by Various
Indris tried to walk as calmly as he could from the salon so no one would see the cracks appear in the mask he wore over his sorrow.
• • •
Indris turned as Femensetri joined him in the high-ceilinged chamber he had once shared with Anj-el-din. Far-ad-din had been generous in giving them the large building, though it had been Anj who had really made it theirs. Or hers, if Indris was honest. He had spent so much time either saying farewell or saying hello, he had felt at times like a stranger. As if where Anj and he lived was more a house than a home.
He stood before a series of Portrait Glasses. There was a layer of dust on them, which he gently wiped away with the corner of his over-robe. Most of the portraits captured frozen moments of Anj: Anj laughing, her teeth a band of white against her dark-blue lips; Anj hiding playfully behind the mass of her quills, fine and soft as silk, as unruly as the storm it always reminded him of; Anj sitting in repose, intent as an eagle as she stared out a window; Anj dancing, her elegance apparent even in the stillness of the portrait. There were few portraits of them together and fewer still of him alone. Those there were showed him in profile or turning away from whoever had tried to capture his image. Anj had once said, in pride or passion or her summer-storm fury, that he was always turning away. Always looking at the next horizon or the next trouble he would risk his life to fix.
Anj was, had been, a Sēq Scholar. It had been easier for her to let go and embrace an ordinary world for love.
“It was early in the morning when I came home,” he began without looking up. “It was raining, and I remember thinking how nice it would be to hold her. I’d been in Sorochel for… Anyway, I wanted to tell her I’d not be leaving her again. I thought I heard her singing on the balcony. I looked everywhere, lit the lamps, yet there was nobody there. Just echoes and dust.”
“Indris, she’s been gone more than two years now.”
“I won’t cry for yesterday, Femensetri.” Indris picked up his favorite portrait of Anj. She had never really liked it, yet Indris had always found the image to be the truest of her. It was of Anj writing in a journal, long legs stretched out in what he swore were stained breeches and her favorite pair of boots with split toes. Her lip was caught between improbably white teeth. A lock of quills wrapped around her finger. She had been the most captivating woman he had ever met. “She’s gone, like too many others, and I know there’s no bringing her back.”
“Then why torture yourself?” The Stormbringer leaned against the wall, her mindstone pulsing darkness like a heartbeat. “You knew—”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Just… don’t.”
“Is this why you think you have to leave Amnon?” Femensetri gestured about the room with her crook. The scythe blade at its top flared with a brilliant, almost too-bright opalescence, herding and folding the shadows into little more than fine lines. “There are no Nomads here to torment you, Indris.”
“Other than the ones I bring with me, you mean?” He cleared his throat before he spoke again. “She was the reason—”
“You turned your back on everybody who depended on you?” Whatever kindnesses she may have been inclined toward were pared away by the angles of her voice.
“Leave it be!” he snapped. “Anj depended on me. Far-ad-din depended on me to make his only daughter happy, to share a future of our choosing. I’ve paid my debts as best I can. And let’s not start on who turned their backs on whom, shall we?”
“You didn’t kill her, Indris.” Femensetri sighed. She pinched her straight nose between her thumb and forefinger, eyes closed. “She is… I mean to say she chose her path, as we all do. Nobody made her—”
“Look for me?” Indris glared at Femensetri from beneath lowered brows. “Is that what you were going to say to me? That I made her come looking for me? That I was the cause of her destruction, because if I’d been here, or doing what you wanted me to do, none of it would have happened?”
“Would it have?” She leaned forward on her crook, opal eyes bright. “When you disappeared she went looking for the man she loved. You are the pebble that caused the ripples of her actions.”
Indris felt as if he had been slapped. “I can’t believe—”
“Believe what you will. You always do.” Femensetri turned and strode toward the open door. She paused when she reached the threshold. Looked over her shoulder at her former pupil. “One day you’ll realize you’re not the only person responsible for their own actions, Indris. You talked before of consequences? Perhaps you need to think on all the good you did, rather than what a person did out of love for you, as tragic as the outcome may have been.”
