“He’s not the Näsarat we should be worried about,” Farouk said as he fondled the hilt of his long-knife.
Corajidin looked to where his son lay painted with his own blood and sweat. Belamandris could quite easily have died tonight. Pain speared through Corajidin’s stomach as his bowels cramped. Impotent rage rose with it. He rounded on Mariam, then pointed to where Belamandris lay on the couch. “Your brother lies there because of you! Had you done what you should have—”
“For Belam’s wounds I’m sorrier than you know.” Mariam looked on her brother sorrowfully. “But I warned you! I begged you! I told you I didn’t think I’d be able to betray Vashne. Had you obeyed the law and followed Jahirojin, this would’ve turned out differently.”
“It’s a moot point now,” Yashamin declared. “You’ll need to resign your commission with the Feyassin.”
“No.”
“Life is a series of unpleasant tasks, one after the other.” Corajidin eyed his daughter. Took in the set of her jaw, the narrowness of her eyes, the tilt of her chin. “As Asrahn-Elect I will use Belamandris’s Anlūki as my guard. Though they are not as accomplished as the Feyassin, they are loyal to the Great House of Erebus. Let the Feyassin protect the Teshri and its members. I will assign them to guard the Teshri, as they guarded the upper castes in the old days of the Awakened Empire. The sooner you realize your life with the Feyassin is over, the sooner you can be of better use to your House. You must resign your commission and serve where your House needs you most.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” Mariam replied.
Corajidin went to his daughter. She jerked her head away as he tried to brush her hair back from her brow. “Mariam, I will not risk you in the company of your former comrades given what transpired tonight. It would be best if you remained in the villa for the next couple of days, so I know you are safe. It is not a request.”
“As it ever is with you.” Mariam bowed to her father, her glare hard enough to chip stone. He suspected his daughter’s defiance was neither defeated nor diminished, but she kept any further words to herself. A sign of turmoil to come, as he knew from bitter experience. She lingered for a moment to kiss Belamandris on his sweat-sodden brow, then stiffened and left the room.
No sooner had the door closed behind Mariam than Thufan turned to Corajidin. “Can’t have witnesses.”
“I could not agree more. Indris, that Seethe woman, and the Tau-se must meet with a premature end. I will also need you to have Armal round up any dissenters or other possible rogue elements in the city. Set some examples.”
“Heavy hands?”
“Do what needs to be done.”
Thufan snapped a quick nod, then stalked away in a cloud of pipe smoke.
“Indris is one man, Jidi,” Yashamin said as she stretched on the couch. “And wounded, as you say.”
“He is a fully trained Knight-General of the Sēq Order of Scholars.” Corajidin took Yashamin’s hand in his own. He turned her hand palm upward, kissed the inside of her wrist. “Indris is by far the most capable child of the Näsarat. Like all people of accomplishment, he is either running to something or from something. Probably both. He must be dealt with, quietly and immediately.”
Corajidin walked to the window. The moon had set, leaving the night swaddled in a comforting mantle of darkness. The horizon was hazy with the trailing edge of the nebula. Fatigue was setting in as the effects of Wolfram’s potion faded, yet there was much still to do. There were people out there who would wake to the news their Asrahn was dead. Word would spread quickly.
Tonight Mariam’s reputation had been blemished beyond any ready ability to repair, her name forever linked with the Asrahn’s death and Ariskander’s disappearance. Corajidin needed to control the flow of information to the people, to influence their perceptions of the event with something plausible. He must also manage Femensetri’s interest. She would want her questions answered.
Mariam would suffer a little now to avoid greater pain later. He was sure she would eventually forgive him the lessons she would learn tonight.
For now though, he would seek out the warmth and comfort of his bed and the woman he loved. Once the sun rose, the world could begin anew.
