The harbor was virtually empty, and the skies patrolled by armored gryphons, and wind-ships flying the colors of the Näsaré. Two squads of gryhon riders intercepted the Wanderer on approach, their shadows wavering on the deck as the great beasts hovered above, sunlight glinting from spear points and armor. The gryphons moved into tight formation, the closest of the armored riders pointing in the direction they wanted the Wanderer to go. They had not traveled far before another squad of gryphons dropped from high above, wings snapping as they slowed their descent to fly alongside and above.
Mari bit back a yell as two of the riders swung their legs over their saddles, and dropped almost three meters to the deck of the Wanderer. The two landed with the clash and creak of armor. They were tall and lean, dressed in cropped coats, with leggings buckled over their trousers. Both carried shamshirs, short recurved bows, and heavy spears with disconcertingly long blades. The two Sky Knights lifted the eagle visors on their helmets to reveal Neva and Yago. Without their riders, the gryphons dropped out of sight.
“They’ll be fine!” Yago gave them a casual wave. “No doubt happy they don’t have to carry us around the sky all bloody day. Truth be told, those damned saddles could be more comfortable.”
“Whine, whine, whine,” Neva said, mimicking a flapping jaw with her hand. Though their smiles were warm, the siblings looked tired. Neva clasped Shar’s and Ekko’s hands in her own, as did Yago. Their appraisal of Mari, Belam, and Sanojé, however, was forbidding. “Have you come here to turn yourself in?”
“Pardon?” Belam asked. His hand drifted to Tragedy’s hilt. The Widowmaker smiled at Neva, whose expression closed down. “We come in peace, if that’s what you mean.”
“Why, thanks ever so much for that!” Neva replied. “But no. I meant what I said, and I mean what I say. A warrant has been issued by the Arbiter-General for the arrest of any members of the Great House of Erebus … and others. I thought you’d come to make my life easy. You are going to make my life easy, neh?”
“Neva, Yago,” Shar said. “Neither Mari, Belam, nor Sanojé are here as prisoners. We’ve come to pledge our support to your father.”
“Little. Late,” Yago retorted. His spear dropped fractionally into something not quite a fighting stance. “You know how it is.”
Ekko glided forward to stand with Mari, enormous and lethal. Shar remained at the pilot’s station, but Mari had no doubt where the war-chanter’s attention lay. Mari flicked a glance at the other gryphons that hemmed them in, as well as the two wind-skiffs with their complement of archers that had joined the procession.
With a surprising calm, Mari unbuckled her weapons harness and laid her two swords on the deck, then stepped away. Belam almost choked in outrage, no doubt believing that they could kill Neva and Yago, then outrun the Sky Lord’s forces. But what would be the point? We came here to help the nation, not what our father intended the nation to be. We’re far from in a prison cell yet, and there’s much we can say to prove our cause.
Ekko followed Mari’s lead, placing his khopesh, bow, and quiver on the deck. Shar gestured to Yago to come and take her weapons.
“Seriously?” Yago asked. “You’re going to make us arrest all of you?”
“We’re not making you do anything, other than that you feel you have to do,” Mari said. “We’re not criminals. Trust me when I say that we can help.”
“You may not have helped the former Asrahn in his most recent crimes.” Neva lanced Belam and Sanojé with a glare. “But your brother and that bitch, among others, most certainly can’t make that claim.”
“Then that’s something we need to discuss with the authorities,” Mari said. “But we all came together, and we’ll all go free together.”
“Or not,” Yago countered.
Mari hoped for the alternative.
Hours passed in the relentless glide of a bar of light from the narrow cell window. There was little sound that filtered to them, for the gaols were in a remote part of the city, accessed by a warren of tunnels and ravines. From time to time the racket of strife reached them. Each time the guards tensed, ready for action, yet were never called to battle. When the sounds dwindled, they returned to their vigil.
“If somebody comes to take vengeance on us,” Belam murmured to Mari, “we’re not in the greatest position to defend ourselves. Good plan, little sister.”
“Next time we’re flying into the capital after our father tries to destroy the nation, you can decide what we do. Sound fair?”
“Sounds fair.”
