Yatrin cleared his throat, desperately looking around the office, seeking anything but the growing red stain upon the carpet. “The suturers believe the Council will survive, given the proper joining ceremony. But—” Yatrin paused, shutting his eyes, “you’ve been summoned to a general assembly, so that matter’s beyond our attention. The urban units are cordoning off the city.”
“Let’s go,” Anna whispered.
“Give me your blade,” he said. “I’ll show the others what I’ve done.”
“Yatrin.”
“There’s no time to debate. You’re needed.”
Anna numbly drew the blade from its sheath and extended it to Yatrin, nearly dropping it as it changed hands. “I need you to be all right.”
He took the blade and examined the body, every breath withering him further. His jaw shifted in a strained rhythm. “All we can do is be strong.”
* * * *
By the time Anna and her designated guard unit arrived at the central garrison, the storm had somehow thickened into an even more brooding swell. Everything beyond the assembly chamber’s reinforced windows was murky blue, rolling out to the sea in curtains of dark fog, sparsely pierced by the pale beams of the Chayam engineers’ spotlight lanterns. There was a constant battering on the roof, and an occasional gale wind that sent the urban units scrambling to secure the doors.
She watched the war ministers and Chayam senior officers squirming in their seats around the ringlike assembly, bickering and snapping at one another, some growing flush with anger and others resigning themselves to hunching over paper-littered podiums.
Fear was the most punishing storm of all.
On either side of her were officers from her own ranks—Tarusa, a Jilal marchblade, and Rashig, an Alakeph veteran appointed in Mesar’s stead. Their presence did little to quell Anna’s concerns. There was a general sense of unraveling in the city: baseless raids in the lower districts, checkpoints at every intersection, a complete shutdown of the citizen kator and capsule networks, curfews enforced at the barrels of ruji. And it would only worsen with time.
“I wasn’t responsible for the entry allowance,” one of the gray-bearded ministers shouted, his flatspeak surprisingly eloquent for such a situation. “That fault rests with you, Ga’mir.”
Language had been a point of contention when Anna first arrived, but with the influx of foreign officers, the shift had been one of necessity over courtesy. There was simply no time to repeat the same sentiments, especially for the benefit of outsiders.
“This transgression is unprecedented,” Ga’mir Ashoral replied, pausing for a calm sip of her mint-tinged water. “Even the southern clans have arrived at our tables with earnestness and sincerity. I cannot read the spark in men’s hearts.”
“You allowed them to meet directly with the Council,” a stocky, flat-nosed minister said.
The ga’mir nodded. “It was the Council’s desire. Would you dare to refuse its instructions?”
“We nearly lost that chance,” the gray-bearded minister spat.
A rash of heated Orsas broke out, fed by six ministers and officers as they pointed fingers and tapped their podiums fiercely. Unlike in Rzolka, there was no presiding force, no arbiter to rein in the pecking birds.
Anna folded her arms, briefly meeting Tarusa’s milky right eye.
“This time would be better spent arranging columns,” Tarusa whispered beneath the din. Her hair was knotted into long, thick dreads, banded with gold and silver rings. She looked more out of place than Anna felt. “What do they hope to achieve?”
Anna shrugged. “If they don’t settle soon, columns will be a token gesture. Evacuation will be the only possibility.”
“To where?” she huffed. “Kowak? The Charred Strand? This world is aflame, Kuzalem.”
There was nothing she could say to the truth.
Far across the assembly hall, a runner made his way to Ga’mir Ashoral’s side and whispered into her ear. The officer’s face flickered between surprise and outrage, finally coming to rest with a bitter pall.
“Be silent,” Ga’mir Ashoral shouted, cutting down a large swath of the frenzy. “I’ve received word that the Council has come to a stable rest, and has joined with four members of the state. Its newest orders will be dispatched within the hour. All of the inducted honorees were taken from the state’s contingency rosters.” Murmuring rose up around the assembly. “One foreigner has also been inducted.” She allowed an expected round of shouts and objections to rise up and fall away. “Mesar, the preeminent commander of the Alakeph, has become one with the Council.”
Anna grimaced at Rashig, but the Alakeph fighter’s disbelief was even more visceral than her own. She glanced sharply around the room, taking in the hateful stares and jeers of the assembly’s leaders, certain that she must’ve misheard the officer’s announcement. One with the Council. When it became clear that the news was reality, not just conjecture, her shock hardened to fury. “On whose orders?” she called out, casting her frayed voice across the hall.
Ga’mir Ashoral’s face remained placid. “The nature of their arrangement was not submitted for our dissection.”
“Was he forced into this?”
“A joining is not forced,” she replied. “It is an honor one seeks.”
“Heresy!” the gray-bearded minister howled. It was joined by similar remarks from around the ring, the languages swinging erratically from flatspeak to Orsas and back again, all the while communicating rage.
It was all too much. Anna pushed her chair back and stood, gazing out at the crowd of wrathful, scared animals. Whatever words she attempted to speak would be lost beneath their mewling. Moments later, however, the assembly’s attention fell upon her, and the noise came to rest on its own. “This joining was done on Mesar’s own accord, and I know nothing of it. But we may not have the luxury of another hour to cast reckless blame. This attack was not an isolated incident, and anybody who believes it to be another mere warning is horribly misguided. This is how Volna has chosen to declare war.”
