Kiraj let the warrant fall to the floor, for all the good it had done him. Corajidin smiled at the defeated man.
Now to see whether his allies were worth their weight in gold.
The old clock, with its exposed gears and cogs, chimed in the Tyr-Jahavān. An onyx cat bounded from the mechanism, as the golden and garnet hawk seemed to fly back into its clockwork den on the other side. Another hour marked. Another milestone achieved.
Corajidin sat on his cold spherical chair, his sense of relief so acute it left him feeling fatigued. Beside him Kasraman leaned forward, his expression bland even though Corajidin sensed his excitement.
Corajidin’s nomination for Asrahn had been accepted and the Assembly would vote on the Accession and new government tomorrow. Nazarafine and her allies would work long into the night to prepare for what had become a contested election. Their outrage had been exquisite.
Let tomorrow come, he thought. Fate has been patient long enough.
“AT WHAT POINT DO WE SACRIFICE DOING WHAT WE KNOW IS ETHICAL, FOR THAT WHICH IS MORAL?”
—From Ethical and Moral Conflict, by Yalana Beq-Shef (396th Year of the Shrīanese Federation)
DAY 350 OF THE 495TH YEAR OF THE SHRĪANESE FEDERATION
Across the city the bells tolled the Hour of the Serpent, the seventh hour of the day. The sun emerged from behind the shoulder of Star Crown Mountain, pried loose from the jagged rock so it could continue its arcing journey across the sky.
Indris, Mari, and Shar found Hayden, Ekko, and Omen at a tea house on the shore of the Shoals. The Copper Kettle was a busy place, a favourite of longshoremen, merchants, and mariners. Travellers were common, so a small group could come, go, or stay without attracting attention. It had the added benefit of providing a good vantage point overlooking the busy docks.
The incessant chatter of excited travellers, the clatter of plates, and the sizzle of cooking food drifted around them. Indris settled deeper into his seat, the old hessian cushions crackling as he made himself comfortable. The warmth of the sun felt good on his face, the wooden surface of the table coarse under his fingertips. He inhaled the mingled aromas of tea, bacon, strawberries, and freshly cut lemons.
“What news?” Indris asked as Hayden poured the new arrivals tea from a silver-chased copper pot. Indris cupped the rough tea glass in his hand, waving away Hayden’s offer of honey.
“There were a lot of people found dead this morning.” Hayden slathered butter on to a thick slice of bread still warm from the oven. He was pale, his skin almost grey, eyes red with fatigue, and his hands shook. “Seems there was a set-to between some Mantéan and Atrean Humans, against some Avān filled with the fire of their drink. It weren’t pretty.”
“Not long after Corajidin was acquitted, I take it?” Indris asked as he looked at Hayden with concern. The old drover looked almost at the end of his strength. I forget how old he is, Indris thought. It’ll be sad to see you go, but you’re long overdue the peaceful years you deserve.
“Omen saw some of what transpired,” the Wraith Knight added, “the knives and swords and tempers fired. Many were the ones who fell, bloodied and broken, lost forever to the Well.”
“Sassomon-Omen saw indeed. And then stood in the middle of it as the fighting passed by, talking to a statue on a fountain,” Ekko said, shaking his head slowly with disapproval. “There was also fighting between the retinues of the Great Houses. The worst of it was between Näsarat and Erebus, and their colors. I witnessed your brother, Mariam, in the thick of battle.” Ekko speared a sliver of raw salmon with a claw and popped it into his mouth. “He fought with a terrible fury. On more than one occasion he yelled out for Amonindris to come face him. I had not thought the man bore you such enmity, my friend.”
“I think I should try and speak with him,” Mari said. “Before it goes too far and somebody I really care for is hurt. Belam knows how I feel, and we’ve had this conversation before.”
“His were not the words of a man defending his sister’s honour, Mariam. He acted like a man intending to settle a debt, preferably in blood.”
“I wonder what that’s about?” Indris frowned his confusion. “When we spoke last, I’d told him to go and take care of his father. Better than one of us killing the other. There’s no business between the two of us, as far as I know.”