Stars had long since appeared through the window, with the first colored haze of the Ancestor’s Shroud glimpsed at its edge, when Mari heard approaching footsteps. She nudged the others awake, so that they were all standing when Ajo, Neva, and Yago entered the gaol at the head of grim-faced Sky Knights. Ajo’s face was dark with rage. He paced before the bars of their cell. Mari stood quietly before the fury that emanated from the Sky Lord, and hoped her brother knew better than to crack wise.
“Do you think for a moment,” Ajo said, “that I have the time to worry about the likes of you?” He jutted his chin at Shar, and Ekko. “I’ve no grievance with the two of you, and you’re free to go … No! No arguments. I want you out of this cell.
“As for the Erebus siblings and the witch, you will face charges for your crimes against the Shrīanese Federation.”
“Would you care to enlighten me, Sayf-Näsaré?” Mari schooled herself to calm. “Surely I’ve proven I’ve nothing to do with my father’s schemes?”
“How do we know what you’re capable of?” Neva came close to the bars, and the two women appraised each other. “You’ve not been seen since you left the city with the rahns, and they were forced to march out of the Dead Flat by themselves! We were told that you left with the Widowmaker, the Blacksnake, and his son.”
“I did leave with them,” Mari admitted. She paused for a moment, memories of her incarceration painful. “Jhem and Nadir took me to Tamerlan, where I’ve been the prisoner of the Dowager-Asrahn since the beginning of the year.”
“Convenient,” Yago said from where he leaned against the opposite wall.
“Not as much as you’d think,” Mari shot back.
“And we are supposed to take all this on your word?” Ajo asked.
Mari pressed her face to the bars, and spat at the old Sky Lord’s feet. “When I was here last, I helped save your life. And Vahineh’s. Before then, I defied my father at Amnon, and helped the Federationists thwart his plans. In the Dead Flat, I once more put my life on the line to protect Vahineh. I think I’ve nothing more to prove to the likes of you, Sky Lord. Believe me or not, but your prejudices have no place in determining my innocence.”
“We should hand them over to the Arbiter’s Tribunal for judgment and execution,” Neva said.
“What Mariam says is true, Sayf-Näsaré,” Ekko rumbled. “Every word of it. I fought at Mariam’s side, watched her sacrifice. We lost … we lost close friends, yet never did Mariam’s resolve to do right waver.”
“We were there,” Shar said, “when Morne Hawkwood and the Immortal Companions helped Mari end the Dowager-Asrahn’s reign in Tamerlan. She’d been there since the beginning of the year, her grandmother’s prisoner. You’re wrong to accuse her when she’s given so much, and asked nothing in return from a nation that should be forever grateful.”
Ajo stepped away to confer with Neva and Yago. They spoke for several minutes, while Belam and Sanojé paced the cell nervously. While Mari had not been involved in her father’s recent crimes, neither her brother nor his lover could say the same. Though they had come to Tamerlan to help Mari, and had offered their service to stand against the Asrahn, the truth was they were guilty of Ajo’s accusations. One look at Belam’s tense smile, and Sanojé’s huddled carriage, told Mari that they knew things would most likely not go well for them.
Mari tracked the movement of the guard as he approached the cell door. He gestured for Mari, Shar, and Ekko to move forwa
rd. Belam gave a soft and unsurprised snort, and Sanojé glared like a cornered cat, but neither moved from where they were. Mari dashed back to her brother and hugged him.
“Don’t give up, Belam,” she whispered. “I’ll find out what I can do to save you. Is there anything you can tell me that will help me plead your case?”
“None of the people we abducted are dead, Mari,” Belam said in her ear. “I told Father that we’d hidden them away in some abandoned villas in Maladhi, that some had been killed on his orders. He had long abandoned a path I could follow. We hid those hostages away on a homestead in the mountains behind the Eliom-dei, safe from his impulses and hopefully far from his reach. They’re under cousin Nima’s protection. If the people in his care listened to what I told them, they’ll all be safe and sound, right where we left them.”
Mari’s breath rushed out in a swell of relief. “Once we find the prisoners, it’ll go a long way to establishing your innocence. Or part of it, anyway. Wish me fortune.”