“Is she really dead, Femensetri?” Feelings of guilt from last night clawed their way to the surface. “She was never found.”
“Yours is but a little sorrow, when all’s said and done.” Femensetri looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Though I love you as much as pity you for the pain you feel, much worse has happened in the world and gone unsung. As for whether she’s dead or not, she’s not here. Does it really matter then what her fate, if it be that the two of you were to part?”
THE OBSIDIAN HEART
(excerpt)
by Mark T. Barnes
First published as The Obsidian Heart (2013), by 47North
• • • •
7
“At what point do we sacrifice doing what we know is ethical, for that which is moral?” — From Ethical and Moral Conflict, by Yalana Beq-Shef (396th Year of the Shrīanese Federation)
Day 350 of the 495th Year of the Shrīanese Federation
ACROSS THE CITY the bells tolled the Hour of the Serpent, the seventh hour of the day. The sun emerged from behind the shoulder of Star Crown Mountain, pried loose from the jagged rock so it could continue its arcing journey across the sky.
Indris, Mari, and Shar found Hayden, Ekko, and Omen at a tea house on the shore of the Shoals. The Copper Kettle was a busy place, a favourite of longshoremen, merchants and mariners. Travellers were common, so a small group could come, go, or stay without attracting attention. It had the added benefit of providing a good vantage point overlooking the busy docks.
The incessant chatter of excited travellers, the clatter of plates, and the sizzle of cooking food drifted around them. Indris settled deeper into his seat, the old hessian cushions crackling as he made himself comfortable. The warmth of the sun felt good on his face, the wooden surface of the table coarse under his fingertips. He inhaled the mingled aromas of tea, bacon, strawberries, and freshly cut lemons.
“What news?” Indris asked as Hayden poured the new arrivals tea from a silver-chased copper pot. Indris cupped the rough tea glass in his hand, waving away Hayden’s offer of honey.
“There were a lot of people found dead this morning.” Hayden slathered butter on to a thick slice of bread still warm from the oven. He was pale, his skin almost grey, eyes red with fatigue, and his hands shook. “Seems there was a set-to between some Mantéan and Atrean Humans, against some Avān filled with the fire of their drink. It weren’t pretty.”
“Not long after Corajidin was acquitted, I take it?” Indris asked as he looked at Hayden with concern. The old drover looked almost at the end of his strength. I forget how old he is, Indris thought. It’ll be sad to see you go, but you’re long overdue the peaceful years you deserve.
“Omen saw some of what transpired,” the Wraith Knight added, “the knives and swords and tempers fired. Many were the ones who fell, bloodied and broken, lost forever to the Well.”
“Sassomon-Omen saw indeed. And then stood in the middle of it as the fighting passed by, talking to a statue on a fountain,” Ekko said, shaking his head slowly with disapproval. “There was also fighting between the retinues of the Great Houses. The worst of it was between Näsarat and Erebus, and their colors. I witnessed your brother, Mariam, in the thick of battle.” Ekko speared a sliver of raw salmon with a claw and popped it into his mouth. “He fought with a terrible fury. On more than one occasion
he yelled out for Amonindris to come face him. I had not thought the man bore you such enmity, my friend.”
“I think I should try and speak with him,” Mari said. “Before it goes too far and somebody I really care for is hurt. Belam knows how I feel, and we’ve had this conversation before.”
“His were not the words of a man defending his sister’s honour, Mariam. He acted like a man intending to settle a debt, preferably in blood.”
“I wonder what that’s about?” Indris frowned his confusion. “When we spoke last, I’d told him to go and take care of his father. Better than one of us killing the other. There’s no business between the two of us, as far as I know.”
“Erebus. Näsarat.” Mari’s voice was sad as she covered one of Indris’s hands with her own. “There’s always business between us.”
Silence, save for the rattle of cutlery on plates and the faint sound of chewing. Mari held up her hands, surrendering the idea.
“The people we were tasked to watch, errands a plenty and all in a rush.” Omen’s voice was a sepulchral echo from his ceramic chest “They have worked throughout the evening and night, yet have done naught wrong, look as we might.”
