“And how are you coping with the mania of being in the Rōmarq?”
“Well enough, Father.” Kasraman smiled. “You can rely on me to do whatever is needful. What we do here ensures the future of our House. Kimiya will do as I command her, and Ikedion is sworn to our cause. He follows my instructions to the letter.”
And there is the rub, my ambitious son. Kimiya does as you say. And the witches, through Ikedion, are your creatures. Your purpose is revealed more than you know. But remember it is I who have to Awaken you to power. Betrayal will profit you nothing.
Aloud, Corajidin said, “Are there any more places we can excavate? Any that are less problematic?”
“We’ve discovered another handful within easy distance. But the Emissary warned me there are parts of the Rōmarq best avoided,” Mēdēya added. “Places even the native inhabitants avoid.”
“And when did she tell you of this?” Corajidin’s voice was neutral. Kasraman looked at Mēdēya speculatively.
“I … it was … shortly after we arrived?” Once more Mēdēya sounded uncertain as to when she had spoken with the Emissary. “Or perhaps in Avānweh, when she spoke of the Feigning and using Mariam as the—”
“That will be enough on that topic, love.” Corajidin felt his chest tighten. Mēdēya’s expression was closed, her attention focused elsewhere. Is it only you there, Yashamin? Is it her who shares our bed? Is it her darker passions we also explore? The thought of them sharing each other’s bodies while the Emissary looked on from behind Mēdēya’s eyes sent a chill down his spine.
When Mēdēya gazed upon him, there was only love, but Corajidin knew too well how easy it was to hide away the lies. Kasraman’s loyalties were also a riddle, the witch’s pupil who may or may not be more than Corajidin’s son.
Corajidin wondered at what point the loyalties of his son and wife would break.
And what he would need to do to them when they did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“War is based upon deception, shrouded in acceptable truths.”
—from The Nature of Conflict, by Kohar san Ankher, Field Marshall of Manté, Third Dynasty of the Ebon Masks (3rd Year of the Shrīanese Federation)
Day 83 of the 496th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
The allies met at the mist-shrouded Lotus House of Avānweh. Their meetings were held in different places around Avānweh. But only after each place had been thoroughly scouted by Indris, Mari, Shar, and Ekko. Prior to the gatherings, Sanojé cast her seeker hex on Nix, an added precaution to ensure he was not nearby when the allied members of the Teshri met.
The Lotus House, a tiered fretwork building of alabaster and red stone, was as much carved into as built from the curving walls of a steep ravine between Star Crown and World Blood mountains. Dark grass bobbed in the rain, the memorial pillars of the Garden of Stones slick. Water collected in streams that carried handfuls of snow down the long stair, to the terraced city streets. The chill downpour made travel precarious and casual visitors nonexistent.
Indris leaned against a wall between two windows, listening to the counselors debate. Hazy bars of wan light shone dully on silver bowls and cutlery, bleaching the crockery. The air was rich with the aroma of porridge and honey, hotcakes and freshly baked flatbread. Tea and coffee added to the comforting scents of a family kitchen. Meeting over meals had given the alliance less formality, with less stress on political agendas, and more focus on the people who comprised the Federation.
He divided his attention between the words coming to his ears and the words flowing across his mind. The counselors’ thoughts shot with rapid intensity, but were not as distracting as the siren call from the World Blood Mountain, Īajen-mar. The mountain, one of Shrīan’s richest sources of the Water of Life, strummed his soul. The Awakening that Indris had paused, but failed to stop, desperately wanted to answer the call, and tried to grow beyond the layers of the mental and spiritual wards he had erected. Indris wanted to succumb. His paused Awakening knew the paths in Indris’s body previously traveled: In Isenandar he had surrendered his physical form in order to learn enough about Awakening to save the rahns. The channels of power in him were changing, and growing. But Awakening did not stop with the body. Like water through the cracks in a wall, it seeped, and pooled. Tried to spread upward through his mind, and from there to his soul. Indris clenched his fist around Changeling’s hilt, drawing what resolve he could from her. There was a faint croon from the weapon, a hint of what she once had been.
