Claudia shrugged. “It is not as if I have much choice.”
“Do not be alarmed, Lord Kyracian,” said Kirzi. She seemed in awe of Kylon after he had challenged the Huntress in the Alqaarin Bazaar, and had finally settled on “Lord Kyracian” as the appropriate honorific. “It was a good birth, especially for a first one. Lady Claudia is young and strong, and shall have many healthy children if the Living Flame wills it.”
“Let us hope the Living Flame wills it,” said Claudia. “Kirzi, could you ask Dromio to speak with me? If we’re going to reach Lord Tanzir’s host tomorrow perhaps we could increase tonight’s bread ration.”
“Of course, Lady Claudia,” said Kirzi. She bowed and walked away, still holding her daughter.
“It was fortunate we found her when we did,” said Kylon.
“It was,” said Claudia, “but she was so grateful after you and Caina challenged the Huntress that she would have done anything we asked. I suppose she and her husband are technically slaves, but since we’re about to overthrow the government of Istarinmul, that hardly matters.” She grinned. “That, and you and Caina burned all the Brotherhood’s records when you blew up their mansion.”
Kylon snorted. “That was Cassander’s fault.” His smile faded.
“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” said Claudia.
“Of course,” said Kylon. “If she convinced Murat to sail, they should be nearing Pyramid Isle by now. They might even arrive before Callatas and lay an ambush for him.”
If Caina had gotten out of Istarinmul alive.
“I’m not sure which is worse,” said Claudia. “Facing danger at Martin’s side, or waiting for him to return, knowing that he is in peril and there is nothing I can do to help him.”
“Both,” said Kylon. “I think both are worse.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Claudia. She hesitated. “I used to be terrified of her, you know.”
“Caina?” said Kylon. Claudia nodded. “Why?”
“You know how much she hated sorcerers,” said Claudia. “The only reason she tolerated me was because she was in love with my brother. I knew that if she ever wanted to kill me, she would find a way to do it.” She took a deep breath. “Then I blamed her for Corvalis’s death. Foolish, I know…”
“But you were in mourning,” said Kylon. He knew all about mourning. Andromache’s death had been her own doing, and as much as Kylon had wanted to blame Caina at the time, he had been unable to do so. After Thalastre died, he had blamed himself…but he had also blamed the architects of her death, Malik Rolukhan and Cassander Nilas and the Red Huntress. Rolukhan and Cassander were dead at Kylon’s hand, but the Huntress was still out there.
Perhaps she was following them even now.
“Caina and I been through too much together,” said Claudia. “You were there for some of it. We’ve seen each other at our lowest points.” She shrugged. “And now I trust her completely…”
“So you’re friends now,” said Kylon.
“She’s like my sister,” said Claudia. “My bossy, opinionated, too-clever sister.”
Kylon laughed. “High praise indeed.”
“She’ll come back, Kylon,” said Claudia. “If anyone can come back, she can. I was more afraid of Ranarius than anyone else in the world, and she beat him three times. She faced down a Great Necromancer and the Moroaica herself. If anyone can stop Callatas, she can.”
“I know,” said Kylon. “Thank you.”
But the fear would not leave him.
“A question, if I may,” said Kylon, trying to distract himself.
“Of course,” said Claudia.
“This Master Alchemist Rhataban who is marching with the enemy,” said Kylon. “Do you know him? Tibraim seemed more concerned about him than Grand Wazir Erghulan.”
“I’ve never met him,” said Claudia, “but I’ve heard of him. He has…something of a reputation. He likes to fight.”
“So?” said Kylon.
“The Alchemists generally avoid fighting,” said Claudia. “There’s spells aren’t suited for battle, not the way that yours and mine are. The Magisterium has the battle magi and the Kyracians have the stormdancers, but there is no similar tradition of war sorcerers among the College of Alchemists. They make weapons for others to use. I understand that was their function in the Kingdom of the Rising Sun before the Moroaica destroyed it.”
Kylon nodded. “Like Hellfire.”