“Erebus. Näsarat.” Mari’s voice was sad as she covered one of Indris’s hands with her own. “There’s always business between us.”
Silence, save for the rattle of cutlery on plates and the faint sound of chewing. Mari held up her hands, surrendering the idea.
“The people we were tasked to watch, errands a plenty and all in a rush.” Omen’s voice was a sepulchral echo from his ceramic chest “They have worked throughout the evening and night, yet have done naught wrong, look as we might.”
“I figure there’s been about twelve or so ships come and gone under darkness,” Hayden added. “Those as come in last night are still here. We never followed them. There was too much fighting in the streets, and them at the docks seemed edgy as it is.”
“Though the passengers were dressed as common travellers,” Ekko rumbled in his velvet landslide voice, “the carriage of most was that of soldiers.”
“I reckon they’s here to cause a fuss. No way of knowing less we get a look-see at what they’s up to.” Hayden leaned back in his chair, pulling the brim of his hat down lower over his lined brow. “But maybe later? It’s been a long night.”
“We saw much the same at the Skydocks,” Mari said. “It was a veritable who’s who of Shrīan’s entitled villains. All sayfs allied with my father, here no doubt for the vote tomorrow night on the Accession.”
“Corajidin isn’t taking any chances.” Shar leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, chin resting on her steepled fingers. Her pupils were black pinheads floating in orange irises. “From what I understand, Nazarafine was counting on being elected Asrahn uncontested. She would’ve had at least another five years to push the Federationist agenda and open Shrīan’s borders.”
“Under an Imperialist government, Shrīan would become as insular as the old Awakened Empire in the years right before the Insurrection,” Indris muttered. “And that worked out so well for us. The Iron League kicked the Awakened Empire into near oblivion. I can’t imagine them being any less aggressive a second time around. There are plenty of Humans who wish the Insurrection army had wiped the world clean of the Avān.
“Let’s hope it don’t come to that,” Hayden said fervently. He coughed, his torso curling forward around the violence of it. His breath wheezed as he straightened. With a sad smile he looked at his friends. “But I think it’s a fight I’ll be sitting out, no matter what happens.”
“And you’d be the luckier for it,” Shar said, resting her hand on Hayden’s. “But whatever is happening may start here, unless it can be prevented.”
“True words. So what are they smuggling into the city?” Indris asked. “Maybe I should go and speak with the Sky Lord? Or Neva? They should be told what’s happening.”
Mari pointed to the ships. “The people with the answers are there.” Her words almost tripped over each other they were said so rapidly. “I mean, we shouldn’t bother the Sky Lord or his heir unless we have something of value to tell, neh?”
“Let’s go have a look-see.” Hayden’s smile was weak beneath his long salt-and-pepper moustache. He yawned and stretched in his chair.
“I should be walking you to the Skydock and sending you home, my friend.” Indris said gently. “You’ve done more than enough. Certainly more than anybody had the right to ask of you. Maybe you should sit this one out?”
“I’ve some fight in me left, lad.” Hayden waved off Indris’s concerns. “Let Ekko and I go do this thing. We’ll be all subtle-like and back quick as a flash.”
Indris shared a long look with Shar, who shrugged. Indris eyed Hayden. “Clearly you’ve forgotten how well your last side mission went. Remember the Rōmarq? Wh
en I asked you to not chase after Thufan, Belamandris and the Fenling? What happened?”
“We managed to—” Ekko began.
“You managed to get about half the Fenling in the Rōmarq chasing us through their sherdé swamp is what,” Shar said, jabbing a finger in both men’s direction. “I don’t fancy being chased through Avānweh by faruq knows what, because you two see something shiny and get excited.”
Hayden squirmed in his chair, face reddening in embarrassment. “That was different—”
“‘That was different,’” Shar mimicked with an impudent grin. “I’m only going to save your leathery old hide a few dozen times more, Hayden. After that you’re on your own.”
The others laughed. Tea and coffee were poured. They set to the meal of raw salmon, warm flatbread, whipped butter, and bowls of tirhem, a slow-cooked wheatmeal paste with lentils, spiced pork, and lemon juice. They finished with slices of dried fruit, eating as they planned.