Counselor Teymoud huddled in his layers of patterned silks. The many rings on his fingers flashed as he drummed the table. “We’re still outnumbered, no matter what decisions we try to push through the Teshri. Now even more so, since several counselors suddenly changed from supporting our reforms to sharing Corajidin’s worldview. Our former allies now obstruct both State and Crown from any action.”
“Now we’ve returned,” Rosha said, “we’ll ensure the Upper House of the Teshri makes some decisions. There are some actions we can take that the Lower House may not veto.”
“The no-confidence motion won’t get passed.” Ajo smiled acceptance to Neva, who brought him a bowl of coffee, returned from her patrol over the city and its surrounds. She leaned forward to whisper in Ajo’s ear, who stiffened. He whispered back, and she rejoined her brother at the rear of the room. Indris was not comforted by the tension in their postures. Ajo cleared his throat. “Might I suggest that the Upper House call for the motion, second it, but hold off on the vote until we are better represented?”
“You need to focus your attention on what your former allies have become,” Belamandris suggested. “And remove them. That would tip the odds in our favor.”
“What do you mean?” Siamak asked. The huge man had regained much of his former vigor. Osman, Nazarafine’s heir, sat beside him. Nazarafine was still confined to her bed, her health worsening. Osman was proving to be next to useless: The man lacked the common sense the Ancestors gave a stone. But his voice, as Nazarafine’s heir, still purchased decisions in the Teshri—provided he was guided where to vote.
“The Asrahn dealt with the malegangers.” Sanojé did not sugarcoat her words. “I heard Pah-Kasraman negotiate with the woman who had once been Kimiya. And I witnessed his early experiments, in order to blend malegangers with members of the Teshri. They planned to force their capitulation, and drive through the changes Corajidin wanted. I’m uncertain whether he followed through with his plan.”
“It would explain some of the changes in direction we’ve seen,” Ajo said. “And the way in which the Teshri has been recently deadlocked in every vote that doesn’t progress Imperialist policy.”
“Sedefke’s balls!” Femensetri croaked, and her mindstone flared. “Malegangers? Here? Faruq ayo! How did you people let this happen?”
Belamandris frowned. “We’re talking about a man who used Nomads to fake attacks by the Iron League. Who used Nix of the Maladhi to release daemon elementals in the city. My father understands the price of power, and its rewards. My half-brother Kasraman is even smarter, and more ambitious.”
“Belam is right,” Mari admitted grudgingly. “Dealing with my father won’t be enough. We need to cut the heads from all his serpents at the same time, and leave such a vacuum of power that those who fly his colors won’t know what to do.”
“They’ll fall over each other to lead,” Belamandris agreed. “It’s the kind of people Father surrounds himself with. Nix. Tahj-Shaheh. Feyd … the late Jhem, and Nadir, who we have captive. They’re deadly, but deadlier, and more ruthless, when focused on their own interests.”
“We can use all of this to our advantage,” Indris said. He cursed himself for speaking, as the others in the room adopted a respectful silence. It had been this way since he had saved the rahns, all of them turning to him as the leader he had no intention of being. “People—generally—see what they expect to see, which informs thought, cause, and effect. Things that are normal are comforting. We need to ensur
e Corajidin’s inner circle do our work for us, by making them see what we want them to see.”
“How do you propose that?” Neva asked.
“Why don’t you tell us what you told Ajo; then I’ll answer your question.”
Neva and Yago glanced at their grandfather, who bade them speak with a wave of his cane. Neva stepped forward, to find herself standing by herself. She looked over her shoulder to see that Yago had remained where he was, shrugging an apology with his eyebrows.
“We’ve been patrolling further afield,” she said. “There are significant numbers of the Jiharim bivouacked in the mountain passes to the north and east of Avānweh. They’re just off the trade roads north, huddled around small paths and tracks, close to water sources and game. This morning, we saw wind-frigates flying the Kadarin colors unloading heavy infantry, and archers.”
“An invasion?” Osman quavered.
