Blades of the Old Empire

by Anna Kashina

  He glanced around the camp again and finally spotted the man he was looking for. Mai was sitting alone at the edge of the shadows, his black-clad shape blending with the darkness of the forest behind. His position gave him the best view of the King’s tent. The Diamond was relaxed, graceful like a cat curled up after a successful hunt. His staff lay next to him on the ground, its polished wood reflecting the light of the distant campfire.

  Egey Bashi made his way over, and lowered to the ground next to the Majat. Mai turned and gave him a calm look.

  “So,” the Keeper said. “How did you do it, Aghat?”

  “Do what?”

  “Break out of their power. You’re the second Diamond who was able to resist them. I want to know how.”

  Mai smiled. “Why don’t you ask Kara? She was the first, right?”

  “I’m asking you,” Egey Bashi said, “because I saw you do it, Aghat. They had disabled you before. They almost killed you this time, but you still didn’t hesitate.”

  “How do you know I didn’t?”

  Egey Bashi didn’t respond. In the ensuing pause, he started to wonder if Mai was going to speak again.

  “You said it yourself, once,” Mai said at length. “The key to resisting their power is focus. I focused, that’s all.”

  Egey Bashi continued to look at him. “It’s hardly that simple, Aghat. You knew what you were up against. You stepped into that room knowing what they were going to do to you. The only thing you didn’t know was whether or not you could overcome it, did you?”

  Mai’s gaze wavered. “No.”

  “And yet, you still went out there. Why?”

  Mai smiled, but his eyes were in shadow. “I thought I told you. I had no choice. There was no one else in that room who could get to her on time.” His words died out into stillness as he sat, looking into the distance.

  The Keeper peered searchingly into his face, but he couldn’t read anything behind the calmness.

  “From what I heard about the Majat,” he said, “I know that to get your high ranking you must have a very focused mind.”

  “Among other things.”

  Egey Bashi nodded. “A Diamond Majat can offer more resistance to the Kaddim Brothers than anyone else. I’ve seen it myself when they tried to disable Aghat Raishan. And yet, his incredible training still wasn’t enough. It takes additional focus to overcome their power.”

  Mai leaned against a tree. “Is there a point?”

  Egey Bashi looked into his eyes, trying to force his way past the tranquil expression, smooth like a mirror surface of the water.

  “It’s because of the way you feel about her, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

  Mai kept his silence.

  “Your focus,” the Keeper insisted. “It has to come from a very deep feeling that goes far beyond your training. You knew you had to overcome their power to save her, just like she, before, knew that she must resist them to save Kyth. Only this urge, on top of your training, could have made each of you immune to their powers. A Diamond in love.”

  Mai’s gaze glinted like a steel blade flicked out of its sheath. The change was so sudden that even though the Majat didn’t move a muscle, Egey Bashi backed off, words freezing on his lips.

  “Did it ever occur to you, Magister,” Mai said, “that some things in this world are simply none of your business?”

  Egey Bashi smiled. “Occasionally, Aghat. But not this time.”

  Ellah sat alone by the fire looking at Mai’s distant shape. He was sitting on the ground at the edge of the camp, talking to Egey Bashi. The conversation lasted a while. Then the Keeper got up and walked off, leaving the Majat all by himself.

  She hadn’t spoken to Mai since they caught up with Kyth and Kara in the Or’halla Grasslands. Back then, he had been so attentive to her that she believed against hope that he really cared for her. But since that time they had never been alone again. With all the things that had happened, there was little chance for it, but she also sensed a change, as if he was no longer seeking her company. It was as if a page in his life had turned, leaving her behind. It hurt to think like this, but how else could she explain the way he was of late, friendly but distant, never approaching her without reason or spending enough time with her to have a conversation.

  She heard a rustle and raised her gaze to see Odara Sul. The Keeper came up and lowered herself on the ground.

  They sat for a while, staring into the fire. Odara’s dark eyes studied her intently.