“Rhataban, though, is different,” said Claudia. “From what I have heard, he has found ways to use alchemical spells to make himself stronger and faster, and he leads from the front. He’s good at it, too. The only battles the Istarish won against the Empire during the war were battles where Rhataban commanded. Apparently right after the war one of the Alqaarin sultanates – Al-Mhurqat, I think – sent a force to see if Istarinmul was weakened. Of course, the sultan of Al-Mhurqat knew nothing of it.”
“Of course,” said Kylon in a dry voice.
“Rhataban destroyed the force utterly,” said Claudia. “No one made it back alive to Al-Mhurqat. I do know Rhataban’s a supporter of Callatas. He’s has been in Istarish Cyrica for the last year, which is probably why Istarish Cyrica hasn’t joined the rebellion against Erghulan.” Claudia shrugged with one shoulder, Corvalis cradled in her other arm. “If the rumors are true, he will probably be a more dangerous opponent than Erghulan himself.”
Kylon glanced to the north, where the Grand Wazir’s army continued its southward march.
“It seems,” said Kylon, “that we are going to find out.”
###
Six days after leaving Istarinmul, they reached the rebel army of Tanzir Shahan.
The host camped at the very edge of the Kaltari Highlands, the rocky hills rising to the south. The Highlands were hardly lush, but they were cooler than the steppes, and Kylon thought that a welcome relief.
The army sprawled at the foot of the hills, nearly twenty thousand strong. Kylon spotted the banners of the House of Shahan, adorned with the sigil of seven towers arrayed in a ring. There were nearly thirty other banners flying over the camp, bearing the sigils of other noble Houses. Tanzir’s rebellion had drawn more support from the nobles than Kylon would have thought, likely because Callatas and Erghulan had a gift for making enemies. Most of the camp housed Kaltari warriors from the Highlands, the tents adorned with the skulls of defeated enemies that the Kaltari kept as ancestral heirlooms. That was also a good sign. The Kaltari had traditionally provided the backbone of the Padishah’s infantry, and nearly all of the Kaltari tribes had thrown their support behind Tanzir.
“Tibraim, you nomad dog!” said one of the Kaltari warriors guarding the camp, though he grinned. “You’ve found a mob of foreigners!”
“Aye,” said Tibraim. “I’ve news that the emir and his captains must hear at once.” He glanced at Martin’s servants. “Some of these men need rest and water.”
“The quartermaster’s tent is there,” said the Kaltari guard. “Lord Tanzir is on the hill by his personal banner. What news do you have?”
“You’ll hear it soon enough,” said Tibraim, his voice grim.
“Dromio,” said Martin. “Take charge here. Make sure everyone gets fed and watered. Tylas, with me.”
Nasser, Laertes, Claudia, Martin, Tylas, Sulaman, and Mazyan dismounted, and Kylon followed suit. Dromio took charge of the horses, the Imperial Guards and the servants heading towards the quartermaster’s tent. Tibraim led the way through the camp, and Kylon and the others followed.
Tanzir’s personal banner flew from a low hill overlooking the camp, and Kylon saw a small group of nobles meeting there. To judge from their emotional aura, they were in the midst of an argument. As they drew closer, Kylon recognized many of the army’s leaders. Tanzir Shahan himself looked like a plumper and shorter version of his late brother Rezir, though he seemed harder and more confident than Kylon remembered. The Kaltari headman Strabane was a towering giant of a man, scarred and scowling, three
skulls hanging from a leather cord on his belt. Kylon also recognized the mercenary captains Dio and Shopur, leaders of the Black Wolves and the Company of Shopur, and the exiled Anshani anjar Kazravid in his robes of red and black. All three mercenaries had aided Nasser and Caina in some of their more daring enterprises.
The argument fell silent as Kylon and the others approached.
“Tibraim!” said Tanzir Shahan, stepping forward. The emir wore armor of the finest quality, a scimitar waiting at his belt. “What news?” His dark eyes swept over them, widening when he recognized Kylon and Nasser. “It seems you have brought us illustrious guests.”
“More illustrious than you know, lord emir,” said Tibraim. “I present Lord Martin Dorius, Lord Ambassador of the Emperor of Nighmar, and his wife Lady Claudia. I also have the great honor to present Kutal Sulaman Tarshahzon, the last son of the Padishah…and perhaps the rightful Padishah even now.”