“For the love your Ancestors hold you, relax your scrotum, boy.” Femensetri gave the man a withering glance. “You may live longer, or at least enjoy the time you have more.”
“Father has the largest army in Shrīan,” Mari offered. “Plus the forces he’s wrangled from Martūm, Narseh, and the sayfs. Let alone the nahdi he can afford: Both the Freelancers and the War Party support him. He could split his forces and still have more warriors in the field than we.”
“Let’s deal with one threat at a time, neh?” Indris said. “Neva, what kind of numbers are we looking at?”
Neva and Yago conferred for a few seconds before she said, “Some four hundred of the Jiharim. Perhaps two hundred Kadarin heavy infantry, and another two hundred archers.”
“Not big enough for an invasion,” Femensetri said. “They must be expecting help from inside Avānweh.”
“The ban-kherife?” Padishin guessed. “We believe they’re under Nix’s command, on behalf of Corajidin. There are also Erebus soldiers who went to ground when Corajidin fled, plus the huqdi, and other criminals, that infest the city. Karim and his friends in the Malefacti have a firm hold on the lower-castes, as well as those of the struggling middle-castes.”
“Good chance to rid ourselves of another problem,” Kiraj added. “The criminal element has flourished under Corajidin. The Whisperer Under the Bridge has united many of the street gangs and petty criminals, and made the Malefacti a threat we should deal with sooner rather than later.”
“What forces do we have in the city?” Mari asked.
“As of this morning?” Morne had become their general in Avānweh. “We’ve the seventy Feyassin we could call back to duty; they report to Mari. There are almost fifty Anlūki brought in by Nima, under Belam’s command. Kembe has four hundred of his Tau-se who’ll serve the Näsarat as nahdi, much as they did at Amnon: It gets them around being considered a hostile foreign force. The Sûn have one hundred Sûnguard, and another fifty of the Saidani-sûk warrior-poets. And last but by no means least, there are one hundred and fifteen of the Immortal Companions, all veterans.”
“I have fifty of my Lamenti here,” Bensaharēn added with a smile. “They came aboard my husband’s merchant ships yesterday. Poet Master Tarhin of the Vayen-sûk will join us, and brings a further fifty of his daishäri.”
“My houreh are placed in the city with key clients,” Ziaire said. “They’re not soldiers as such, though they are trained to hold their own when necessary. They also have other means at their disposal for ensuring people are where they should be, or elsewhere if needed. Most importantly we’re confident we know the places the ban-kherife frequent, as well as those who aid them. I can have this information to you before sundown.”
“There are also my Sky Knights, and the local kherife,” Ajo finished. “Another two hundred or so.”
“In excess of one thousand of Shrīan’s most dangerous warriors,” Mari said. “Smart people could do a lot with that.”
It was not a huge force, but the counselors all visibly relaxed as they heard the roll. Most of the warriors in their service were elite, and commanded by Exalted Names. Talk turned to the disposition and numbers of the forces headed south, voices toned with more optimism. No longer the center of attention, Indris strolled to where Shar and Ekko sat. Mari, Belamandris, and Sanojé came to join them.
“When are you going to suggest it?” Indris whispered to Mari.
“Soon. They need to have confidence in what they’re doing. Give them a little time to appreciate what they can work with.”
“Are you sure about this, Mari?” Belamandris asked.
“Of course she’s sure.” Shar nudged Belamandris with her hip. The Widowmaker looked surprised, then smiled at the Seethe war-chanter. Even Sanojé hazarded a grin, her tiny hand creeping into Belamandris’s larger one.
“Mari knows what she’s doing,” Indris said. “I wish I’d have thought of it myself. I intend to follow her lead.”
“And I trust Amonindris with my life, Widowmaker,” Ekko rumbled. “He does not idly allow lives to fall, where there is a chance they can be saved.”
“We’re waiting on one more voice…” Indris locked eyes with Femensetri. She stood among the counselors, who debated the merits of different courses of action. The newly formed political factions worked together. But still they held back from an agreed course of action. Indris, Femensetri, and Ojin-mar had suspected something else would be needed to bring the counselors together. “And here it comes,” Indris said.