  “So,” she said at length. “He doesn’t play with you anymore, does he?”

  Ellah turned to her as suddenly as if she had been slapped. The look in Odara’s eyes was so unsettling that the harsh words she was about to utter froze on her lips. She wanted to get up and run away, but Odara’s knowing expression told her this was exactly what the Keeper expected her to do. She forced herself to keep her ground, giving Odara a challenging look in return. After a moment, the Keeper’s gaze softened.

  “You don’t have to act tough with me,” she said. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

  “Why did you say it then?”

  “I’m trying to teach you not to fool yourself. This is the first thing a Keeper needs to learn.”

  “I am not a Keeper,” Ellah retorted.

  Odara shrugged. “True. Even the Initiates of the Outer Circle are smarter than you.”

  Ellah measured her up and down with her eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  Odara smiled. “Mother Keeper wants to know if you have decided to continue your training. I believe it’s a waste of time to train you, but she seems to think you have potential.”

  Ellah hesitated. Something in this woman’s pale, beautiful face, in these dark, almond-shaped eyes that looked at her with such an unsettling expression, continued to hold her, despite the insulting things the Keeper had said.

  “Why do you think it’s a waste of time?” she asked.

  Odara moved her face closer to Ellah’s. “Because you can’t control your gift unless you first learn to control yourself.”

  Ellah raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

  “Mother Keeper and I both told you what we think about Aghat Mai,” Odara went on. “We told you that he can’t possibly be interested in you. But you didn’t believe us. You thought you knew better. And now, you sit here torturing yourself with doubts, when all you have to do is simply go and find out.”

  “Find out? How?”

  Odara smiled. “Easy. You can ask him. A Keeper would do just that.”

  Ellah stared. What Odara Sul was suggesting was impossible. A girl didn’t just go and ask such things of a man.

  “I’m not a Keeper,” she said again, trying to hide the indecision in her voice.

  “Not yet.”

  Odara’s eyes taunted her. They also beckoned. Ellah had never noticed before how deep they were, their bottomless glow opening up such an abyss of knowledge that she felt her head spin just by taking a glimpse.

  She hesitated. “I don’t think he’ll tell me.”

  Odara’s full lips folded into a mocking expression. “I think you’re afraid.”

  Ellah held another pause, then slowly got to her feet.

  Mai smiled, watching her approach. She felt naked under his gaze, a feeling made worse by the way Odara Sul’s eyes bore into her from behind, with such intensity that she could feel it from all the way across the camp. She did her best to look relaxed.

  “May I sit down?” she asked.

  He nodded. She lowered herself in front of him, so that their faces were level.

  “So,” she said after a pause, her voice just a touch higher than normal. “You’re really twenty-four, aren’t you?”

  He looked at her with surprise, but behind it was acknowledgment that indicated to her that he knew exactly what she was getting at. It bothered her that he didn’t look in the least bit uncomfortable about it. He seemed at ease as he sat in front of her, the air of calmness around him thick like an invisi
ble armor.

  “Yes,” he said.

  She looked at him searchingly. She really didn’t want to continue, but there was no going back now. She had to find out, once and for all.

  She took a deep breath. “That time we talked, when you tested my power. You told me one truth, about your age. You also said one lie, about how many people you killed.”

  “Yes.” He smiled.

  “What about the third thing? The one about caring?”

  His bold, direct look was unnerving. She quivered under it, feeling exposed as if he was able to see through her.

  “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

  She hesitated. She could turn and run away now. If she did, she’d never have to hear him say it. She’d never have to know that he didn’t really care about her, that what he had said that time was a lie. But if she ran away now, she’d never learn the truth. She would never be a Keeper. Not that she ever wanted to be, but to think that she couldn’t even face the truth about something so important to her…

  “Yes,” she said.

  The smile faded on his lips. “It was the real test. It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth either.”