CHAPTER TEN
“Few things in life are stronger than necessity. It is the wave against which even our strongest desires, our most dearly held beliefs, will break.”—Gloriano, the Knight of Roses, 6th Year of the reign of High Palatine Navaar of Oragon (494th Year of the Shrīanese Federation)
Day 317 of the 495th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
Indris woke with a start. Light flared, too bright, too harsh, a spike into his brain. He closed his eyes and decided to keep them closed. The scent of sandalwood was faint. There was the taste of old milk on his tongue, blended with honey and a slight hint of wax: regeneration milk from a Differential Bath. Silk sheets were cool beneath his fingertips. The metallic twang of a sonesette washed over him. He settled deeper into the comfort of the soft bed. Let the sunlight warm his face. Indris felt the beginning of a smile—
“I know you’re awake, boy.” The voice reminded him of the caw of some massive crow. “’Bout time, too. You’ve gotten lazier over the years.”
“Is it me, or did some bastard shoot me?” Indris cracked open an eyelid. Then another. He blinked as his surroundings came into focus. “How long?”
“You’ve been unconscious for two days.” Shar laid her sonesette on the floor, then gestured to Femensetri. “She refused to leave.”
The Stormbringer leveled an opal-eyed stare at Indris. Her patrician features were still. The mindstone, quiescent for the moment, shone dully against the pallor of her unlined brow. She sat back in her threadbare cassock, her sickle-topped crook resting in the fold of her arms, booted feet propped on Indris’s bed. Crescents and flakes of mud stained the sheets.
For twenty-seven hundred years and more, Femensetri had served the interests of the Avān, though she was older still. She was of the very first generation of the Avān to be created by the Seethe, a woman of substance during the Petal Empire when the Sēq Order of Scholars had been formed to bring together the greatest mystics, historians, healers, and inventors in the known world. They had been witches before then, wild, untamed, and unchecked. They had been an unrestrained, sometimes insane, often destructive force in the world before they had found the discipline to form the various orders of scholars. Unfortunately, not all the great minds had agreed that restraint was a virtue so the witch covens remained, their reckless power in stark contrast with the logic and reason of the scholastic order. Though Femensetri might not have been a witch any longer, there was about her a certain casual defiance of authority and social convention that grated. Indris would not be the one to bring her to task over it.
“Lucky for you she found me.” Femensetri sniffed. “Would’ve been dead otherwise, wouldn’t you, boy? At least the girl has sense. Salt-forged steel”—her voice was hard with disapproval—“is serious business.”
Indris tried to sit up. Shar helped him, expression concerned. Indris looked around the room. The simple furnishing and finishes were of a very high quality. The walls were painted such a white as to seem opalescent in the light. The windows were shuttered with arabesque screens. Orchids sat in plain porcelain vases.
“Where are we?” Indris asked.
“Samyala, the qadir owned by the House of Pearl.” Shar smiled. Indris cocked an eyebrow at her. The House of Pearl was a holdover from the Petal Empire of the Seethe, a place where performers came to study the arts, often from a very early age. To the Seethe there was art in everything, including the layered, intricate games of courtship, romance, seduction, and pleasure. When the Petal Empire fell and the Awakened Empire arose, the houreh, female and male entertainer companions, remained. They were respected, even adored, among the Avān, as well as by some Human cultures. Some of the houreh earned substantial amounts, contracted to the Hundred Families or the Great Houses as advisers and teachers
, bodyguards, intelligencers and musicians, and, of course, as experts in the sharing of pleasure. The House of Pearl operated some of the most prestigious schools, did charitable works, supported the diplomatic corps, and brokered advantageous marriages, and their friendship was likened to the coin of the realm. A person openly supported by the Pearl courtesans would find many doors open to them. Success was virtually assured, with the right whispers across the right pillows.
Like many young people of means who stood to inherit little, Shar had been trained by the House of Pearl. When Indris had been wounded, she had gone to the people she thought would help and be discreet about it. Shar went on to say how, after Indris had been shot, she had half carried, half dragged him to the shelter of the trees. They had been followed. Shar had defended Indris as best she could, but it was only with Ekko’s help, and that of the House of Pearl, that they had managed to survive.
“You should’ve died, boy.” Femensetri’s voice was quiet. “Lucky this friend of yours has a brain in her head and brought you here. Ziaire knew where to find me. There was no way you should’ve survived what you did. You’re still full of surprises.”
“Vashne is dead, isn’t he?” Indris asked.