Stunned silence fell over the nobles. A few of them went to their knees.
“Then it is time?” said Tanzir at last.
“My friend,” said Sulaman. “Secrecy will avail us no longer. Callatas is ready to work the Apotheosis, and the Grand Wazir marches at the head of an army to crush us. We must fight, both to save our homeland and the world itself.”
Tanzir took a deep breath, his emotional sense bracing itself. “Then let us begin.”
###
As Tanzir, Sulaman, Nasser, Martin, and the Istarish nobles discussed what to do, Strabane drew Kylon off to the side.
“They’ll talk for some time yet,” said Strabane. “Figured you could use a drink.”
“You are indeed a generous man,” said Kylon as the Kaltari headman passed him a clay mug filled with beer. He thought the Kaltari beer only indifferent, but after six days crossing the Trabazon steppes, he would not complain. “Thank you.”
Strabane snorted. “You saved my life from those devil-worshippers at Shaman Hill. You can drink my beer and feast on my bread whenever you wish. Besides, we were both gladiators. Those of us who have survived the fighting rings of Istarinmul have to stick together.”
“Truly,” agreed Kylon, taking another drink.
“Ah, Lord Exile.” Kazravid joined them. “Strabane, you surprise me. You are sharing your beer?”
“With him,” said Strabane. “You can pay for yours like everyone else.”
“Savage,” said Kazravid without rancor. His black beard and hair were oiled in the Anshani fashion, his patterned robes of red and black pristine, but Kylon had seen firsthand just how skilled the exiled Anshani anjar was with his bow. “Well, we have risen up a bit in the world, haven’t we? If Tanzir succeeds and puts his new Padishah upon the throne, perhaps I’ll be made a hakim or even a wazir.”
“So long as he does not put you in charge of the treasury,” said Strabane. “You’d steal it all.”
“I would steal a reasonable amount,” said Kazravid. “Lord Exile, I wish to ask a question.”
Kylon nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Master Ciaran,” said Kazravid. “He is truly a woman?”
Strabane snorted, and Kylon almost smiled.
“Truly,” said Kylon.
“Strabane insisted,” said Kazravid, “but I didn’t believe him. I saw Ciaran with stubble. Is she a bearded woman?”
“No. It was makeup,” said Kylon. “She has a gift for disguise.”
“She must,” said Kazravid, shaking his head with bewilderment. “To think I offered to buy Ciaran a whore! No wonder he…well, she never seemed interested. By the Living Flame! My head spins with it.”
“Surprised me how pretty she was,” said Strabane, “once she’s wearing proper women’s clothing.”
Kazravid snorted. “I doubt that. She is probably some terrifying frigid harridan, or a termagant with…”
“Careful,” said Strabane. “She’s also the Exile’s woman.”
Kazravid blinked several times.
“I see,” said Kazravid. “Do forgive my hasty words.”
Kylon inclined his head.
“But I will say this,” said Kazravid. “I’ve seen the kinds of plans she spins, and you are a braver man than I, sir.”
Kylon wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but a call from Nasser saved him from the need to answer.
“Lord Kylon!” said Nasser. “A moment of your time, please.”
Kylon finished the cup of beer and walked back up the slope of the hill to the nobles. They had gathered around a long wooden table holding maps of the Highlands and the steppes. Tanzir stood at their head, his hands resting on the table. He might never have led men in battle before, but he was taking to the role well.
“Lord Kylon,” said Tanzir. “We have a problem, and I hope you can help with it.”
“If I can,” said Kylon.
“The army must march today,” said Tanzir. “It would be best to fight Erghulan upon the steppes. That will give both the nomads and our heavy cavalry room to maneuver. However, I would have preferred to remain here until one more person joined our host.”
“Who?” said Kylon.
“The Emissary of the Living Flame,” said Tanzir.
Caina had told Kylon about the Emissary. She dwelled in Silent Ash Temple in the southern Kaltari Highlands, attended by an order of monks. The followers of the Living Flame were a fractious lot, divided into different sects, but almost all the sects agreed that the Emissary was truly a messenger of the Living Flame. Caina had said that she possessed the sorcerous power of foretelling, and that anyone could ask a question of her and receive a true answer. She had also given Caina the valikon that Kylon now carried, appointing her the weapon’s custodian.