“I figure there’s been about twelve or so ships come and gone under darkness,” Hayden added. “Those as come in last night are still here. We never followed them. There was too much fighting in the streets, and them at the docks seemed edgy as it is.”
“Though the passengers were dressed as common travellers,” Ekko rumbled in his velvet landslide voice, “the carriage of most was that of soldiers.”
“I reckon they’s here to cause a fuss. No way of knowing less we get a look-see at what they’s up to.” Hayden leaned back in his chair, pulling the brim of his hat down lower over his lined brow. “But maybe later? It’s been a long night.”
“We saw much the same at the Skydocks,” Mari said. “It was a veritable who’s who of Shrīan’s entitled villains. All sayfs allied with my father, here no doubt for the vote tomorrow night on the Accession.”
“Corajidin isn’t taking any chances.” Shar leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, chin resting on her steepled fingers. Her pupils were black pinheads floating in orange irises. “From what I understand, Nazarafine was counting on being elected Asrahn uncontested. She would’ve had at least another five years to push the Federationist agenda and open Shrīan’s borders.”
“Under an Imperialist government, Shrīan would become as insular as the old Awakened Empire in the years right before the Insurrection,” Indris muttered. “And that worked out so well for us. The Iron League kicked the Awakened Empire into near oblivion. I can’t imagine them being any less aggressive a second time around. There are plenty of Humans who wish the Insurrection army had wiped the world clean of the Avān.
“Let’s hope it don’t come to that,” Hayden said fervently. He coughed, his torso curling forward around the violence of it. His breath wheezed as he straightened. With a sad smile he looked at his friends. “But I think it’s a fight I’ll be sitting out, no matter what happens.”
“And you’d be the luckier for it,” Shar said, resting her hand on Hayden’s. “But whatever is happening may start here, unless it can be prevented.”
“True words. So what are they smuggling into the city?” Indris asked. “Maybe I should go and speak with the Sky Lord? Or Neva? They should be told what’s happening.”
Mari pointed to the ships. “The people with the answers are there.” Her words almost tripped over each other they were said so rapidly. “I mean, we shouldn’t bother the Sky Lord or his heir unless we have something of value to tell, neh?”
“Let’s go have a look-see.” Hayden’s smile was weak beneath his long salt-and-pepper moustache. He yawned and stretched in his chair.
“I should be walking you to the Skydock and sending you home, my friend.” Indris said gently. “You’ve done more than enough. Certainly more than anybody had the right to ask of you. Maybe you should sit this one out?”
“I’ve some fight in me left, lad.” Hayden waved off Indris’s concerns. “Let Ekko and I go do this thing. We’ll be all subtle-like and back quick as a flash.”
Indris shared a long look with Shar, who shrugged. Indris eyed Hayden. “Clearly you’ve forgotten how well your last side mission went. Remember the Rōmarq? When I asked you to not chase after Thufan, Belamandris and the Fenling? What happened?”
“We managed to—” Ekko began.
“You managed to get about half the Fenling in the Rōmarq chasing us through their sherdé swamp is what,” Shar said, jabbing a finger in both men’s direction. “I don’t fancy being chased through Avānweh by faruq knows what, because you two see something shiny and get excited.”
Hayden squirmed in his chair, face reddening in embarrassment. “That was different—”
“‘That was different,’” Shar mimicked with an impudent grin. “I’m only going to save your leathery old hide a few dozen times more, Hayden. After that you’re on your own.”
The others laughed. Tea and coffee were poured. They set to the meal of raw salmon, warm flatbread, whipped butter, and bowls of tirhem, a slow-cooked wheatmeal paste with lentils, spiced pork, and lemon juice. They finished with slices of dried fruit, eating as they planned.
“Any questions?” Indris asked.
“Reckon I’ve got it covered,” Hayden said, nodding. “I’ll follow the next group porting cargo from the docks, and find out where they taking their goodies.”
“I’ll tag along with Hayden, all subtle and such,” Shar said around a mouthful of lotus petals.
“I will maintain a watchful eye on the dock.” Ekko added.