“And Ariskander taken. According to Ekko, it was Corajidin who killed Vashne.” Femensetri uncrossed, then recrossed, her legs at the ankle. More mud flaked off her boots. Some landed on the bed. The rest fell to the floor. “It’s been years since the old fox has wielded the long-knife himself. He usually gets Thufan, Farouk, or Belamandris to do the bloodletting these days.”
“What of the others?”
Femensetri shook her head. “Afareen, Hamejin, and Vahineh are dead. Daniush was also taken.” Femensetri explained what had happened with the Teshri in colorful and uncomplimentary terms. “Corajidin’s malignant slut of a wife has been spending money like water over the past few months. Now we know who they bought.”
“Nehrun one of them?”
“More than likely.” Femensetri nodded. “You don’t look surprised.”
“I wish I was.” Indris closed his eyes for a moment. “But Nehrun’s ambitions are more about power than money.”
“Corajidin talks about maintaining the peace in Amnon.” Shar sat on the edge of the bed, her warm hand curled in Indris’s. “He’s publicly demanded a cessation of the violence between the sayfs loyal to the Great Houses. But Thufan runs the kherife here now. Those accused of threatening the peace are taken. More than just rebels are being arrested. Many of the sayfs who remain loyal to Far-ad-din have suffered. No doubt they’re being questioned as to where Far-ad-din is. Or where we are.”
“Hayden and Omen?” he asked. “Are they—”
“They’re outside,” Shar assured him. “We’ve all been guarding you since you were brought here.”
Femensetri rose from her chair. Her scholar’s over-robe hung like folds of night. The ancient Scholar Marshal stretched, ligaments popping. She groaned with pleasure.
“Leave us, girl,” she said to Shar.
“Anything you say to me, you can say to Shar,” Indris stated.
Femensetri eyed Shar, who ducked her head. Shar gave Indris an apologetic look as she left. “I like her,” Femensetri admitted.
“Shar’s a good friend.”
Femensetri cocked an eyebrow at him. “Right. What in the name of the glorious dead happened? Corajidin is clearly trying to cover something up. Vashne dead. Ariskander and Daniush taken…though few of us know the truth. Ekko wouldn’t survive thirty seconds into his testimony.”
“‘It is not the answers we seek, so much as the questions which drive us.’” Indris shrugged as he rubbed his fingers along the inside of his left wrist, where some of the milk from the Differential Bath had crusted on his skin. “Shar, Hayden, Omen, and I had been working for Far-ad-din for a few months. Shar and I spent most of it investigating what the tomb robbers were doing in the Rōmarq.”
“And?”
“Far-ad-din was concerned at the increase in relic traffic through Amnon. Nahdi companies, a few daimahjin, even some rogue witches, were buying proscribed weapons and artifacts. His people had discovered items they’d never seen before. Far-ad-din suspected they were only seeing a part of what was really being stolen from the Rōmarq and shipped elsewhere. He asked me to inspect the pieces he had acquired. As far as I could tell, they were relics from the Haiyt and Awakened Empires. We thought somebody had found a new site in the Rōmarq. Far-ad-din asked us to investigate. I’m not certain which Time Master city it was, though I have my suspicions. We managed to sneak in a few times, though there were areas we couldn’t get to. We didn’t have enough time for a thorough investigation. Far-ad-din called us back when the armies came for him.”
Femensetri strode over to where Indris’s satchel sat on a small table and upended it. Indris suppressed a groan. With one long finger, she rummaged through his belongings. Finally she opened his old leather folio, filled with sheets of parchment crammed with writing and illustrations. “What are these?”
“Rubbings from the ruins. Some drawings of what I could see in the tomb robbers’ camp. I’ve seen Wolfram there, along with what I took to be his apprentice. There were others, nahdi mostly, though some I suspect are House soldiers. Nobody wears a uniform. It’d be hard to prove anybody was in service to the Great House of Erebus. It appears they’ve also struck up an understanding with the Fenling.”
“The Fenling?” Femensetri scratched the tip of her nose as she quickly read Indris’s notes. “If Wolfram and Brede are there, this is Erebus mischief. What’s Corajidin looking for?”