“There’s more.” The Stormbringer’s voice cut through the conversation. She put on a contrite expression, almost humble but falling short enough of the mark not to be disingenuous. She was, after all, who she was. “I’ve conferred with the Suret. Though the Sēq and the Teshri are not officially aligned, we’re willing to bring a small number of our Masters, Inquisitors, and Executioners to your aid. We’ll not be serving as Sēq: We will, for all intents and purposes, be daimahjin in the service of the Great Houses, and those of the Hundred Families who offer us contracts.” The room went silent for an extended breath. Counselors looked at Femensetri, then at each other, incredulously. Then their voices filled the space with questions, offers, demands, and denials. Trust was thin on the ground for the Sēq. Femensetri added that there were also soldiers the Sēq could field, ones that would give even the Mahsojhin witches pause.
“Now?” Indris asked.
“Now,” Mari said. He kissed her deeply, took her by the hand, and walked side by side with Mari and their friends to stand before the counselors of the Teshri.
Conversations stopped as Indris waited patiently for silence.
“I agree: We could potentially win a conventional war against Corajidin and his colors,” Mari began. The excitement of the counselors pressed against Indris’s mental shields. It felt like somebody held his brain and squeezed. He centered himself, mustering firmer control. “But we shouldn’t fight on my father’s terms,” she continued.
“What do you suggest?” Siamak asked. “With respect, it is my people who are suffering.”
“And I’m sorrier than you know, rahn. We need to show the people of Shrīan that they are not pieces on a board to be played with, or sacrificed, at the whim of Corajidin. We can win this war quickly, and quietly, with minimal lives lost.”
“How do you propose that?” Ajo raised his brows. “We’ve armies in the field, approaching Fandra as we speak.”
“But days away,” Belamandris countered.
“We’re not committed to a course of action,” Mari said. “We can change direction and save lives.”
“And what direction would you have us take?” Rosha asked tensely. “Corajidin needs to be stopped.”
“He will be,” Mari said. “Through the most expedient legal means at our disposal. A small group of people, who make targeted attacks that isolate and remove his center of authority.”
“We can focus our efforts behind Rosha’s Jahirojin,” Ziaire suggested. It peaked interest around the room. “She declared Jahirojin against the Great House of Erebus, back in Amnon.
It makes her direct action against Corajidin legal. It’s targeted, and wouldn’t require the armies to be involved unless it failed.”
“And yet again, it comes down to a conflict between our two Houses,” Indris said in Mari’s ear. “Promise me that we’ll never be the cause of this kind of hatred?”
“Legally, Jahirojin is strongly linked with Ajamensût,” Kiraj replied. “I think the circumstances are clear enough for the Secretary-Marshall, Kherife-Marshall, and myself to expedite a War of the Long-Knife between the Näsarat and the Erebus. I can see no need for us to undergo a process of application and approval. Provided Rahn-Roshana is willing to—”
“How soon can it start?” Rosha’s voice bordered on the manic.
Mari whispered to Indris, “Were it up to me, there’d be no conflict between us at all.”
“Then change their minds. They’ll listen.”
Indris chewed his lip, listening as the counselors discussed the mechanics of how they might best abide by tradition, and limit the conflict to come. Mari’s plan was bold, but sound. History would not remember this conflict as it had been: That Corajidin had invaded the Rōmarq, those who flew his colors at his side. The Bey rising to their own defense, assisted by an alliance of the Houses and Families. The Kadarins and the Jiharim descending on Avānweh, to be met by the allied forces of the Teshri. It would be remembered as history had so often recorded it: Näsarat versus Erebus.
“History needs to remember that many stood together,” Mari said. “Not behind the colors of two Houses who’ve been at each other’s throats for millennia. No Jahirojin. No Ajamensût. This needs to be something Shrīan settles as a nation. And those who have their eyes fixed on us need to see it that way.”
“You said that we needed a solution that does not endanger the many.” Rosha sounded deflated. “Are you now proposing we go to war, with the loss of life it entails?”
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