. This was something she hadn’t expected. The Aramahn cherished peace. Or they had. She wondered if this was an indication of what the Aramahn had been driven to or if this was yet another splinter that was forming, one that was not bellicose like the Maharraht but would defend their interests more vigorously. Even a year ago most Aramahn would not lift a hand to defend themselves, even if it meant death for themselves or another.

  Atiana paused, feeling small in the face of Ushai’s pain. “I sent the streltsi because I need your help. I go tonight to confront Sariya.”

  “That would be unwise, daughter of Radia.”

  “Which is why I needed to speak to you. You know of her, and I would have you share it”-she glanced back toward the soldiers-“if you would have her stopped.”

  “You will not be able to stop her. She wants you to take the dark.”

  “I know.”

  Ushai shook her head. “She is no simple qiram who has learned the skills of the dark.”

  “Which is why I need your help so desperately. Come with me. Come with me tomorrow night, and together, you and I will break down the walls Sariya has put in place.”

  Ushai hesitated. Her eyes were angry, indignant, but after a pause she steeled herself and nodded.

  Atiana smiled and held out her hand. Ushai took it, and together they made their way out and into the cold of the Shattering.

  The dinner meant to honor the arrival of Atiana’s father was as grand an occasion as she had ever seen. It was held in a room four times the size of the largest ballroom in Galostina, and twice as tall. The light from twelve golden chandeliers cast a warm glow against the filigreed ceiling. Hundreds of men and women milled about the room. The servants-all of them women, many of them Bahett’s wives-had jewels worked into their hair, and wore dresses of the most supple silk. They held trays filled with food. Some offered skewered medallions of cooked antelope with dark red centers, harvested, they said, from the steppes of central Yrstanla. Others brought mouthwatering fruit, bright with color, or cooked tubers-nothing like the potatoes of the islands-marinated in oil and capers and dill. There were dozens of other delectables, but Atiana found herself unable to eat. She was studying the crowd, watching for one particular man that would allow her to complete her preparations for the following night.

  She saw him enter as a bell was rung softly from the center of the room-Siha s ul Mehmed, the Kamarisi’s personal envoy. The bell was struck again, and the conversation began to die down as people made their way toward their seats. Atiana intercepted Siha s at the stairs that led up to the raised head table.

  When Siha s realized that it was he Atiana wished to speak to, he stepped aside to allow the others access to the stairs. “My Lady Princess,” he said, bowing his head.

  “My Lord,” Atiana said, smiling, “I wonder if you might do me the honor of allowing me to sit by your side.”

  “You don’t wish to sit with your family? Or with Bahett?”

  “Father is always a bore at such things. Of Ishkyna, it may surprise you, I’ve had my fill. And Bahett?” Atiana leaned to her left, allowing Siha s to see where Bahett sat, or more to the point, who sat next to him. It was Meryam, Bahett’s ilkadin. “We are not yet married, and as this is her final dinner with her title, she will sit at his side.”

  He smiled and offered her his arm. “Then I would be honored.”

  After a slight shuffling of chairs, she and Siha s were seated. Once everyone was settled, the bell was rung again. Shortly after, Father and Hakan and a select few others entered the room and made their way to the head table. Bahett was among them, and he watched Atiana curiously when he saw her sitting with Siha s. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she wasn’t sitting next to him or because Siha s was the man she was sitting next to. Either way, the look was gone a moment later, and he gave her a pleasant smile.

  She smiled back, but her attention was soon drawn to Arvaneh. Her golden hair was tied behind her head in a complex braid ornamented with bright amber jewels. The bodice of her dress was aubergine, the skirt layer upon layer of deep reds. It was not her beautiful raiment that drew the attention, however. It was the band of gold across her forehead and the string of crystals that hung down from it, covering her eyes like a veil. Rather than make her seem hidden, it made her stand out. It seemed as though she could look upon anyone without reciprocity. Indeed, she seemed to be staring at Atiana even then. She nodded, and Atiana was forced to do the same.

  Arvaneh and Hakan were the last to be seated. As soon as they were, the woman at the center of the room-Ebru, Bahett’s second wife-struck the bell one last time. With her higher vantage, Atiana could see that there were no tables where Ebru stood; they had been cleared in a circle around her. She wore a beautiful, formfitting dress of red. Her fingers bore rings that sparkled under the light of the chandeliers. Dozens of bracelets circled her wrists. She stood, back straight, chin high-the pose of a
dancer-and brought the mallet high above her head, ready to strike. As she snapped her arm into place, the bracelets made a sound like the rattle of coins, and when she did, others around the room did the same. Bahett’s other wives, now free of their trays, had bracelets as well, and they had brought their arms high in time with Ebru.

  Small gasps of pleasure came from the room as the guests looked around them, understanding at last what was happening.

  Ebru struck the bell-it rang more faintly than before and yet still filled the room-and then she snapped her arm to the ready position. The others snapped their arms in response, taking a long, sinuous stride forward.

  Again the bell was struck, and again the women strode. As they moved in unison toward the center, more servants, all of them men, wound through the tables, bringing the first course-an intoxicating mixture of sugared sage and salted pear. As the head table began to eat, Atiana leaned in and spoke low to Siha s. “I know it was you who came to me by the willow.”

  The sounds of forks clinking against plates, of the bell and the shink of the dancers’ arms, came to Atiana clearly, almost dreamlike, as she waited for Siha s to respond.

  When he did not, she spoke again, “I know it was-”

  “I would not say that so loudly if I were you.”

  Atiana had made sure that those to her right and to Siha s ’s left were engaged in conversation. “If I speak too softly, good Siha s, it will attract more attention.”

  Siha s seemed suddenly disinterested in his meal. He merely pushed it around his plate with his fork. “I know what you plan to do tomorrow night as well.”

  “Then you also know a trap has been laid for me.”

  His silence was telling.

  “You were willing to let me walk into it,” Atiana said.

  “I wish you no harm, but there is more to consider.”

  “Such as?”

  “We must know Arvaneh’s plans. It was decided that you would be allowed to go, and that we would watch.”

  “With no intervention from those who claim to be mindful of Hakan’s true purpose.”