“I’ve done what I came to do,” Indris said. He scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Shrīan can deal with its problems without me.”
“You’d make it easier.” Femensetri spat into the one of the vases. The Stormbringer turned on her former pupil.
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
“Looks like we’re having it again.”
“You left me to rot in a hole when you had no more use for me. Anj-el-din died because of you.”
“Don’t lay your wife’s fate at my feet! She was well aware of the risks she faced going after you. And raining pity on you for her disappearance would’ve done you no good. Besides, you escaped from Sorochel.”
“Oh, yes, it was all just sunsets over the ocean after that.”
“It was our training gave you the skills to escape. It’s why we trained you so hard, you and those few like you!” she snapped. “You were supposed to protect and serve the interests of your people. When the time was right for you to retire from the field, we would’ve recalled you. You could’ve mated with any woman of our choosing. But no, you and Anj-el-din knew better. You had to marry. You betrayed the Order and—”
“We were stronger together, and you know it. Besides, you gave me my writ of release, so—”
“You were never meant to accept it!” she yelled. “You were warned what would happen if trouble came calling!”
“And Anj? Was she so easy to forget?”
“You and Anj weren’t meant to be together. You both had greater responsibilities.”
“Are you truly so disappointed your best pupil thought being in love was enough?”
“Imbecile! The Suret wanted you dead. You left us to become a daimahjin. An unaffiliated weapon, with all our secrets…Do you know the kind of dancing I had to do to stop the other masters on the council from ordering your execution? And don’t fool yourself. You were never my best pupil. The most powerful, perhaps. Certainly the most gifted. Yet you never had to try at anything. It all came far too easily for you. I—”
“There were others you could’ve relied on.”
“Of the eight I trained like you, only you, Saroyyin, and Taqrit still live. Majadis, Devandai, Lilay, and Ravashem are Lost, likely fallen to the Drear. They’ll be hunted down and dealt with. Anj-el-din’s fate you already know.”
“Do I?” Indris could not help the bitterness in
his voice. To hear four of his oldest friends were Lost, fallen to the seductions of older, darker powers of an ancient world most had forgotten. Death was preferable.
“She’s gone, Indris. Why dig up a past you need to leave alone?”
“Peace!” Indris covered his eyes with his hands. If only not seeing her would make her go away.
“Tell me why you didn’t come back to us,” she asked. “After Anj was gone, even then, why did you stay away?”
Indris chewed his lip. There were scores of reasons, though only a few that truly mattered.
After he and Shar had escaped captivity, they’d made their way back to Amnon. They had come to the house he had shared with Anj-el-din to find her gone. They had searched, tracked down rumors, tales, whispers of what had happened. Nothing. Some said she had gone to rescue him. Others said she had died. Yet others reported she had simply left to be alone with her grief. Far-ad-din, her father, had not blamed Indris for what had happened. Neither blame nor vengeance were the Seethe way, though Anj-el-din’s loss had dimmed some of Far-ad-din’s light.
Indris and Shar had traveled to Mediin, the capital of Pashrea, to pursue a rumor that might lead them to Anj.
There were many fallacies about the Empress-in-Shadows. Some scholars theorized she had been driven mad with grief in the final years of the Awakened Empire. The western nations had been lost to the Humans, whose armies were already camped on eastern Imperial soil. Many of her supporters had died in the wars. The scholars of Mediin swore Näsarat fe Malde-ran had not been insane then, nor was she now. She had used her powers to the best of her ability to save the empire she loved, with clear goals in her mind. As the mahjirahn of Pashrea and Mahj of the Awakened Empire, her powers were vast. In her need, she had called upon the powers of Īa itself to preserve her people. The world answered her wish to the letter, if not the intent. The recently dead heard her call and returned from the edge of the Well of Souls. The living for kilometers around were changed, their bodies blasted to phantasms of light and shadow that they might live forever, such was the wish of the empress for them to survive the ravages of the Humans. So it was Malde-ran and her followers became Nomads, wandering spirits. They broke one of the Avān’s most ancient beliefs in order to save those beliefs for future generations of the Avān.
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