“You sought her out?” said Kylon.
“She contacted us,” said Tanzir, “and announced that she would join us as we put a new Padishah upon the throne.” He looked at Sulaman. “Evidently she foresaw your coming.” His gaze swung back to Kylon. “The Emissary is held in great fear and esteem by the people of Istarinmul, much as I imagine the Surge is respected among the Kyracian people.”
“Yes,” said Kylon, the old anger echoing inside of him. The Surge had warned him about the nagataaru…but she had failed to warn him about the Huntress. She could have warned him about the Huntress, but she had not. Perhaps she had withheld the truth for her own inscrutable purposes.
He wondered if the Emissary was a woman of similar character as the Surge.
“She will arrive any day, and we planned to march as soon as she did,” said Tanzir. “However, we must depart …”
“So you would like me to find the Emissary and bring her here,” said Kylon.
“There is more, Lord Kylon,” said Nasser. “Some of Tibraim’s scouts spotted a band of horsemen heading into the Kaltari Highlands. We suspect that either Erghulan or Rhataban has realized the danger and sent men to kidnap or kill the Emissary of the Living Flame.”
“If they do, they will inflict grave damage to our cause,” said Tanzir. “If Erghulan takes the Emissary captive, he can claim that she has thrown her support to him. Worse, if he kills her, he can cast the blame upon us. Either outcome would be disastrous. Most of our men are followers of the Living Flame and hold the Emissary in reverence. Some of them have even made the pilgrimage to Silent Ash Temple to speak with her. We cannot let her fall into the hands of the enemy…”
“And this is exactly,” said Kylon, “the kind of task Callatas would send the Huntress to perform.”
It made a great deal of grim sense. The Red Huntress had threatened to kill everyone at Silent Ash Temple during her confrontation with Caina. Kylon knew the spiteful creature would kill the Emissary and her monks if the opportunity presented itself.
“Lord Kylon,” said Sulaman, “we have no right to command you. But if the Red Huntress comes for the Emissary, you are the man best equipped to fight her. Will you do this?”
His hand hitched to grasp the valikon’s hilt.
“Yes,” said Kylon.
Cha
pter 9: Relics of Maat
Sanjar Murat’s prediction proved correct.
The Sandstorm made good time, the prow slicing through the waves in a spray of white foam. The weather was bright and clear and windy, and the sails billowed. Between the current and the wind, the ship made good time, and Murat revised his estimate, saying they might arrive at Pyramid Isle a day sooner than he expected.
That was the first good news Caina had heard in a while. Their best chance of stopping Callatas was to ambush him and kill him before he noticed their presence. If they could reach the island before the galley and lie in wait, they had a better chance of arranging a successful ambush.
Come to think of it, an ambush was their only chance of overcoming him.
“The beach,” said Caina on the morning of the fourth day.
She, Annarah, and Morgant stood on the bow, leaning against the railing. At Caina’s instance, they always stayed within earshot of each other. She did not think Murat planned treachery. He had kept his word to Nasser during their previous journey to Pyramid Isle, and he had not betrayed them since. Nevertheless, Caina thought Murat had a great deal in common with a shark. If he smelled opportunity, he would attack.
Best not to give him that opportunity, then.
“What about the beach?” said Annarah.
“We will have to kill Callatas on the beach,” said Caina. “Before he can enter the jungle.”
“More cover in the jungle,” said Morgant. His manner was crisp, with much of his usual rambling rudeness absent. Caina wasn’t surprised. They were discussing his business, and his business was killing.
And Morgant the Razor was very good at it.
Caina shook her head. “If he goes into the jungle, he’ll be within the power of Kharnaces. You remember all those warding stones circling the jungle? The ancient Iramisians raised the stones to keep Kharnaces bound within his tomb after the rest of the Great Necromancers imprisoned him on the island.”
“The warding spells have decayed,” said Annarah. “Once the loremasters used to visit the island to renew the spells, but Iramis burned a century and a half ago. I suspect that Kharnaces has been attacking the spells, seeking to break them.”
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