“Any questions?” Indris asked.
“Reckon I’ve got it covered,” Hayden said, nodding. “I’ll follow the next group porting cargo from the docks, and find out where they taking their goodies.”
“I’ll tag along with Hayden, all subtle and such,” Shar said around a mouthful of lotus petals.
“I will maintain a watchful eye on the dock.” Ekko added.
“And there it is I will lend my eye, with the giant one of golden fur, unravelling the thought and deed, of nighttime’s dark and suspect curs.”
Ekko moved his chair slightly away from Omen, his eyes fixed on the table. “Amonindris, I am more than capable of keeping watch—”
“None of us work alone, Ekko,” Indris said. “I’ve not forgotten what we talked about, and I need your help to keep watch and make sure we limit the… unexpected. Please, remain here with Omen. Meanwhile, Mari and I will return to the Skydock and see what we can learn there. If we don’t happen across one another before hand, we meet back here at the Hour of the Phoenix.”
“And if we happen across trouble?” Shar asked.
“You have to ask? Just do it quietly.”
Indris and Mari were following a large wagon, creaking under the weight of its cargo, as it lumbered down the Fahz am’a Tayen. It was there they saw Shar and Hayden loitering outside the store of an antique dealer. Hayden leaned in to whisper something to Shar. She stepped into the crowd as it flowed down the Path of the Coins, towards the stair that joined the precinct of the merchant-caste, with the lakeside streets at the base of Sky Spear Mountain. Going for Omen and Ekko, no doubt.
When Shar returned with a silent Omen and a tense Ekko, Hayden led their small group into the antique store. It was mostly empty, yet afforded them a good view of the traffic on the street outside, as well as the frontages of the buildings opposite. Hayden pointed to one in particular.
“That’s the old Maladhi-sûk,” Hayden said quietly. “From what we seen, most of the cargo unloaded from the ships this morning came here. I figure the wagon you was following was one of many?”
“Yes,” Mari said, “though that was the last.”
“And there are no more from the ships at the docks below,” Ekko added.
“The Maladhi-sûk was closed when Rayz and Nix were exiled. Nobody should be there.” Mari leaned close to the glass, looking the building up and down. Indris joined her. Large wooden doors were detailed with sword-wielding spiders made of blackened iron, with iron webs crisscrossing the wood. The red stone walls to either side were carved with nightmare figures of giant spiders, armed and armoured, fanged and clawed, with facets of glass, or quartz, for eyes so they glittered with reflected light. “It’s not a bad place to stay out of sight. If it’s like the other sûks here in the city, it’s a virtual fortress with its own barracks, kitchens, forges…”
“You could fit a lot of warriors in there,” Shar whispered.
“And lots of cargo,” Hayden said.
“The villains have nested, their camp in our sight. What for us now? To leave, or to fight?”
“Fight,” Ekko growled, his tail swishing. He lanced Omen with a stare, his hackles rising. “Provided everybody is aware of their obligations.”
“I agree with Ekko,” Hayden whispered loudly.
“Of course you bloody do,” Shar said.
“We came here to find out what was happening.” Mari turned from the window to face Indris. “That’s not going to happen if we stay here, flapping our jaws.”
“We can use the main door of the sûk,” Hayden said as he paid scant interest to some Kaylish scrimshaw, sea drake bones covered in intricate carving. “But it would be pretty obvious. There’s another door out back. It’s a ways off the main road. We’d need to follow a few rough paths and such to get there without being seen, but it ain’t so hard going.”
“Where’s this other door?” Indris asked.
“At the end of an avenue in a narrow ravine,” Shar said. “Most of the cargo from the docks was delivered that way.”
“The vote for Accession is tomorrow night,” Mari said quietly, “and we still don’t know what they’re up to. It’s now, or we don’t bother.”
“Then it’s now,” Indris said. The others nodded.
Hayden led them along the route he had chosen, taking the rough mountain paths to the back of the academy. The old adventurer was breathing heavily as he walked. Throughout the short trip Indris felt subtle ripples washing across the periphery of the ahmsah. It felt as if he and his friends were fish and a great silent shark swam the depths below them, unseen, though its wake was felt.