“Self-serving, perhaps, but sure.”
The cell door closed behind her with a clanging finality.
Ajo led the way out of the cells. As they approached the threshold, Mari stopped. The soldiers around her clattered to an undisciplined halt, one of them bumping into her. He apologized profusely, and flinched as Mari patted him lightly on the cheek.
“You’re free.” Neva’s sour tone made her opinion clear. “What are you waiting for?”
“My weapons, and those of my friends, if you’d be so kind.”
“I really don’t think—”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“No, but—”
“Am I being charged with any crime?”
Neva clenched her jaw. “No.”
“Then my request stands on its merits. Weapons. Now. If. You. Please.” Mari smiled insincerely. “Or if you don’t please. I’ll still have what’s mine.”
Ajo gestured and the weapons were returned. Mari buckled her weapons harness on, and bowed her head to Ajo as he gestured for Mari to leave the gaol. The Sky Lord led the way back to the roads and the rippled bowl of Avānweh below.
It was cold and dark outside, the wind sending litter rolling down the streets. Most of the city lights were out, whole sections that had once belonged to factional loyalists so dark it was if a person had daubed the city in thumb strokes of black paint. The procession made its way down deserted streets, occasionally meeting squads of green-coated kherife, or nahdi flying the colors of the allied political factions that remained in Avānweh. Screams, shrill horns, and the sounds of conflict echoed from around corners, and up stairs, and from the terraces below.
“How long has this been going on?” Mari asked.
“Since the tragedy at the Tyr-Jahavān.” Yago’s tone was dejected.
“And what’s my father to say about it all?”
“Nothing.” Neva’s ire was palpable. “Your father hasn’t been seen since. We’ve been betrayed by so many of those we counted as friends of late…” Neva’s smile was grim. “But at least your brother can atone for his crimes.”
“What had Belam to do with any of this? He was in Tamerlan when we deposed our grandmother, and we’ve been at each other’s side since.”
“Be that at as it may, Mari,” the Sky Lord said, “Belamandris and the witch, Sanojé, abducted and murdered dozens of people on your father’s orders. They must stand trial.”
Mari placed her hand on the Sky Lord’s shoulder. He stopped, scowling, but allowed his features to relax before he gazed at her with open curiosity. “My brother hasn’t murdered anybody.”
Neva shook her head in disbelief. “You’re loyal, Mari. And please, despite what you may think, I don’t dislike you. Your House, on the other hand, is a different matter. The Erebus can’t be trusted, and your beautiful brother is a murderer. He makes a mockery of the finest traditions of the daishäri. Why do you defend him, when as a warrior-poet yourself, you should be more outraged than I?”
“Thank you, Neva. Any rudeness I’ve extended to you has been poor of me.” I thought Roshana was trying to marry you off to Indris … “But tell me. Is there a homestead, or villa, in the mountains behind the Qadir am Amaranjin? Somewhere secluded?”
Neva and Yago conferred for a moment, even calling in others of the Sky Knights. After a few minutes it was Yago who said, “Yes. It sounds like there are several in the high plains and valleys behind the city. Why? They’re generally the retreats of middle-caste folk.”
“They’re places you might safely hide people, neh? I take it these villas have access to water, and perhaps places to hunt, or even orchards, rivers, and ponds for forage?”
“Of course,” Neva agreed. “There are also a few hunting lodges and the like, scattered on the far side of the range.”
“Sayf-Näsaré?” Mari could not hold on to her zeal. “May we take a couple of wind-skiffs, or perhaps even a merchant ship, and investigate these places?”
“What are you playing at?”
“Please, indulge me. If I’m wrong, all I’ve done is been a fool, and wasted some time. But if I’m right, you’ll rethink your opinion of my brother.”
It was just after dawn when Ekko and Shar pointed to the homestead perched on the edge of a cliff, almost obscured by a thick copse of snow-laden trees, and the spume from a nearby waterfall. The mountains swept up and away behind it, and a long sloping plain led to a wide valley, dominated by a secluded lake and packed with bare trees. The curtained windows were backlit, casting pools of radiance onto the snow.