Whispers and shushing and scoffs rippled through the assembly.
Ga’mir Ashoral laced her fingers together upon her podium. “Outsiders have never dictated the path of the state, Kuzalem. You are here as a courtesy.”
“Outsiders are preparing to topple your state,” Anna shot back. Thunder rumbled outside, but nobody dared to refute her point. “Make no mistake—war is upon you. Have you sent word to the prey communities, or those along the peaks?”
A patchwork of muttering and averted glances gave her a reply.
“Whatever warnings we dispatch now might not be enough,” Anna continued. “But every second of delay will mean another casualty. I’m prepared to offer the Nest for the use of evacuations, but they must begin now.”
“Evacuations?” an older minister snarled, her emerald eyes flashing up like needles. “What hope does it inspire among our people to uproot them from their homes? The state is every tract of land as much as its people. This is without basis.”
Anna could hardly believe her words, let alone the cries of assent. “Volna’s columns are poised to strike at least ten cities within a week, perhaps sooner.”
“Land and spirits,” Ga’mir Ashoral said calmly. “The two sustain one another.”
“How easily said from the furthest reaches of Nahora,” Anna said.
The officer raised a brow. “Any true citizen would be eager to die in defense of the state.”
“Then you can sleep calmly tonight,” Anna said, “and marvel at the ashes carried by the eastern winds.” A thick, uneasy silence descended over the hall. “Begin the evacuations, mobilize your columns, and prepare for the worst. If you choose to stay your hand, then I’ll have nothing further to say. The Nest is my people’s place of retreat. You have only the tide.” Nodding to Rashig and Tarusa, Anna walked away from th
e table. Their shouting resumed just after she exited through the archway.
Halfway down the main corridor, which was crowded with scurrying officers and marble busts of venerated war heroes, Khutai emerged from the mass. He was panting, yet moving with long, steady strides, his brow and lips set in a concerned scowl. “Kuzalem, your presence is needed.”
“What’s the matter now?” Anna asked harshly.
“The Chayam are seeking you,” he explained, glancing about with caution. “They say the Council demands an audience.”
“Did you know about Mesar?”
He squinted. “What about him?”
“Nothing,” Anna said. “Is Yatrin at the garrison?”
“No.” There was a guarded edge in his voice, almost as though preparing to be struck. “I’ve assumed command over his unit for the time being. Jenis is presiding.”
She could sense the words unspoken. “Where is he, Khutai?”
“They’ve taken him to Gal Asur.”
Chapter 12
The Council’s chamber was a beating heart, spastic and smeared in crimson. A thick membrane of weavesilk covered the blasted-out gap, flowing back and forth with the storm’s gusts, swarming with the dim shapes of Azibahli as they continued their work around its edges.
Any veneer of ritual sacredness had been cut away from the darkened space. Now it was teeming with Chayam fighters, pockets of lurid red lantern light, and faces Anna had only conceived in her most rampant nightmares.
Mesar’s body was affixed to the creature’s foremost limb, hovering so his—its—feet barely scraped the stones. The limbs were slack and rubbery. Everything that had given him an aura of strength and a grounded presence had vanished, lost to the oozing, twitching mass that jostled him about like a rag doll. Yet his empty gaze penetrated the gloom, seeping into Anna as she stood before the monstrosity.
“Who ordered him to be taken?” Anna asked.
The Council’s appendages, largely young women, stirred at that. “Your first words in our presence are irreverent,” they spoke in unison. “Your efforts were brave, Kuzalem.”
“Answer me.”
“Such reasoning would escape you, however aware you may be. In spite of your arrogance, we offer you inclusion to enlightenment once more.”
Anna gritted her teeth. “I’m not joining you. Not now, not in eternity.”
“You address us as though we are the same aggregate with which you’ve spoken. We are changed. We are born anew.”
“You’re an abomination.”
“Envision what salvation we could bring to the masses. Look beyond your prison of flesh and sinew.”
“I want him released!”
“You propose an exchange.”
She shook her head. “You shouldn’t even be holding him. Yatrin did nothing wrong.”
“We are aware,” the Council boomed. “We know all, even with half of our lifeblood drawn from its hallowed form. The marks upon the interloper’s neck could only be done by an unpracticed hand. If only you could see, Kuzalem. If only you knew.”
She met Mesar’s eyes, though it felt like a wasted effort. There was nothing left of him within the shell, and yet his essence lingered somewhere in the mass. It had to. “Mesar, what have you done?”
A synchronized laugh spread down the row of appendages. “You grasp for a name that is unfitting for our sovereignty. We are greater than titles.”
“What did he offer you?”
“You speak of him as though he has vanished. To a fixed observer, the construct you term Mesar has been lost to oblivion. Yet we are here. We have always been here, and always shall be.” Mesar’s body drifted closer, its mouth lolling open, sound creaking forth: “We have ensured a thousand years of refuge for the Halshaf.”
Naturally. It was the bargain he’d always sought and the perfect chance to—
“What did you give them in return?” Anna demanded.