  She stared. That wasn’t what she expected him to say. In fact, she wasn’t exactly sure what he was saying to her.

  “What do you mean?”

  He shifted in his seat. His calmness was unbearable. She wanted to see him unnerved, or at least a little bit bothered, but he was easy and relaxed, as if this conversation wasn’t anything beyond the usual.

  “I care,” he said. “Just not the way you want me to.”

  She looked at him, the meaning of his words struggling to settle in her head and not quite succeeding.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “You’re a great person, Ellah,” he said. “You are smart, and talented, and very brave. If I could have this kind of a bond, I would have liked to be your friend. But it could never be more.”

  She looked into his eyes searchingly. There was no laughter in their depth. He really meant it.

  She felt dumbfounded. This simply couldn’t be. She loved him, more than she could ever love anyone in the whole world. And he– he’d said that he cared for her. He said it wasn’t a lie. It had to be the truth.

  It was even worse because in the depth of her heart she knew he was going to say just that. Inside, she’d always known that Odara Sul and Mother Keeper were right. A man like him could never fall in love with a girl like her. Behind his dazzling looks, he was a ruthless killer, who put his deadly skill before everything else. He had been using her while it suited his purpose. And now, when it was over, he didn’t want her anymore. He couldn’t even allow her to be his friend.

  She sat for a moment, looking at him, feeling all the bitterness inside her rise into her eyes with the itch of unshed tears. She wanted to hate him, but couldn’t. The look of his blue-gray eyes as he held her gaze, made her feel so warm inside, even if its deep intensity and the special inner glow weren’t really meant for her. Perhaps some day, when all of this was over, they could still become friends. Despite everything he said, perhaps he could even change his mind about becoming more.

  She stopped herself. Thinking like that meant fooling herself, and she would never do that again. She had fooled herself enough chasing this fantasy, despite everything Mother Keeper had told her. If she ever wanted to pursue the dizzying knowledge she saw in the depths of Odara Sul’s gaze, she had to learn to control herself and face the truth. She was going to do it, even if it shattered her heart.

  “Tell me something,” she said.

  There was genuine surprise in Mai’s face this time.

  “Tell you what?”

  She thought about it. “How old were you when you got your Diamond ranking?”

  He held her gaze, recognition dawning on his face as he realized what she was doing.

  “Nineteen.”

  She looked at him, her mind filling with a deep blue color.

  “It’s the truth,” she said.

  Then she got up and walked away.

  52

  SPIDER COUP

  The nine seats around the council table were spaced so evenly that there seemed to be no possibility in accommodating an additional, tenth seat. Yet, it took Ayalla no more than a glance to send the servants scurrying, pushing the heavy ornate chairs out of the way to make room for a tangled chair-like contraption that seemed to be watching the activity in the room from the deep darkness of its woven branches. Evan suppressed a shiver as he saw it approach the table without any visible aid, positioning itself exactly opposite his chair, between the tall, lean seats of the two religious orders. A silent escort of Mirewalkers, led by Garnald and Alder, followed behind, planting themselves at the chair’s back as Ayalla took her seat, her spider dress rustling about her.

  Evan leaned back in his chair, watching the council members and their entourage take their places around the table. Some groups were so large that they barely fit behind the backs of the chairs they attended, including little Princess Aljbeda’s seat, whose tall ornate back decorated with a red and gold lion of Shayil Yara harbored a full set of colorful Olivian ladies. Tanad Eli Faruh’s place at her right elbow was prominently empty. Evan had used his authority to temporarily relieve the Olivian of his duty until his fate could be decided by Queen Rajmella herself. Instead, the place at the Princess’s left side was now filled by a thin man with straight white hair and dark skin crumpled like a piece of old parchment – her teacher, Ravil El Hossan. His deep purple eyes held an alert and guarded expression, reminding Evan of the rumored wisdom and influence of this man, who had been single-handedly responsible for developing the Princess’s incredible composure, knowledge, and the ability to hold herself far beyond her years.