Several times Indris gestured for the others to wait while he cast his senses out. They were subtle nets of perception, fanned out to dust the world around them with little more impact than a fallen feather. Yet each time he drew the nets of the ahmsah in, they were empty. Whatever it was that watched them did so with amazing subtlety. The kind that only came with deep intellect.
After climbing down a narrow stair they came to a natural cul-de-sac. There were several large wagons there, all empty. The back door to the academy was nestled in a jagged crevice in the mountain. Hayden crept forward and tried the door, only to find it locked. It was the work of a few seconds for him to unlock it. Wary of detection, for he did not know who or what was inside the academy, Indris gestured for Hayden to wait while his arcane senses seeped through the door to trickle slowly into the empty spaces beyond. Whorls and eddies of disentropy washed against his mind, though nothing that raised an alarm. A sharp nod was all Hayden needed to open the door so they could make their way inside.
Walls, floor, and sharply arched ceiling were of dark red stone, veined with black and polished to a high sheen. Oil lanterns, scented with amber, gave the place a bloody glow. Noise drifted down long corridors. From up sweeping, shadowed stairways. Occasionally a laugh. A shout. A few times the bell of steel on steel reached their ears.
They crept from room to room. Some had surrendered to cobwebs and dust, empty weapon racks powdery with time. Rows of beds were lined against the walls of narrow cells, rope springing pallid as a sagging ribcage. Others showed signs of hasty cleaning and more recent use. Steam rooms were still warm and damp, the mortar between tiles spotted with mould. In another room heat from a recently used forge billowed over them when they opened the door, the floor rough underfoot from spilled carbon dust and metal shavings. Straight swords and shamshirs, long-knives and dagger, axes, arrowheads, and spear blades gleamed cold and new. In another room they found several ornate glass chests, lined with rotted silk. Most of them were empty, though in one were several baroque puzzle boxes. Each of the spheres, triangles, cubes, and hexagonal prisms had been opened. Indris saw the residue of ahm patterns on the puzzle boxes, old Wards for confinement and binding.
“What are they?” Mari asked.
“Dilemma Boxes,” Indris murmured. Tempted as he was to take one, such things were valuable and no doubt whoever owned them would notice if one were missing. Better if the people who inhab
ited the sûk had no idea anybody had broken in. “The Seethe made Dilemma Boxes to trap powerful elemental daemons, too insane to be allowed their freedom. Once trapped the daemon faced the dilemma that it could either remain imprisoned for as close to eternity as it could imagine, or accept the opened door and be bound in servitude.”
“Charming,” Shar muttered.
On several occasions they were forced to hide when roving groups of women and men strode the corridors. They were dressed as members of different castes, freeholders, merchants, and artisans, but they clearly walked like fighters and were deeply tanned from time spent under a more northerly sun. One small group in particular was led by a sallow-faced man with long greasy hair. He spoke rapidly in a nasal voice. He had a Dilemma Box in his hand, the pieces of which he moved with erratic, sharp gestures. His ostentatious over-robe was stitched with overlapping spider webs in silver thread, with silver spiders for buckles. Also amongst the group was a haughty-looking woman who rolled her eyes at the man whenever his back was turned.
“The woman is Ravenet of the Delfineh,” Mari whispered. “The daughter of the Blacksnake. The other is Nix of the Malahdi.”
“An inbred little psychopath by all accounts,” Indris said, his voice equally soft. “Your father would love him.”
“Not if memory serves, no,” Mari replied. “Father had little affection for the Family Maladhi at all. I doubt time has changed his attitude much, from some of the things I’ve heard him say in the past.”
As they trod further into the academy, Indris felt the presence of whatever watched them growing perceptively stronger, though it was still unfocussed. It felt at times as if he was being watched by somebody’s dreams.
Each room they searched showed similar signs of use, either as refurbished barracks, smithies, or storerooms for supplies of food, water, weapons, and armour. One dark stairway led down, though the stench of rot and mould caused them to move on. Indris lingered for a few seconds longer, however, certain he was being watched by something, deep in the darkness. He was about to head down when Mari returned and took him by the wrist, to join the others.
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