“We have glimpsed more of the tapestry of knowledge,” the Council droned. “Mote by mote, ignorance is driven away in the light of revelation.”
“Mesar,” Anna barked, “what did you show them?”
“Such majesty . . . we could not have fathomed the machinations of your Nest. Woven from bountiful hayat, tunneling through the world’s fabric, suspended on the tip of a needle. The state will not forsake this knowledge, nor these gifts.”
Hot blood coursed through Anna’s wrists. Their lone fragment of leverage, offered freely by a man with his own agenda. But there was no individual man to harm anymore. There was nothing but the creature and its hordes of armed guards.
“We sense your displeasure, Kuzalem,” the Council said. “We see the feeling mind surging up in you. This is the price of your addiction to the physical, separate form, so frail and left adrift between seas of impulses.”
“The Nest is not your tool,” Anna said.
“It is the path to preserving the world’s sanctity,” the Council replied. “Look beyond your inward aims.”
“You have no right to use it, nor Shem. I won’t let the state seize it.”
“We knew you would react in this manner. Such brash words stem not from your deepest core, Kuzalem, but from your illusion, so constrained by your limited view.” The Council’s appendages rose up to form a threatening crown over the arachnid. “But the time for selfishness has passed. What was once requested shall be demanded.”
Anna stepped back, her fists hardening. Even the Council’s fighters began to shift away. “Release Yatrin and we can have a civil conversation.”
“Your assistance will guarantee his fate,” the Council said. “You must serve your role in preserving the state. Place your sacred cuts upon our forces and your mind will not be deconstructed, however glorious such a rapture might be.”
“You have more than enough scribes in your ranks. I trained them myself. What you need is organization, and to begin moving your people out of Volna’s path.”
“Do not lecture us about the actions we require. It is known to us.”
“I could mark your entire army and still see them in shackles,” Anna said darkly. “You’re wasting your time by bearing down on me.”
“A wasted moment in our presence is an agonizing moment for your beloved.”
Sweat ran in itching droplets down Anna’s temples. “If I begin marking them tonight, you release him immediately.”
“He will not be harmed.” The arachnid croaked with delight, sending shivers down her spine. “When the first interlopers march upon us, he will be returned to you.”
“You’re holding your own citizen as a hostage!”
“We are holding the fate of our entire people,” the Council boomed. “And on the blighted day of their incursion, you will grant us dominion over the Nest.”
Anna shook her head fiercely, glaring at the creature’s bloody, flickering eye clusters.
“Do not mistake our benevolence for weakness, Kuzalem.” The Council’s appendages lowered and loomed closer, swaying on crooked forelimbs. “If you will not coax the Exalted Shadow into accepting our directives, then the cessation of his fortifying draught will be the least of your concerns.”
Anna paled. How could they know? But Mesar’s dangling body provided the answer, however gut-churning it was.
“We know what drives your heart,” the Council continued. “We know which beings to tear asunder and how to make them squirm. The body fails long before the mind. Your inner world is known to us, Kuzalem, and it will be brought to its knees if you impede us.”
She said nothing, did nothing.
Your violence will come home to you too.
* * * *
Just past dawn, Anna knelt before the windows of the garrison’s spire. Her hands still felt slick with the long-washed blood of Borzaq and Chayam and Pashan officers, seemingly hundreds of them
. It hadn’t been enough to simply give the fighters an everlasting base rune—no, she’d been forced to cede her life’s work onto their flesh, anointing them with the powers of gods and myths. There had been no time to pause, to wash, even to eat, and meditation verged too close to sleep for her to risk a session. She could hardly afford to sit and wait for Yatrin’s capsule to shuttle down from the heights of Gal Asur. Not that it was coming, anyway.
Her reflection was a ghost spun from orange light: sallow, sunken eyes, thin cheeks, red scrapes and lesions from forehead to neck. Every so often she managed to look beyond her phantom and see the fog burning off the city, growing alive for what seemed like the first time in years. Birdsongs joined the screech of kators and web capsules firing off toward the peaks of the Behyam and beyond. The sea was aflame with daylight, but rather than beauty, she found only the harrowing flow and waste of precious time.
Boots thumped up the spire’s steps, causing Anna to flinch and twist toward the intruder.
Perhaps it was Jenis, bearing the Council’s movement orders, or Khutai, informing them of Ramyi’s arrival in—
Konrad wandered into the shaft of sunlight. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, furrowing his brows at Anna’s cushion. “Staying busy, I see.”
Anna hunched her shoulders and turned back. “What do you want?”
“I can’t visit an old friend?”
“You must’ve been having quite a time in your order’s lodge while war broke out.”
He sighed. “How right you are, panna. Our pipe-smoking and gin-drinking, I’m sad to report, was rudely interrupted by Viczera Company’s deployment to the archives.”
Anna paused, staring out at the city until she spotted the burnished red dome near the Huuri temples. “The archives?”
“The Council wasn’t the only thing on their mind, it seems.”
“What happened there?”
Konrad hummed. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“I’m not in any mood for your games,” she hissed. “If you’ve come to torment me, it’s the wrong time. Don’t test me.”
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