  A prominent gap in the royal gathering was obvious on Evan’s left side, where the occupant of the green and gold chair carved with the Illitand’s rivergull looked quite a bit smaller and more refined than Lord Daemur’s imposing shape. Lady Celana graced her family seat with the quiet air of one well aware of her birthright, yet modest enough not to make it too obvious. Her smooth, porcelain face was calm, eyes surveying the gathering with an unreadable expression.

  It had been a hard decision to exclude Daemur Illitand from this gathering. Evan was aware that sooner or later he would have no choice but to forgive the Duke, pretending that his entire adventure in the Illitand castle was no more than a ploy by a clever and evil enemy. Both he and the Duke knew how true this really was, but neither was willing to dwell on it for the sake of royal tradition in the kingdom and the future prospects of the two families.

  Evan glanced at Kyth, seated in the Dorn family chair opposite Lady Celana. The Prince paid no notice to the royal lady’s hopeful glances, his vision directed inward to the silent shape of Kara, who stood behind his chair next to Raishan. She wore no mask or armband, stripped of her Majat regalia, and that absence of distinction in itself made her slim black-clad shape ominous and menacing. For the moment, Evan could think of no better protection for his son. He hoped this status quo could remain until they dealt with the enemy once and for all, and that no drastic measures from her Guild would leave his son vulnerable. If only Kyth didn’t care for the girl more than a crown prince should care for his bodyguard. Evan looked away.

  Mother Keeper’s suite had a new addition. Ellah stood behind her chair next to Odara Sul, dressed in a white robe that resembled the Keepers’. Only the absence of the lock and key emblem on its left shoulder indicated her apprentice status. The thrown-back hood revealed the girl’s pale, determined face, her hazel green eyes fixed firmly on the smooth table surface. She deliberately avoided looking at Mai, standing behind the King’s chair next to Brother Bartholomeos.

  Perhaps the most drastic change in the council’s chamber was at the chair to Mother Keeper’s left, an ancient seat marked by the chipped image of a black stallion galloping along the plain. The Cha’ori seat, the focus of th
eir worries and hopes, now housed Dagmara, an impassive middle-aged woman with slanted, all-knowing eyes. A large group of the Cha’ori warriors crowded behind.

  The High Council was in full assembly. Evan couldn’t believe that they had actually pulled it off. Everything was ready for the Reverend Cyrros to make his appearance.

  As the last council members settled into their seats, the doors to the Council Chamber rolled open, letting in a procession of robed men. Cyrros solemnly crossed the hall toward the table, throwing an uneasy glance at Ayalla, the crawling mass of spiders of her dress within easy reach of his narrow, armless chair.

  “Welcome, Reverend,” Evan said. “I am overjoyed to have you join this historic gathering, at which every council seat is occupied.”

  Cyrros pursed his lips, his eyes darting from Ayalla to Dagmara. “I am duly impressed by this show, Your Majesty. However, I could not help noticing that some of these seats are taken by those who have no right to them.” He paused his eyes on Kyth, then looked at Lady Celana.

  “The Lady of Illitand is here in place of her father, who has been temporarily indisposed.”

  “Conveniently so,” the Reverend murmured.

  “Anyone else’s seat you’d like to contest, Reverend?”

  Cyrros raised his hands and pushed the hood off his face.

  Pulsing waves of power crept through the hall. They crept straight into the head, making it hard to concentrate.

  “You think your pathetic assembly can contest the power of the Church?” he heard Cyrros say.

  Struggling to remember what they were going to discuss, Evan looked around the table, meeting the same confusion in the others’ eyes. His gaze was inadvertently drawn to Ayalla. He wasn’t sure why she seemed so important to him. She was obviously powerless against whatever was going on because she made no move to resist, her gaze holding the quiet curiosity of a teacher, interested to see how a group of children was going to get out of a difficult situation they created.