“And there it is I will lend my eye, with the giant one of golden fur, unravelling the thought and deed, of nighttime’s dark and suspect curs.”
Ekko moved his chair slightly away from Omen, his eyes fixed on the table. “Amonindris, I am more than capable of keeping watch—”
“None of us work alone, Ekko,” Indris said. “I’ve not forgotten what we talked about, and I need your help to keep watch and make sure we limit the… unexpected. Please, remain here with Omen. Meanwhile, Mari and I will return to the Skydock and see what we can learn there. If we don’t happen across one another before hand, we meet back here at the Hour of the Phoenix.”
“And if we happen across trouble?” Shar asked.
“You have to ask? Just do it quietly.”
• • •
Indris and Mari were following a large wagon, creaking under the weight of its cargo, as it lumbered down the Fahz am’a Tayen. It was there they saw Shar and Hayden loitering outside the store of an antique dealer. Hayden leaned in to whisper something to Shar. She stepped into the crowd as it flowed down the Path of the Coins, towards the stair that joined the precinct of the merchant-caste, with the lakeside streets at the base of Sky Spear Mountain. Going for Omen and Ekko, no doubt.
When Shar returned with a silent Omen and a tense Ekko, Hayden led their small group into the antique store. It was mostly empty, yet afforded them a good view of the traffic on the street outside, as well as the frontages of the buildings opposite. Hayden pointed to one in particular.
“That’s the old Maladhi-sûk,” Hayden said quietly. “From what we seen, most of the cargo unloaded from the ships this morning came here. I figure the wagon you was following was one of many?”
“Yes,” Mari said, “though that was the last.”
“And there are no more from the ships at the docks below,” Ekko added.
“The Maladhi-sûk was closed when Rayz and Nix were exiled. Nobody should be there.” Mari leaned close to the glass, looking the building up and down. Indris joined her. Large wooden doors were detailed with sword-wielding spiders made of blackened iron, with iron webs crisscrossing the wood. The red stone walls to either side were carved with nightmare figures of giant spiders, armed and armoured, fanged and clawed, with facets of glass, or quartz, for eyes so they glittere
d with reflected light. “It’s not a bad place to stay out of sight. If it’s like the other sûks here in the city, it’s a virtual fortress with its own barracks, kitchens, forges…”
“You could fit a lot of warriors in there,” Shar whispered.
“And lots of cargo,” Hayden said.
“The villains have nested, their camp in our sight. What for us now? To leave, or to fight?”
“Fight,” Ekko growled, his tail swishing. He lanced Omen with a stare, his hackles rising. “Provided everybody is aware of their obligations.”
“I agree with Ekko,” Hayden whispered loudly.
“Of course you bloody do,” Shar said.
“We came here to find out what was happening.” Mari turned from the window to face Indris. “That’s not going to happen if we stay here, flapping our jaws.”
“We can use the main door of the sûk,” Hayden said as he paid scant interest to some Kaylish scrimshaw, sea drake bones covered in intricate carving. “But it would be pretty obvious. There’s another door out back. It’s a ways off the main road. We’d need to follow a few rough paths and such to get there without being seen, but it ain’t so hard going.”
“Where’s this other door?” Indris asked.
“At the end of an avenue in a narrow ravine,” Shar said. “Most of the cargo from the docks was delivered that way.”
“The vote for Accession is tomorrow night,” Mari said quietly, “and we still don’t know what they’re up to. It’s now, or we don’t bother.”
“Then it’s now,” Indris said. The others nodded.
• • •
Hayden led them along the route he had chosen, taking the rough mountain paths to the back of the academy. The old adventurer was breathing heavily as he walked. Throughout the short trip Indris felt subtle ripples washing across the periphery of the ahmsah. It felt as if he and his friends were fish and a great silent shark swam the depths below them, unseen, though its wake was felt.
Several times Indris gestured for the others to wait while he cast his senses out. They were subtle nets of perception, fanned out to dust the world around them with little more impact than a fallen feather. Yet each time he drew the nets of the ahmsah in, they were empty. Whatever it was that watched them did so with amazing subtlety. The kind that only came with deep intellect.