Neva guided the merchant ship down for a smooth landing, the Disentropy Spools and Tempest Wheels crackling, sending flashes of pale light all around. Mari inhaled the scent of pine on the cold air, and the wind moaned gently through the trees. A solid bar of gold appeared in the wall of the house as the door was opened. Nima and a squad of his Anlūki, though, not wearing their colors. People milled behind them, young and old and afraid, each of them armed.
The boarding ramp was lowered, and Neva and Yago led the landing party to the house. They carried their torches high, their colors and gryphon sigils plain for all to see. Nima came forward alone, weapon sheathed. He spoke with Neva and Yago for a few minutes, and then gestured for the Sky Knights to follow him.
Ajomandyan joined Mari, his large knuckled hands curled around the gryphon head of his walking stick. The old sayf contemplated Mari for some time before he turned his attention back to Neva and Yago, who were returning from the homestead.
The smiles on their faces told Mari all she needed to know.
Neva and Yago waited silently as the Sky Knights helped those Belam and Nima had saved from Corajidin’s wrath. The people who passed by were in good spirits, well fed and cared for. They bowed their heads to Ajomandyan, who did a head count as they passed. When all of the freed captives were aboard, Ajomandyan and Neva compared their tallies of the freed. True to Belam’s word, none were missing.
“My brother was telling the truth, Sayf-Näsaré,” Mari said.
“Seems to be the day for it,” Yago said.
“He will still need to be punished for the abductions,” Ajomandyan said. “But given the risks your brother took in saving these people from your father’s agenda, I’m inclined to show leniency.”
“Perhaps there are Erebus that can be trusted after all?” Neva said, clapping her hand on Mari’s shoulder as they boarded the flying ship.
Mari took Ajomandyan by the hand as he turned to follow his granddaughter. “Thank you, Sayf-Näsaré. I’ve little family left. I love my brother, and he is a good man … if misguided from time to time.”
“At this point, Mari, we can use all the good people we can get.” He walked up the ramp, cane rapping on the polished wood. “And call me Ajo, my dear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Courage and cowardice are products of necessity.”
—from Truths by Cennoväl the Dragonlord, Sēq Master, explorer, and strategist
D
ay 79 of the 496th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
Agony came and went in step with consciousness. Comfort eluded Corajidin in those rare moments he was able to shift in his bed, pain inhabiting his face, arm and back like the unexpected guest who refused to leave. Day blurred to night, then shredded into day, his world one of sweet oblivion and unwelcome awareness, punctuated by glimpses of those who loomed over him. Corajidin’s mouth was thick with the aftertaste of lotus milk. The Emissary’s potion fired his nerves as if nails were being forced along his veins. Spectral images hovered over him, monochrome shapes with coffin lids for teeth who wore ragged finery and clutched rotting wooden hoops around swirling vortices in their hands. The Soul Traders were ever at Corajidin’s side, sculpted from shadows and the memories of their living years, patient, silent, and watchful. Invisible to all but he.
“What happened?” Corajidin mumbled through numb lips. Half the room was dark, the other etched with shadow. He shivered as he perspired. The reek of putrefaction and old sweat was cloying. There was little to be heard beyond the creak of tent ropes and the faint hum of wind across silk.
“Rest, my Asrahn,” Wolfram said. He tucked the blanket under Corajidin’s chin. His fingers were certain where they examined Corajidin’s face, then down his arm. When Wolfram reached the forearm, Corajidin hissed with pain.
“My arm feels hot.” Corajidin’s arms were too heavy to lift. “My face is itchy and my back feels like it has been branded.”
“You sustained some serious wounds and a worse infection, but you are beyond the worst of it.” Wolfram’s voice was little louder than a whisper. He held a drinking tube to Corajidin’s lips and bade him drink more lotus milk. “Now all that remains is for you to rest, and to heal.”
“Where are we?”
Mēdēya placed Corajidin’s palm against her warm cheek. “After Wolfram found you, we brought you to the Rōmarq.”
“I do not remember.” The lotus milk filled his head with cotton wool, making his limbs feel deliciously warm and heavy. Corajidin caught faint movement about him, yet it was too difficult to keep his eyes open. “What happened?”
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